The Dark Calling

by Cole, Kresley

  “What will we do?”

  “When our podnas get back, we’ll teleport the truck to the cave to load up. If we can talk Kentarch into searching a new area, the four of us’ll head south to the Gulf. There might be a similar situation with ships off the old coast of Louisiana.”

  “What’s taking the guys so long? They’ve never been gone a whole night before. What if Paul’s sphere caught Kentarch?” Another Arcana trapped?

  “You’re not supposed to be borrowing trouble, supposed to be relaxing for the kid.”

  “Is that possible A.F.?” No sooner had I made the comment than Jack stilled, cocking his head.

  “We got company.” We both leapt up, snatching on jeans, dressing in a hurry.

  “Is it the guys?”

  “Uh-uh.” He stomped into his boots.

  As I reached for my own, I caught sight of my former wedding ring lying on the floor. With a pang, I pocketed it.

  Someone banged on the door. “Open up! It’s the Ciborium.”

  I hissed, “That widow must’ve ratted me out.” I tied my boots. “Do you have any weapons hidden?”

  “Non. We stole ours back from the arsenal, but then we stashed them in the cave. Look, we’ll get through this, Evie. As long as we’re together, we can handle anything. Remember?” Once he’d yanked on his coat, he tossed me mine, then marched to the door. A glance back at me. “You ready?”

  I nodded, and he opened up.

  Five Ciborium guards stood outside with their guns pointed at his face.

  36

  Death

  Hundreds of miles from the sphere

  My stalwart mount ultimately buckled under the strain. I abandoned him and began to run east.

  When I’d first regained my mind, the need to return and slaughter Paul had nearly consumed me, but I could never enter that sphere again.

  Besides, time was now more of a threat than the Hanged Man.

  I couldn’t govern my emotions, chaotic thoughts overwhelming me.

  My wife has been vulnerable out in the Ash. Starving. Nearly dying. Now in danger once more—because of Paul. He will die bloody. She and I are going to have a son—if she survives long enough.

  I saw her demise. Will the Fool’s vision come true before I can reach my beloved wife and child?

  I ran into the night. I ran for their lives . . . .

  37

  The Empress

  Surrounded by Ciborium guards, we entered the MSY Calices, heading for an audience with Lorraine herself.

  The men hadn’t taken their fingers off their triggers. They weren’t treating us like suspected criminals—but like convicted ones.

  Was the plank in our future?

  In French, I muttered to Jack, “What are we going to do?” For weeks, I’d had a bad feeling about Lorraine. Yet after using my powers last night, I could barely manage to sharpen my claws.

  He answered in the same, “Kentarch and Joules will be back soon. They’ll find us gone and come after us. Just hang on.”

  News of my vines must’ve spread; as the guards had escorted us across the settlement, people had begun to gather outside the yacht, whispering and pointing at me. I’d heard the word witch a few times.

  On board, we passed one stateroom after another, trudging across plush carpet toward the bow. Soft floor lighting guided the way, and warm air blew from the vents. I made out the faint hum of generators. Must be nice.

  Cleanliness and order marked every inch, which made me doubt my suspicions about the Ciborium. How could villains have a lair like this?

  I was used to subterranean dens—not rock-star megayachts. I’d descended into the Hermit’s laboratory, the Hierophant’s pantry, and the Lovers’ shrine. Again and again, I’d emerged to the surface and lived. Like a plant.

  Would we survive this next trial?

  We passed the exit that led to the plank. The two spotlighted masts cast shadows inside. I held my breath as they wavered over us.

  The guards forced us into an opulent ballroom, our steps loud. Chandeliers hung from exposed rafters, shimmering light across the empty space. A grand staircase curved from a balcony to the gleaming dance floor.

  Atop a dais, Lorraine sat on that seashell-covered throne, more of her guards flanking her. Imperious in another silver dress, she’d braided her long brunette hair over one shoulder. Up this close, I saw her irises were so light a brown, they looked yellowish.

  “Welcome to our court, my dear ones,” she greeted us in her soft, singsong voice. An ornate gold chalice sat on one throne arm. On the other arm lay a jewel-encrusted blade.

