Dead of Winter (9 page)

I furtively clawed my palms, dripping blood onto the ground. Vines could sneak beneath Violet, then shoot up to secure that sensor. But the risk . . .

Selena had no such qualms, was inching closer, soundless over the sawdust. With her superhuman reflexes, could she strike before Violet reacted?

“So how should we enlighten him?” Violet tapped her chin with a polished black nail. “The Pear of Anguish, the Scavenger's Daughter, the Heretic's Fork, or the Spanish Spider? Or we could simply maim.”

“Excellent idea, Vi. His hunter's eyes have watched us so closely, I'm keen to scoop them out.” He crossed to a nearby table, turning on a portable camping burner. A charred tablespoon lay beside it.

A knot tightened in my stomach when he raised the utensil over the flame. While it heated, he cast me a casual, la-di-da smile—as if he waited for a coffeemaker to finish a pot.

But Selena closed in on striking range. I needed to distract the twins. “Why do you do it? Why torture?”

“To practice our craft, exploring the pains and pleasures of the flesh,” Vincent said. “We are tools used by The First. The First will learn through us.”

“First?” Watching the Archer eerily stalk her prey made me glad she was on my side.

Vincent turned the spoon. “The Hallowed First, whom we serve.”

“I don't understand.”

He exhaled. “What we hear is heard. What we see is seen. What we know is known.”
If you say so.
“But we soon developed a taste for torture, because we're Arcana.”

Insane twin logic. “That doesn't mean you have to torture.”

“Did the Hierophant and the Alchemist die peacefully?” Vincent's expression was superior.

Both had died in agony. “I acted in self-defense—for no other reason.” Yet hadn't the red witch gotten a high from the kills?

Violet snapped, “You enjoyed it enough in the last game!” Finally, unconcealed emotion from her. “I doubt
your
tastes have changed.”

“What are you talking about?”

When she gazed at Vincent, his pale irises briefly turned black. “Tell her. The First will see her reaction.”

“It's you,” Violet hissed. “We practice torture—for you.”

“Didn't you ever wonder why we marched on Haven?” Vincent asked me. “We planned to make you a prisoner of our love, getting our revenge. But this is even better. We know how much harder it is to see a loved one tormented. You taught us that.”

Me?

Violet added, “You once told us, ‘Love is the most destructive force in the universe.' You were right.”

I shook my head. “I-I've never seen you before. I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don't act oblivious!” Spittle flew from Vincent's lips. “Your line chronicles, just as ours does.”

“I've never read my history. I only know fragments.”

They studied me, must've decided I was telling the truth.

“Then we'll bring you up to speed.” Violet moved beside her brother. “In the last game, we were in an alliance. Until you betrayed us. You trapped me in your vines, but you couldn't catch my lover. To lure him, you tortured me so savagely—”

“—that I surrendered, to spare my beloved,” Vincent picked up. “I made the choice to sacrifice myself. At least in the end you were true to your word: you dispatched us swiftly enough.”

“Everything we do is because of you.” Violet reached for Vincent,
playing with the hair at his nape. “Every move our family makes, we consider you. My father named me Violet because I'm the only flower you'll never control. Never again.”

She talked as if I'd . . . formed them? Like they formed new Bagmen. My nausea churned anew.

Horrifying words leapt to my tongue:
I was just playing the game.
But I remained silent.

If their story had been written, I would have been the villain.

Then I realized it had been written.

Chronicled.

“We are choice, Empress,” Vincent and Violet told me in unison. “We are retribution. And we
remember
. Soon you'll see. We will love you ever so much.”

I expected them to clasp hands and swing their arms, but Violet kept playing with his hair while holding that sensor. He continued heating the spoon. When would they reveal their powers?

My gaze darted to Selena. What did she think about all this?

She was so close. I needed to give her more time. “I'm different than I was in the last game,” I told the twins. “I'm disgusted by what was done to you. But you'll still punish me?”

Vincent flashed a predator's smile. “In unspeakable ways.”

