The Arcana Chronicles 5: The Dark Calling

Silence for several seconds. Then: "There's no reaching you, is there? I can't goad you into coming after me. I can't make you remember what we had. And we can't take on you and all the others to mount a rescue." Before she abruptly hung up, she said, "I have all the information I need to make a decision."

What decision? Again and again, I'd turned those words over in my head.

The Archangel rose. "'Tis exceedingly hot in here." As he headed toward one of the windows, my gaze fell on his molting wings.

When inside, he folded them up, but his wingspan was mind-boggling. They seemed to grow with each hearty meal he enjoyed, the bullet holes healing with new feathers.

Like him, I was becoming stronger. Perhaps all the deaths across the land fueled my own transformation. Soon my power and speed would be unmatched among the Arcana.

When the Archangel opened the window, chill air entered. I drew in a cleansing breath, even as I regretted the waste of precious heat. Both he and Paul kept their rooms like saunas. When I'd said something to Paul, he'd reminded me that we no longer had to hoard our resources for a fictitious child and superfluous Arcana like the Empress.

The Archangel turned back, muttering, "Better."

No sooner had the words left his lips than a gust blew in and sent the cards on my desk flying.

I stared at the disarray, my thoughts veering in strange directions. An Arcana had allowed in the frigid cold, displacing all the cards--as if this very room were Tar Ro, an arena manipulated by a mysterious entity. Like the gods, we controlled the weather, the play of the cards. We wreaked havoc on them.

My suspicion that the earth was a tilted stage had strengthened.

With surprising insight, the Archangel said, "So too do the gods play with us. I sense their return."

"I as well," I said, recalling the tumultuous night when I'd claimed the Empress as my own. So what would that mean for Arcana?

Paul gazed from me to the Archangel. He had read enough of the chronicles to follow along.

Only one card remained on my desk. The Empress. I snatched it up, hatred and lust warring inside me. I crumpled her card and threw it into the fireplace. Flames licked the image, immolating her.

Suddenly I sensed we were being watched. Had Fauna dispatched some creature to spy on us? Doubtful; she slept all day, hay in her unkempt hair.

No, this was another Arcana. I mentally murmured, You. I always know your unblinking gaze.

--Tredici. Tredici.-- a familiar voice echoed in my mind. Tredici, the Fool's name for me, meant thirteen in Italian. He materialized by my side. Or a projection of him did. He wore earmuffs, a thick jacket, and fingerless gloves.

From Gabe and Paul's lack of reaction, I gathered they couldn't see or hear him.

I rose to pour a vodka, giving them my back as I collected my thoughts. What do you want? How had the Empress ever viewed this player as anything but malevolent?

--You must see the future too, Tredici.--

My sight dimmed, replaced by a scene from some distance away. Salt water. Waves. Rain. Cold.

I relaxed into the vision, easing the way for the Fool's delivery. I saw the Empress. Her face was pale, her wet hair whipping in the wind.

A mob of humans with bayonets were yelling, "Plank, plank, plank!"

She gazed up at me with a stricken expression and whispered, "Jack."

I felt a jolt, then realized I must be experiencing this vision through Deveaux's perspective, his senses becoming mine, his thoughts known to me.

The humans were forcing him and the Empress out onto a walkway of some sort that was positioned above a vast trench.

The men wielded bayonets. Deveaux tried to evade their strikes, to ward them off, but he could only hold out for so long.

Completely immersed, I let the scene unspool in my mind.

"You can't take another stab!" Evie inched back, yanking on my hand. We were already past the midpoint.

When the plank teetered like a seesaw, I said, "Just hang on, you! Not another step." Braving the bayonets, I leaned forward, but I waged a losing battle. The plank joggled again. "Putain!" We were going into the drink!

We started sliding backward, were looking up at the opposite end of the plank, about to be dumped. I clenched her hand hard.

She cried, "Jack!"

