The Dark Calling

by Cole, Kresley

  I gave him a watery glare. “A minor setback? Do you ever lose your cool?” The closest I’d seen him get was when Joules had nearly opened a bottle of Tusker beer he’d found somewhere in the truck. Kentarch had yelled, “Place that down slowly. As if your life depends on it.” Later, he’d admitted, “That is my wife’s favorite. I found the bottle on the day I lost her, and I’ve protected it ever since. I believe we will drink it together when we’re reunited.”

  Now he said, “You need to eat from the supplies we have, Empress. If not for yourself, then for your baby.”

  “I’ll never keep it down.” The only thing worse than eating Sheba would be experiencing it on the way back up.

  Joules rested his head against the window. “Canna stop thinking about real food. Gabe and me used to smell bacon cooking in the castle. About drove us barmy. Sizzling, juicy rashers . . .”

  We each fell silent, lost in our own thoughts.

  I missed Aric. I missed the life we’d had together. I missed Jack. I missed food meant for humans without bits of humans in it.

  As ever, I wondered what Aric was doing in his lonely castle and how Lark was coping. Had they had a funeral for Finn? Maybe they’d buried him on the hill close to Gran.

  I wondered if Aric had left my painting on the wall of our bedroom. Would he water the rose bloom he’d grown from a seed—or destroy it?

  I frowned. I could simply ask Aric. I turned to Kentarch. “Can I borrow your phone?”

  15

  Death

  How much longer could I remain in this castle without going mad? I sat in my study, gazing out at the night, sharpening my swords.

  This task used to soothe me, but inside, I was chaos.

  Kentarch, my long-time ally, had betrayed me, spiriting my duplicitous wife away into the Ash.

  I kept replaying the image of her, wounded, in the back of that truck, traveling farther and farther from my reach.

  As long as she lived, I would be at risk of falling for her beauty and charms, because I was weak when it came to my nemesis.

  I scraped a whetstone along one sword edge. Evidently, there was no end to what I’d believe from her lips. The Grim Reaper, a father? The back of my neck heated, and I cringed at my idiocy.

  The Hanged Man’s sphere of clarity protected me from her spellbinding, which she’d known. As Paul had explained: “The Empress wanted me dead because I can defend you and the others from her powers. I’m the only one she can’t mesmerize.”

  But his sphere wasn’t spreading fast enough. We Arcana had fueled it in the beginning, causing it to overrun this mountain. Now it grew in fitful spurts.

  I couldn’t reach the Empress without leaving it. Not an option.

  A shadow passed by my window, the Archangel flying by on his watch. He and Fauna split those duties.

  After losing the Magician, she was proving to be less of an asset than ever. Though she’d sent creatures to scout for the Empress, her usual drive had disappeared.

  She’d moved into the menagerie, sleeping continually, seeming dazed whenever awake. And she kept close her wolves, as if she’d sensed a threat from me.

  She should. I raised my sword to eye the edge. Along with my new mental clarity, my murderous impulses grew stronger every day. I was returning to the Grim Reaper of old—

  My phone rang. I stared at it on my desk.

  Her. I knew it was the Empress calling from Kentarch’s phone. My chest constricted, every inch of my skin feeling feverish. I set aside my sword and whetstone to reach for the phone. Paul entered just as I answered, “Empress.”

  “Aric.”

  She was the only person who’d called me by my given name in more than two millennia. One soft word from her had sent chills racing over me.

  I’d gotten used to touch. I’d gotten used to bedding her. To loving her. What if, by some miracle, she could have been true?

  Paul studied my expression. Though I masked my reaction to her, he noticed, was clearly disappointed.

  Would I spit in the face of his enlightenment? How could her effect on me still linger? “Why have you called?”

  “I miss my husband.”

  My gods. “I miss . . . the idea of you.” I’d caught myself debating whether I could ignore everything she’d done to me and take her back to my bed. Such is her power.

  No. Never. Eventually she would try to poison me. That was her MO. “But I always knew you would turn on me.”

