6
We were being watched.
After trudging uphill in the mud for what seemed like hours, we hadn’t gotten anywhere near the center of this range, so it couldn’t be cannibals. Nor Arcana—none of their calls sounded close by. Nor was it Bagmen; we could hear them baying in the valley below us, held in check by the diluted sun.
For now.
As the afternoon wore on, my foreboding feeling grew and grew. I was dragging ass, huffing and puffing, the acrid scent of burned wood stinging my nose. I’d trained as a dancer for years, but compared to the boys and Selena, my stamina was laughable. The ongoing drizzle provided enough moisture for the ash and mud to congeal like glue.
I’d toppled over so many times, my hands were coated with globs of it, my hair as well. Remains. In my hair.
Finn was just ahead, Matthew at my side like a pilot fish. Selena and Jackson were staggered, far in the lead as we headed for the next valley to the south. She’d mentioned seeing a town there on her map; I supposed we were heading toward it. Jackson must have been as well.
So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours, I struggled to process it all. Arthur’s defeat, the return of some of my memories, the showdown with Joules, the dream of Death.
Jackson admitting what he thought of me.
Selena had been bang-on when she’d said he was disgusted. I would have given anything to talk to him, to explain that I might not be right, but it wasn’t a choice I’d made to hurt him. It wasn’t a choice whatsoever.
“You okay back there, Evie?” Finn asked with a worried look. “Maybe we ought to stop for a minute.”
“I’m fine.” I’m dying! “Got to keep moving.” I would chop off my right, marked hand to stop. We’d never had to contend with mud before. I hoped it would slow down any zombies—or Arcana—who decided to pursue us.
“Okay. Cool.” He carried on ahead as if I’d told him the truth or something.
I could barely talk, but questions were swirling in my head. Under my ragged breath, I said, “Matthew, last night I dreamed of a time when Death stabbed a past Empress with a sword. Did you send me that dream?”
“Yep.”
“Why now? I’ve already learned about my abilities.” I’d used most of them yesterday and today.
“Learn to defeat Death. You will fight him with your powers.”
That Empress in my dream hadn’t been able to use any powers for me to learn from. “All of those dreams have seemed familiar, but in this one, I could feel Death’s sword entering my body.”
“You felt it.”
“Yeah, that’s what I just said.”
He nodded, effortlessly meandering beside me. “You felt it in a past life.”
I turned on him, gritting out the words: “Past life?” He’d never told me that the nightmares I’d had were in fact about me. “You never said that we were reincarnates.”
Of course, he’d never said we weren’t reincarnates. Hadn’t I suspected? From the visions Matthew had revealed, I’d witnessed a past Empress so horrific, I’d dubbed her the red witch.
But hadn’t her deeds felt like memories?
“The Empress has a sense of humor this time,” Matthew said, repeating a comment he’d made weeks ago.
This time. Because I was the same card, just a different version. Hundreds of years ago, she’d been a vicious killer.
I hadn’t been anything less with Arthur.
I pressed my hand to my stomach. In a past life, I’d suffered that blow. Was that what awaited me in my present one? “The Empress from last night’s dream seemed different from the one I’ve been seeing since before the Flash.” The one who’d used sea plants to destroy whole galleons and spores to murder entire villages.
“Going back farther, farther,” Matthew said. “Two games before. You were the May Queen then. Red witch was Phyta. You are Poison Princess. You are all of them: Lady Lotus, Mistress of Flora, Queen of Thorns.”
He’d told me these names before, but I hadn’t thought they’d referred to individual Empresses. “Why go back to another game? I’ve already hit my limit with dreams—with memories—of the red witch.” Or Phyta, or whoever.
“This Death first met you then.”
“You mean Death in this reincarnation?” His present life had started thousands of years ago. I might have come back as three different Empresses since then, but he’d simply endured and survived year after year, game after game. “Okay, fine, so you want me to have these memories. Then why are you piecemealing this information, Matthew? Why not just give me all the memories?”
“I did. Two games’ worth. Your mind resists. Dreams relent. Safety valve.”
“Wait . . .” I was struggling to keep up physically—and topic-wise. “So I have all the memories from two games, I just have to dream them? Why can’t I see them all at once?”
He gave me an indulgent look. “Then you’d be like me. Crazy. You are Death’s weakness.”
“So you keep telling me. Does he happen to know my weaknesses?”
“As well as his face in the mirror. Pay attention to your dreams. I’m in his pocket, so he’s in my eyes.”
