Arcana Rising (The Arcana Chronicles Book 5) (27 page)

“I figured out that I would have attended a funeral about every month,” I said. “I know I should have been with her more at the end, but I wouldn’t change last night.”

He rubbed my back with a big palm. “Try to recall your good memories of her.”

I would. I wished these last few weeks would fade to a blur—compared to memories of her laughter as we played hide-and-seek in the cane.

“What do we do now?” I asked, my voice sounding lost.

“You will pick a place on the mountain, and we will have a funeral for her in the morning.”

I sat up to face him. “Bury her here? At your home? But she was awful to you.”

His brows drew together. “At
our
home. Where my wife’s grandmother belongs.” God, he was a wonderful man to overlook all the things she’d said about him.

Which reminded me . . . “When you went hat in hand to her that night, what did you ask?”

He hesitated.

“Tell me.”

“I sought her for two reasons: to give her my vow that you would be protected for as long as I lived.” Oh, Aric. “And to ask if she sensed this game was . . . different. Because I had.”

“How so?” I quickly asked, “Do you think it can be stopped?” When would I accept reality?

He shook his head. “I believe I sensed
this
”—he gestured from me to him—“our upcoming union. The marriage of Life and Death.”

The marriage that felt forbidden on every level. “What did Gran say?”

“She said this game
was
somehow different. But one aspect would always remain the same.” He pulled me back against his chest. “Only one can win.”

“Climb,” Matthew said, pointing to the top of a rise. “If you want to see her.”

Though we couldn’t be far from Fort Arcana, he’d insisted on stopping here. I figured this peak must be where Evie had radioed me the last time we’d spoken.

Her roses covered the face. And they were still
alive
.

When we’d first gotten here, I’d said, “She must be close! Is she at the fort?” Over all the time I’d spent with the Fool, no amount of threats or coaxing could make him come off her current whereabouts.

“Some time ago,” he’d answered. “No longer.”

So how had her flowers lived since then? I couldn’t imagine the power she must’ve used creating so many. It was almost as if she’d left part of her ability here as a generator.

I swiped rain from my face. Even in the dusky light, the bright red and green were stark against the ash. “If I get myself up to the top, you’ll finally tell me how to reach her?”

“Gaze out from the peak. Get a new viewpoint.” Then he started fiddling with his bug-out bag, ignoring me.

I wore my brace, was still limping with my crutch, muscles weak. But you better believe I would push my body and my leg to scale this mountain. In a worsening storm.

’Cause I was desperate to get to my girl.

I hooked my crutch under my pack to free up both hands, then set to climbing. Soon sweat mixed with rain, dripping in my eyes. Each time that brace pressed on my wound, pain sang through me, but I white-knuckled my way upward.

When I reached the top, I lurched, nearly tumbling backward. I yanked my crutch free and steadied myself. Then I gazed out with disbelief. Black rock and roses stretched from this peak all the way to the next.

Just when I had clawed my way back to the land of the living, Matthew had sent me to the valley of the dead.

My gut churned, and I almost threw up.

Unable to stop myself, I started out over the lava rock. Felt like I was stepping on graves in a cemetery.

Then came the scent of . . . honeysuckle? I followed the smell, limping farther across the rock toward the middle of the valley.

Vines began to tangle among the roses, but in the distance was a clearing. I hurried toward it, ignoring the pain in my leg. Within the clearing were two grave sites with epitaphs. One was circled with ivy, the other with blooming honeysuckle.

Evie had created these memorials. I read:

Selena Lua

The Moon

Treasured friend, ally, and guardian.

Loyal and strong to the end.

You will be dearly missed.

To the end. Had Evie known Selena sacrificed herself to save my life? Just like Clotile had done a year ago.

Each day after the apocalypse stretched out like a month of life before it. I felt as if Selena had watched my six and fought beside me—for years. Fitting that her memorial was beside . . . mine.

Jackson Daniel Deveaux

The Hunter

Beloved son, brother, friend, leader,

and intended husband.

I love you.

I dropped to my knees.

Evie smelled like honeysuckle whenever she was happy with me. She’d wanted it to bloom on my grave forever.

All my life, I’d figured I would die young, buried in a forgotten paupers’ cemetery somewhere. I never thought I would have been loved like this. She’d made me sound as if I’d made a difference, as if I’d be
missed
.

I reached for the stone to trace those treasured words. As soon as I made contact, visions appeared in my head.

From Matthew? The Fool was giving them to me, as he often had with Evie! I saw her in the days after Richter’s attack; I heard her thoughts.

In one scene, she was
missing an arm
, clinging to a tower. Her head whipped up as she lit on the idea of going back in time and saving me. All she had to do was find Tess. Evie’s grief transformed into a frantic determination.

More scenes played out. She stole from survivors and abducted another Arcana. She knew she was turning into a black hat, but she was ruthless to get to Tess.

To save me.

She made it to the empty fort.
A shell of what it once was.
I thought of all the work that had gone into building it—all the blood, sweat, and dreams I’d poured into that place. And I hadn’t even been able to provide a light to guide Evie’s way inside.

Within those walls, she dug up a grave. Tess’s. The girl had tried to reverse time to save us all—and she’d died from it.

Evie appeared to die right with her, rocking the girl’s withered corpse. All of Evie’s hopes of bringing me back from the dead had been pinned on reaching Tess. . . .

