—Not yet. Soon.—
I swallowed. Her death was about to be stolen from me. Would Circe harvest her icon? Unacceptable.
You gave me her location. From the Fool’s vision, I knew where to find the Empress—she was in a settlement at the edge of a trench, due east of where I’d located her grandmother. Why let me see that? Because she can mesmerize me if I leave the sphere?
He blinked, as if waiting for me to get up to speed with him. —Can she?—
I regarded my drink. Shouldn’t she have been able to sway the mortals who’d doomed her and Deveaux? Her powers must still be muted, would be no match for the scalding animosity I’d stoked every day.
She’d once recounted to me her brutal attack against Ogen, Fauna, and myself. She’d said she’d felt like a marionette with hatred pulling the strings. I felt the same now.
Hatred would inoculate me against her floundering abilities as much as Paul did.
Blood began to run from the Fool’s nose, his eyes vacant. —Tredici, know this: the only way you’ll win this game is to claim her icon yourself.—
Otherwise, I would lose? Had I actually once decided to bow out of this Arcana game? To choke on defeat? Yes, because of her influence!
If I lost, I would reincarnate with no knowledge of her evil. Ignorant and vulnerable, I would fall for her machinations yet again.
—Last chance. She will die in the deep. Her torn heart will stop.—
When will this occur? How long did I have? Urgency lashed at me.
—How badly do you want her?— With that, he disappeared.
No longer did I have a choice but to leave. Making my expression blank, I turned to my allies. In a casual tone, I asked them, “Care for a vodka?”
Should they catch wind of my plans, they would try to stop me. Already Paul had disabled the vehicles. I recalled being outraged, until he’d explained that Fauna or the Archangel might be tempted to sneak away, weakening the sphere, and therefore our entire alliance.
Within the hour, I would steal out on a pale horse—as Death had done so many times over the last two thousand years.
Once I’d collected the Empress’s icon, I would return to my castle and settle into my new alliance.
Though I would be traveling beyond Paul’s sphere of clarity, his powers against the Empress might hold. If not . . .
Hatred pulls the strings.
32
The Empress
“Hi, honey, your husbands are home,” Joules called, as the three walked into our new digs.
I glared at him from the stove. “That never gets old, Tower. Truly.”
For weeks, he’d made that crack whenever they returned from their shifts. For just as long, I’d bitten back retorts, feeling like one of Richter’s volcanoes set to blow.
Yet now things were finally going to change . . . .
My roomies always looked exhausted after spending sixteen hours at a time in the trench. Sometimes Joules fell asleep at the table. Kentarch’s outline would waver, his powers sapped from getting them out of whatever wormhole they’d crawled into that day. But tonight, the guys seemed even more fatigued than usual.
Jack crossed to me, leaning in to give me a quick kiss. “Missed this pretty face.”
I mustered a smile. His lingering looks and stray comments had finally convinced me that he was still attracted to me.
He wanted me; I wanted him. But we had a ghost between us.
Though he and I shared that pallet, we never touched as we both needed. The tension between us filled this tin can.
As we’d lain together, we’d talked for hours. One night, wondering if he’d ever make a move, I’d teased him.
“Aren’t you strung tight? Remember telling me that out on the road?” Imitating his voice, I said, “I been strung tight for days, bébé.”
He exhaled. “I’ve done some growing up since then. You called me selfish, and I was. I would’ve done anything to sleep with you and make you mine.”
“And now?”
He tucked my hair behind my ear. “Now I’d give anything for you and Tee to be happy and safe.”
I gazed at him, taking in his proud, tired face, smudged with engine grease, and I sighed. Since I’d first met Jack, he’d not only become a man; he’d become a great one.
After pulling off helmets, coats, and gloves, the three sat at our rickety dining table. I’d served them pasta with a sauce of canned tomatoes. I’d grown fresh ones from the seeds, then chopped them up for garnish.
What had taken me hours to prepare would take them seconds to polish off. We’d all regained weight since our arrival.
“Were you safe down there?” I asked, sitting with them.
Jack and Kentarch had grown even closer, depending on each other in that lethal maze. Even prickly Joules had been bonding with non-Gabriel males.
Jack said, “Always.” As predicted, they were killing it at salvage. Despite the danger, he relished the work, considered it one new puzzle after another, and the man loved puzzles.
Already he’d moved us from the worst tin can to the best double one on the ground floor, closer to Jubilee’s amenities—which I could never use. He still didn’t want me to explore the settlement without him.
I passed my days doing domestic chores, which I sucked at. I did the dishes. In a bucket. I did the laundry. In the same bucket.
And when I wasn’t trying to hail Circe and Matthew for help—they never answered—
I spent hours wondering why Aric hadn’t loved me enough to break free of Paul.
Every second convinced me: He isn’t coming for you, Evie. Our last phone call had cemented that realization in my mind.
Between bites of tomato, Jack said, “We went to the BOL today.” Bug-out location. They’d been using the Chariot’s teleportation to smuggle supplies back to that cave. “It’s filling up all right. And we’ve topped off the Beast’s tank too.”
Not so easy a feat. All vehicles that hadn’t been cannibalized for Ciborium parts were parked in a guarded lot.
As much as Jack liked it here, he still believed in preparing to bug out. The Beast was a bug-out machine.
“‘All right’?” Joules snorted. “Jackie boy’s got a nose for finding booty.” Side-eye at me. “Never seen anything like it. Everybody’s talking about the Cajun ace.”
Kentarch raised a brow. “His sourcing sense is unparalleled. He’s sounded the horn more than anyone.”
Whenever a salvager found more than his crew could offload, he’d invite everyone to come take a share. That all-hands-on-deck horn reminded me of the cannibal miners’ shift-change signal.
Jack grinned. “I sound it so folks doan suspect we’re a bunch of selfish smugglers. Plus, it keeps all the prying eyes in one spot while we go plunder even more.”
A total Finn ploy. Don’t look at this hand . . . God, I missed the Magician. Every day that I sat in here, I had too much time to think about all we’d lost. I wasn’t ready to lose more.
“We’re closing in on a medical frigate,” Jack said. “I got a good feeling about it. Medicine’s like gold now.”
“Enough about our exciting careers.” Joules smirked at me. “What’d you get into today? My dirty socks?”