by Kresley Cole
"He is already tending the sick." How can my father look a decade older than he did just yesterday? "I took him directly there."
"Good, good," Father says, his mind distracted. "I'll return anon."
"But you're exhausted. You need to stay strong for Mother. Is she resting?"
He nods. "I insisted upon it."
"This can't be easy on her." Many of those who visited our hall were stricken, their daughters especially. "I shall return in your stead."
His forehead creases. "But if something happened to you . . . if you were beset . . . I couldn't bear it."
"I've never been sick a day in my life. I've made my decision not to start now."
With that hint of a grin, Father looks more himself. It's been strange not to hear his laughter in our hall, a welcome accompaniment to Mother's.
I put my hand on his shoulder, holding his gaze. "Mark my words, we will get through this."
His blue eyes glint. "Have I told you how proud I am to be your father?"
I cast him a feigned look of grievance. "Daily. Since memory. It's ingrained in me, as if carved into a rune stone."
"But not yet today." Father clasps his hand over mine. "Son, I'm so proud . . ." He trails off with a frown.
"Father?"
His gaze widens, his skin paling. When his expression grows agonized, panic grips my chest. "What's happening?" I lay my palm on his cheek; angry black lines begin to branch out over his face.
Like those of the afflicted villagers.
"S-son?" Suddenly his fists clench, his muscles seizing.
"What is this, Father?" I enfold his convulsing form in my arms, easing him to the ground. "What is happening?" As I gaze down at him, a beatific light spills upon his anguished countenance. It shutters . . . when I blink? "Tell me how to help you!" I beg him, "Please, please tell me!"
He cannot answer me, his body strangled of air. Of life.
He is . . . dead.
Even as grief overwhelms me, a suspicion tries to force its way into my mind--
"Aric!" Across the hall, my mother sees her husband. She screams, her hands covering her rounding belly, instinctively shielding the babe they've so long wanted. She sways on her feet, her legs buckling.
I don't think, just run for her. In a fraction of an instant, I've somehow crossed the distance. I reach her in time to catch her as she falls.
She shrieks at my touch.
"Mother? No, no, no!" Black lines fork out along her arm, emanating from my hand.
With a yell, I release my hold. As comprehension dawns, my heartbeat pounds in my ears like the gods' thunder. The sickness is coming . . .
From me.
"Mother, fight this!"
Grueling pain has robbed her of breath, has twisted her lovely face. But I can read her dread. "A-Aric?" She too suspects me.
She writhes in agony--yet I cannot defend her, comfort her. "Please, stay with me!" My tears strike her cheek. That same light shines down on her face. "Fight, Mother. Fight for your babe. F-for me."
She stares up at me, seeming mesmerized by my eyes--as her own grow sightless. Her life is done. She has passed beyond.
My parents gone.
I've wrought my family's destruction. Killed those I loved most, with my very touch.
My dark precipice has been reached. I throw back my head and roar as recognition takes hold.
I am Death. . . .
31
When I woke, muddy boots filled my vision. Jack?
"Get away from her, Reaper." He was pointing a gun! "Or I'll plug you."
"Indeed?" Aric's fingers stroked my cheek, smoothing away . . . tears?
I craned my head around. He sat beside me, and he didn't stop caressing me--despite the threat.
I turned back to Jack. "Please, put that down."
"My gun and your skull, Death. I warned you." He faced me, his gray eyes crazed. "You slept with him?"
"What? No!" Okay, the scene looked bad.
Aric was shirtless, wearing only low-slung leather pants, his armor stacked against the wall. His glowing gaze was hooded with pleasure.
Voice relaxed, he asked, "Can you comprehend what it's like to touch her after so long without? For this bliss, I'll risk the bullet. I'll take a bullet."
When I jerked back from Aric, he tsked, as if to say, More's the pity.
"Is this what you did at Death's?" Jack demanded. "Let him touch your face, you? After you danced for him?"
"Just put down the gun, please."
Stalemate. "Why didn't you answer the radio?"
"What are you talking about? I didn't hear anything."
