by Kresley Cole
“I’d say that’s debatable. You forget, I’ve seen the inside of a cannibal pantry.”
“Have you and Death worked out a system for your execution? Will he tell you when you’ve got a year left? A week? It’s sick what he’s doing to you. Why would you tolerate it?”
She shrugged again, tinkering with the remote.
“I wonder what will happen to your pets once you’re buried. Or do you think Death will let Ogen feast on your bones?” Out of patience, I stood. “When the Reaper’s sword is at your neck, I want you to remember this night. Remember that you could’ve changed your future. . . .” I trailed off when the mountain rumbled. A quake? We’d had them at Haven, an additional A.F. perk.
Outside in the wet night, Ogen responded with a bloodcurdling roar.
Lark met my gaze, suddenly looking very young. “The Devil you know.”
Done with her, I made my way back to my room, flagging with each step up. Groundhog Days were exhausting.
When I reached my bed, I fell back, passing out.
Later that night, I shot awake with a strangled cry.
I’d dreamed of Death again, but this time it was no memory of a past life. This was my mind betraying me, because I’d dreamed he’d taken me into his arms, kissing me out in the rain—and I’d loved it.
In the chill downpour, his lips had been hot on mine, as hot as they’d been when he’d breathed air into my lungs, bringing me back from the dead.
As he’d claimed my mouth over and over, his grip had been crushing, but I’d nearly cried with pleasure.
On the very night that he’d ridden out, likely to reap some unsuspecting kid, I’d experienced the most erotic dream in my life—of Death?
Dear God, what was happening to me?
33
DAY 281 A.F.
Death was expected back tonight, and I had my excuse for going to his study: returning his book. I simply chose to ignore his “parting gift” jab.
With the memory of that kissing dream firmly buried, I readied myself to see him. I took care with my clothes, wearing a fawn-colored skirt and a scoop-neck navy blouse. The neckline plunged lower than any I’d worn since the apocalypse. I left my hair loose.
I had an agenda for tonight, one made even more important in light of Matthew’s curt check-in last night: —We got away. We all lived.— It was as if he’d been overridden by other calls, the Arcana abuzz for some reason. Something about the Arcane Navigator?
My friends were out there in a dangerous world, doing God only knew what. And I couldn’t help them from here.
I exited the bathroom, crossing to the bed, where Cyclops was sprawled. “How do I look. . . .” I couldn’t manage another word, too stunned even to shriek.
Part of Death’s book was still lodged between the wolf’s mighty jaws; the rest was an array of slobbery bits scattered over my bed, like a crime scene. Cyclops belched wetly around his new four-hundred-year-old chew toy.
“Oh my God.” I had to tell Death that one of his precious books—his favorite—was no more. Under my care, his “child” had been eaten.
When Thanatos’s hooves charged onto the property, heralding Death’s arrival, I trudged down the stairs with leaden feet.
Death strode through the front doors not long after, removing his helmet. He looked exhausted, his eyes dim, blond stubble highlighting his defined jawline. His armor was splashed with mud.
Once he saw me, I could have sworn his eyes lightened a fraction, as if he was happy I was here. He looked approving of my appearance.
Then his eyes went dark once more. “Ah, my lady awaiting her knight’s return,” he said in a derisive tone. “I am far too tired for your intrigues tonight, Empress.”
He looked so whipped that I actually felt sorry for him. How could I be softening toward someone who had me in the crosshairs?
This was probably not the best time to tell him about the book, but I could still shoot for proximity. “Where did you go? Lark said you might be sourcing.” Nothing. I fiddled with my blouse. “Won’t you talk to me?”
“Leave me, creature. I’m in no mood.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way between us.”
“So says the girl who wants me dead.”
I exhaled with disappointment. “I only wanted you dead because you kept terrorizing me, and I knew you’d force the issue until only one of us survived.”
He gave a harsh laugh as he removed his spiked gauntlets. “You believe that’s changed?”