The plank pivoted; we plummeted--

Weightless.

Stomach lurching. Wind whipping over us. Falling, falling. FALLING . . .

COLD. We hurtled into the deep, the temperature snatching the breath from my lungs. I snatched Evie, and we struggled to the surface. We breached a wave, gasping for air.

Shock had me by the throat. Towering waves battered us, but we clung together.

My frantic gaze darted. Sheer wall. Jagged. Dark. "Doan kn-know where to climb!" My numb limbs were barely keeping us afloat.

Her lids grew heavier, her lips already blue. Her face was as pale as snow. "C-Circe will come."

When? The cold would take us in moments. I pleaded, "You hold on! You're a t-terror in the pool, remember?"

A swirling wave--a vortex in reverse--began to rise beneath us. My eyes widened. Seeing this right? A column of water, like a slow-moving geyser, lifted us.

"Circe?" she called weakly.

We continued to rise. "It's her, Evie! Just hang on. Faster, Priestess! We've got to get her to land."

Evie bit out, "T-too c-cold, Circe. Jack c-can't take much more."

"I can't?" I was losing her!

A watery voice sounded from the column. "It's not your time, Evie Greene!"

"Circe, she's fading!" I yelled. "Ah, God, you stay with me, Evie." Desperation strangled me. I burned to fight. To save her. I needed to give my life for hers.

Couldn't do a goddamned thing.

Circe's column wavered, her voice garbled. "I can't hold this! The ocean demands its due. It always wins!"

"Then fight back, Priestess!" But we were out of time. Knew it, me.

Circe screamed, her control lost. Her waves began annihilating the side of the trench, devouring it.

We're done for.

Evie's heavy-lidded gaze grew vacant. "L-love you, Jack. So much . . ." Her head lolled, body gone limp.

Agony ripped through me.

"No, Evie! NOOOOOOO!" I clutched her shoulders and shook her in the water. "You come back to me, bebe, PLEASE!" When my eyes met her sightless ones, comprehension took hold: She's gone. My Evie's dead.

A roar burst from my chest as my mind turned over.

When her body started to sink, I kissed her lips. "It'll always be Evie and Jack."

Then I joined her in the deep.

I cracked open my eyes, emerging from the vision. The Fool's projection stood to the right of me.

I mentally demanded, What was that? Deveaux's pain was worse than even I had felt over her demise in previous games--because I'd never loved her in the past. Not like I loved her now. Or had loved.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Has it . . . occurred? Was the Empress lifeless even now? Had mere humans been her downfall?

--Not yet. Soon.--

I swallowed. Her death was about to be stolen from me. Would Circe harvest her icon? Unacceptable.

You gave me her location. From the Fool's vision, I knew where to find the Empress--she was in a settlement at the edge of a trench, due east of where I'd located her grandmother. Why let me see that? Because she can mesmerize me if I leave the sphere?

He blinked, as if waiting for me to get up to speed with him. --Can she?--

I regarded my drink. Shouldn't she have been able to sway the mortals who'd doomed her and Deveaux? Her powers must still be muted, would be no match for the scalding animosity I'd stoked every day.

She'd once recounted to me her brutal attack against Ogen, Fauna, and myself. She'd said she'd felt like a marionette with hatred pulling the strings. I felt the same now.

Hatred would inoculate me against her floundering abilities as much as Paul did.

Blood began to run from the Fool's nose, his eyes vacant. --Tredici, know this: the only way you'll win this game is to claim her icon yourself.--

Otherwise, I would lose? Had I actually once decided to bow out of this Arcana game? To choke on defeat? Yes, because of her influence!

If I lost, I would reincarnate with no knowledge of her evil. Ignorant and vulnerable, I would fall for her machinations yet again.

--Last chance. She will die in the deep. Her torn heart will stop.--

When will this occur? How long did I have? Urgency lashed at me.

--How badly do you want her?-- With that, he disappeared.