Endless Knight (The Arcana Chronicles #2)(59)

Bodies falling. Just like Joules’s Tower Card.

More javelins rained down, obliterating the vehicles one by one. Destroyed. Wolves scavenged any screaming survivors.

A dripping, enraged Ogen appeared on the opposite shore. With a hair-raising yowl, he stomped off in Joules’s direction once more.

Joules called out, “Farewell, Empress. We canna kill the Reaper—it’s all on you!” As he, Gabriel, and Tess fled the scene, their calls grew fainter, replaced by Ogen’s yell of frustration. . . .

When Ogen eventually skulked back to Death, shoulders low with defeat, I couldn’t keep myself from grinning. Got away from you, did they? Just as my allies had escaped Death’s reach. Reminded of his lack of icons, my smile widened.

“Ah, creature, it seems you’re now a beacon of hope.” Death levered himself to his feet, unable to stifle a grimace of pain. “Well, you heard the Tower—it’s all on you. Come end this.”

“That’d be really fair, boss. With both hands tied behind my back? Free me and let the cards fall where they may.”

“Speaking of which . . .” He whistled for his horse, and the red-eyed mount trotted to him. From his saddlebag, Death took out that strip of metal harvested from his black armor.

Only now it looked like a barbed cuff.

“My strategy for the game has changed.” As he strode toward me with a menacing expression, he said, “It will be best if you don’t struggle.”





25

Death freaking neutered me.

As we rode, he had his right arm slung around my neck, resting over my collarbones, his hand gripping my shoulder.

And I was powerless to do anything about it.

The metal device he’d been fashioning had a name: a cilice, an armband with spikes that dug into my skin. And when this cilice was made of the same metal as his armor, it neutralized my powers. Death weakening life, or whatever.

As the Reaper had put it earlier today: “Aside from some superficial glowing and your customary rapid healing, you’re just a normal girl now. The only way for you to remove it would be to excise your bicep muscle, as you did your thumb. But you won’t be alone for long enough to perform that procedure.”

That bastard had painstakingly carved every single barb, knowing what it would do to me, knowing he would shove it up my arm and make Ogen squeeze it tight.

I had screamed with pain. In the hours since then, my skin had regenerated around the barbs, but they were still agonizing. No need to tie me up anymore, now that I was helpless.

Today’s count: Powers defused? All. Attempts to kill Death? Several. Successful attempts? None-point-none. The Arcana were gloating:

—Failed attempt on Death!—

—Empress is still his prisoner.—

—Until he slits her throat.—

Despair settled over me, as bitter as the cold. We’d failed. And we’d never get a chance like that again. Even my earlier joy at finding Death’s hand clear of those icons had faded. If my friends lived, then why hadn’t Matthew contacted me?

What if they were still trapped in the mine?

I tried to console myself with the knowledge that I’d gained new players for our alliance, but the worry was sharp. Until I managed to escape, I couldn’t do anything to help them. Unless I got this cuff off me.

I told Death, “I will get freed of this thing.”

“Though you’re probably vicious enough to chew your own arm off—I put nothing past you—your odds of shedding the cilice are long.”

My teeth had started chattering. As usual, he’d denied me my coat, my boots. But he’d insisted on me riding with him, to make up time. We must be closing in on his home. “If you believe in this cuff thing, then why are you keeping me cold? Why not give me back my coat?”

“You thought that was to weaken you?”

“Wasn’t it?”

“No, that was for our enjoyment.”

Asshole!

“You should be grateful for the cilice,” he said. “With it, there’s no need to bind your arms.”

“Then why do this now? Why not put it on me from the very beginning?”

“My armor has served me well—I preferred it unaltered. Plus, I never expected you to live this long.”

“You would put a lot of store in that armor. In your first fight without it, you got plugged—twice—by cannibals. I bet you’re still bleeding under all that metal. Which is a definite mood brightener.”

“I’ll heal from these as I have from all my other wounds.”

I frowned. “Do you regenerate like I do?”

I heard him exhale heavily. “You truly remember nothing about me?” He sounded almost . . . troubled by this.

Matthew had told me he’d given me memories of past games, along with some kind of safety valve to keep me from accessing them all at once. Or else I could go crazy like him. So I hedged: “I thought we weren’t supposed to remember, that only the Fool and the current winner know about the past games.”

“And I thought our struggles would prove unforgettable.”

“Anything I recall is because Matthew showed snippets to me. Besides, why should I tell you how much I remember?”

“Why should I reveal how quickly I heal?”