I grazed my fingers over the words on my memorial:
I love you.
She had been crazed as she carved this rock, this gravestone.

She was broken:
Jack and I had marveled at the snow.

The vision faded. I clenched my fists and yelled to the sky. How the fuck could Matthew let her suffer like that? Filled with rage, I staggered back across that rock, then stumbled down the mountain.

He was waiting for me.

I lunged at him. “What the hell you thinking?” My fist shot out, connecting with his mouth.

He went reeling, but struggled back to his feet.

“I should kill you!”

Holding his jaw, he spat blood. “I broke her smile.”

I yelled, punching his face again. “Goddamn it,
coo-yôn!
Why?” I barely pulled myself off him.

He gave me a bloody grin. The
sosie
was back.

Took everything in me not to hit him again. “Why did you want me here? Why?”

After all the agony Evie had gone through at that gravestone, I was desperate to find her and show her I’d lived.

Then came a traitorous thought . . .
maybe she
should
think I’m dead.

Was this the new viewpoint Matthew had promised? When I’d told him to take me to her, he’d said,
if you make it
. He hadn’t been talking about my recovery. He’d been talking about my chances of never reaching her—by my own choosing.

Fifty-fifty, which way I’d go.

Fighting for breath, I said, “Can she be happy with Domīnija?”

“Can anyone be happy A.F.?”

I rubbed my hand over my forehead. “Is she with her grandmother?”

“Tredici gave the Tarasova to her.”

So Evie had reunited with her last living relative—what she’d wanted most. The two had been delivered from the Ash, tucked away in a place with food and heat and luxuries.

Safe at last.

No, no, what the hell are you thinking, Jack?
A life without Evie wasn’t worth living.
You really believe you can go on without her?
I tried to look at this coldly: she was critical to my survival; survival was everything A.F.

Not to feel her with my every step?
J’tombe en botte.
I fall to ruin.

And no one could love her more than I did—
no one
. She’d known what she wanted, and she’d chosen me.
I
was her intended husband. I would put the choice to her again.

Which would mean opening up all her wounds. My gut twisted. In that vision, more than her smile had been broken. What if my return from the dead pushed her over the edge for good?

Besides, she hadn’t chosen me only for me. She’d chosen the future I’d offered her. Now I couldn’t offer her a goddamned thing. I thought of my empty pack, of starting all over again.

I had nothing.

Nothing.

I was right back to where I’d been before the Flash, slowly strangling to death ’cause I wasn’t good enough for her.

Matthew watched my eyes, as if he knew exactly what was going on in my muddled thoughts.

I’d believed she would be better off going with Domīnija
before
I’d lost everything. Now I knew . . . if I truly loved my girl, I’d let her go.

She would never be Evangeline Deveaux. We’d never see the bayou come back to life. It wouldn’t always be Evie and Jack. My eyes blurred, but nothing was wrong with my vision.

I loved that
fille
more than my own life; this just proved it.

“I’m not goan to kill you right now, no,” I told Matthew, my voice thick. “But only ’cause you’re goan to swear never to tell her I survived.” I swallowed. “As far as Evie’s concerned, I’m buried under that rock.”

Coo-yôn
nodded, then reached into his pack, pulling out . . . that cell phone and the tape player! Evie’s pictures, her voice.
How’d he get those . . . ?
Didn’t matter. The kid was giving me another crutch, right when I needed it most.

God, peekôn. Noble, for the record, cuts like a blade to the heart. . . .

The rain tapered off for my grandmother’s funeral.

Despite her breakdown and murderous message, Gran was a Tarasova, and the other Arcana demonstrated their respect. All creatures were silent that day. The surface of the water was glass. Aric wore a dark suit. He’d cut lilies from the nursery to place on her grave.

We buried her beneath an oak I grew on the southwest side of the property.

She would forever face Haven.

If the sun ever returned, it would set for her each dusk.

I only wished I could have buried Jack beside her, so he could always see his beloved home. . . .

What’s going on with him?
I wondered as I headed to a window overlooking the training yard.

Since the funeral, Aric hadn’t invited me to move into his bedroom. We’d slept on the study couch, with me wrapped in his arms.

Yes, he liked his sanctuaries, and yes, he’d been furious when I’d trespassed in his bedroom before. But I thought he’d also liked sleeping in a bed with me.

Or sleeping with me in general. He’d made no overtures to have sex.

I watched him riding Thanatos through the rain, pushing them in a grueling session. Even that tank of a warhorse looked like he wanted to tap out.

My Endless Knight was training as if
possessed
, as if he might blow from tension. He was no more satisfied with our current situation than I was.

Had he decided to give me time to grieve? Maybe he thought any move on his part would spook me. Or he simply didn’t know enough about relationships in general.

We’d slept together; now what? It wasn’t as if either of us had a lot of experience.

But I’d signed on with him. I’d accepted him as my husband. We both had needs that were not being met. So I decided to make it really easy for him.

Knowing he would be outside for a few hours, I began moving my things into his master suite—to Cyclops’s snuffling dismay. “Sorry, boy. Married life requires some privacy.”

In the bathroom, I arranged my toiletries on my half of the marble vanity. His armor hung on a stand; I tossed my silk nightgown over it, just to see what he’d say.

I hung up my clothes in the closet beside Aric’s and cleaned out a few drawers for my things.