8
Blood spilling from my mouth and wound, I writhe on Death’s sword.
Please. The word is on my lips, but I am too proud to utter it.
Though I want to live, I will never beg!
The Reaper removes his gauntlet, revealing a hand covered with icons. He must have nine kills.
Soon to harvest five more.
He reaches for me with that bared hand, a weapon in itself. I shudder with fear and agony. The more I shake, the more his sword slices at my entrails and raps against my spine. Tears blur my vision, spilling down my cheeks.
In the distance, a lion roars.
“This will hurt for nary a moment more,” he promises, his eyes intent on mine.
All the things I wish I’d done. At least my family will pass on to future Empresses what knowledge I’ve garnered. I made sure of that.
He’s so close I can perceive his breaths on my face, cooling my tears.
I am looking upon Death, as his hand inches closer. . . .
I shot awake, swiping my palm over my cheek, stunned that there weren’t tears streaming down, stunned that Death wasn’t right beside me. As I blinked my eyes, I probed, realizing his presence was gone.
It was dark in the hut, but my shirt was riding up, revealing a glowing glyph. It cast enough light to see Matthew’s sleeping form nearby. Selena and Finn were asleep as well.
Jackson was awake, seated across from me—and staring at the glyph. It reflected in his gray gaze.
In a low tone, he said, “Can you feel them things, you?” There was no rage in his voice.
“They’re like shivers.” I admitted, “It’s comforting to feel them.” Because they represented my arsenal, and I believed that somehow, someway, they were all that stood between me and Death.
Jackson’s gaze flickered over my face, studying. Always studying. “What’s it feel like when you change completely?”
Amazing. No room for uncertainty, just sizzling power. “It’s definitely different.”
“You were like a . . . a divinité.”
I sat up. Still his words could thrill me. Still I was one heartbeat away from telling him how much I—
“You ain’t human, no?”
The thrill flared out, leaving cold ash. Though the statement was fair, it still stung. How to answer? “Both my parents were. You know my mom was.” Jackson had met her the night before she died, giving her enough time to get to know him, to rest assured that he could keep me safe. “I never wanted to deceive you, Jack. I was just getting used to this stuff myself. Didn’t know my way around it.”
He scrubbed a hand over his tired face. “Why didn’t you tell me about all this shit?”
“I was warned against confiding in others.” Arcana means secrets, as Matthew had said.
“Coo-y?n must’ve told you that!”
Selena sighed without rousing. Finn smacked his lips and muttered, “Mom, how long I gotta stay there?”
Without a word, Jack collected his gear and stormed out into the mist, taking a seat on a nearby shelf of rock.
Though uninvited, I joined him.
“You listened to coo-y?n, trusting him over me?”
“Yes, Jackson, the psychic I trust with my life told me not to tell anyone. You know, the kid who predicted the end of the world and saved me from the Flash. Besides, you and I had a deal: I’d tell you my secrets once you got me to my grandmother’s.”
“Like you would’ve told me then. You wrote me a note and took off from Finn’s without a word because you knew how I’d react.”
“That’s not true. After our fight, I decided that you deserved to know the truth, warning or no. I was coming to reveal everything when I saw you and Selena—”
“Not me.”
“Not you,” I whispered.
He fell silent. Talk to me, I wanted to scream. Tell me what you’re thinking.
“You told me I quieted the voices.” The Arcana calls I’d heard but hadn’t understood. “Seems like you’d need to hear them now.”
“For some reason, you quiet the buzz of all of them. But if one came close enough I’d still hear it, just as I did Selena’s call.”
“Does it scare you, knowing these people want to kill you?”
I nodded. “I’ve known for months that Death has some kind of sick interest in me. I don’t know why, but he does.” I thought of my dream. Apparently, he always had. “Matthew’s shown me visions of his skill, his lack of mercy.” And Death had said I wouldn’t last this week. “But I try not to dwell on it, try to think about other things.”
“Like what?”
Like wishing I were normal and we were back together. “I think about you a lot.”
“Why’s that? You doan need a protector anymore.”
Debatable. And maybe we needed to protect each other. Besides . . . “That’s not the reason I liked you.”
“Oh, this I gotta hear.” His tone was snide.
“Just forget it. It doesn’t matter. Why should I explain anything to you? You’re going to leave as soon as we get to the next town. That’s clear.”
“Is it?”
“It’s for the best anyway. You’ll be safer once we separate.” Separate. A life without Jackson Deveaux. The mere idea sent my emotions spiraling.