Together, they added, “Practice has made perfect.”

I stifled a shudder.

“You'll watch us break and kill the man you love,” Vincent said. “Then we'll take you and the Archer north, as prisoners of our love. You'll behold the First with your own eyes—before we take them from you, naturally.” He glanced at Selena; she'd already gone motionless. “By the time you arrive, Archer, your arm will be healed,” he told her. “A blank canvas for the First to transform.”

How did he know about her arm? Spies? “Why torture Selena? She didn't do anything to you.”

“The Archer's body glows red, the color of bloodletting,” Violet mused. “This fascinates the First. The First will personally torment it.”

“She satisfies our tastes.” Vincent peeled his gaze from Selena. “You are for retribution.”

I told him, “That will never happen.”

“How are you going to stop us? An Empress in a world of ash?” He scoffed. “We expected more of a challenge from you and the others. We heard all your calls as you gathered. But only two faced us? This isn't fun at all.”

Violet's hand descended to rub her brother's back. “We like games and fun. You've given us neither.”

“More are coming,” I said, bluffing. “The heavy hitters of our alliance. We're just the opening act.”

“Alliances force choices,” Vincent said. “When to enter into one. When not to honor one. In a pinch, no Arcana will truly be an ally. You just temporarily use each other.”

My relationship with Death bore that out. But what about Selena dragging Finn home despite her broken bones? “That's not true. Not anymore. This game is different.
We
are different.”

As if I hadn't spoken, Violet released her brother to traipse behind Jack, that sensor in hand. “Prisoners of our love force choices. Now that we have the two of you and the hunter, will the rest of your alliance try to free you?”

“Of course,” I lied. Would Gabriel return? All he knew was that I'd gone crazed and clawed Tess, just as Joules had warned.

“Are you ready over there, Vi? It's almost hot enough.” To me, Vincent said, “When the spoon singes away the eyelashes before the metal touches flesh, it's the ideal temperature.”

Violet snatched Jack's hair and lifted his head again. “Wake up, knave!” She gave him a shake. Nothing. “He'll come to when you're ready, beloved.”

I hastily told them, “If you gouge out
my
eyes, they'll grow back.” I thought. “A few months ago, I severed my own thumb, and it regenerated. Don't you want to see that? You can cut off my fingers over and over.” A sentence I never imagined I would utter.

Vincent gave me a disinterested wave of his hand. “We're getting to that.” He inspected the sizzling spoon.

I was boring him. Think! “Where in the north is the First? Is that your dad?”

Selena gripped her sword hilt, muscles tensing—

“Now, now, Archer.” With his free hand, Vincent smoothly brandished and cocked the pistol he'd taken from Selena.

She froze.

He definitely knew how to use that gun. “Go stand next to the Empress,” he ordered her. “I want you both front row for this.”

When Selena turned toward me and I saw her face, I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.

She wore an expression I'd never seen on her before: bewilderment. For the first time since I'd met her, the Archer had no clue what she was going to do next.

“Everything we do to him, we'll do to you,” Vincent told me as he closed in on Jack.

Violet beamed with anticipation. “I long for his screams.” With a giggle, she admitted, “He'll be so handsome when he yells.”

Vincent glowered, jealous. “Vi?”

“Not more than when
you
yell, my love.”

While they had their Lovers' quarrel, I whispered to Selena, “Use me. As a bullet shield. Get to the sensor.”

“Fuckin' A, Evie.” She grabbed my shoulder. “Ready?”

I nodded, bracing for bullets—

A shrieking whistle sounded, like an approaching rocket. Loud as an explosion, the tent canvas above us . . . surged upward, disappearing into the night's murk.

Gabriel?

He'd snatched the tent away on a flyby!

Beams collapsed, furniture tumbling. Taking advantage of the twins' confusion, Selena yanked her sword free and lunged for Violet. With blistering speed, she slashed off the girl's arm. Before the limb could hit the floor, Selena snared the sensor.

