The Arcana Chronicles 3: Dead of Winter

“Farewell, Fool,” the water girl said.

I turned to Matthew.

Gone.

Damn it! I turned back to the Priestess. Though she wouldn’t remember our skirmish, the feel of her tentacles was fresh in my mind. “Are you going to attack me out of the blue?” Again.

“Not at present. Though every attack of mine must be out of the blue, no?” How could water sound amused? “Have we peace between us for this meeting?”

I recalled Selena’s guppy comment. The Priestess hadn’t killed me, was instead calling a meeting. Maybe she could become an ally. “We have peace.”

The water morphed again, taking the shape of an oval, like a mirror. As the ripples stilled, a firelit temple came into view. The oval had become a window for me to see through!

Sitting upon a coral throne was a girl about my age with luminous fawn-colored eyes, flawless ebony skin, and long black hair braided over her shoulder. She wore frothy white robes (sea-foam?), iridescent blue opera-length gloves, and a glittering crown of water. A golden trident stretched over her lap.

She was spellbinding.

“Hail Tar Ro, Empress.”

Huh? “Hail Tar Ro to you too?”

“What is your given name for this game?” Her words were warmly accented, the rhythms calling to mind balmy breezes and faraway places.

“I’m Evie Greene.”

Something unseen skittered around her throne. A real tentacle? “I’m Circe Rémire.” Water sluiced down stone walls behind her. Was her temple underwater?

Until I learned her location, I couldn’t fight her even if I wanted to. “You’re here, but you’re not here.”

“I can inhabit certain bodies of water. For instance, if the Empress followed a stream from Death’s lair, I could follow her.”

She’d been watching me. “How’s that possible?”

“How is any of this possible?” She waved a sparkly blue arm at her temple.

My eyes widened. She wasn’t wearing gloves. Dazzling scales ran up her forearms, ending with a dainty blue fin at each elbow.

If I’d deemed Lark cool to have a bird of prey with a little leather helmet, Circe’s scales were right up there.

“The game makes the impossible possible.”

Witches and angels and devils and time travel. My head spun. I needed to get back to Jack. To feed Tess.

“I understand you had an eventful night.” Circe literally didn’t know the half of it. “A grand clash amid that mortal army.” She seemed to be settling in for a big fat chat.

Was the Priestess lonely? As Death had been?

“Eventful,” I agreed, peering at her hand. No markings. “Do you know what happened to the Lovers’ icon?” More of that creepy skittering sounded. I couldn’t see what was at her feet—and maybe that was a good thing?

“Their icon is right where it should be. As are the two you wear.”

Odd way to answer. “I never want another. I plan to stop this game.”

She tilted her head, giving me what might have been a sad smile. “You always had a high regard for yourself.”

“How would you know that? I thought no one but the Fool had memories of past lives.”

“My previous incarnation cast a spell, allowing me to relive my memories through trances. Who needs a chronicler when you have firsthand information?”

A spell? “Are you a witch?”

“It depends who you ask,” she said wryly. “Did the Fool give you your memories? In visions and dreams?”

“He did. I’ve been accessing them slowly.”

“Wise. I view mine for ten minutes a day, every day without fail.”

She came across as so disciplined and with-it. Unlike me. I could go weeks without a vision, then binge-watch. No wonder my brain felt like jelly.

“With each memory, I better appreciate how epic this game is,” she continued. “It shapes the history of gods and man, yet the Empress doesn’t want to play anymore? There’s no stopping it, Evie Greene.”

“Because it’s impossible? You just said the game makes the impossible possible. When the alternative is murdering kids, I’ve got to try.”

“Did you try?” She gave my hand a knowing look.

“I did.” I’d wanted to appear strong, but fatigue washed over me. “I tried so hard, Circe. It’s not murder if done in self-defense, or to defend the people you love.”

“The Empress speaks of love—and not with derision. Now I see why Death is so taken with you this game. You are not you.”

“Thanks?” I felt so out of it, the coyote to her roadrunner. “So why did you want to meet?”

“You’re a mystery. I concern myself with mysteries. With esoteric lore. With things that must be brought to light.”

“Like the mysteries of the deep?”

“Just so.” More skittering. “Another time, another place, I might have liked to know this incarnation of you.”

“Why not now? We can ally.”

“We are enemies almighty, Evie Greene.”

“Were we ever allies?”

“Sworn allies. Oh, the games we played! I remember the forest we claimed. I had a river, and you had your green killers. How we used to laugh together! No card could challenge us—until the Emperor arrived with his ember eyes full of fire, his hands bleeding lava. He’s the one you should be targeting. Put the Lovers and your mortal male behind you.”

Check-check on the Lovers. Leaning toward never on my mortal male. “You know about Jack?”

“I hear whispers. They flow down to me like water seeking its own level. Yet I can’t figure out what you did with Death.”

Had I been eating the lotus with Aric, uncaring that my real life was outside his castle? Before he’d captured me, I’d been a friend, a girlfriend, a granddaughter. My human life had come first.

Did it still?

Moving on . . . “The Emperor’s not close. I haven’t heard his call.” I couldn’t remember what it was.

“By the time you hear him, it’s already too late.” Circe shook her head ruefully, and on either side of the water window, whirlpools began to twirl in the river. The blanket of mist turned into thousands of soft cyclones. “He’ll be coming. With so many Arcana converging, we’ll all be attracted, pulled as if by tides.”

“And you’ll be waiting to drag them to their deaths?”

“As ever.” In a quieter tone, she said, “Sometimes they ask me to take them to the abyss. Sometimes that’s the only place they can see to go.”