It wasn’t the first time Matthew had told me that, but I hadn’t understood him. Now I did. Death could see me through Matthew’s eyes, so he always knew what was happening with me. And though I didn’t understand how, Death could drop in on my thoughts at will. Our last exchange had been during this morning’s harried climb:
—You deserve every second of this misery and fear, creature.—
And you know where you can shove your scythe.
It was one thing to have the others broadcasting in there, or to have silent conversations with Matthew. But Death poking around unnerved the hell out of me. “How can Death hear my thoughts?”
“Through the switchboard.”
Recalling Selena’s comments about Matthew jamming frequencies, I asked, “Do you consider our calls and thoughts frequencies?” I’d termed it Arcana Radio. Maybe it was really Arcana Switchboard. With a nervous laugh, I said, “You’re not the switchboard operator, are you?”
As if talking to a child, he said, “I’m the Fool.”
“Then how are we connected?”
“Through me. The switchboard operator. The Fool is the Gamekeeper.”
I sputtered, “But you told me that you weren’t . . .” I trailed off. He hadn’t actually denied it, had he? “So that’s one of your abilities?” No wonder he was so often confused.
“Responsibility.”
“You need to disconnect this circuit, Matthew!” I’d thought mind reading was simply one of Death’s powers. Then I recalled the Reaper once telling me, “Matto remembers his debts. He’ll show you to me. . . .”
“Inside voices are important,” Matthew insisted.
“Why would you allow him in my head?” I couldn’t comprehend this. “A couple of weeks ago, he said something about you paying your debts?” Nothing. “Do you let him hear everyone’s thoughts?”
“Death only wants yours. Death possessing Life. I’m in his pocket.”
“So let me get this straight. You connect the Arcana calls. You let Death communicate with us all. And you allow him access to my brain alone—because of some debt?”
Matthew offered me a charred pinecone.
Patience! “You do understand that Death will always know what we’re planning.”
“Doesn’t care about what we plan. No more than you would care what cannibal ants in mines plan. He laughs at our plans.”
“I don’t want a killer like him in my head!”
Matthew slowed, looking down at me with an expression that seemed far wiser than his years. “I do things for reasons.”
Gaze darting, I said, “I’ve got to tell the others. This is a huge weakness! I can’t form an alliance against an enemy when he knows all our moves in advance.”
“You feel his presence. Learn when he’s home. Death knew my gaze. Learn his.”
“I can learn to tell when he’s snooping?” When Matthew had showed me that last vision of Death battling Joules and his friends, the Reaper had sensed us. And didn’t I perceive a heaviness whenever he was about? “Until then, how do I know Death won’t try to prevent me from reaching Gran?” I asked, hoping that Matthew might confirm she was even alive.
“Bores Death. He doesn’t believe in her as you do.”
“Can you please tell me if she’s safe?”
“Define safe,” Matthew said with a look at his hand. Subject done.
She had to be alive. I had to believe Matthew cared about me enough not to let me go on a wild-goose chase.
“Why does Death have such an interest in me, anyway? There are other cards to terrorize.”
Shrug.
“You know, but you’re not telling me.”
Smile. “Crazy like a fox!”
“Matthew, come on—” A branch snapped some distance to my right. I jerked around but saw nothing. A clammy feeling crawled over my nape. “Are we being watched?”
He blinked at me. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
“Are we in danger?”
He chuckled, shaking his forefinger at me. “Sense of humor.”
Yeah, I guessed we never got out of danger. I kept walking. “Is Jackson going to leave us?” As soon as I’d asked this, I regretted the expenditure of breath. I knew the answer to that question.
He’d been taking point, trudging onward, with his hoodie pulled up. All day his expression had varied between enraged and more enraged. Like he was getting pissed off anew every few minutes.
He wasn’t talking to me, but he also ignored Selena and Finn. Yep, he’d checked out mentally. I figured he’d get ghost as soon as we made the next town.
“Should’ve said good-bye. Arcana and non-Arcana mix poorly.” Matthew sighed. “Dee-vee-oh stares at you when you don’t see. Hunter. Watching. You’re the angel atop the Christmas tree that he can never reach. Gift beneath that he can’t unwrap.”
You’d have thought I’d be used to Matthew’s ramblings. I wasn’t.
“All his life, all false faces. Born of a false face. You showed him yours.”
Jackson still carried the scars of his poverty-stricken childhood. His father had refused to pay support, or even to acknowledge his destitute son. His mother had been an alcoholic who’d entertained drunken lovers. Those men had abused her—and beaten Jackson, teaching him not to trust.
Teaching him to be ruthless and to communicate with his fists.
All he’d ever known was deception and violence.
