Dead of Winter (10 page)

“You could've fried us,” Selena told him.

“Serves you two right for nearly killin' Tess. We've never seen her so close to bitin' it.”

Ah, God, Tess!
“Is she okay?” Now that I wasn't burning with red witch power—and confidence—I flinched to recall my actions.

Gabriel bared his fangs at me. “She will be. In time.”

“She's officially no longer the Arcana laughingstock,” Selena said. “Because of her, we prevented J.D. from getting his eyeballs scooped out with a hot spoon.”

Gabriel's snarl faded.

“No shite?” Joules surveyed the ruins of contraptions, whistling under his breath. “In the next few days, Tess'll plump up right smart. She'll be glad she helped. Lass likes to help.”

I asked Gabriel, “Will you please fly Jack to the doc?” I didn't want to part from him, but he needed medical attention.

With a nod, Gabriel easily lifted Jack's big body in a fireman's carry.
Note: superhuman strength for Gabriel.
With a grimace of pain, the angel swooped his damaged wings.

I watched him and Jack until they disappeared into the night sky.

Selena rifled through an overturned trunk. “Why'd you come, Tower? You went from
hell no
to
feck it
.”

“I started a tab for the Empress. She owes me now. Plus Gabe said he'd do whatever it took to save you, even if it meant using his wing till he crippled it.” Joules faced me. “What happened, anyway?”

I told him the highlights, ending with: “Thank you for the save. For whatever reason you did it. You're a hero.” I studied his reddening cheeks. “And I think you like it.”

His voice went gruff. “Piss off.” He ambled away.

Selena returned. “Got J.D.'s stuff.” She wore his crossbow strapped over her back and his bug-out bag slung over a shoulder. His rosary dangled from her free hand.

“You found the rosary!”
Rose
-ary. “Can I see it? And Jack's bag?”

With a grudging look, she handed them over. I stowed the beads in my pocket, hugging the bag to my chest.

She slumped down beside me.

There Selena and I sat in the drizzle, shoulder to shoulder, as if nothing had come between us over these months. As if we were still on the same page.

As if we didn't love the same man.

She said, “I couldn't find the Lovers' chronicles, though.”

“Their father must have them.” The battle had been close for me and the Archer, but the Lovers were now dead. So why wouldn't my uneasiness fade? Yes, we still had the general to contend with, but how tough could a mortal be? “After tonight, will Milovníci continue terrorizing people?”

“Who can tell? All I know is he's about to meet up with his kids real soon.”

When more soldiers closed in to gawk—at us, at the bodies, at the contraptions—that guy Franklin approached us. He'd ditched the gas mask, but it had left him with hat head. Gas mask head? “Is Deveaux going to be okay?”

“I think so. Thank you for asking.”

He toed a bloody clump of sawdust. “Are you his girlfriend?”

Selena raised her brows, as if she couldn't wait to hear my answer.

“Jack and I went to school together.” For five days. “We met up after the Flash. I'm Evie. This is Selena. Sorry for the abrupt entrance before. We were on a clock.” When he nodded, I asked, “Do you know Jack?”

“I knew of him from the Louisiana reservist unit, before the Azey took it over. Made a real name for himself as a bow hunter. He destroyed hundreds of Bagmen and never wasted a bullet.”

The man that monsters should fear.

Selena told me, “We came across some guys from Canada who'd all heard of J.D. from different sources. But they said the number of Baggers was in the thousands.”

Was Jack growing into a folk hero?

Selena turned to Franklin. With her typical diplomacy, she asked, “The crank—who was attached to it?”

“A few months back, a couple of guys helped Deveaux escape the general's firing squad.” Franklin looked away. “The twins tortured them since then. The last one alive was having his intestines pulled out inch by inch.”

That
was what I'd seen. The slimy rope. Oh, dear God. The Lovers had tried to force Jack to turn the crank, to torment someone who'd saved his life.

“You never thought to help those men?” Selena demanded. “Or the four guys getting cooked into Baggers?”

