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? Across 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.