  Jack demanded, “What do you want with us?”

  Ignoring him, she turned to me. “We had a little time before we send up our next flare to the faithful awaiting on the coast, and I wanted to meet the Empress in person.”

  I jolted at her casual mention of my title. “How did you know?”

  With a dreamy expression, she said, “How could I not? I’m an Arcana.”

  I shared a shocked look with Jack as comprehension sunk in. Lorraine. La Reine. The queen. My gaze flitted to the chalice beside her. “You’re the Queen of Cups.” One of the two Minor Arcana my grandmother had specifically warned me about.

  Why hadn’t I put this together before? This ship’s name—the Calices—was French for Chalices.

  There were thirteen guards with armbands. Lorraine would make fourteen. “The entire suit of Cups is here.”

  “Correct, Empress.”

  Circe had said she’d found a suit on the coast. Bingo.

  I’d learned that Major Arcana rarely encountered the Minors, but when we did . . . not good news. My grandmother’s words: They can be as dangerous as Major Arcana. Especially the court cards.

  Matthew had told me they watched us, plotting against us. Had that been what I’d sensed out on the road?

  So what would Lorraine do now? “How did you recognize me?”

  “Not easily. You look nothing like the Empress of old.”

  For now. “Why have you forced us here? You can’t harm a Major Arcana.”

  She smiled sweetly, but her face resembled a mask. Now that I knew what to look for, I could see the cracks in the surface, the danger lurking beneath—like that trench on a calm day. Give it time. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Though I do feel I should remind you that you can’t aggress against us either. Else risk punishment.”

  “That depends on whether you’ll let us go.”

  “Oh, we can’t harm you—but your handsome companion doesn’t warrant such consideration.” Two of the guards seized Jack’s arms. “A shame, since the Cajun is my ace salvager.”

  As he struggled against them, I said, “You do not want to hurt him.” I had steel in my tone—as if I were still the great and powerful Empress. In reality, I needed help. Would Kentarch and Joules come for us?

  “Relax, Empress. If you cooperate, the Cajun will emerge from this ship unscathed. You both will.”

  At that, Jack stopped resisting.

  Wary, I asked her, “Where’s the King of Cups? Shouldn’t a Major Arcana like myself be negotiating with the man in charge?”

  She gave a negligent flick of her hand in one guard’s direction. “That’s him.” An older man with salt-and-pepper hair bowed to her. “But we’re the Queendom. It works best that way.”

  Damn. I hate that I like that. “Where have the Minors been?”

  “We watch. We endure. We prepare for the future. One day this game will end, and we’ll be ready.”

  “Do you have powers like the Majors?”

  “We all have sharply honed instincts. We knew how to survive the Flash and avoid the plague-stricken. And each suit has a specific talent.”

  “What’s yours?” I asked, casting my mind back to some of Gran’s mad ramblings. Hadn’t she made a strange comment about the Cups and . . . blood?

  Lorraine ran her finger over the rim of the chalice. “Soon I will demonstrate it for you.”

  That so
unded ominous.

  Jack gave me a subtle nod. Telling me to keep stalling?

  Though we hadn’t slept and I was still thrown from the events of the night, I would try. “Where are the other suits? Why are you not all living in one settlement?”

  “We’ve been at odds. A little-known secret is that we each favor a Major to win, helping him or her behind the scenes.”

  “All of you need to band together to support one champion—who can go up against Richter. Otherwise, he’s going to usher in hell on earth. I’ve witnessed his powers in person.”

  “We’ve seen them as well. Sometimes an Arcana really is his card. He’s as immovable as rock. His wrath is as fiery as lava and just as destructive. But then, Major Arcana are born evil.”

  Many I’d met were. “I’m not evil.” Not yet. In this game, I’d done vicious things for pure reasons: protecting my friends and loved ones or preserving my own life against deadly adversaries. I’d never harmed the innocent. At least, not maliciously.

  I’d kept the red witch on a tight leash.