  “I haven’t. You’re being influenced by Paul.”

  “He’s shown me the truth. Because of him, I escaped the Magician’s fate.”

  “Paul killed Finn—not me!” Then she seemed to make an effort to control her emotions. “He ended the life of my friend, a sweet teenager who respected and looked up to you.”

  “Ah, my beautiful poisoness, you dispatched the Magician—just as you usually do.”

  “Then how did an inactivated card like Paul get activated? Why does he wear Finn’s icon? Check his hand.”

  “He wagered you would bring that up again as ‘proof.’”

  With a grin, Paul displayed the Magician’s mark to me—an ouroboros symbol. The snake eating its own tail symbolized the eternal power of transformation.

  “Then how do you explain it, Aric?”

  “By the time Paul returned to the castle, your poison had ravaged the Magician’s organs and mind, but his body still clung to life. Paul delivered a tonic to put the boy out of his misery.”

  “You did CPR on Finn. You can sense death, and you told us he was dead. So if I’m guilty, I should have gotten the icon.”

  “I was mistaken. The Magician still lived. The boy’s own powers must have altered my perception.”

  “An answer for everything, huh? Paul told me he wasn’t a monster like the ones I’ve faced, but the Traitor’s worse. I never trusted the Lovers, the Hermit, or the Hierophant. I never depended on the Devil.”

  “Ah, but I once did. Ogen was the only one who could refashion my armor with his demonic grip.” The metal was invulnerable to pressure and heat, unless wielded by the Devil Card. And now my suit would be forever compromised because I’d cut out a piece for her cilice. The Empress was responsible for the single chink in my armor. So too in life. “I regret killing Ogen to save you.” Was that a hitched breath? I’d shocked her.

  Paul had broached the subject of retrieving the Empress alive, using the cilice on her. Though she was too evil to benefit from his clarity, she could fuel the sphere. Still, I wanted her dead for what she’d made me believe.

  In the background, I heard the Tower mutter, “Ask him about Gabe.”

  I told her, “The Archangel has joined our new alliance and looks forward to facing the Tower.”

  She made a sound of frustration. “If you have a reason for hating me, then fine, I can almost see it. We were enemies longer than allies. But Gabe and Joules have always been best friends. So why would Gabe turn against Joules, if not for Paul?”

  “The Archangel discovered that the Tower and his lover, Calanthe, had intended to electrocute him as soon as he’d outlived his usefulness. Three’s a crowd, is it not?”

  “Lemme guess: Paul told you guys that? And you’re buying it? Joules loves Gabe like a brother.”

  “And yet . . .”

  She didn’t relay this to the Tower. What was she thinking? What new strategy would she employ?

  Several moments passed before she said, “I’m about three months along now. I should be showing soon.”

  “Still you continue with this pregnancy nonsense.” What was worse? Her conniving? Or the fact that even now I craved this family? I hated her the most for that.

  “Aric, we’re going to have a kid together, but only if I survive for the next six months. Think what you will about me. Punish me, but don’t punish our child.”

  I squeezed my eyes closed. When I opened them, light glittered from my gaze. “You want me to believe not only that I impregnated you, but also that your pregnancy contin
ues?”

  Fauna had landed at least one venomous bite. The Archangel had reported that the Empress and the Tower had been swept up in an avalanche and that she’d been bleeding profusely.

  “Believe it. As of now, this is our reality.”

  “You can sound convincing, I’ll give you that.” So godsdamned convincing. My gaze flickered toward Paul. Almost at once, a memory arose of when she’d first seduced me into bed. “Just as you did centuries ago. As if it were yesterday, I can recall the look in your eyes—right before you delivered your poisoned kiss to me. This is why I never call you by your given name. While it might change, you do not.”

  “I told you I couldn’t feel guilty any longer for things I did as another incarnation. I told you that I wouldn’t keep paying for the past. You said you understood and that we’d start anew. But we didn’t, did we?”

  “I was ready; you weren’t.”

  Silence answered me. What trick would she try now? “We’ll talk about this after I take Paul down. Understand me, Reaper, I’m going to get you fixed.”