Franklin's shame was palpable. “I wanted to! But I've got a little brother in Azey North. He's only twelve. Every time I stepped out of line, I risked my life—and his. There are spies everywhere.” He exhaled a long breath. “Or, there were. They bugged out, running north.”

“What will happen to the women here?” I searched the crowd for that hobbled lady.

“Per Deveaux's orders, I've already seen to their release, protection, and provisioning.”

I frowned at him. “What orders?”

“He's in charge now. In his messages, Deveaux promised to lead the white hats among us, the good guys who protect people in need.”

“Thanks, Franklin. I'll tell him you asked after him.” When the man strode off, I turned to Selena. “In charge? Why would Jack entangle himself in all this? To help total strangers?” He'd protested whenever I'd done the same, insisting that we could only worry about ourselves and our own survival.

“When he assumes command here, we can liberate the other half.”

“That sounds like a ton of responsibility.”

Selena nodded. “He's different now.”

I wanted her to unpack that comment, but other looky-loo soldiers clustered around us. When they stared at me and Selena, Joules wandered back our way, producing another javelin.

He paced, twirling it menacingly. Guarding us? “Oi! You wanna ride the lightning, my friend?” His electrified skin sparked in the drizzle.

“These soldiers can't get enough Arcana,” Selena said. “Guys who handle lightning and girls who grow vines. Flying angels.”

“No one here saw me grow vines. Well, they did. But only before we went back in time.” Again, a sentence I never thought I'd say. “What a night.” My brain felt like mush. Like it was limping along. “Did you know any of the stuff about me and the Lovers? Were they telling the truth about the last game?”

“They weren't lying.”

“That might've been good to know before I went in there to face them.” Why hadn't Death told me?

She shrugged. “I considered telling you, but I didn't want you to chicken out just because some army-backed serial killers planned to mutilate and murder you.”

Right. “How can you know for sure what I did back then?”

“It's in my chronicles. In past games, the Archer would travel with an entire contingent, like war correspondents. They saw the Lovers' remains. Definitely had the Empress's stamp.”

The red witch's stamp.

Selena examined her swollen arm. “Matthew should've told you this stuff. He should've warned J.D. about getting captured. How about a heads-up about the Priestess?”

“You can't blame him. He's doing the best he can. And maybe he tells us everything we need to know, but we fail at understanding.” Like I had when he'd told me about Tess manipulating time.

“How'd you fight the Priestess, anyway?”

“She sent water tentacles, so I choked them with my vines.”

“Tentacles? Evie, she could've swept you into the river like a guppy. Or crushed you with a tsunami. She was playing with you.”

Every time I identified the very last card we'd ever have to kill, another one popped up.

As if reading my mind, Selena asked, “You still think we can end all this?”

In a hushed voice, I said, “There isn't a
trues
over here, and we're worth four icons between us. But neither Joules nor Gabriel targeted us.”

“I can't tell who's crazier—you, for continuing to believe we can end the game, or me, for starting to believe you,” she said. “I never imagined someone like you would be a leader, other than a cheer
leader
.”

“Post-apocalypse, doesn't everyone need to evolve?”

She raised her face to the intermittent rain. “Jesus, Evie, what if it catches on? What if we could all live in peace? Use these powers for good?”

I'd had the same thought! “We could repurpose ourselves.” Fight freaking crime, anything.

“If evil Arcana don't get in our way.” Selena faced me. “Speaking of which, what's going on between you and Death?”

Between us? My escape and his sword. According to the twins: burgeoning love.

Since I'd left him, Death hadn't telepathically contacted me, hadn't overtaken me on the road. What if he . . . couldn't? “I learned more
about my history with him. This won't be news to you, but Aric had reason to hate me.”

“You call Death
Aric
?” she spat. “So that murderer has a human name?”

“It's not all black and white,” I insisted. “I came to care for him.”

She looked more disgusted by me than she had by the Lovers' making out. “If I see him, I
will
put an arrow in his heart.”

