Endless Knight (The Arcana Chronicles) (22 page)

“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.

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.

24

Son of a bitch! The Lord of Lightning was up on the suspension bridge, his vantage making us fish in a barrel.

Ogen’s body began to swell into his horrendous ogre form. He swung his horned head up at Joules, then sped off toward the bridge so quickly he sprayed rocks in his wake.

I scrambled up as fast as I could, dodging another javelin, almost barreling over Lark as she fled. I headed for a patch of burned-out woods, running parallel to her.

Javelins landed at my heels again and again, propelling me faster. I chanced a glance over my shoulder—