“I believe it could. Wouldn’t you rather have me as a friend than an enemy? Maybe you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have friends. Maybe you never knew.”
His expression said I’d hit the nail on the head.
How awful. “But you could have them now,” I said quietly.
“I hold your life in my hands—and you dare to pity me? Your eyes are filled with it. You think I want friends? Perhaps some like yours?” he scoffed. “Then I wouldn’t need enemies.”
“What does that mean?” My question was forgotten when I spied a new icon on his right hand, a simple white star. “You made a kill.”
Death gave me that unsettling sneer. “The Star was very bold.”
So that’s what the buzz was about. The Star, the Arcane Navigator, was no more.
Feeling sick, I turned away. What if Death truly craved killing? Like Ogen, who hungered for offerings?
In past games, Arcana had said Death preferred to kill with his touch. Perhaps, like Finn, he was compelled to use his power?
Death grabbed my arm, yanking me around. “You, of all people, are giving me a repulsed look? You’ve nearly as many markings as I have!” He released me, splaying his fingers as if he’d just handled a live grenade.
“I took mine in self-defense.”
“And you assume I didn’t? The Star neared much too close to my sanctuary. He sought me.” Death ran his palm over his jaw. “I will protect my home and anyone in it. Even you.”
In a faint voice, I said, “How did you do it?”
“Without my customary ease. Long nights had strengthened the Star, making for ideal conditions for him to use his powers.”
“Like what?” I couldn’t remember.
“Echolocation, heightened senses, the ability to create a light blast from his skin, like a supernova. In a black night, he detonated himself, paralyzing my senses, my body.” Was that the quake we’d felt? The one that had made Ogen roar? “Then he used his night sight to attack.”
“But you got the upper hand? How’d you end him?”
Death closed in on me, armored, terrifying, staring down at me until I started to tremble. He lifted one glove to my face. “These spikes”—he lightly skimmed them down my cheek—“through his temple.”
Death had battered some teenager with his gauntleted fist.
When I realized this man was trying to stoke my hatred for him, I yanked my head back. “Is that how you’ll do it to me? Before you take my head, of course. Is that what you’ll do to Lark?”
He said only, “Our play toils on. It’s kill or be killed.”
This game will make murderers of us all. No, I refused to accept that. “It doesn’t have to be that way! What if I vowed on my mother’s soul never to hurt you?”
“How easily those beautiful lips spill lies. Empress, you never keep your vows.”
So I kept hearing. “I’d never break that one.”
He exhaled, seeming like he regretted revealing too much of himself. “It is late, and I’m weary. I take my leave.” He turned toward his rooms.
Another wasted day in the Castle of Lost Time? I needed proximity! I squared my shoulders and followed him into his study. “I’ve figured out why you avoid me. If you get to know me better, it’ll be harder to kill me.”
“You enter here?” He laid his helmet and gloves on his desk. “I’ve warned you. And still you test me.” In a voice vibrating with rage, he said, “But you’d risk anything, would do anything to get back to yo
ur mortal. Anything to be in his arms once more. Even endeavoring to get closer to the man you hate above all others.”
“Just wait—”
“Deny that you want to be with him right now.”
I couldn’t make myself deny it. Death was right. I would do anything to return to Jack.
When I didn’t answer, Death looked like something snapped inside, his iron control shattering. “How can you possibly want him? The mortal thinks of your powers as a curse, a problem. You’re a god among humans, but he’s too blind to see that!”
“I look at this as a curse, as a problem. If I weren’t the Empress, then you and I wouldn’t have to be enemies. I’d never have to worry about your sword at my throat.”
“Do you believe yourself in love with Deveaux?” He snarled the words.
As far as my mission to seduce went, it probably wasn’t the best idea to be honest about that.
Between gritted teeth, he said, “It’s emblazoned on your pretty face. But you wouldn’t love him if you truly knew him. Your feelings would wither and die.”
