Arcana Rising (The Arcana Chronicles Book 5) (23 page)

“I swore revenge on Richter. How can I think of surrendering that need?”
Richter, I’m . . .
not
coming for you?
“Do you know what I fear more than marching off to die fighting him? That I might have to live with what he did.”

“No one’s suggesting you give up your revenge. But what if we can’t find him for half a year? Two years? Will you cease living till then? Will you force Death to stop as well? He yearns to be a normal man. Even if just for a day. Will you not give that to him?”

“I made the point to him about our limited time,” I said, still cringing at my clumsiness. “All I did was insult him.”

“He wanted a wife. Not a buddy.”

Was she listening to
everything
in the castle? “I don’t want to hurt him, but I don’t know what to do.”

She pinned my gaze with her own. “Therein lies the lesson of the card, Evie Greene. The lesson of
life
. When you can’t change your situation, you must change yourself. You must rise and walk—
despite
the ten swords in your back.”

What was harder than dying?
Living a nightmare.

Mom had learned to live without Dad. I had learned to live without Mom. Could I go on without Jack? “I shouldn’t even be thinking about Aric. I disobeyed the dictates of the game, and I got Jack killed. What if I do the same to Aric?”

Circe made a sound of amusement. “You always did think highly of yourself. Do you believe
you
had something to do with that massacre? Think logically. Richter could have reversed the order of his attacks—targeting Fort Arcana earlier, vaporizing the Magician, one of Fauna’s wolves, and the stronghold of his enemies. He could have shot at the army by helicopter afterward. Instead he targeted mortals and
one
player. The Moon.”

My lips parted. “Because she was more of a threat to him.”

“She was the only one in the area who could slay him
from a distance
. Richter will target the Tower as well, since Joules shares that ability,” she said. “So if we should blame any card for your mortal’s death, blame the Moon.”

“I’ll never blame her.”

“Yet you’ll blame yourself?” Circe shook her head, and the river swirled. “I say we blame the Emperor.” Could it be that easy?

Had Richter always had Selena in his sights? If fate couldn’t be changed—then she’d been doomed to die the second we’d saved her from the Lovers.

I swallowed. I’d never forget how hard she’d hugged me that night, shocked that I was truly her loyal friend.
To the end, Selena.

“The game spools on.” Deep in her abyss, Circe spun a finger, and a whirlpool circled here.

Ever since my grandmother had told me to look for symbols, I’d been seeing them everywhere. Infinity symbols. A bow. A jagged fracture of rock like a lightning bolt.

A vortex.

I recalled my dreams: When the Magician had created that infinity symbol for Fauna, there’d already been one in that scene. Behind the two of them, the lions’ long tails had curved over each other, making two perfect loops.

Patterns continued to appear before my eyes. Circe’s whirlpool was like a helicopter’s tailspin on its way down. Or a carousel that would never spin backward again. Like a tourniquet twisting.

“But for how long?” she murmured, and her whirlpool tightened.

“Has any game lasted more than a couple of years?”

“What you really want to know is whether you have any time left to let go. To accept ten swords in your back and still rise. To
live
. Ask the question, and I’ll answer.”

I had to clear my throat to say, “Do I have any time left?”

“Even if you had a mere hour, you should rise.” Her eyes seemed to glow like phosphorescence. “Emotions are like tides. While you wait for your grief to ebb, Death is being carried farther and farther from you. Soon he’ll be out of your reach forever.”

Panic flared. “I’m the only one he can touch. He
has
to want me.” Just as Gran had said.

“Stupid, Empress!” In her temple, Circe clenched her trident.

From the river, a wave rose up in the form of a hand, poised to slap me. I scrambled back. “What?”

The wave dissipated, and her water window dissolved, merging with the surface. “You can always bed him,” she whispered, her voice fading. “But with each hour, his heart grows as cold as his sword.”

Aric was strangling his heart as well.

Alone, I stared at the river and recalled his words from the night before my decision: “By all the gods, I desire you, but you must know that you have my love. It’s given,
sievā
. Wholly entrusted to you. Have a care with it.”

Yet I hadn’t.

He believed that if we slept together—if we took that step—I’d finally be his. For the last two millennia, he’d taken me to bed again and again, only to have his hopes crushed each time.

And not just in the distant past. A few months ago, we’d been on the verge, but I’d balked because of a lack of protection—and my love for another man. Before I escaped him last, I’d knocked Aric out with a drug from my lips—while in bed with him. He’d thought I’d been trying to murder him once more. With his eyes devastated, he’d said, “You’d kill me before you ever accepted me.”

Why
wouldn’t
he turn his heart from me? If I went to him with another empty promise, I
would
lose him.

A life with him had seemed so complicated, so loaded with intrigues. But now the idea of us growing old together seemed laughable. Did my concerns about Death’s deal with Lark no longer factor?

I had learned my painful lesson:
Some fates
can’t
be changed.

Shouldn’t that lesson apply to everything? If I was fated to be with Aric, then maybe Death was inevitable. In every sense.

On my way back up to the castle . . . snow began to fall.

I was freezing cold, but sweat slicked the truck’s vinyl bench. Fever blazing? My mouth was so dry, my head splitting. My lungs rattled. I shook, rocking uncontrollably.

None of that mattered, no, ’cause I could see Evie. Pretty blue eyes and curving lips.

She liked to take care of me, fussing over me.
Ma belle infirmière.
I could see her so clearly that she had to be here with me; I could even smell her honeysuckle scent. “Evie,
bébé
 . . . that really you?”

The truck slammed to a stop. Matthew’s door opened. Then
my
door opened? He hauled me into a sitting position.

