Taking Ogen’s temperature, I said, “Right on. I vote we swim it.”
He whimpered. “No swim—NO SWIM!”
Death commanded him in that foreign tongue, and he shut up.
“Well, aren’t you a good wittle doggie, Ogen?” I said. “You know how to sit, stay, and hush even better than Lark’s wolves.”
He stared, disbelieving that I’d just insulted him like that. “I am the DESECRATOR! I sit upon Lucifer’s knee!”
“That makes total sense, Scooby.”
With a puzzled expression, Death said, “You taunt him at your peril.”
“What’s he going to do? Kill me?” Over my shoulder I told Ogen, “Get in line, dick.”
Ignoring both of us, Death said, “We cross there.”
I followed his gaze to a suspension bridge above, so high it was nearly cloaked in clouds. Connecting two canyon walls, it looked charred and rickety, as if those support cables could snap at any second.
Lark nodded eagerly. “Good idea, boss.”
“Ass kisser,” I said, earning a flash of her fangs.
Up the muddy trail, she and Death rode their horses. I had to climb, my feet getting sucked down in the calf-deep muck.
Maybe when we got up on the bridge I’d jump, Last of the Mohicans their asses!
I’d thought that half in jest, but the idea wouldn’t go away. I didn’t know if I had the guts to leap from that height, but strategically it made sense. The water would carry me away faster than their horses could follow in this terrain. The three would relax their guard up there, because no one in her right mind would dare that jump.
Ogen would be too phobic to follow me, Lark too spineless in general. Death couldn’t without removing his armor first.
My lips curled. If he did shuck his armor and follow? Win-win. Either I escaped, or I’d face him with his defenses lowered.
What would Jack do in this situation? He was always practical. Except at the end of his life when he’d known better than to stay with me, but did it anyway. Don’t think about that! Not now, not yet . . .
Would I survive the drop? Would the water be deep enough? Knowing my luck, I’d probably bean another car.
As I climbed, I recalled a long-ago conversation with my grandmother. She’d been explaining my weaknesses; I’d just wanted to play with my dolls. Losing interest, I’d absently asked, “De-cappa-what?”
I knew Gran had revealed at least one other way I could die, but I couldn’t remember. Today, I’d be betting my life that she hadn’t said: “You can drown.”
Once we reached the beginning of the bridge, I gasped, “I need to rest.”
Lark slowed her horse. “No can do, Empress. I got the falcon scouting the entire county, and we’ve got Teeth all around us.”
Even better. I’d float right past them! “I can’t walk any farther. My feet are about to fall off.”
Death said, “Carry on, or I can drag you behind my horse.”
“Too tired,” I wheezed.
Studying my face, Death narrowed his gaze. “Have you a plan, creature?”
“Can’t read my thoughts anymore?”
“Perhaps not. But I can tell you are malingering.”
“Malingering? I don’t speak S.A.T.” The fog was so thick I couldn’t see the middle of the bridge. Would I even know where to jump? I might leap right onto the exposed edge of the riverbed. After my experience in the mines, the last place I wanted to be was in the water. Could I make myself do this?
“You act exhausted,” Death said. “But you’ve fight left in you yet.” He sounded approving.
“I do. And I’m going to fight my way. On my time.”
His eyes widened with realization. “Stem your idiocy—”
I was already running, sprinting as far along the bridge as I dared before veering toward the railing. Death spurred his mount, Ogen on his heels. Right before they reached me, I clambered atop the concrete railing. “No closer!” Unable to use my arms to steady myself, I tottered. The railing was the width of a balance beam. I’d trained on a beam—I could do a backflip on this if I needed to, I assured myself.
I chanced a look down and gulped. Not even a glimpse of the water. Which meant I couldn’t time my jump around a passing car or a piece of house. I’d have to fall blindly into that thick bank of fog.
Behind me, Death dismounted with a curse of frustration. “Do not do this thing.” Over my shoulder, I watched him ease closer, just as he had in one of my visions. A sense of déjà vu racked me as I recalled him at the edge of the cane field, stretching his arm toward me. I shook my head hard, almost pitching off the rail.