My skin began to glow anew, and even through my T-shirt, the glyphs shone as they wound along my arms, across my chest. I knew my face was casting off light as well.
He stared at the changes in me.
“Look at you, Jack! You’re disgusted.”
“Not used to you.” He got up on his knees before me, wary, like a mongoose sidling around a serpent. “Just let me do this, okay?”
As he reached for me, he yanked off his fingerless gloves, as Death had done in my dream. Block that out.
Jackson lifted the hem of my shirt, baring my torso to little bites of rain—and his avid gaze. With his muscles tensed as if he might have to leap away at any moment, he tentatively touched me.
I gasped at the contact.
Growing bolder, he skimmed the backs of his fingers along a glyph as it floated across my damp skin. His hooded eyes followed the path of his fingers. “Hypnotique.” His breaths were short puffs of smoke in the cold night, his expression fascinated.
With infinite slowness, he stroked until I was panting, until I ached. I bit my bottom lip to keep from moaning out loud. I needed him to kiss me. I needed those strong arms, squeezing me to him.
“Your skin is so soft. Satinée,” he murmured. “You goan to drive me crazy before it’s all done, ain’t you?”
“Jack, please.”
“Please what?” He looked up, met my eyes.
Accept me, kiss me. I moistened my lips.
He noticed. Though his brows drew together as if he were pained, he didn’t give me the kiss I craved from him. Yet his fingers still traced my skin, higher, higher.
When he bared my bra and grazed his knuckles over me, I couldn’t stand it anymore—I scrambled to my knees, grasped his broad shoulders, and kissed him.
His muscles stiffened beneath my palms. Against his lips, I murmured, “Kiss me back?”
Heartbeats passed.
Then, with a groan, he did. Slow slants of his lips over mine grew more heated, more urgent. He leaned me down over his arm, laying his rough palm on my cheek to hold me steady for his kiss.
Groans broke from his lungs, moans from my lips. As ever, the fire between us stoked into an inferno. That combustible chemistry. He kissed me like he wanted to brand me—
Someone cleared his throat.
When Jackson released me and drew back, I saw Matthew standing awkwardly at the entrance to the hut.
As I pulled my shirt down, Jackson grated to me, “You taste like my Evie, feel like her. But you’re not her.” He swiped the back of his hand over his lips.
Ah, and here was the rage.
“We’re out here with no protection from Baggers, no lookout, and I’m still a heartbeat from taking you! You mesmerizing me too? That’s the only goddamned reason I’d still be thinking about you after all this shit. All my life, I never went looking for trouble, but it always found me! You’re just the latest helping of grief.”
My eyes pricked with tears. “I didn’t want it to be like this.”
“Then let me go! End this hold you got over me.”
“I didn’t mesmerize you. I wouldn’t.” Surely I wouldn’t?
“?‘Come, touch, pay a price?’ That’s your call? Well, I did. I’m paying it still.”
He snatched up his bow and bag and strode away into the dark, leaving me trembling, cold, adrift. I stared after him for long moments. When I pulled my knees to my chest, Matthew crossed to sit beside me. “Not Arcana.”
“Can you see Jackson’s future?”
“I see far.” He frowned. “Not with him. Unknown. Variable. Strike from equation!”
“Would he be safer away from us?”
Matthew gave me a raised-brow really? look. Stupid question. Then he tilted his head. “More dreams of Death?”
I forced myself to stop staring in Jackson’s direction and pay attention to Matthew, who sounded relatively coherent. “Yes. The same encounter with Death, after he’s stabbed me.” Again, I’d noted that he looked younger then. “If he’s immortal, how does Death age?”
“Duration of the games. Game begins—he ages. Game ends—he stops.”
“He doesn’t look that much older now. How long do these games last?”
Matthew sighed. “This will be one of the longest.”
“If I can regenerate, then is his Touch of Death the only way to kill me?” Or maybe I was like the Bagmen, taken out with a shot to the brainpan?
Shrug.
Change of tack. “Does he always kill me?”
“Not always. And Lady Lotus didn’t die once.”
I swallowed. “Meaning others have slain me—and I actually won a game?” I almost wished I hadn’t known that. “How many did I personally take out then?”
Hesitation. “More than anyone before. Or since.”
I was a record-holder. No wonder Selena worried about me getting a word out when we met new Arcana. They’d all be after my head. “Who else got me?”
Matthew studied his hand, hard, end of subject.
“At least tell me how many times Death has done it.”
“This Death? Two out of last three.” Matthew’s brown eyes were so grave as he said, “Practice makes perfect.”