Arcana Rising (The Arcana Chronicles #4)(10)

After the Flash, Jack had driven most of the time.

In a grave tone, Sol said, “All you had to do was ask me to go with you. I would have, without your threats hanging over my head.”

“Did you ask your prisoners if they wanted to fight for survival? Now drive.”

He shrugged and gave the truck some gas. We headed for the highway.

I watched in the side mirror as a shirtless “worshipper” sprinted after us with a duffel bag. He hurled it toward the back of the truck. . . . The bag landed well short.

This just wasn’t Sol’s day.





6





“Since you refuse to give me your name, what should I call you?” Sol asked. We were climbing higher into the hills, the road getting more treacherous. “O Great Empress? The Blond One? How about the Green Queen?”

I’d been staring out the window in silence, ignoring his attempts at conversation. As I took in one Flash-fried scene after another, I alternated from Evie to full-on Empress—leaf-strewn red hair, rose crown, dripping thorn claws, glowing glyphs—and back. At one point, I’d drummed my claws on the armrest with impatience, absently stabbing holes in it. Poison had collected.

Sol had shuddered in horror.

“Call me Empress.”

“We’re not on a first-name basis? Fine. You can call me Illuminator.”

“Yeah. That will never happen, Sol.”

Snow began to drift down. Jack’s words rang in my head, his voice over the radio when I’d ridden out to meet him: “So this is snow. . . .” A bayou boy, he’d never seen it before.

I’d been delighted by the clean white drifts. After a year of ever-present ash, the white had seemed like a blank slate.

With our voices linked, Jack and I had marveled at the snow.

My chest twisted so hard I almost screamed. Blinders! I fully believed that I would get him back. But the mere idea that we weren’t on the same plane made me crazed.

Sol said, “I still can’t believe the Empress is a real girl. For months, I’ve been hearing all these voices in my head, and then up pops one of them—in the very lovely flesh.” He’d been hearing our Arcana calls.

Matthew had told me mine was louder than everyone else’s. Apparently, my call had broadcast all the way to Indiana. Yet I’d never heard Sol’s.

He imitated my voice, “‘Come, touch . . . but you’ll pay a price.’” He raked his gaze over me. “Who wouldn’t pay it?”

Jack had. He would still be alive if he’d never met me. Or if I’d let him go after my battle against the Hermit Card.

Aric had paid over and over again.

He still hadn’t contacted me. Maybe the Arcana switchboard was down once more. After all, I hadn’t heard Sol’s call from mere feet away. Which would mean I had no mental link to my allies and friends.

And no idea where my enemies were.

Or maybe I just couldn’t consider the alternative: that Aric was too injured to respond. It wouldn’t matter anyway, because of time travel. Once I went back, I would keep him safe.

God, I could go nuts thinking about this! For days, I’d had zero sleep and little food. I wasn’t exactly tracking well. And the Sun’s leer wasn’t helping. “Are you done, Sol? Just pay attention to where you’re going.”

He wasn’t done. “I saw an image flash over you. You had your arms open, were beckoning me.” My Arcana tableau. “Some of the Azey soldiers spoke of supernatural people called Arcana. Even after so many baffling events—and my own powers—I scarcely believed.” I hadn’t either. “So if the voices are real, then the game must be too. I’ve heard enough to glean the basics. There are more than a dozen of us, right? And we’re all supposed to fight? To take each other’s—what are they called?—icons.”

I could confirm that a hand marking accompanied each kill. Instead, I shrugged. I didn’t trust this card whatsoever; keeping him ignorant seemed wise.

“You have icons, right? I thought I saw something on your new hand before you covered it.” When I didn’t answer, he asked, “Will there be other gods at Fort Arcana?”

Other gods. Ugh. Aric had called me a goddess, but he’d meant it figuratively.

“That makes sense,” Sol continued. “This fort of Arcana must shame my humble Olympus.”

The fort didn’t look like much, but it was strong. Jack had built it with his own two hands. “Fort Arcana was constructed out of anything available by people scrapping for a better life out in the Ash. Not everybody got to stroll into a ready-made stronghold.”

In a way, Sol was like the Hermit Card, a worm who slithered from one shell to another.

“Who started the game?” Sol asked. “What happens if you don’t wish to fight anyone?” Casting me a significant look, he said, “I’m a lover, querida, not a fighter.”

“No, you just make others fight. For your entertainment.”

“I could’ve drawn you a map to the fort, and then you could have killed me. Why kidnap me? Because I helped you regenerate?”

“I have plans for you.” If I was going to use Sol in the past to face the Emperor, would he need to be on Tess’s carousel with us? Would more people make it harder for her? Maybe I could go even further back in time, then drive up to Olympus to snag Sol before the clash.