22
DAY 264 A.F.
BUMFUK, EGYPT, FOR ALL I KNEW
“I can feel your eyes on my ass, perv,” I said over my shoulder. For the past six days, whenever Death’s helmet was off, I would catch glimpses of an unnerving hunger in his expression. How could he be so disgusted with me—and struggling against attraction?
I twisted around to find him comfortably riding his horse, an ill-humored stallion he called Thanatos. He was flanked by Ogen on foot and Lark on horseback.
Sure enough, Death’s molten gaze was locked on my backside as I trudged shoeless and parka-less over a stony flat. My bare feet were sliced. Yet if my blood revived plants, they yellowed and withered, because I was still flagging.
All this abuse he’d dealt my way ensured that my body was constantly playing catch-up to regenerate. I’d already fallen twice this morning. Again, Death had tied my elbows together so I couldn’t break my falls. My shoulders were numb, and I felt like I hadn’t caught my breath for the better part of the last week.
Death raised his brows, unashamed to be caught ogling. “Just because you’re a gutless harlot doesn’t mean I won’t find your . . . attributes attractive. I might be immortal, but I’m still a red-blooded male.”
Attributes? Was that why he’d kept me alive? Each morning, I had asked him, “Have you decided whether you’re going to kill me today?”
He’d always answer, “Not yet, creature.” Each night by the fire, Death used the tip of one sword to carve barbs in that flattened metal strip from his armor. Though I had no idea why, he seemed very pleased with himself, would gaze at me as he worked. Was his attraction intensifying . . . ?
“Harlot? Who talks like that? Father Time, meet the Flintstones.”
“You are bold, considering you were roundly defeated and all your people were lost.”
I gritted my teeth against a scream. The idea that he bore my friends’ icons burned inside me like the Alchemist’s acid. Death always wore those gloves, so I hadn’t seen the markings. But I knew he had to have them because Lark’s and Ogen’s hands were clean.
“I have suffered loss,” I told him. “But at least I know what it’s like to have had those relationships. I had trust and caring.” Love and passion with Jackson. I would hold those memories of him close for the rest of my life, short as that might prove. “And you—you’ve got Ogen.”
Hearing his name, the Devil lumbered closer to me. If Death looked at me like he wanted to sleep with me, Ogen looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to sleep with me—or suck the marrow from my bones. His foul appearance was equaled only by his stench.
“You believe you had trust?” Death scoffed. “Arcana rule number one: trust no one.”
I stopped to face him with a look of realization. “No wonder you’re so good at this game. It’s all you’ll ever really have.”
“You know nothing about me. Take care that you don’t provoke my wrath.” With a last sneer, he rode forward.
Death would soon regret his decision to spare me so far. For the last several months, I’d wanted to kill him because he was so bent on killing me. Now I craved a bloody revenge, one that would make the red witch proud.
If I couldn’t take out this trio by myself, I figured I had two options.
Catch Death without his armor, which wasn’t likely.
Or get help. In that case, my first step was escape. I might have worried that Death would just read my thoughts and foil any attempt. But I believed the link between us had been broken. Severed with Matthew’s passing. Don’t cry. Don’t give him the satisfaction. . . .
So far there’d been no opportunity to get away. It wasn’t like I ever had privacy. Lark accompanied me each morning to wash off, her wolves trailing us like chain-gang guards. When I was alone with her, she always looked like she wanted to tell me something. Information there for the taking? But I hadn’t yet been able to bite back bile and cozy up to her.
“Yo, boss,” Lark said, her eyes going red. Falcon-cam. “We got a pretty big river ahead.”
The fog began to thicken. Soon I could hear the sound of rushing water. With each step closer to this unseen river, Ogen grew antsier. I’d learned the Devil was more afraid of bodies of water than Matthew had been. I doubted the beast could swim.
Fifteen minutes later, we reached the edge of the rapids; all four of us came to a halt, staring at the surreal scene. The violent currents carted along pieces of houses, a huge satellite dish, and a . . . car. A red Volkswagen rocketed past us, the steering wheel spinning as wreckage hit the tires.
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.