“What are you talking about?”
He headed for his vodka bottle, pouring a shot for himself only. “He’s lied to you repeatedly.” He tossed off his glass, running the back of his marked hand over his lips, then refilled.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Uh-huh. I’ll just take your word for it?”
“No, I received my information from the Fool. He was quite worried about his Empress’s safety when you were in Deveaux’s keeping.”
This was coming from Matthew? No, no, Death was just trying to keep me on edge, to rattle me as I had him. “You know I’ll fact-check.”
“I expect you to.”
I swallowed. “And why would you two be discussing my safety?”
“We had a shared interest.”
“That’s right!” I snapped my fingers. “You wanted to keep me alive, so I could be your wild card. At least before you off me yourself. Now it makes sense why you intervened with the Hierophant. And with the other Arcana, warning them away.”
“I’ve been up-front about my intentions with you, unlike Deveaux. Did you never wonder about his instant infatuation with you?”
“Maybe he had a thing for cheerleaders.” Jack had told me he’d wanted me from the first time he’d seen me. I would never forget that morning. I’d been riding in Brand’s Porsche, leaning over to kiss him, when I’d seen a motorcyclist pull up alongside us. Jack.
Death shook his head. “No, he targeted you before he ever saw you.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“You were possessed by someone he hated.” He downed another shot.
“Jack despised Brand. That was no secret.”
“You never asked yourself why?”
“Because Brand was rich and seemed to have everything so easy.”
“I’m sure that had something to do with it. However, the main reason he hated Brandon Radcliffe”—Death’s eyes had never looked so flat and dark—“was that they shared a father. A father who adored one son and spurned the other.”
Dizziness swept over me. “You’re saying Brand and Jackson were . . . half brothers?”
This made a certain sick sense. What was it Jack had told me about his biological father? He was too busy spoiling his legitimate son to spend time with me—or to send a single dime to ma mère.
Mr. Radcliffe had been a lawyer; Jack had said his father hadn’t wanted to admit culpability. Something an attorney might say. I pictured the two boys, both so tall and built, detecting a resemblance I hadn’t noticed before. I remembered how Brand, a well-liked guy, had been baffled about why the Cajun had acted so aggressive toward him.
Only one son had known of their connection.
Was this why Jack’s eyes had darted when I’d asked him if he had any secrets? I folded my hands behind me, because they shook.
Death was relishing this. “Deveaux coveted all his brother had: the perfect family, the house, the car. The girl. He could never have any of the others—but he could have you. And he did.”
“You’re lying.” You can trust me alone, Evie. “Matthew would’ve told me about this.”
Death tsked. “Such trust you have in the Fool. How do you think I learned what my armor would do to your powers?”
I tottered on my feet. “H-he wouldn’t!”
“It’s nothing personal with him, just strategy and scheming.”
I’d thought Matthew an innocent, wide-eyed boy.
“The Fool knew that I’d kill you if I had no means to control you. In essence, he’s saved your life. So far, at least.”
Not all bad is bad, Matthew had said. Endgame, endgame.
While I digested this gut-wrenching information, Death continued, “Deveaux didn’t even like you, but he pursued you.”
“You don’t know anything!” I cried, though I could hear Jack’s words: Even when I hated you, I wanted you.
“One benefit of my endless life? I have quite a grasp on human behavior. How triumphant the mortal must have felt to claim you, to steal you from his dead brother.”
Though everything Death had told me hurt, I refused to let him undermine what I’d found with Jack. “Maybe he did target me. But his feelings grew from that. You’ll have to do better than this.”
“Do better? As you wish, creature.” With an evil grin, he said, “Deveaux killed your mother.”
34
MATTHEW! Answer me this minute!
I’d just reached my tower, was nearly hyperventilating from Death’s reveal.
In his mocking tone, the Reaper had explained that not only had Jack ended Mom’s life so I’d run away with him, but that Matthew—my supposed best friend and ally—had known all along and decided not to tell me.