How could he not see me as deceitful and violent, as more of the same? Before his eyes, I’d turned into a viney-skinned, poisonous monster—one who’d been cackling to slit some scrawny Irish kid’s throat.
Matthew said, “Think less about Dee-vee-oh, more about game.”
Toiling up a steep incline, I considered what I remembered about the cards. Last night, when I’d gazed at my new icon, memories of my grandmother had flooded me in a rush. They were still fragments, but growing more fully formed with each hour.
I could recall her telling me about players who controlled animals as I did plants. I remembered cards that could manipulate the elements.
Her voice seemed to echo in my head: “The details of the images are important. They’re to be read like a map.” “Study the cards. Memorize them. The symbols are all there for a reason, Evie. They tell you about the players.”
How I wished I could lay hands on a deck. I knew the cards were chock-full of dots to connect, threads in common. Some cards had animal images on them, some plants. Others had water or fire.
I recalled Gran humming as she’d shuffled her deck, preparing to quiz me. “Which cards are the best spellbinders?”
I’d chirped, “The Hierophant and the Lovers. And me!”
“The strongest in body?”
“The Devil! The Devil is so strong!”
No wonder my mom had gotten spooked.
At the top of the rise, Finn waited up for us. “Evie, I wanted to apologize again for making myself look like Jack and accidentally tricking you and making you run away and all. Forgive me?”
Was I still mad? I’d been trying to look on the bright side. Okay, yeah, I was now broken up with Jackson beyond all reconciliation, a murderer, and a fugitive from a zombie horde.
But . . . I’d remembered a lot about the Arcana game, I’d saved three—well, two—girls’ lives and maybe others who would’ve fallen into Arthur’s trap. And I’d learned to control my powers.
It was a wash. Yet then I recalled how Finn had looked out for Matthew over the last two days. “I accept your apology, Finn. Just don’t pull a stunt like that again.”
Farther ahead, Jackson was taking a breather, drinking from his canteen. He gazed back down the mountain. God, he was so tall and proud. So strong. His rugged features were sigh-worthy.
We were this close, and still I missed him.
Finn caught my gaze. “I know things seem rough with him right now, but he’ll come around. He went nuts when you were missing.”
“He has a temper.” Which wasn’t surprising, considering his tragic background.
“No, Evie. He was . . . frantic, out of control. I’m talking Hulk-smash on ye olde cabin. When he realized our lack of transportation was the sole thing keeping him from you, he stormed back into that militia’s camp, striding into a hail of bullets. Dude didn’t duck, didn’t sidestep, just rolled in, killed, took that jeep.”
My lips parted as I stared up at Jackson in amazement.
“He loves you,” Finn insisted.
As if he could sense he was the subject of our discussion, Jack cast me a derisive look over his shoulder, then marched on.
“Clearly.”
“He does. The reason he didn’t have his bug-out bag last night was because he wasn’t thinking about his own survival—only yours.”
I glanced at Matthew, who gave me a short nod: That’s true.
“He just needs some time to get used to the idea of you with powers.” Finn tilted his head, taking in my face—which I knew was bright red from exertion and streaked with remains. “His girlfriend went from bunny to viper. From hot piece of ass to smokin’ monsteress.”
I raised my brows. “Smokin’? I was repulsive.”
Finn helped me over a log. “When you turned all Eviezilla, I had a boner the size of . . . well, something large and boner-shaped.”
My cheeks heated even more, but I didn’t put too much stock in what Finn said. He wasn’t exactly discriminating with girls. “Well, Jackson didn’t think so. He’s written me off. He’s got this intense sense of curiosity. He’s wicked intelligent, and he loves to solve puzzles, to dig at secrets. Yet he hasn’t asked a single question about us, about me? It’s because we’re not going to be a part of his life for much longer.”
I paused, catching my breath somewhat. One thing I had to know . . . “What were you thinking when you deceived Selena that night? Was it worth it for one kiss?”
Finn raked his fingers through his hair. “Hell no. I was way out of bounds.”
“You think? You can’t treat girls that way.”
“I know, I know. But sometimes I feel forced to trick others.”
Matthew piped up: “In his blood.”
Finn nodded eagerly. “The more I use my illusions, the more I need to. I get antsy if I don’t. That was one of the reasons I was deported from SoCal to South Carolina to live with the redneck cuzzes—because of the pranks on my parents.”
“Like what?”
“My mom freaked when she woke up with a pink faux-hawk the day of a society dinner. My dad, weirdly, didn’t think it was funny to see a clown with a bloody ax in our pool house. They didn’t know for certain that it was me, but they knew something was going on and couldn’t handle it. But still, I couldn’t make myself stop. It’s like a compulsion.”
