Dead of Winter (12 page)

I found my lips curling. “We were friends, weren't we? Not just allies.”

She fidgeted with the trident on her lap, jutting her chin. “As close as sisters, if you must know.”

“Until I betrayed you?”

Glare.

Show of hands: who
didn't
I betray in past games?
“I'm so sorry. I wish I hadn't.”

Circe's glare changed to an expression of bafflement. “
You
are not
you
,” she repeated. “Until next time, hail Tar Ro, Empress.”

The water window disintegrated, as if melting.

The Priestess was gone.

Jack was still out when I returned to his tent.

Selena sat in a chair beside his cot. “Took you long enough.” As if she'd minded.

She and I might be solid again, but Selena would always be a superhuman pain in the ass. “Matthew hasn't come back?” I'd been gone awhile.

After my confusing meeting with the Priestess, Cyclops and I had found a secluded patch of ground for me to grow fruit. My phytogenesis had been a sluggish process, taking tons of blood.

By the end, I'd been so woozy I'd blundered my way to Tess's tent. But I'd delivered a bumper crop, a poncho full of treats, more than she could ever eat by herself.

With the archangel watching over her, she'd slept, her body so small under the blankets. But she'd already looked better.

Selena stood. “Matto's probably wandering around the fort. As usual.” She gazed past me. “You're letting that butt-ugly wolf inside?”

“The majestic wolf—that keeps saving my life—is an indoor pet.” I'd had a night like no other, just wanted to pass out.

“Whatever. You look like shit. Go to sleep, but plan on a talk when you get up.”

“About what?”

“Things.” With a lingering look at Jack, she ducked out of the tent.

Sleep. Yes. I took Matthew's cot, figuring he'd wake me if he wanted it back.

I lay on my side, so I could watch Jack. Despite my exhaustion and recent blood loss, I remained awake, as if my gaze refused to be parted from him.

At what should been dawn, roosters crowed. They did at Death's home as well, undaunted by the lack of sun. Lark had once told me they crowed to their own rhythms.

Though the camp would be waking, maybe I could get an hour of sleep.

As I drifted away, I wondered what today would bring. . . .

Earthquake?!

I shot awake in my shuddering cot, swaying with dizziness. Why was no one screaming?

Where was Jack? Matthew?

I rubbed my eyes. Oh. False alarm. Cyclops slept along the length of the cot, shaking it as he twitched in dreams.

I reached over and stroked his frizzy fur. “The things I put up with for you.” He woke, stretching his scarred limbs.

Wait, why was I in Jack's cot? And not wearing pants? My jeans hung over the chair. Had he undressed me?

Matthew ducked inside. “Empress.” He looked even worse than yesterday.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Cyclops rose and padded past him, heading outside. I really hoped the wolf was fort-trained.

“I'm not feeling well.” Matthew moved to his cot, sitting stiffly.

“What hurts?”

His pale skin was stark against his black coat. “My brain.”

“Have you slept?”

“Yes. Days ago.” Who
wasn't
strung out on zero sleep?

“You'll feel better once you get some rest.” Which might be a lie. I'd awakened just as tired as before, only now I had a headache.

He nodded. “A respite's necessary.” Anticipating my next question, he gestured toward the river. “Jack rode over to the army with the Tower and Judgment. Order! Discipline!” Joules and Gabriel were getting involved?

“Shouldn't Jack be in bed—instead of riding through the dark and rain?” So much for not wanting to let me out of his sight.

“Once he sets his mind . . .”

I sighed. “Don't I know it.” It'd taken me so long to be near him, and he was out of reach again. “What time is it?”

Shrug. “Dark.”

“Thanks.” I pivoted my legs over the side of the cot. The nearby fire crackled, but it did little to ward away the damp cold. I found myself missing my luxurious room at Death's, then felt a ripple of guilt.

Matthew studied the ceiling so I could fetch my jeans.

I buttoned them, finding them looser. Only a few days away from Aric's, and I'd already lost weight. Speaking of which . . . “How is Tess?”

“She's okay. Like a reactor. She needed to regenerate.”

“Regenerate like me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Nooo. Like a reactor.”

“So when will she be up and about?”

“She's up. About.” Just when I felt relief, he added, “Mostly bald.”

I winced. “I'm going to have to make that up to her.” I hunted for my boots, found them at the foot of the cot. “Can we please talk about last night? About what the twins did to Jack?” I'd planned on airing out everything between me and him, but how could I after he'd suffered so much?

“His story to tell.”

“That's all you'll give me?”

His damp hair flopped over his forehead, and he shoved it back. He needed a haircut. “The Army grinds on, a windmill spins.” He'd told me this often in the past.

The Azey had once marched on Haven because the farm had been equipped with ready sources of water: windmill water pumps. In his
own way, Matthew had been warning me of the Lovers' approach.

Yet then I frowned, remembering what Vincent had told me. “The Milovnícis never cared about Haven's water. They came only for me.”

“True.”

“So why did you mention windmills?”

“They spin to the scent of roses.”

Stifling my irritation, I sat on a trunk to pull on my boots. “Do you want to tell me about my history with the twins?” I'd once feared that much of Death's ruthlessness had been shaped by past versions of me. I'd shaped the Lovers as well?

“I gave you the history. Up to you now.”

“To access those memories? You can't just tell me? They said they practiced torture—for me.”

He stared at his hand. Subject closed.

“Okay, then, what about the Priestess? Can we get her into our alliance?”

“Snow falls on graves.” He wrapped his arms around himself.