“Good luck with that. Last time, your arrows disintegrated against his armor.”

“You actually give a damn about him? Up is down and down is up. What about J.D.?”

“I haven't been able to think past a rescue. Now I'll take some time and sort things out in my head.” Once I got some rest. I'd had only a few hours over days.

“J.D. wasn't the only one who's changed in the last three months. Things between us are different.”

After Jack had thought I was lost for good, had he given Selena what she wanted most in this world?

Himself?

Something like grief swamped me. I'd wanted him far away from this sick game. If he'd then gotten with another card . . . ?

It had never, never occurred to me that Jack might not want me back, might not be clamoring to tell me his side of the story. “Wh-what changed then?”

Before she could answer, the angel landed once more. “Jack is with the physician.”

“Thank you, Gabriel.”

He gave me a solemn nod. Maybe he should see the doc next. After his dive-bomb, that bullet hole was now the size of a salad plate.

He offered his claw-tipped hand to Selena. “Your carriage awaits.”

I thought that was cute, but she just gave him a
really?
look and stood on her own.

She had no way of knowing that he'd evacuated her first—at least, before time reversed itself. “Shouldn't we take the bridge back?” I nodded at his wing.

“We'll wait till the bridge is one hundred percent secured.” He caught my eye. “It's too dangerous yet, for you and
Selena
.”

Oh, right. He'd take the pain just to hold her.

She frowned when he pulled her into his arms, cradling her against him. “We'll talk later, Evie.”

I gave her a thumbs-up; she flipped me off as he took to the air once more.

“Oi, flower girl!” Joules called to me. “How long does it take for the icon to show on my hand?” I guessed he wanted his trophy.

I hated that I knew the answer to his question twice over. “It's pretty much instant.”

“Then who the feck stole my icon?”

As Jack slept, I sat on the edge of his cot, replaying the doc's prognosis.

The man's examination of Jack's skull had revealed two bad knots; most likely concussed. He'd fixed Jack's dislocated arms, cleaned his wounds, and bandaged the angry burn on his chest.

He predicted a full recovery—
if
Jack took it easy for a couple of weeks. But the doc had also told me how long Jack would carry the Lovers' mark, that reminder of his torture.

For the rest of his life.

Which made me need to poison something.

I retracted my budding claws, whispering to Jack, “Brand or not, you'll always be breathtaking to me.” I tenderly tucked the cover around him, staggered by the love I felt for him.

I'd tried so hard to get over him. Never could. In fact, I'd celebrated when I could go an hour without thinking about him.

But we had so much standing between us. Too little trust, too much danger.

I needed to let him go, to steer him away from all this. Yet all I wanted to do was curl up next to his battered body. . . .

I heard Joules out in the fort, stomping up and down the plankway, making a stink about his missing icon. He'd already insisted on a mandatory hand check for all Arcana.

Had the transfer gone wacky because Selena struck first, starting the attack?

Matthew's answers to Joules's heated questions—and mine—hadn't been in the realm of coherent. The boy had looked done in.

I gazed over at his half of the tent. My chest squeezed when I realized his only belongings in the world were his bug-out bag, a model of some sci-fi alien, and a Mad Libs book.

Beside Jack's cot? Magazines for different trades: electricians, mechanics, contractors. Under his cot, he'd stored fifths of whiskey, making me wonder if he was still on the wagon. Atop a small desk were maps of this region. He'd been redrawing them to reflect the new landscape.

My gaze fell on Jack's bug-out bag. I unzipped it and peeked inside. Among all his survival gear, he still had that copy of
Robinson Crusoe
I'd given him.

And there was the cell phone that had belonged to Brandon, my onetime boyfriend, and Jack's half brother. Not that it could make a call. Jack had told me he'd constantly sourced power for it—just so he could look at the videos and pictures of me.

I even found the Alchemist's recording of my life story in a small player.

Surely Jack wouldn't keep these things with him at all times if he'd moved on from me.