Dead of Winter (The Arcana Chronicles #3)(26)

“Will you stay?”

“Duh.”

Though exhausted, I forced myself to stand, then shrugged into my poncho. Maybe Matthew would reveal what Jack had been through. Clotile . . .

Or how about a rundown of my history with the Lovers?

While I was out, I’d make some fruit for Tess. Nothing said “sorry I became a witch from nightmares and almost killed you” like a gift basket of fruit.

I stepped out into the biting air and drizzle. Cyclops loped beside me, barking a couple of times, as if to tell me something. Slaver’s got Timmy!

“Empress.” Matthew looked as bad as I felt—his face wan, his shoulders slumped with fatigue.

“What’s happened?” Did he feel guilty because of how things had gone down?

He gazed at me with those woebegone brown eyes. “Tredici nears.”

“I don’t know what that is, sweetheart. Hey, aren’t you happy that we rescued Jack?”

“I couldn’t see.” He hugged his arms around his torso, batting his fists against his parka. “The Lovers!” The lowest hum came from him.

I reached forward to pry his arms away. “We won the day. We lived through it.”

He stared down at me. “The twins—inseparable. Never parted.”

“I get that now.” In life—and in death—they were together. “Matthew, I need to know what they did to Jack.”

“A path. You won’t like where it leads.”

I’d gone months without decoder-ring talk. Now I was back in the thick of it. Though I was about to pass out, I asked, “What does that mean?”

“I can’t steer, can’t change. Before there were waves or eddies; now stone. Our enemies laugh.”

“Honey, you’re scaring me. And I’m so tired. Can we do this later?”

He raised his palm. “Hold, please.”

“Are you talking to someone else?” Matthew was the Arcana switchboard, a medium. “To . . . Aric? Is he in your eyes?” Watching me through Matthew?

Now that Jack was safe, my traitorous mind turned to Death. I missed Aric—or, at least, the man I’d thought he was. I missed his dry wit. I missed reading with him and dancing before his rapt gaze.

Some part of me had been on the verge of loving him. Even the twins had seen that. Yet that time with him had been canceled out by his actions. “Will he come for me?” I gazed at the walls of the fort. Would the minefield be enough to keep him out? I couldn’t hide here forever.

“Meeting!” Matthew took my hand, leading me away from the tent.

“I need to grow some food and then get back to Jack.”

He pulled with more insistence. He’d gotten even stronger, was almost as broad-shouldered as Jack.

At the front of the fort, Matthew gave a nod, and soldiers opened the gates. Before Cyclops could follow, they closed behind us.

“I told Jack I wouldn’t leave. Matthew?”

He didn’t answer, just continued leading me down a rocky trail, lower and lower as the mist thickened.

“Um, we’re getting close to the shore.”

“Still surface.”

The trail had opened up into a beach area, similar to the one across the river. “Is it safe here?” Wary, I gazed around. I’d bet kids had once come here, drinking beer and swimming on hot, sunny days.

I missed those days so bitterly I could weep.

—TERROR FROM THE ABYSS!—

The call boomed in my head. “What is this, Matthew?” I wrested my hand from his.

At the beach’s edge, a section of water rose.

“I’m introducing you to . . . the High Priestess.”





15


When the Priestess had said we’d meet again, I thought she’d meant far in the future—some distant clash.

Not later the same night!

That rising water morphed, taking on shape. The details grew finer and finer until the outline of a girl emerged.

“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.