She slid Violet's thumb off, covering the button with her own. “Got it, you bitch.”

Violet smiled even as her blood gushed. “This was unexpected, Archer. Beware the Empress.” She fell, her body in a straight line.

Like a card.

Selena lunged to finish Violet; Vincent bellowed, twisting toward Selena with that gun.

A shot rang out. She dodged.

He . . . missed.

The Archer was
pissed
. “I'm gonna shove this sword so far up your ass, Vince.” Dripping blade raised, she stormed toward the boy, who took aim once more.

“Eyes to the skies, lads!”

“Incoming, Evie!” Selena yelled, whirling around mid-charge to stiff-arm me.

Sharp pressure on my shoulder; I hurtled through the air, landing in front of Jack.

“Cover J.D.!”

Popping up, I sliced my claws through the line above him. When he collapsed, I threw myself over him.

Never letting go of that sensor, Selena overturned the table in front of us—just as a javelin sank into Vincent's torso.

Thunk.

Vincent stared down, bellowing,
“I return to the FIRST!”

Bomb blast. Lightning streaked above. The shockwave hit the table, shoving it at us like a car crusher.

“Ahh!”
Selena locked her legs against it, resisting the impact. The wood splintered, the tabletop splitting around her boots!

How strong
is
she?
She gritted her teeth, protecting us with all her might.

When the scorching heat finally subsided, I rose up from Jack to claw that collar off his neck, exhaling with relief as I tossed it away. I peeked up over the ruins of the table to survey the destruction, scoping out any other threats.

Little remained of Vincent. Violet was a charred pile. Behind us, all the stalls had fallen, revealing the full extent of the Lovers' crazy. Lightning had wiped out the Bagmen and those five victims as well. Freed from pain at last.

Back to Jack. “Can you hear me?” I slashed off the manacles at his blood-encrusted wrists and ankles. “Please say something!” He groaned in pain, but didn't wake.

Selena rose with difficulty. “Check his pulse.”

I pressed two fingers against his neck. “I think it's even.” Which blunted my immediate panic. “Selena, are you okay?”

Blood ran from a gash on her temple. “I'm all right. You got that collar off him?”

I jerked my chin toward it on the floor.

She glared at the sensor in her fist. When she dropped it, that spike shot into the center of the discarded collar.

I shuddered at how close Jack had come to dying.

“He'll be okay, Evie.” She swiped her hand over her temple, shrugging at the blood that came away. “There's a doctor across the river. A podiatrist, but what can you do?”

Jack's skin wept around that brand. “What is this mark?”

“The Lovers' symbol. Their icon is the same.”

“Those freaks marked him as their own.” A prisoner of their love. “And his shoulders are out of their sockets. What else did they do?”

“They'd only been getting started on him.” She gazed down at him, total adoration in her expression. “Whatever they did, he'll come back from it. He's a survivor.”

“Is there a blanket? Anything to cover him?” Wait . . . “Where's his rosary? We have to find it for him.” It'd been his mother's.

“On it, Empress.” Selena only called me that when I'd earned a tiny bit of her respect. She ransacked the Lovers' belongings, scoring a blanket. She wadded it up and lobbed it at me.

I spread it over Jack, drawing his head into my lap. My eyes watered
as I smoothed the backs of my fingers over the left side of his face. The right was swollen out of proportion. Bruises mottled his skin.

How much more could he take? I didn't want him to have to be a
survivor
. He'd already been forced into that role well before the apocalypse.

He needed to separate himself from all Arcana. From
me
. My tear struck his cheek.

With a
whoosh
, Gabriel landed beside us, to the amazement of gathering soldiers. Joules strolled over behind him.

The Tower had made the kill, Gabriel there with the assist. As an Arcana, Joules would soon bear the Lovers' icon, a small mark appearing on his hand.

A trophy. And maybe a way to keep score?

“Oi, birds, how about that blast?” Joules gave us a mock bow. “And that was just a one on a scale of a hundred. When the Tower has to come in to save the day, collateral damage happens.”