Endless Knight (The Arcana Chronicles #2)(49)

I gazed over my shoulder. Jack had just caught sight of Death through the falling debris and spraying water.

“Nooo!” he bellowed, desperately trying to reach me while keeping Matthew’s head above water.

In a bored tone, Death said, “Sooner or later, the mortal will leave the Fool to drown. Anything to save you.”

I choked out, “What d-do you want?” Behind Death, I could see a cloudy dawn light streaming into the shaft. We’d been so close. Had he already murdered Lark?

“Come with me.” He offered his gloved hand. “And my allies and I will leave your . . . friends to their fates. Take my hand, and I vow they won’t be killed.”

Jack was getting closer. “Evie, goddamn it, doan you dare!”

I gazed into Jack’s tormented eyes. Rocks struck like missiles all around him. He was still swimming, but had to realize he’d never get to me in time. When a boulder nearly took him and Matthew both down into the depths, I knew I had to end this.

Even if it meant ending myself.

“Make the choice,” Death said. “Bend your will to mine. What wouldn’t you sacrifice for them to live?”

My right arm was broken. I had no poison, no arsenal. Didn’t matter. With my good arm, I reached for Death.

Even over the rumble of the quakes, I thought I heard Jack rasp, “Bébé??” Then louder: “Doan you do this!”

I gasped out, “T-take care of him, Jack—”

Death yanked me to him, sweeping me up in his arms. I fought him with any strength I had left, hyperventilating, dulling my claws on his armor, not even scratching it.

Death just laughed. When he turned to stride toward the light, Jack gave an agonized yell. Selena’s last arrow struck Death square in the back of his armor, shattering into splinters.

“Evie! EVIE!” Jack’s bellows grew fainter as the light brightened. “I’m comin’ for you! You know I will!”

We exited the mountain into pouring rain. Even the stormy day blinded me.

Nausea churned as Death carried me to his pale, red-eyed steed. I was shivering uncontrollably even before I saw the Reaper’s fearsome scythe in a saddle holster.

With me secured in his arms, he mounted. Why not just kill me?

“Wh-what did you do to Lark . . . ?” I trailed off, blinking in disbelief.

Lark, that bitch, was on a horse beside Death’s. And she was all smiles.

I cried, “H-how could you?”

“You’re too damn trusting, Evie.” The girl adjusted her conductor’s hat. “And now you’re looking at me like it’s my fault that I’m taking advantage of your failing?” Her falcon had returned to her; it perched on her shoulder, dining on one of the rats.

Her same three wolves surrounded her. Back from the dead? Familiars.

Off to the side stood monstrous Ogen, his body gigantic, over a dozen feet tall. His mottled torso was bared. Huge tattered pants were cinched at his waist.

Like Death, his tableau—a goat-man ogre leading tethered slaves—was less terrifying than his actual appearance.

His uneven horns twisted up from his misshapen head. What should have been the whites of his eyes were red and webbed with thick greenish-yellow veins, his black pupils slitted. With a grotesque smile, he pounded his meaty fists even harder against the mountain, rocking it.

“No!” I screamed, striking Death’s armor. Ogen would level the entire mine! “You swore you’d leave them alone! You swore.”

Death reined his mount around. “I’ll keep my vows to you as well as you did to me.”

“Wh-what does that mean?” My voice sounded so distant. Exhaustion was overwhelming me, but I struggled to remain conscious.

“Doesn’t this feel familiar, creature? You, injured in my arms, as I ride. Our history repeats itself.” When he removed his spiked glove, tears welled, then streamed from my eyes.

I tried to break free, the effort sending me closer to blacking out. “Don’t touch me!”

His fingers brushed along my cheek, his skin burning hot against mine. He shuddered from the slight touch; I braced for pain. This was it, then.

My eyes rolled back in my head.



Death’s hand inches ever closer to my face. Closer . . .

Contact. This is my end. His skin is surprisingly hot. My lids slide shut. Scarcely conscious, I await more grueling pain.

Heartbeat, heartbeat, heartbeat.

I crack open my eyes.

I feel nothing but the continued agony of his sword. Brows drawn, he yanks off his other glove, laying both hands against my face, then running his palms down my arms.

His starry eyes glow brighter; as if in response, my glyphs shiver, awakening.

Voice gone hoarse, he says, “None of the others survived my touch. No one.” He strokes my cheeks, my neck, my lips.

When was the last time he held a living person this long?

I sense something wicked beginning to seethe inside him. With a lustful gaze, he leans in to press his lips to my bloody ones. I am too stunned to react. His kiss is ardent but unsure, as if he’s never done it before.

Once he draws back, he licks the blood from his lips and groans, “So sweet.”

“I-I don’t understand.” Am I immune to him?

“I am Death—and you are Life. You were made for me alone.” He grips the hilt of his sword, yanking it free from my body. As I scream with pain, he catches me with his other arm. “You will heal.” Under his breath, he says, “You must.”