  “Such bravado, poisoness. How will you defeat a player who’s invulnerable to harm?” Paul had demonstrated how a blade drawn over his flesh made no slice, his skin as protected as if he wore my armor. My hated bane. Alas, the Hanged Man possessed no offensive powers, was utterly dependent on me and our alliance.

  Brimming with confidence, the Empress said, “If he’s invulnerable, why hasn’t he won every game? Somehow, someway, other cards have taken him out.”

  “Good point. Paul must have a weakness, but if it’s unknown by the Arcana who remain, then he might as well not have one at all.” The Hanged Man smiled at me.

  “Maybe your touch of Death can kill him.”

  A glance at Paul. “Perhaps that’s true, but unlike you, I don’t betray my alliances.”

  “Aric, you will return to normal one day. But I have to wonder if we can come back from this. The guilt will torture you.”

  “Torture? I dream of delivering pain to you.” To equal my own. “Cross my path, and you will know more agony than any other living creature has ever suffered. I give you fair warning.”

  “Save it, Reaper. I’m pretty sure there’s little worse than starving while pregnant. And to think, you’d gotten on my case about taking my vitamins.”

  “My Empress is hungry. That gladdens me. Remember: exile equals execution.”

  “There’s no reasoning with you,” she said with a long-suffering exhalation. “I’d like to speak to the Hanged Man.”

  This should be good. “Of course.” I handed over the phone.

  Paul grinned as he said, “Evie, it’s been too long.”

  With my heightened senses, I could easily hear her side of the conversation: “What’s your plan for the future?”

  “Ride out the apocalypse with my allies. Spread my influence until all Arcana are safe from you. Then we’ll hunt you down and pluck that pretty head of yours from your body.”

  Paul’s words grated on me. Despite my hatred toward the Empress, she was still my wife. Though I could threaten her . . . others may not.

  “This kid might save the world, and you plan to off us?” she asked, and I considered for a moment if she believed she was pregnant. Caught up in her own lies? “What’s in it for you, Traitor? Just plain evilness?”

  “I do get a certain satisfaction that you are enjoying the sentence you’d intended for me.” His smile was smug.

  The Empress was a liar, a temptress, and a killer. But over all our histories, she had also been a formidable foe. Respect was due to her from this upstart card. “Enough.”

  Picking up on my annoyance, Paul quickly said, “Gotta run, Evie. Let’s keep in touch.”

  “Oh, Paul”—her voice dropped to the breathy whisper of her Arcana call—“we’ll see each other real soon.”

  _______________

  The Empress

  As I hung up, I struggled to bite back my helpless rage and hopelessness. The call had only worsened my depression.

  Aric, come back to me.

  At Joules’s and Kentarch’s questioning looks, I said, “Gabe’s still there. The three are all still under Paul’s thrall. We’re still out here starving. My husband is being controlled by pure evil.”

  Kentarch’s hands clenched the wheel. “Which means the Hanged Man is winning.”

  16

  Day 543 A.F.

  For the last week, I’d hailed Circe with more and more desperation. Not so much as a ripple from her. Nor a flicker from Matthew.

  Each time I tried to communicate with him, I wondered anew if I’d imagined Jack’s voice. As ever, I didn’t feel like I had a firm grasp on what was real/unreal.

  Replaying Aric’s tone on the phone didn’t help my mental state. It’d reminded me of his hostility when he’d first captured me in this game. He’d threatened me constantly, taunting me with my demise: Is this the day I decapitate the creature?

  Since then, I’d come to depend on him, counting on his love. He was my soul mate; we belonged together. So how could he say those hateful things to me?

  If my mind was as screwed up as everyone kept thinking, then maybe the months I’d had with Aric in his castle were the dream. Maybe I’d been asleep this entire time and would wake up tied to Thanatos, a captive walking barefoot across a punishing terrain.

  I’d probably prefer that to being pregnant.

  Day 545 A.F.

  Still no sign of Circe.