"Because I turned off the volume," Aric said with a shrug. "The Empress needed to rest more than she needed to talk to you."
"Jack, you're scaring me. This looks much worse than it is."
Precarious moments eked by before he lowered the pistol. "You're right. I'm sorry, bebe." He tucked the gun into his belt. It wasn't one of the pair he'd left here. Had he carried a hidden pistol?
"She refuses both our advances, mortal." Aric leaned his head back against the wall. "Until she sees her way clear to me."
"Advances? You mean you messed with her head some more and reminded her of old games?"
"Not at all. I merely pointed out some of the countless ways I'm better for her than you are. Even you recognize this." Aric rose with that supernatural speed, standing before Jack. "You keep going on about Stockholm syndrome--because you don't want to consider the alternative: that she wishes to be with me. That she was genuinely happy with me."
When Jack clenched his hands, I shot to my feet. "Don't touch him!"
"Not goan to poison myself, no. Not when I have a future to look forward to."
"Ah, yes, a new start with Selena. My wife and I extend our felicitations."
Jack turned to me. "Evie, I can't do this anymore! I have to know where we stand."
Aric said, "In this, I agree."
Both of them. Facing me. Expectantly.
For the first time they were juxtaposed with no obscuring armor. Jack had broader shoulders and thicker muscles, while Aric was leaner, tattooed, and a little taller. Both so handsome, I was spellbound just to watch them. Then they started up again.
"You think she's goan to pick you over me? Imbecile! "
"I have no doubt in my mind." Where was Aric's unnerving confidence coming from? If his gift would skew my decision, then was there even a choice?
At that thought, my headache rebounded. "Maybe I won't pick either of you! Maybe I'll take Matthew, and we'll go find my grandmother. By ourselves!" I rubbed my throbbing temples. "For now, can we just focus on Selena and the Lovers? I guarantee you I won't be deciding anything about my future until I can take a second and think."
"When we return the Archer to the outpost," Aric said, "you'll kindly give us your answer. The suitor you pass over will leave you alone." He offered Jack his deadly hand. "Come, let's shake on it."
"Sheathe your goddamned weapons, Reaper, or I'll pull my own again." He asked me, "You agree to this?"
"Yes, I'll give you my answer then. But you should know: my decision isn't just between you two. I have other choices. And when you both act like this, my other options look better and better."
"Noted." Was Aric patronizing me? "Now I find myself particularly motivated to find the Archer."
Finally, he was getting his head in the game! I turned to Jack. "Have the dissenters seen Selena? Is she safe?"
"No one in Azey North has seen her. She's not there."
"The Lovers lied to us." Shocking.
"Milovnici's in camp, with a pair of twins, but I doan know if they're the real deal or not." Jack absently rubbed his bandage. How badly he must want to face them, to make them pay.
"They're not the source twins," Aric said. "Which makes sense. If I had the Lovers' power, I would station myself in some unreachable location and let my carnates do all the work for me."
"How do you know for sure?" I
asked.
"I've already heard the carnates' staticky calls."
"Then why did the twins tell me to go to Dolor?"
"A trap," Jack answered. "The camp's surrounded by snipers with dart guns, to take us alive."
For our torture.
"I got no idea where Selena is."
"Hmm. Luckily, I do." Aric leaned a shoulder against the wall. "I can follow her call as long as it continues."
Matthew had once explained that a call never stopped. When an Arcana got close enough to register it, the player could tune it out. "I thought it repeated on a loop. Wait . . . You mean, as long as she lives? You said they wouldn't kill her outright."
"There are other instances in which a call could go silent." Before I could ask, he said, "I estimate she's about two to three days north of here. I can find her, but that doesn't mean we can reach her."
Jack narrowed his gaze. "Why not?"
"The Lovers could be surrounded by a moat of flaming oil. They could have troops of carnates with machine guns and rocket launchers. Even I would have difficulty against rockets."
"Then what do you suggest, Reaper?"
Aric's smile was chilling. "A hostage of our own."
32
DAY 377 A.F.
"It's showtime," Jack said.
