Dead of Winter (The Arcana Chronicles #3)(20)

“Unfortunately, we only have one of the men you love,” Vincent said. “For now.”

Violet frowned at Selena. “The Archer loves the hunter as well? What’s so special about him? All he does is steal.” When she slapped Jack’s face, my claws ached to plunge into her neck like hypodermic needles. “Oh dear. He’s gone under again. The selfish man only wakes for his beatings. Which clearly means those are his favorites!”

“We gave you the choice,” Vincent told an unconscious Jack. “Torture or be tortured? You mortals always choose incorrectly, until we introduce you to pain, enlightening you. Then you never choose the same!”

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.”





12


“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?”