Endless Knight (The Arcana Chronicles #2)(24)

“Duration of the games. Game begins—he ages. Game ends—he stops.”

“He doesn’t look that much older now. How long do these games last?”

Matthew sighed. “This will be one of the longest.”

“If I can regenerate, then is his Touch of Death the only way to kill me?” Or maybe I was like the Bagmen, taken out with a shot to the brainpan?

Shrug.

Change of tack. “Does he always kill me?”

“Not always. And Lady Lotus didn’t die once.”

I swallowed. “Meaning others have slain me—and I actually won a game?” I almost wished I hadn’t known that. “How many did I personally take out then?”

Hesitation. “More than anyone before. Or since.”

I was a record-holder. No wonder Selena worried about me getting a word out when we met new Arcana. They’d all be after my head. “Who else got me?”

Matthew studied his hand, hard, end of subject.

“At least tell me how many times Death has done it.”

“This Death? Two out of last three.” Matthew’s brown eyes were so grave as he said, “Practice makes perfect.”





9

DAY 254 A.F.





SOMEWHERE IN THE APPALACHIAN MOUNTAINS


“If it seems too good to be true . . .” Jackson muttered to no one in particular.

We’d come upon an abandoned homestead, a quaint cabin perched high on a rise, with rocking chairs on the front porch and a nearby barn. It looked like it’d once belonged to someone who’d smoked a corncob pipe, wore “dungarees,” and called bears “bars.”

At the sight of a man-made shelter, I almost salivated. We hadn’t had a proper roof over our heads since the hut five days ago. As usual, everyone except Selena was soaked and freezing. My teeth were chattering again, my stomach growling. At these higher altitudes there was more bone-chilling fog and even frost.

But we were all wary.

“Even if it’s empty, can we risk staying here?” Finn asked, looking at the place as longingly as I was.

Zombies continued to trail us, and we still had a couple of hours before dusk. “The Baggers sh-should have trouble on that l-last rise, right?” I asked.

“Just like you, Evie!” Selena said brightly.

Bitch. There’d been a sheer rock face to scale. We’d had to use a rope! I’d never climbed a cliff in my life and had flailed like a trout on a line. I’d been as worried about Matthew as about myself, but compared to me he was a mountaineer.

Jackson didn’t join in the discussion, just started toward the cabin. When we followed, he said, “I go alone.”

In the past, Selena would’ve trotted after him anyway, but she’d been remaining close to me. Like gum on the bottom of my boot.

I told him, “Fais gaffe à toi.” Watch out for yourself.

Jackson’s gaze cut to me, and I saw some emotion flicker there before he masked it.

As I watched him stride off, crossbow ready, I wondered yet again what was going on in that head of his. We hadn’t spoken since I’d kissed him. Did he still regret kissing me back?

After that night, I’d thought he was done with me, but I kept catching him staring at me. Sometimes his expression was filled with bitterness, as if I’d wronged him. But on the whole, his looks hadn’t been as withering, more . . . troubled.

Like he was trying to bring to light an unsettling mystery.

On the way to the cabin, he inspected the small barn. It must’ve gotten the all-clear, because no one got shot. Then into the cabin . . .

Please be safe, please be safe.

Not long after, I saw smoke curling from the chimney. My knees went weak with relief—and excitement. He was safe, and we’d have a real roof, a real fire.

Finn said, “I can disguise the smoke.”

Selena shook her head. “No need. We’re up in the clouds. Which J.D. knows, or he wouldn’t have lit it.”

He emerged from inside. With a chin jerk, he indicated for us to join him.

Self-respect flew out the window, and we ran for it like it was a friendly country’s border.

Though dusty inside, the snug little cabin had a bed, a wooden bathtub, and now a fire in its potbelly stove. We’d passed a full rain barrel on our way in. A dented pot hung above the stove. Cords of wood had been stacked alongside one wall by some owner who’d never returned. Put all that together . . .

Hot. Bath. I even had a travel-size bottle of shampoo and body wash.

This was such a bonanza, such a turnaround from our usual circumstances, that I was paranoid—like this cabin would slip from my grasp, running off to join the circus or something.

“Rock-paper-scissors decides who gets the first bath,” I announced, but it was only between Finn, Selena, and me. Matthew was too psychic to play—he’d settled into one of the rocking chairs on the front porch—and Jackson wasn’t interested.

“Goan grouse hunting,” he said, setting off without another word. His tone and demeanor said, And I’m goan by myself.

The odds of him finding grouse were so slim I considered telling him to keep an eye out for yeti while he was at it.

Selena gazed after him with a concerned look, reminding me that Jackson might not come back at all.