“If you jump, you’ll die, Empress.” Debatable. “As I’m closest to you, I’ll harvest your icons. You’d give them to me so easily?” Death tsked. “Our game’s no fun if you’re weak.”
“I’ve got your weak.” I took a deep breath. I closed my eyes.
Stepped off.
He bellowed curses as I plummeted. Rushing air whipped my hair above my head like the tail of a comet. My stomach dropped. I fell, and fell, and fell—
Water! Freezing!
The impact wrenched the breath from my lungs, the cold stunning my muscles. Rapids tossed me as I struggled to stay above the surface using only my legs. I sputtered, choking for air as debris battered me. Boards with nails, a piece of corrugated tin. Gouge. Slice. I felt the pressure of the wounds—and the odd warmth of my blood in the water around me—but not pain. Numb.
The foggy shore slid by so quickly. Racing. Like the road had when I’d been on the back of Jack’s motorcycle.
Over all the sounds, one roar grew louder. Was I moving faster? Drop-off ahead? I couldn’t wipe my eyes to see. . . .
“Ahhh!” I plunged dozens of feet. The pressure of the falls shoved me into the deep, but I bobbed up like a cork. Just as quickly I was sucked down again. A vortex?
Only this time, instead of surfacing, I felt my arms yanked behind me. The rope was caught on something! I strained to see in the churning water.
Eerie shapes and muted sounds all around me. A watery grave. No—not yet!
Behind me were huge blocks of cement, spiked with twisted rebar rods. I must be caught on one. If I could get lower, I could unhook my arms. But the water kept whooshing me higher like a geyser.
I struggled to swim down against that vertical current. Weakening.
I was caught fast, couldn’t find the edge of the concrete. I used my claws to slice behind me at anything I came in contact with. Cement, metal . . . running out of air . . . Fight, Evie!
My lungs screamed, my eyes bulging. Trapped. My mind was still working, my will to live clamoring—but my body . . . stopped.
Arms limp, legs dangling.
Maybe I’d be seeing my family soon, my friends. Jack. Maybe Arcana didn’t get to dream about heaven—
Though I fought as hard as I could not to, I inhaled water. The end, then. My eyelids slid shut.
A watery grave.
23
I sat on a tree trunk on the riverbank, watching without emotion as Death carried my corpse to the shore.
Out-of-body experience? Didn’t know. I felt aloof, as if I could be eating popcorn as I watched the scene play out. Maybe this was what peace felt like. I wondered if my mom had encountered it when she’d been fading away.
Why was there no bright light calling me home? Oh, yeah: no heaven for Arcana.
As Death laid my body on the sand, I saw I was in seriously bad shape. My bluish lips were parted, yet no breaths passed them. My skin was fish-belly white, my hair tangled all over my face. My arms were still bound behind my back.
With a roll of my eyes, I realized my Death-defying bid for freedom had lasted a nanosecond; I hadn’t gotten more than a couple hundred feet down the river. The bridge loomed, seeming to taunt me.
Death stood and paced, dressed only in his pants. No armor, his defenses down. What a missed opportunity.
Wait, he had markings on his skin? Acr
oss his chest were black tattoos of weird-looking runes, jagged designs that seemed to scream blade. With reluctance, I admitted that they didn’t detract from his perfection. His body was still magnificent to look at.
He ran his hand over his wet face, glancing down at me, his eyes burning with emotion. Death was disgusted with me? Shocking. But then I thought I made out something more. Something . . . inexplicable.
The sound of pounding hooves neared. Lark leapt from her galloping horse, rushing up to Death. “Resuscitate her!”
He ignored the girl, continuing to pace.
“If you let her die, then she stole from you—her death is yours to deliver, not hers to take whenever she freaking feels like it!”
Ogen lurched into view, howling to the rainy sky, “I feast, I feast!”
Lark kept badgering Death. “Boss, you said you enjoyed her suffering, that it was much better. Are you gonna let her cut your enjoyment short?”
Whatta bitch, I thought without real anger. This was popcorn watching, after all.