  We’d started going stir-crazy in the Beast. Truck cabin fever. So whenever we found a decent-looking shelter, we’d overnight inside, starting a fire. Kentarch was handy at sourcing precious wood. A door. A chair. A cradle.

  But nothing to eat. Cat food was beginning to look good.

  Day 546 A.F.

  I was right. Cat food tasted worse on the way up. As my best friend Mel would’ve said in my situation: “Somebody better get some mothertrucking filet mignon up in this bitch, or I will MUTINY.”

  Day 548 A.F.

  The big, bad Empress sobbed when we got down to our last cans of Sheba.

  Aric, you bastard, come back to me.

  17

  Day 550 A.F.

  “What can I do for you, Empress?” Death asked me in a pleasant tone.

  Half delirious, I’d filched Kentarch’s phone from the truck, then sneaked back into our current accommodations—a firelit cave—to place a call. “Aric, I need to come home.” I’d feared that Kentarch would leave our fragile alliance, but here I was, breaking ranks first.

  “Home?” God, how could he sound so snide? “Do you mean my castle?”

  “You have to come get me.” I knelt beside the cave’s trash pile, picking up an empty cat-food can. Tears welling, I ran my finger along the edge for another crumb. Nothing. I’d already licked it clean.

  At that moment, I despised Aric.

  When I tossed the can away, my ring caught the firelight, the amber stone drawing my eye. The band hung so loosely on my finger I’d had to coat it with sap to keep it on.

  “I burn to come get you, Empress. Alas, I can’t leave just now.” His voice was a perfect mix of good humor and callousness. “You see, I have a particular susceptibility to your charms.”

  As he spoke, my gaze darted around the large cavern. No one was in here with me, and yet I again got that feeling of being watched. I told him, “I feel their eyes on me all the time.” It was driving me crazy!

  “Whose eyes?”

  “I-I don’t know. I feel them.” Matthew had told me to beware of Bagmen, slavers, militia, cannibals, and Minors. I’d fought every group except for the last. He’d said they watched us, plotting against us.

  Could they be following us?

  I’d asked Joules if Cally’s chronicles had mentioned the Minors. He’d said, “In parts. Basically the only way you’ll know they exist is if something goes really wrong with the game. They’re not allowed to hurt us, and we can’t hurt them.”

  Aric said, “Your s
tint out in the Ash has taken a toll on you, Empress. You’re not making sense.”

  “Not just the Ash. Against all odds, I’m still pregnant.” Dizziness was my new companion; sleep was all I wanted to do. “I can’t go on much longer.”

  Late last night as I’d tossed and turned in my sleeping bag, Kentarch had murmured, “Enough is enough.” He’d sat beside me and unsheathed his knife. I’d felt a flare of fear until he’d rolled up his sleeve.

  “You must have nourishment.” He raised the blade above his forearm. “Come, Empress, you are supposed to be bloodthirsty.”

  “Uh-uh,” I said weakly. “Maybe this is the gateway drug to cannibalism. I don’t want to be a cannibal.” I’d only throw it up anyway. The thought of vomiting warm blood made me retch.

  “My people would often drink the blood of cattle. And the Maasai were no cannibals.”

  I told him, “You need it.” Kentarch’s enviable cheekbones had taken on a grotesque cast.

  “If she doesn’t want it”—Joules looked sunken-eyed and skeletal himself—“I’ll toss my hat in the ring.”

  Now I told Aric, “You promised me you wouldn’t stop until I was yours forever. That you wouldn’t ever rest. I am yours. But you’re throwing me away. Us away.” Tears spilled. “Take me back, and use the cilice to control my abilities until our kid is born. Then kill me if you still want to.”

  “Ah, the cilice.” His tone held a grin. “I found it down in the rubble of the nursery after our battle with Ogen, with your flesh still attached to it.”

  I’d forced Lark to carve it off me so I could fight. At the memory of that pain, I heaved, but had nothing in my belly to throw up.

  “If you only knew the story behind it . . . . Come to my castle, and we will discuss your proposition.”