I flashed him a startled look. “The more I use my powers . . .” I trailed off.
“The more you want to kill us,” Finn finished for me.
As Matthew always did, I shrugged. But this conversation made me wonder: would Matthew gain clarity if he could wean himself from seeing visions of the future? Once things calmed down, I would ask him to try.
Conserving our powers seemed wise anyway. Our abilities weren’t infinite. Both Finn and I had tapped ourselves out, and needed to recharge. I gazed up at Selena, vaulting a gully with ease. So what happened to her if she used hers too much, other than running out of arrows? What were her weaknesses?
Changing the subject, I told Finn, “It seems like having problems with parents is an Arcana trait. Like, more than just a few spats over curfew.”
Was it our curse to be misunderstood by them? My beloved mom, rest her soul, had sent me to a nuthouse. Matthew’s mom had tried to drown him. Even Arthur had hinted that he’d melted his father in acid—
I heard another snapping branch, this time to my left. When I jerked my head around, I tripped but bounced upright. Ahead, Selena paused, canting her head. Sensing something too? She petted the flights of her last arrow, retrieved before we’d left Requiem. But after a moment, she continued walking.
Finn’s eyes were on her as well.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about how it worked out with Selena,” I said. “I know how much you like her.”
“Past tense. It’s one thing to like a girl who wants another guy. It’s another to like a girl who plans to murder you at a time of her convenience.”
“She said she was raised for this. I guess she can’t help it.” I couldn’t believe I was taking up for Selena. I turned to Matthew. “What’d you tell her to get her on my side?”
“The future. If she kills you, Death stabs her in the eye with her own arrow.”
“Such a lovely guy.”
A raindrop pelted me in the face then. Drops began to fall more steadily, as did the temperature, our breaths smoking. “Matthew, you told me that we’d grow weaker when the rain came. You said, ‘You’ve never known terror, not like you will when the rains come.’ How? Why?”
“Sunny and green? You annihilate. Now?” He shook his head. “Powers. Stop. Start. Fits. A plant with no sun is weak. Already you feel it. Plus, obstacles get faster, stronger. Foes laugh at us.”
Matthew’s lessons had fallen into four categories: arsenal, foes, field of battle, and obstacles. “Which obstacles?” No answer. “At least tell me how long the rain will last.”
With a decisive nod, he said, “Until the snow comes.” As if that answered everything.
“When will that be?”
“The Army grinds on, a windmill spins. The one who learns most wins last.”
Whatever that meant. Matthew couldn’t be pumped for information and he couldn’t be rushed to predict things.
When I saw that Jackson and Selena had stopped atop another rise ahead, I almost moaned with relief. The sun would set soon. Maybe there was a shelter nearby?
Once we reached them, I struggled to disguise how exhausted I was. Judging by Jackson’s rolled eyes, I fooled no one.
“I didn’t . . . say a word,” I gasped. “Not . . . complaining.”
After a hesitation, he muttered, “No, you never do.”
That had sounded almost not cruel.
From this vantage, we could see down into Requiem, all the way along the road to that warehouse. Just as Jackson had said, it was overflowing with Baggers. They were spilling out of doorways, huddled in alcoves. Some briefly braved the day, scurrying back to shelter. Like they were testing the sunlight.
“Is it just me, or do they look faster?” Selena asked.
I nodded. “What’s driving them out? What’s got them in such a frenzy?”
Matthew said, “Bloodlust.”
Finn shook his head. “I thought they turned to blood because there was no water around.”
“Rain means they’re always strong enough to track blood. New battery.”
“You’re joking.” I pinched my forehead. “They prefer blood?” The rain would just energize them. Sure enough, the obstacles would get faster, stronger. No longer would we see their crumbly bodies on the sides of the roads. “They’ll follow at nightfall?”
“Loved the Alchemist’s taste,” Matthew answered. “Five of us for the taking. Most blood for miles and miles. The hunt is afoot.”
Even with all our Arcana powers, we were at a serious disadvantage against that many Bagmen. Selena had one arrow. Finn could disguise us, but the zombies would just follow our scent. Matthew had no attack powers.
And me? I didn’t fight well on the run, much less with powers that were stopping and starting in fits.
“What’s the matter, Empress?” Jackson grated with a glare at my muddy right hand, at my icon. “Why you look scared, you? You can just take them all out.” The not cruel vibe of earlier had been short-lived.
I exhaled wearily. “No. No, I can’t.”
“Ain’t like you can die anyway.”
Matthew shook his head. “She can die. Death sees to her.”
—Count on it.— came Death’s whisper. —You’ll be under my sword within the week.—