  The Cups laughed at my statement. Lorraine looked delighted with me, as if I were a precocious child who’d just made a funny. “Are you saying the gods selected you all those eons ago because you were good-hearted? No, they each chose a predator to empower and sponsor.”

  Doubts flooded in, but then I recalled sweet Tess, who’d destroyed herself trying to undo Richter’s carnage. Even Gabriel had dearly wished for the game to end. And Finn? He’d never wanted to hurt a fly.

  “As for your concern,” Lorraine said, “the Minors are banding together. We’ve been in contact with the Kingdom of Pentacles. They control the Sick House.”

  “The ones with that smarmy radio message.”

  “That successful message. Their settlement is even larger than Jubilee. They were most interested to know we’ve been housing three Majors, but not surprised.” So the Cups were aware of Kentarch and Joules too. “We’ve begun talks with the Pentacles to unite, in order to move things along more quickly. We Minors are stewards of the earth. The earth won’t return until the game is finished, until all the Major Arcana but one are gone.”

  “I take it by your attitude that I’m not your dark horse this time around.”

  “Some believe you’ll be needed to reseed the earth.” She rolled her eyes. “We can find seeds. Once the sun returns, we can grow whatever you could. In any case, we’re associated with water. We favor the Priestess to win. That’s what our hearts and dreams tell us to do.”

  “Yet you’ve never made her any sacrifices?”

  “We make weekly plank offerings.” She flashed me a new mask—self-satisfied Lorraine.

  “So those men were telling the truth when they screamed their innocence?” All the way down . . .

  “Of course.” She shared a chuckle with her guards. “As I said, there’s no need to steal here. We have a bounty. We even have plenty of offerings.”

  Jack bit out, “You routinely murdered innocent men?” He looked sorry for doubting me.

  “Not innocent. They were agitators who spoke out and threatened our harmony.”

  The Cups were serial killers. I’d known something wasn’t right about them. “I talked to my good friend Circe about this very subject, and she complained that the settlers on the coast weren’t making ‘proper sacrifices.’ Whatever you’re doing, you’re doing it wrong. It’s not a sacrifice if you don’t feel it. Maybe try dumping the King of Cups next time.”

  A flicker of doubt crossed Lorraine’s mask as she gazed at the older man. He pulled at his collar.

  Attention back on me, she said, “Your good friend Circe, is it? And yet you keep betraying her in every game.”

  Really sick of those reminders. “How do you know that?” Trying to sound cool, I said, “You must have chronicles.” Want them.

  “With our talents, we have no need of them.”

  Fatigue weighed on me, irritation growing. “What are these talents? You said you’d demonstrate for me.”

  “What do you want most in the world?” she asked. “I can tell you how to attain it.”

  Could I risk divulging what I needed? “Out of the goodness of your heart?”

  “No. You’ll give me other secrets. I’ll discover whether you will leave our settlement peacefully. I’ll learn whether you speak the truth or tell your Empress lies.”

  “How?” Out of the corner of my eye, I spied two half-materialized shapes on the balcony. Kentarch and Joules!

  “I’ll need your blood.” She grasped the knife and chalice. “Haven’t you noticed our red armbands? They’re symbolic of bandages.”

  Jack thrashed against the guards holding him. “Nobody’s drinking her blood.”

  “Drinking?” Lorraine looked aghast. “Of course not! It seems that would lead the way to cannibalism.” Again, she and I agreed on a point. “No, we are clairvoyants. We can see an individual’s past, present, and future—”

  “In a chalice of blood,” I finished for her. Gran had told me that, but I’d thought she was delirious. Had she been teaching me all the way up to the end?

  Lorraine nodded. “If the blood is freely offered, we will answer a single question.”

  Matthew wasn’t the only one who could see far. That’s why the Cups had taken random samples in the quarantine. They hadn’t been testing for contagion; they’d been foreseeing whether those folks had an epidemic in their future.

  Kentarch materialized fully up in the balcony. “Clairvoyants?” Joules blipped beside him.

  Lorraine turned to them. “Ah, the Chariot and the Tower.” Her guards tensed, readying their rifles. “Do you mean the Cups harm?”

