Dead of Winter (11 page)

I fished out his envelope of photos. The first night I'd been on the road with him, he'd shown me the contents of his bag, but he hadn't wanted me to see these.

Turnabout, Jack.
I glanced through them, finding nothing bad, just photos of his friends and his mom.

Jack stirred. Was he waking? I stuffed everything back in his pack.

His gray eyes opened. Bloodshot, weary, but so familiar. “Evangeline?” He blinked, as if he couldn't believe I was with him. “You real? Another dream?” He sounded half-dead.

He and I had been separated for three months. Felt like three years.
“I'm here with you.” I took his hand in mine. “You're safe now.”

With his brows drawn, he rubbed his callused fingers over my skin, like he was testing my
realness
. “Never thought I'd get free from the twins. Much less see you again.”

“The resident doc patched you up. Everything's going to be okay.”

“And you're watching over me?
Ma belle infirmière.
” My pretty nurse. He'd always loved when I'd fussed over him.

“Before I forget . . .” I drew his rosary from my pocket.

He spared it a brief glance, gaze returning to me. With a hint of his heartbreaking grin, he said, “My prayers already got answered,
non
?”

I didn't address that. “Selena found it.” I leaned over and clasped it around his neck.

“Merci.”
He peered up at me. “Christ, I missed those blue eyes of yours.
Ma fille aux yeux bleus
.” My blue-eyed girl. “Didn't think I'd ever see them again.”

You almost didn't.

Then he stared at some point past me. “What the hell?”

Cyclops had nosed his head inside the tent flap. “Oh. One of Lark's wolves is protecting me. Long story. He won't hurt you.”

Jack looked even more confused.

To distract him, I said, “Hey, when you get back on your feet, you can show me all around this place. Not many guys have their own forts.”

“You can't leave from here.” His muscles tensed, making him wince. “Promise me you woan leave.”

I had nowhere to go. No home whatsoever. I wanted one though. Fresh from viewing Haven's ruins, I felt the agonizing lack. “I won't leave.”

As if that one burst of energy had sapped his remaining strength, his lids grew heavy. “I know . . . what they did . . . to Clotile.”

Curiosity preyed on me. “What, Jack? And what did they do to you?”

He seemed to struggle against sleep with everything in him—“Doan want to take my eyes off you”—but he lost in the end.

Selena had entered the tent and heard the last. I couldn't read her reaction. Despite Jack's words, something could've happened between him and Selena. I might be the interloper here.

She set Jack's trusty crossbow on his desk. Since I'd last seen it, he'd modified the weapon, adding a flashlight and painting the auto-loading arrow cartridge.

“Has Joules calmed down yet?” I asked her. “Did he find the culprit?”

“The Tower's latest farfetched theory? Nanoseconds before his lightning hit, the Priestess somehow swooped in and ‘insta-drowned' the twins, shoving water into their lungs. He's furious and plans to go ‘spearfishing' for her.” Selena frowned. “I wonder if she can be electrocuted.” We could hope. “Matthew's outside, said he needs to talk to you.”

“Will you stay?”

“Duh.”

Though exhausted, I forced myself to stand, then shrugged into my poncho. Maybe Matthew would reveal what Jack had been through. Clotile . . .

Or how about a rundown of my history with the Lovers?

While I was out, I'd make some fruit for Tess. Nothing said “sorry I became a witch from nightmares and almost killed you” like a gift basket of fruit.

I stepped out into the biting air and drizzle. Cyclops loped beside me, barking a couple of times, as if to tell me something.
Slaver's got Timmy!

“Empress.” Matthew looked as bad as I felt—his face wan, his shoulders slumped with fatigue.

“What's happened?” Did he feel guilty because of how things had gone down?

He gazed at me with those woebegone brown eyes. “Tredici nears.”

“I don't know what that is, sweetheart. Hey, aren't you happy that we rescued Jack?”

“I couldn't see.” He hugged his arms around his torso, batting his
fists against his parka. “The Lovers!” The lowest hum came from him.