Dolor was around the next bend. For hours we'd ridden hard to get here, giving me little chance to speak to either him or Aric. We'd followed a rail line, and had just stopped at the outskirts of an old working mine.
Flash-fried machinery--hoists, mine carts, conveyer belts--made for a ghostly junkyard.
Aric removed his helmet. "Where are your rebels?"
Jack shrugged. "In the camp."
"I'm confused, mortal. I thought we were aligning with dissenters for an incursion. You told us we were taking this camp."
"Ouais. We are."
"Then we need men. We need modern weapons to combat the general's."
"We're goan to ride right in." Jack pulled his jacket collar up when a wet gust howled. "The general and the fake twins will be trussed up for us."
Aric raised his brows at Jack's casual assurance. "That's your plan?" Thanatos hoofed the ground with impatience.
Yes, Jack was becoming an incredible leader, but he was describing a fantasy outcome. I worried my bottom lip. "Say something goes wrong. Maybe we should have a plan B?"
His tone grew cryptic. "That rose crown you wore would look mighty nice when we arrive."
Aric scoffed, "You think we can intimidate them with our gifts? They'll be too busy shooting to pay attention."
Jack ignored him, addressing me, "He's got no reason to have faith in my plans, but you do. You know I got a good head on my shoulders."
I'd told him I wouldn't underestimate him again. If he said he had a plan, and he was this confident . . .
"Call ahead to your people, then," Aric said. "Ascertain the situation."
"Non. No radios."
--He tests even my eternal patience. But I make an effort to keep the peace for you.-- "Let's pretend you achieve a bloodless rebellion, all it takes is one loyal soldier to signal for reinforcements."
"You think I haven't considered that, Reaper? It's under control."
Aric gazed at me. --You're buying this?--
I just stopped myself from nodding. I am.
--I find it hard to believe he won't be double-crossed for that bounty.--
You have no idea how good he is at reading people and taking their measure.
"You two are talking to each other?" Jack scowled.
"Just debating your ability to read people," Aric said, "since we're depending on it, and nothing else."
"You trust me, Evie?" Jack asked, his eyes saying things I couldn't fathom.
"I trust your judgment in this."
"I'll take it." He cast a smirk at Death.
Aric drew on his helmet. "I can't believe I'm going along with this folly."
"You wanted a hostage. I'm taking you to get one." To me, Jack said, "You ready?"
I nodded, crowning myself with my body vine. Blood-red petals and pointed leaves. I let the circlet move and writhe so no one would think it was fake. Plus, it tended to do that anyway whenever I was nervous.
If there were ever a time to be nervous . . .
Aric caught my gaze as we neared the corner. Another gust blew, sending those conveyor belts flapping, ratcheting up my apprehension.
We passed the point of no return, the camp in sight. People were lined up.
Not with guns?
They cheered in welcome! Soldiers--and freed women--waved as if we were an oncoming Mardi Gras float.
I exhaled, hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath. "Holy shit, Jack."
He just slid me a sexy grin.
"A bloodless rebellion." Death lifted his visor. "I'll bite. How did you effect this, mortal?"
"Maybe the answer to a problem ain't always more Death." When I looked expectantly at Jack, he explained, "Last night, I gave the soldiers canisters of nerve gas to toss into the Milovnicis' tents."
"Nerve gas," I repeated. "Taken from their own army across the river? That's what was in the duffel bag!"
"Ouais. After Rodrigo's men secured the Milovnicis, they told as many people as possible that I was coming, with some of my Arcana allies," he said with a wink at me, a black look at Death. "When everyone found out that we'd liberated the other camp and were gunning for this one, I knew the chain of command would be undermined."
"This is amazing."
As we rode into the crowd, people gawked at Death and me, while they clamored to shake Jack's hand.
All his life, he'd thought he had no reason to be proud. Now he was different. Jaw set. Shoulders squared. Eyes flinty with determination.
He had no otherworldly abilities, but look how powerful he was becoming. Look at all the people who admired him.
I turned toward Aric, glancing at him from under my lashes. My dream of him haunted me, a graphic reminder that he had no one. No hope of a partner.