  Kentarch shook his head, then teleported down to her. “My wife is missing.” He was already rolling up the sleeve on his bad arm. “I have searched for her for months. Can you tell me where she is?”

  If Lorraine was surprised that he’d lost his hand, she didn’t indicate it. “I can tell you whether you’ll find her and where.” She positioned the knife and chalice.

  I quickly said, “Kentarch, watch yourself with her. You weren’t here when she bragged about forcing innocent men off the plank. They’ve been executing a new victim every week.”

  “Empress, I must know how to find Issa.” He said to Lorraine, “Please help me.”

  She tilted her head. “Where did you last see her?”

  He explained the situation at the penthouse, how his wife had disappeared from an impenetrable stronghold.

  Lorraine listened intently, then said, “No wonder you’re desperate to locate her. All you’ve known is victory. How frustrating for the eminent Chariot, the card associated with bold excellence, to fail for so long.” She tsked. “All you want is a foe to vanquish.” Woe to the bloody vanquished.

  He offered his arm. “I have no care for success or failure, as long as Issa lives.” His brows knitted when Lorraine drew the blade above the scarred skin of his wrist, but he didn’t make a sound as his blood poured into her chalice.

  “There.” She smiled at the steaming contents. “That should do it.” She gazed into the cup, as if looking through a window. “I can seeeee you,” she murmured in an eerie tone. “I’ve found you here in the blood. You carry around a bottle of her favorite beer. Tusker, is it?”

  His eyes went wide. “Yes! Will we share it? Please, tell me.”

  Taking her time, Lorraine said, “Your modern penthouse still had electricity.”

  Impatience emanated from him. “Is that where we will reunite? Will Issa return to our home?” How could she if he’d blocked all the exits? But then, how could she have left?

  “The maddening puzzle of that locked stronghold will call you back there. Frantic for a clue, you’ll take a pickax to the very walls.”

  For the first time, uneasiness crossed Kentarch’s expression.

  “Behind a façade, you’ll uncover a hidden panic room. Had she found it as well?”

  He made a sound like a whimper. What was
he fearing? What pain was coming his way?

  “You’ll recall that the redundant power had failed that last day, and you’ll fear the outage triggered the door to close on her. You’ll imagine her running for the exit, only to be sealed in the darkness. You’ll suspect that even with your acute senses, you couldn’t have heard her screams through those slabs of blast-proof metal. Shuddering, half-mad, you’ll go intangible and walk through the wall. Inside the panic room, you will find . . . her remains.”

  My breath caught in my throat as I shared a stunned look with Jack. Issa had been dead all along?

  “You will read the letter that she wrote for you in the dark,” Lorraine said, as if discussing the weather. “You will comprehend that you abandoned your precious wife—you, the one person who could easily have rescued her from that tomb.” The queen gazed up at Kentarch. “And you, my dear one, will lose your mind.”

  He shook his head violently “No. No. No.” He backed away from her, as if he could distance himself from her words.

  I cried, “She’s got to be lying.” But how could Lorraine know those details?

  Joules clambered down the balcony steps. “Easy, Tarch!”

  Lorraine frowned into the cup, then jerked her head up. Was that a flicker of fear? She snapped her fingers, and two guards rushed in front of her. “This isn’t the future I’m seeing. This is the past. You’ve already done these things! Have already lost your mind! You returned and discovered Issa’s body right before you set out for Death’s castle.”

  My jaw slackened.

  Kentarch’s strong frame quaked. “That body I found cannot be Issa’s. My eyes must have deceived me. Which means this letter”—his voice cracked as he brushed his coat pocket—“cannot be hers. I would never leave her behind; Issa is everything to me.”

  I tottered on my feet. “Kentarch . . .” He was a friend who needed help, a man broken by the Flash.

  He’d asked me if I trusted the whisper of my hope. The Chariot had trusted his too much.

  He ran his bloody forearm over his watering eyes. “She is out there. I will keep searching the Ash.” His outline began to waver. “I will never give up.”