Evie
wasn’t
here.
Gutted, me.
I squinted, saw snow coming down.

Did it snow wherever she was? Could she be thinking about me? I would do anything to see her again.

Just once.

“Your future refuses to behave.”
Coo-yôn
yanked off the jacket he’d sourced for me.
Up was down.
Then he stepped back. And released me—

I toppled over, falling out of my seat onto the ground. Was the
sosie
dumping me on the side of the road? ’Cause I was about to die? “Now, let’s just talk . . . ’bout this,
coo-yôn
.”

He caught hold of my good ankle, then dragged me farther away from the truck. He’d hauled me into . . . a bank of snow.

_______________

Jack and I had marveled at the snow.
I spun in circles as flakes fell, dizziness overwhelming me.

I’d known this was going to send me spiraling. Gasping for breath, I collapsed, tears streaking down my face.

Lark’s animals fell silent. The river’s current stilled. The better to hear my sobs. I missed Jack so much; I missed Aric so much. I cried for them both.

The skies opened up with an intense shower of snow, till it’d painted the ground white.

“Isn’t it amazing?” I’d told Jack that last day. “Everything looks clean.”

What I should have said: “You’re about to die, and there’s nothing I can do about it. And in a few short weeks, I’ll be so messed up that I’ll decide to live for more than revenge.”

To tighten my tourniquet, even now. To delay a grief that could bury me. To rise and walk.

I’d thought the sight of snow—and all the emotions it brought—would make me less likely to be with Aric.

Just the opposite; because I could see my future so clearly. If he died before I did, some symbol—like snow—would mark the end of his existence. Later I would experience that waypoint (because everything was connected) and wish to God I’d taken a different path.

Death
was
inevitable. Why make him wait any longer? In a perfect world, I would’ve taken more time to grieve Jack and get my mind straight.

This world was as far from perfect as it could get.

I decided then that I would map my own journey and mark my own waypoints. The snow would symbolize both the end of one story and the beginning of another.

A new slate. But not a blank one. The red ribbon would be a cherished remembrance, but I wouldn’t keep it with me at all times.

I lay in the snow and lifted my hand to the sky. Flakes landed on my damp face. Each one was a cool kiss good-bye.

_______________

Lying in that bank of snow, I gazed up at the falling flakes. They drifted over my face. Soft, soft. Like Evie’s lips. With effort, I lifted my scarred hand to the sky. I closed my eyes and pretended my Evangeline was caring for me.

J’ai savouré
. I savored each cold kiss. . . .

“You still have only two icons?” Gran murmured as I sat beside her bed.

Over the last week, the snow had melted as if it’d never been—while I remained changed. I’d made a decision that affected my future, and then I’d made preparations.

Soon, I would rise.

“Why haven’t you taken another marking?” she said, her faint voice slurring. “Because your powers are suffering?”

They continued weakening. I had a theory about that, but I pushed it from my mind. “Hey, I brought some pictures with me.” I collected my laptop, then sat beside her on the bed. Though I wanted to learn more from her, I refused to listen when she talked about killing my friends. So I grasped for other subjects.

I opened up the family albums. As I scrolled through them, her eyes appeared dazed, as if she wasn’t seeing the images. Yet then she stared at a large picture of my father.

I said, “I wish I could remember him.”

“David used to carry you around the farm on his shoulders,” she said. “He read to you every night and took you to the river to skip stones. He drove you around to pet every baby animal born in a ten-mile radius. Lambs, kittens, puppies.” She drew a labored breath. “He brought you to the crops and the gardens. Even then, you would pet the bark of an oak and kiss a rose bloom. If the cane was sighing that day, you’d fall asleep in his arms.”

I imagined it all: the sugarcane, the farm, the majestic oaks, the lazy river that always had fish jumping. My roots were there, but I knew I would never go back. Jack’s dream had been to return and rebuild Haven. A dream we’d shared. I would feel like a traitor going home without him. Plus, it’d be too painful. Everything would remind me of the love I’d lost.

“David’s death was so needless,” she said. “Don’t know what he was doing near that cane crusher.”

I snapped my gaze to her. “What do you mean? He disappeared on a fishing trip in the Basin.”

She frowned at me. “He did. Of course.”

Chills crept up my spine. Was she
lying
? Why would she, unless . . .

No, no. I shook my head hard. She had the same kind of mental fog I had, understandable if she’d had strokes.

With all the double crosses of the game, I was paranoid. She’d loved my mom. Mom had loved my dad. Gran would never hurt him.

“Love of her life, gone forever,” Gran muttered. “Nearly broke your mother. Now
you
are broken. You’re getting weaker. If you don’t win this game, then my life has meant nothing. Karen’s sacrifice for you will mean nothing. Nothing!” For the hundredth time, she said, “Take out the little Strength Card. The low-hanging fruit.”

My well of patience spat up sand, dry as a bone. I slammed my laptop closed and shot to my feet. “I will never agree with you about the other Arcana here. We should avoid discussing them.”

I searched for another subject, realizing there were none. Every conversation led back to the murder of Aric and my friends.

As if I hadn’t spoken, she said, “Weaker, weaker. Take the icons while you still can. Even Death’s. Seduce him out of his armor, then strike. Use your poison kiss!”

I lost it. “I am
not
killing Aric. I will
never
hurt him!”

At last, she seemed to have heard me. Comprehension lit her eyes for the first time in forever. “Dear God . . . you . . . you . . .
love
that monster.” Her face grew red and blotchy. “You don’t deny it? You will rue it!” She went into a coughing fit. “I-I spent eight years in an institution, caged, trapped—for you! But you refuse to hear me. To
see
.”