I’d stormed out, calling Death a liar and much worse. But I feared deep down that the bastard had spoken the truth.
—Empress?—
Death told me things about my mother. About Jack. Did the Reaper lie to me?
—No.—
I squeezed my eyes shut. Matthew, why didn’t you tell me? Why let me be with Jack? I replayed his behavior the morning Mom had passed away. He’d been shaken, almost stunned. Though the Army of the Southeast had been closing in on us, he’d tried so hard to give Mom a decent burial—I’d thought as a kindness to her, or even to me. Now I realized it might have been guilt that had driven him.
I’d slept with that boy, had given him my heart. And all the while he’d known what he’d done. He’d berated me for keeping things from him? Then he’d looked me in the eyes and said, “I got no secrets, peekôn.”
Other than escorting my mother to the other side? He was worse than Death!
When I’d explained to Jack that nothing was more important than trust, he’d assured me that I could trust him alone. No wonder Matthew had called him Dee-vee-oh. Devious!
Maybe you could’ve given me a heads-up, telling me not to fall in love with him?
—Whenever he helps, he hurts.—
How many times had Matthew told me that?
—Your mother wanted you gone before army descended. End was near.—
Unless I could’ve gotten her help! Yes, she’d been in dire straits, but surely there had to have been a better way. So Jack assisted her suicide while I was asleep in my bed? And he did it so I’d leave with him?
Silence.
Because he’d been hard-up for me since learning I was his brother’s girl! So how’d he do it? Suffocated Mom with a pillow? I stifled a sob. Helped her OD?
—I looked away.—
Fury blazed inside me. Even with the cuff, my hair began turning red, my claws struggling to bud. Looked away as she died? It was like he’d . . . he’d deserted her. You bastard! Why didn’t you foresee what would happen to her, before she’d even gotten hurt? Maybe warned me not to let her go out?
—Matthew knows best.—
His tone was eerie, his words a disturbing echo of his mother’s—
“Mother knows best”—when she’d been about to drown him. This is unforgivable. What else have you kept from me? I trusted you!
—The Empress is my friend.—
No longer! Don’t ever contact me again!
—I won’t talk so loud.— Then his presence in my head vanished.
I had never felt so betrayed and alone.
Since my mother’s passing, Jack and Matthew had been the only constants in all this terror and misery; now those anchors were gone.
I was completely adrift, trapped in the Castle of Lost Time.
Tears pricked my eyes, and I let them fall.
35
DAY 307 A.F.
Nearly a month had passed since that night of revelations, and I remained a wreck.
Hair tangled, face puffy, I sat on my bed in a nightgown, staring out the turret window into the dark. I absently petted Cyclops, who was sprawled beside me, and reflected on the days that kept passing.
The first week after, I’d tried to block out everything. The next week, I’d replayed Jack’s behavior countless times. Since then, I’d been spiraling even lower, imagining how he might have done it. . . .
Walking in a fog, I’d wandered the halls of the manor. I hadn’t felt the pouring rain as I scuffed across the grounds, shadowed at every second by Cyclops. I’d never cried again, but only because I sensed Death was always watching me, or Lark through the wolf.
The few times I’d seen Death outside, he’d been sharpening his swords with those rhythmic movements, the ones that seemed to soothe him.
What the hell would he need soothing for? I was the one in a spiral—because of him.
I hadn’t belonged in a nuthouse before. Now? I might. My grief over my mother’s death had been reopened. After her passing, I’d been on the run for my life, mayhem around every corner; I’d had little time to think about how much I missed her.
Currently I had all the time in the world, and it was killing me.
At night, I dreamed of my life with Mom at Haven. I’d had reveries of sugarcane harvests and horseback riding. Of shelling pecans for pie and picking blackberries along the river. Mom and I had been happy before Matthew’s disturbing visions had begun.