“I FEAST! Let me desecrate her—”
“Silence, both of you!” Death yelled, thunder rumbling behind him. He muttered something in that foreign language, then fell to his knees beside my body, blocking my view. All I could see was his broad back heaving in a breath as he leaned down to deliver it to me—
His lips. I somehow felt them on mine. Warm air from his lungs flowed into my starving ones. He repeated this. And again.
Suddenly I was zooming toward my body, into my body—which was racked with the need to breathe. Panic seized my deadened muscles.
When Death drew back for another breath, my eyes shot open, caught his—
I rolled to my side and retched up water.
Once I’d coughed it all up, I awkwardly eased myself into a sitting position. He’d risen up on his haunches, tension emanating from him.
“Boss, you saved her,” Lark said in an awed tone. “You . . . you breathed life into her.”
Before I came to my senses, I had the insane impulse to thank him. He must have thought I was about to, because he tilted his head, his blond brows drawn tight.
I glanced down. Saw his hand. His bared hand. He had only two icons: Calanthe’s and another one I didn’t recognize.
None of my friends’ markings. Which meant they’d all survived. Which meant Jack likely had too. Jack, you cheated Death.
I gave the Reaper a triumphant look.
“Always thinking of them. I should have left you to drown.”
In a rough voice, I said, “Without a doubt.”
His hand shot out to my neck, beginning to squeeze. “You think I won’t remedy my mistake?”
—Eyes to the skies, lads!—
—I watch you like a hawk.—
—Trapped in the palm of my hand.—
“Arcana!” Ogen bounded over with Death’s swords and armor. “Power!”
Joules’s alliance was closing in? “No time to suit up, Death?” Without that protection, he was no longer invincible.
He rose, shooting me a scathing look. “And now someone must die because of your folly.”
Would the Tower honor his promise to me—
A silvery javelin landed beside me, exploding into a bolt of lightning.
24
Son of a bitch! The Lord of Lightning was up on the suspension bridge, his vantage making us fish in a barrel.
Ogen’s body began to swell into his horrendous ogre form. He swung his horned head up at Joules, then sped off toward the bridge so quickly he sprayed rocks in his wake.
I scrambled up as fast as I could, dodging another javelin, almost barreling over Lark as she fled. I headed for a patch of burned-out woods, running parallel to her.
Javelins landed at my heels again and again, propelling me faster. I chanced a glance over my shoulder—
Plowed into a boulder. Blundered over it like a clipped running back.
I ignored my new medley of wounds and curled up behind the stone. The javelins . . . stopped? Sucking in wet breaths, I peeked around the rock, blinking against the rain.
Joules yelled, “Oi! Keep cover, you daft tart!”
The Tower had been aiding me? Pushing me to run? Yes, he could’ve hit me at any time—just as he could have in my vision of him at Haven, when I’d sprinted along the river’s edge.
I had to get free, to help him take advantage of Death’s weakness. I needed my hands! I couldn’t reach the rope that bound my elbows, but I could work it over something sharp. I slashed my claws behind me, gouging out a shelf from the boulder. With panting breaths, I started sawing the rope across the edge.
Joules had turned his focus on his true enemy: Death.
Near the river, the Reaper waited without his armor, as if challenging Joules to strike. His muscles were tensed with readiness. Lightning rained down. Death’s swords flashed out, a blur of movement as he deflected each bolt.
From beneath a nearby cliff, Lark screamed at Joules, “The Teeth are on their way here, idiot!”
Joules replied, “Well aware, you shifty bitch—I told them to follow the explosions. They ought to be up on that canyon rise in a couple of minutes.”
Without taking his gaze from Joules, Death commanded Lark, “Call on every creature still living—stall those mortals, or they mow us all down.”
“Got it, boss!” She ran off with her wolves.
Joules was using the Teeth? Clever boy. But now it sucked to be me. As I sawed faster against the rock edge, I scanned for Tess. No sign. I could hear Gabriel’s rocketlike approach, but couldn’t see him above the fog.
The last time Gabriel had attacked Death like this, the Reaper had winged him, sending him hurtling. Surely they wouldn’t try the same plan twice. As Joules’s attack intensified, the high-pitched whine grew deafening. Closer, closer.