I reached forward to pry his arms away. “We won the day. We lived through it.”

He stared down at me. “The twins—inseparable. Never parted.”

“I get that now.” In life—and in death—they were together. “Matthew, I need to know what they did to Jack.”

“A path. You won't like where it leads.”

I'd gone months without decoder-ring talk. Now I was back in the thick of it. Though I was about to pass out, I asked, “What does that mean?”

“I can't steer, can't change. Before there were waves or eddies; now stone. Our enemies laugh.”

“Honey, you're scaring me. And I'm so tired. Can we do this later?”

He raised his palm. “Hold, please.”

“Are you talking to someone else?” Matthew was the Arcana switchboard, a medium. “To . . . Aric? Is he in your eyes?” Watching me through Matthew?

Now that Jack was safe, my traitorous mind turned to Death. I
missed
Aric—or, at least, the man I'd thought he was. I missed his dry wit. I missed reading with him and dancing before his rapt gaze.

Some part of me had been on the verge of loving him. Even the twins had seen that. Yet that time with him had been canceled out by his actions. “Will he come for me?” I gazed at the walls of the fort. Would the minefield be enough to keep him out? I couldn't hide here forever.

“Meeting!” Matthew took my hand, leading me away from the tent.

“I need to grow some food and then get back to Jack.”

He pulled with more insistence. He'd gotten even stronger, was almost as broad-shouldered as Jack.

At the front of the fort, Matthew gave a nod, and soldiers opened the gates. Before Cyclops could follow, they closed behind us.

“I told Jack I wouldn't leave. Matthew?”

He didn't answer, just continued leading me down a rocky trail, lower and lower as the mist thickened.

“Um, we're getting close to the shore.”

“Still surface.”

The trail had opened up into a beach area, similar to the one across the river. “Is it safe here?” Wary, I gazed around. I'd bet kids had once come here, drinking beer and swimming on hot, sunny days.

I missed those days so bitterly I could weep.

—TERROR FROM THE ABYSS!—

The call boomed in my head. “What is this, Matthew?” I wrested my hand from his.

At the beach's edge, a section of water rose.

“I'm introducing you to . . . the High Priestess.”

When the Priestess had said we'd meet again, I thought she'd meant far in the future—some distant clash.

Not later the same night!

That rising water morphed, taking on shape. The details grew finer and finer until the outline of a girl emerged.

“Farewell, Fool,” the water girl said.

I turned to Matthew.

Gone.

Damn it! I turned back to the Priestess. Though she wouldn't remember our skirmish, the feel of her tentacles was fresh in my mind. “Are you going to attack me out of the blue?” Again.

“Not at present. Though every attack of mine must be out of the
blue
, no?” How could water sound amused? “Have we peace between us for this meeting?”

I recalled Selena's guppy comment. The Priestess hadn't killed me, was instead calling a meeting. Maybe she could become an ally. “We have peace.”

The water morphed again, taking the shape of an oval, like a mirror. As the ripples stilled, a firelit temple came into view. The oval had become a window for me to see through!

Sitting upon a coral throne was a girl about my age with luminous
fawn-colored eyes, flawless ebony skin, and long black hair braided over her shoulder. She wore frothy white robes (sea-foam?), iridescent blue opera-length gloves, and a glittering crown of water. A golden trident stretched over her lap.

She was spellbinding.

“Hail Tar Ro, Empress.”

Huh? “Hail Tar Ro to you too?”

“What is your given name for this game?” Her words were warmly accented, the rhythms calling to mind balmy breezes and faraway places.

“I'm Evie Greene.”

Something unseen skittered around her throne. A real tentacle? “I'm Circe Rémire.” Water sluiced down stone walls behind her. Was her temple underwater?

Until I learned her location, I couldn't fight her even if I wanted to. “You're here, but you're not here.”

“I can inhabit certain bodies of water. For instance, if the Empress followed a stream from Death's lair, I could follow her.”

She'd been watching me. “How's that possible?”

“How is any of this possible?” She waved a sparkly blue arm at her temple.