Did I pity him? Yes. But last night had reminded me that there was far more to my attraction than pity.
He met my gaze, and I quickly looked away. Among the crowd, I spied a grinning black-haired boy of about twelve. With his wide-set eyes and the gap in his front teeth, he looked like a miniature Franklin. Had to be his brother. Soon they'd be reunited.
That boy put a face on all that Jack had accomplished here.
Realization sank in: we'd helped thousands.
Rodrigo rode to meet us, a huge smile on his face. "The three Milovnicis are this way."
"And the jammers?" Jack said.
"We've had them going nonstop, General. No transmissions could've gone out." He led us deeper into the camp.
Under my breath, I said, "He called you 'General'?"
"I tried to get them to stop," Jack said with a hint of a grin. "Then I realized how intimidating it sounds. Let it stand, me."
"You used jammers to block radio calls." Aric cast him a look--was that the same grudging respect Jack had shown Death last night? "That's why you wouldn't radio ahead."
"I wanted to control any communications from this camp. But now that we've got a hostage and a full army, we doan have to hide your involvement anymore. And we're about to inform the twins of our upcoming trade. Their father for Selena."
Excitement filled me. A hostage exchange sounded workable!
Aric removed his helmet, stowing it on his saddle. "If we allow the carnates to live, they'll transfer all they experience to the source."
"Too risky," Jack said. "We end them."
"Agreed, mortal. Are you going to tell your people the twins are fake?"
Jack seemed to consider it. "Non. It'd just be noise, clouding the victory."
Aric nodded. "While you've got Milovnici, we might as well interrogate him for information about the twins, uncover their defenses and carnate numbers."
Now Jack said, "Agreed."
When we st
opped and dismounted, Jack and I handed our reins over to a couple of soldiers, but Death just shook his head, leading Thanatos on.
The crowd parted ahead of us, revealing three unconscious forms, bound and gagged on the ground. The infamous Milovnici and his spawn. Or rather, his spawn's spawn.
Finally, I was going to see the man who'd brought so much misery to a world already drowning in it.
The former general's features were sharp, his nose beaklike. Though wiry and thin, he had a florid complexion. I could imagine his face growing even redder whenever he was angry.
His tan jacket read: MILOVNICI ELITE SECURITY. His face and clothes had copious amounts of spit on them--and boot prints.
This was the great General Milovnici? He looked harmless. And the twins? They were identical to the ones we'd encountered in the other camp, with the same distorted tableau.
"You should do the honors on the carnates, Reaper," Jack said. "Folks need to see what the two of you are packing."
Low-voiced, Aric said, "We're not circus acts." To me, he added, --All my life I've cloaked these gifts.--
"I'm just a figurehead, me. This army can create order, or just the opposite. The more order there is in the world, the safer Evie is. You either want that or you doan."
More people closed in.
Exhaling with irritation, Aric removed his gauntlet. He crouched to place his bared icon hand over each clone's face. Black lines forked out.
Did Aric remember his parents every time his touch killed? I'd heard that he preferred to take out opponents like this. Maybe his Touch of Death served the same purpose as his tattoos: reminders never to forget tragedies of the past.
Spectators gasped when the carnates' bodies seized.
Jack might be accustomed to attention, but Aric was uncomfortable with the stares. Had the coolly collected knight once been shy around others? The idea made me smile with affection--even as the replicants stopped breathing.
I heard murmurs in the crowd: "Good riddance." "Rot in hell." "They got off too easy. . . ."
Rodrigo cleared his throat. "Uh, sir, what do you want to do with Milovnici?"
"His name's Milo now," Jack announced. "My neighbor had a coonhound named Milo. Went rabid. Got put down." Nervous laughter broke out.
Death stood and slid on his gauntlet. --That's shrewd. Strip the man of a name that people fear.--
On our first day out, Aric had studied Jack. Tonight, his attention had redoubled, as if he now found his foe worthy of investigation.
Aric had his hunger for knowledge; Jack had his curiosity. Was there really a difference between those two things?