I’d witnessed an Arcana battle through Matthew’s vision. But this was visceral chaos—the bellows, the earth seeming to shake, the blinding bolts.
A clattering sound above us. That whine . . . When Death raised his swords to the sky to strike at Gabriel, a metal net descended over him.
They had changed their plan!
The net must be weighted; it made even Death collapse to his knees. With an enraged bellow, he slashed with his swords, but couldn’t cut the metal. The more he struggled, the more he ensnared himself.
All Joules had to do was aim one javelin. But Ogen was almost on him, bounding across the bridge, forcing Joules to retreat. The Devil chased the Tower, just as he had in their last battle. Could Joules escape him again?
And where was Tess, the third piece of this puzzle?
Through breaks in the fog, I made out Joules’s sparking skin. “Feck you, beast! That all you got?” As Ogen’s hoofs pounded, what sounded like a giant whip cracked. Then again.
The suspension cables were snapping!
Neither Joules nor Ogen seemed to notice that the bridge was rippling like a wave. Joules kept lobbing javelins to explode at the Devil’s feet, taking out chunks of concrete. But the lightning didn’t faze Ogen—only enraged him.
He drummed his fists across his chest, then tore off for Joules. More concrete dropped.
So now what was their plan?
“Tess, take out Death!” Joules yelled over his shoulder. “Ogen’s on me tail!”
Movement caught my eye. Tess.
She stood a few dozen feet away between scorched trunks, shaking, a dagger in her hand. Was their backup plan to stab Death? I could almost hear their reasoning: if the World Card couldn’t control her powers, she should at least be able to plunge a knife.
But this girl was terrified, watery eyes wide in her face. The knife trembled. Though she didn’t seem aware of it, her feet . . . weren’t touching the ground.
Heaving breaths, Death rolled to his back to kick against the edges of the net. He would be free by the time Tess reached him. Just in time for him to stab her.
“Strike, Tess!” Joules sounded even farther
away.
When she looked at me with terrified brown eyes, I shook my head in warning. “Not enough time. Free me, and I’ll help you!” I blinked. Were her clothes growing baggier on her body, right in front of me?
“I-I’m so sorry,” she cried, and fled in Joules’s direction.
The Tower must have realized she wasn’t following orders. He yelled, “Gabe, take the Reaper out!”
From somewhere above the fog, Gabriel answered, “It’s done.” A shrill whistle sounded as he began to dive.
Death met my gaze, his eyes promising revenge.
I narrowed my own. “I told you to watch your six, Reaper.”
Yet just before Gabriel attacked, I heard another explosion.
Then: “NO SWIIIIIMMMM!”
Ogen was plummeting—along with the entire bridge. Joules went careening down one edge, scrabbling for a handhold. At the last second, he snagged one of those suspension cables.
How long could he hold on to slick metal? He couldn’t regenerate, wouldn’t survive that fall.
When a flailing Ogen sped past the shore, helpless in the water, I raised my face. “Gabriel, save Joules!”
At once, that whine changed trajectory.
Too late. The Tower fell.
“Oh, God. . . .”
Just before Joules crashed onto the jagged rocks below, Gabriel scooped him up, rocketing back up into the clouds.
From a distance, Joules yelled, “Not how this was supposed to go down, Empress! Teeth’re coming, leaving you a wee bit fecked.”
Right on cue, the first vehicle in the Teeth convoy appeared at the top of the rise, another rumbling up behind it—at least ten armored vehicles moving in. A cloudy-eyed man thundered orders from the gun turret of a Humvee, and the other men gave battle cries, beginning to fire down on us.
All to avenge a male who had enslaved their minds. “Kill the unclean one!”
Being called that was really getting old. Like it’d been funny the first two times . . .
Those battle cries faded when Cyclops launched himself at the driver of one jeep. As blood splattered the windshield, the vehicle never braked. At the edge of the canyon, Cyclops leapt to safety, but the jeep rolled onward over the precipice, carrying its screaming occupants to their deaths.
Endless Knight (The Arcana Chronicles) Page 17