“What graves, sweetheart? Are you cold?” Though the fire was crackling along, I looked around for another log. Didn't see one.

Of course not. The resources here were limited. How much precious wood had Jack spent on this fire, to warm me alone while he was gone?

Matthew said, “Tredici nears.”

“What is Tredici?” It was too early in the morning, or the afternoon, or whenever, for this kind of confusion. “Will you explain?”

He blinked, as if I'd asked him a ridiculous question.

Inhaling for patience, I said, “So. Today's a big day for me. Do you have any advice that won't make my head hurt worse?”

“Everything from me makes you hurt. Power is your burden. Knowledge is mine. But I gave you everything before I lose my head.”

“What are you talking about?” I crossed to him, pressing the backs of my fingers against one of his sallow cheeks. No fever. “Can you try to rest now?”

“Too much to do.”

He'd said that before. “Like what? Do you want me to help you with any—”

He stood, turned toward the exit, then left me.

“Good talk, buddy,” I said to myself. Grabbing my bug-out bag, I went searching for a place to get cleaned up.

In a communal bathroom facility, I washed with cold water, brushed my teeth, and changed into clean clothes—jeans, halter, hoodie. I felt better, but I couldn't shake that nagging headache.

I checked on Tess, who was taking a nap—
reactoring
, I suppose. About a third of the fruit I'd made for her was gone, and she steadily gained weight. Someone had left a baseball cap to cover her patchy hair.

As I headed back to the tent, chafing my hands against the chill, the gates creaked open.

Jack.

He rode into the courtyard astride a striking gray horse. I stood off in the shadows, not drawing attention to myself, just watching him.

His face was less swollen. The bandage on his chest peeked up from the collar of his flannel shirt and camo jacket. His crossbow was strapped over his other shoulder.

Joules rode in, Gabriel landing nearby. All the people in the fort cheered for the returning heroes.

When a wagon loaded with supplies rolled in, Jack called orders to soldiers. A few offloaded pallets of cans. Another group went around to lift a large gun off the back.

Jack dismounted, moving stiffly. He unstrapped a bulky camo duffel bag from his saddle, hauling it over his body. Men gathered around him, asking questions. Despite his younger age, they hung on his every word.

His unforgiving life had honed him, giving him hard-earned skills, but he'd never had a chance to utilize them to this degree.

It'd taken an apocalypse for Jack to come into his own as a leader.

He paused midsentence, then turned in my direction, as if he sensed me there.

I stepped from the shadows, and our eyes met, his so vivid and gray. His gaze roamed over my face and figure the way it had on our first day of school together, like he hadn't seen a girl in years.

Never taking his focus off me, he said something that made the other men nod and set off; then he crossed the distance between us.

Without a word, he clasped my hand, leading me to his tent. How would I approach this talk? I needed to tell him about Aric, but now wasn't the right time.

The tent seemed so much smaller with him in it, because Jack was larger than life. He pulled off that duffel bag, setting aside his bow.

We stood staring at each other in silence. At length, he moved to stand before me. “Didn't think you could get prettier.” Curling his finger under my chin, he leaned down to kiss me.

I was stunned, motionless. I'd pictured our reunion, but I'd never imagined him just walking up and kissing me. A thrill cascaded through me.

God, I'd missed the feel of his lips. I gasped with pleasure.

But right when my hands decided to reach for him, my feet stepped me back. “Um, how are you feeling?”

He was clearly disappointed by my reaction. What else had he expected? The problems between us hadn't magically fixed themselves. “You know me:
tête dure
.” Hard head. “I was more worried about you.”

“I'm fine. You know me: regeneration.”

By the way he removed his coat, you'd never know the extent of his injuries. But that muscle ticked in his jaw. His tell. He wore a shoulder holster with two pistols, unstrapping that as well.

“When did you start carrying guns?”

“When I started goan up against firepower.” He dragged his flask out of a pocket and took a pull.

I sat on Matthew's cot, as stiffly as he had before. “So you, Joules, and Gabriel took over the army?”

“
Ouais
. I wanted you and Selena there to give you credit, but she's off somewhere, and you shooed me away when I tried to wake you
earlier.” I had? “Didn't want to leave you, but I needed to make sure those
filles
were being treated right.”

Of course he would. I'd never known any man who hated violence against women so much.

“When folks see Arcana like Joules and Gabriel, they tend to step in line.” He stoked the fire. “I'm not above using that to achieve some order around here.”

He sat across from me, elbows on his knees, flask at the ready. His thick black hair tumbled over his forehead, and tousles jutted above his ears.

I'd once threaded my fingers through his hair, drawing him down to me. “When did you decide to go public with our kind?” He now had seven of us here, an Arcana Justice League.

He took another swig. “I remembered that in the Basin everybody told themselves stories. We'd tell ourselves we could tolerate living there because we had our friends and family with us. Or that we were tied to those lands by our history. I started thinking folks needed new stories, and I just happened to have a kid with me who can make illusions and a girl whose skin glows.” He shrugged, then seemed to regret the movement. “We've been giving people a new story to tell.”

Though the sentiment was heartening, I was still surprised by his involvement. “In the past you didn't concern yourself with others. You called serving your fellow man bullshit. You said
live
people were the worst kind.”

“I hadn't met many solid characters then. Over these months, I have.”

“You never went looking for trouble. Sound familiar? This is a heaping ton of trouble.”

“Dis-moi quelque chose que j'connaîs pas.”
Tell me something I don't know. “But I've realized some things.”