Arcana Rising (The Arcana Chronicles #4)(40)

At the beginning of the oldest entries, the Empress’s mother—possibly Mom in another life—had summarized what they’d gathered about the previous games, all the way to the first one.

In the inaugural game, my allies had been the Fool, Fauna, and the Priestess. My kills: the Star, the Hierophant, and the Hermit.

Though I’d been brimming with power, it hadn’t saved me. My death had been at the hand of a trusted friend, the ultimate winner—

The Fool.

My jaw slackened. My stomach roiled. He’d murdered her.

Me.

Matthew, my former best friend, had beheaded me. His ally.

Gran’s tone was smug as she said, “Still feel the same way about your friends?”

No. No, I did not. I’d barely cracked open the book before I’d almost puked.

Matthew had won the entire game. And he remembered the past! He knew about his betrayal. My nausea worsened as I gazed at the back of my hand, at my icons.

Did the Fool stare at his hands so much because he missed seeing his own sick icons? The markings must be earned. . . .





25


The Hunter





The second metal cuff finally fell away, revealing my lower leg. I winced. Infected to high hell and back. I told coo-y?n, “If you doan have a plan—or an army—to get us out of here, then we need weapons.”

Say we could somehow make it topside. I knew of only two ways in or out: one for people, and one for trucks. The first was insanely guarded, the second impossibly guarded.

“No weapons.” He stretched my arm over his shoulders, lifting me with surprising ease. But then, I’d lost weight and he’d gained muscle. He’d grown taller too, was my height now.

He started down the mine shaft. Too bad we’d never get to the elevator, much less up.

We passed coughing, bedded-down slaves. Everyone down here seemed to have sickness in the lungs, myself included.

The other men didn’t holler to be freed or to join us. ’Cause they all knew this escape attempt was hopeless. I heard some of them muttering: “Dumbasses.” “Where do they think they’re going?” “We’ll be dining on them all week.”

Matthew and I neared the elevator. “Coo-y?n, I can’t see shit. But I know the guards have automatic weapons.”

“Yes.”

Again, what choice did I have but to trust this boy? When we arrived at the elevator, I frowned. No guards?

Damn my heart for pounding. All it did was make my head swirl and my leg throb some more. And it wasn’t like we would get past the dozen or so slavers above anyway.

Matthew shoved the elevator gate aside, helping me in. It took me three tries to push the right switch. We started upward. “If they ain’t waiting for us, then get ready to run for the door.”

We were about to reach topside! Never thought I’d live to see it again.

The elevator clanged to a stop. He dragged back the door with a screech, and I tensed to fight. . . .

No one. “I’ll be damned.” We lurched out into the overseers’ quarters, a large area with corrugated metal walls. Low fluorescent lights dangled from the rock ceiling. Beds and chairs were scattered throughout. “Where is everybody?” Maybe the Fool had timed this rescue while the men were away.

“Think,” coo-y?n said. “Safety starts with you.” Huh? He pointed to an old workplace sign that I could barely make out.

“Ouais. Thanks for reading that for me.” Below the sign was a weapons cage. I squinted and made out a padlock. “Need inside that cage, me.”

He helped me head toward it, rounding some map tables. “Why ain’t there a soul . . . ?” I trailed off when something squelched under my bare feet.

Blood? It had congealed in the dirt.

I gazed past the tables. My vision couldn’t be right, ’cause I saw hacked-up and bullet-riddled bodies.

Glassy eyes. Jutting tongues. A nearly severed head. Spatter painted the walls.

Who’d done this bloodbath? “You . . . you gotta be working with Gabe? Joules?”

Though Matthew had never locked gazes with me before, he stared me down. In a spine-chilling tone, he said, “Hunts. And campaigns.”

“You did this?” He’d never once set out to hurt anyone before. Never even raised his voice, except with fear.

“They did it to themselves. Knives and guns.”

Two dead overseers had bloody machetes in hand. Others held rifles. I’d been so far down in the mine I hadn’t heard gunshots. “But you somehow made them do it.”

“I hunted and campaigned.”

Again, I felt like I was with a stranger.

A man’s voice sounded from the entrance: “Where the hell is everybody?”

“Putain!” I bit out under my breath. “The next shift must be here. A dozen more men’ll be between us and the exit. You got any bright ideas?”

In the space of a heartbeat, he was back to being a nonchalant seventeen-year-old. “Didn’t get farther than this. My power ran out.”

“Go snatch a gun off the dead!”

Blank look.

“All right, take me to a weapon.”

He guided me to a fallen overseer, then helped me dip to grab an automatic rifle. I straightened—

A bullet whizzed past my head.