My eyes widened. She wasn't wearing gloves. Dazzling scales ran up her forearms, ending with a dainty blue fin at each elbow.

If I'd deemed Lark cool to have a bird of prey with a little leather helmet, Circe's scales were right up there.

“The game makes the impossible possible.”

Witches and angels and devils and time travel. My head spun. I needed to get back to Jack. To feed Tess.

“I understand you had an eventful night.” Circe literally didn't know the half of it. “A grand clash amid that mortal army.” She seemed to be settling in for a big fat chat.

Was the Priestess lonely? As Death had been?

“Eventful,” I agreed, peering at her hand. No markings. “Do
you know what happened to the Lovers' icon?” More of that creepy skittering sounded. I couldn't see what was at her feet—and maybe that was a good thing?

“Their icon is right where it should be. As are the two you wear.”

Odd way to answer. “I never want another. I plan to stop this game.”

She tilted her head, giving me what might have been a sad smile. “You always had a high regard for yourself.”

“How would you know that? I thought no one but the Fool had memories of past lives.”

“My previous incarnation cast a spell, allowing me to relive my memories through trances. Who needs a chronicler when you have firsthand information?”

A spell? “Are you a witch?”

“It depends who you ask,” she said wryly. “Did the Fool give you your memories? In visions and dreams?”

“He did. I've been accessing them slowly.”

“Wise. I view mine for ten minutes a day, every day without fail.”

She came across as so disciplined and with-it. Unlike me. I could go weeks without a vision, then binge-watch. No wonder my brain felt like jelly.

“With each memory, I better appreciate how epic this game is,” she continued. “It shapes the history of gods and man, yet the Empress doesn't want to play anymore? There's no stopping it, Evie Greene.”

“Because it's impossible? You just said the game makes the impossible possible. When the alternative is murdering kids, I've got to try.”

“Did you try?” She gave my hand a knowing look.

“I did.” I'd wanted to appear strong, but fatigue washed over me. “I tried so hard, Circe. It's not murder if done in self-defense, or to defend the people you love.”

“The Empress speaks of love—and not with derision. Now I see why Death is so taken with you this game.
You
are not
you
.”

“Thanks?” I felt so out of it, the coyote to her roadrunner. “So why did you want to meet?”

“You're a mystery. I concern myself with mysteries. With esoteric lore. With things that must be brought to light.”

“Like the mysteries of the deep?”

“Just so.” More skittering. “Another time, another place, I might have liked to know this incarnation of you.”

“Why not now? We can ally.”

“We are enemies almighty, Evie Greene.”

“Were we ever allies?”

“Sworn allies. Oh, the games we played! I remember the forest we claimed. I had a river, and you had your green killers. How we used to laugh together! No card could challenge us—until the Emperor arrived with his ember eyes full of fire, his hands bleeding lava. He's the one you should be targeting. Put the Lovers and your mortal male behind you.”

Check-check on the Lovers. Leaning toward never on my mortal male. “You know about Jack?”

“I hear whispers. They flow down to me like water seeking its own level. Yet I can't figure out what you did with Death.”

Had I been eating the lotus with Aric, uncaring that my real life was outside his castle? Before he'd captured me, I'd been a friend, a girlfriend, a granddaughter. My human life had come first.

Did it still?

Moving on . . . “The Emperor's not close. I haven't heard his call.” I couldn't remember what it was.

“By the time you hear him, it's already too late.” Circe shook her head ruefully, and on either side of the water window, whirlpools began to twirl in the river. The blanket of mist turned into thousands of soft cyclones. “He'll be coming. With so many Arcana converging, we'll all be attracted, pulled as if by tides.”

“And you'll be waiting to drag them to their deaths?”

“As ever.” In a quieter tone, she said, “Sometimes they ask me to take them to the abyss. Sometimes that's the only place they can see to go.”

Her words gave me chills.

“But not the Emperor. That no-necked tyrant craves cataclysm.
This game, he calls himself Richter. As in
scale
.” With a grin, she said, “We should thrash him just for that.”