Endless Knight(11)

Selena’s hand shot out and smacked my face.

“What the hell?” When I raised my palm to my cheek, she slapped the other one harder.

I felt my glyphs stirring.

“If you don’t want these cards to die, then get to work, Evie! You need to look like the Empress of Old, slithery and creepy and sexy all at the same time.”


“Touch me again, and you’ll see slithery and creepy—”


With her enhanced speed, she shoved me back before I could even react. I tripped over my pack, landing on my ass. “You bitch!” I bounded up, thorn claws bared.

“That’s it! Sell it, sister, or we are dead!”


I gazed down at my body, at my skin glowing through the fabric of my clothes. Sharp emotions like fury and utter terror always sparked my powers; Selena had pissed me off enough to give me a jump-start. I narrowed my eyes at Matthew. “This is why you want me angry, terrified, and sad for the rainy season?”


Blank smile.

Which power to choose? The flower glyph was my lotus, the barbs my tornado. The gleaming vine circling my upper arm was ready to spring to life, leaving my body to maim and kill. The dotted pattern shivering across my torso represented my poisons.

I opened my palm, peering down at the three thorns that emerged from my skin. I tossed them into the air, watching the barbs multiply in the sky, forming a tornado.

“Rad-ick-ull!” Finn cried.

You haven’t seen anything. A few slashes of my claws across my forearms gave me blood to grow vines. I let it drip to my fingers, flinging drops across the ground. Greenery slithered to life. When I popped a crick in my neck, my two oaks whipped to attention.

“Now we’re talking, girl.” Selena strung her arrow, holding her bow at the ready. “Jungle this up!”


I surveyed my arsenal. Not as petrifying as the one I’d conjured last night, but . . . “It is what it is.”


We all took up positions on the porch. In this lull, my mind flashed to Jackson, and my chest ached. Don’t think about him, don’t think about him. He was obviously safer away from us. Right now, we were facing a possible supernatural battle.

Selena asked me, “You really think your good ole granny can help you exit the game?”


“She might be the last living chronicler.” Before, I’d needed to reach her to ask about my nightmares and hallucinations, about the physical changes taking place inside me. Now I needed her to help keep me from turning into a stone-cold killer, one who’d had the impulse to murder her friends. “She’ll have answers.”


Yes, Gran had once told me I’d have to “kill them all,” but she’d just been reciting ancient rules. The fact was that her granddaughter Empress hadn’t turned out right.

This Empress wanted nothing to do with the game.

“How could the cards find us here and so fast?” Finn asked. “Evie just toasted one of these freaks yesterday.”


Selena scanned the street. “We’re drawn to each other, seeking something that will bring us into the fray. They were probably close already.”


“Convergence,” Matthew said.

Finn wiped his sweating palms along his jeans. “What if some player had been in the Antarctic before the Flash? It isn’t like he could fly or take a boat now.”


A good guess, since there were no planes. Or oceans.

“Convergence,” Matthew repeated in an overly patient tone. “We are led. We lead. We follow MacGuffins! The Tower’s alliance arrives in twenty . . . nineteen . . . eighteen . . .”


As he continued his hushed countdown, Finn asked, “If the Tower is a heavy hitter, what’s this guy packing?”


I murmured, “Control over all electricity and straight-up lightning. He has these silver javelins that appear in his hand. Wherever he throws them, lightning strikes. Plus he can electrify his skin.”


“Fourteen . . . thirteen . . .”


Selena explained, “A direct strike could fry my insides, but I might survive. Evie would be stunned, maybe long enough for him to take her head. Finn, you and Matt die instantly.”


Finn scowled, wrinkling his freckled nose. “That’s not fair! Why are we so lame?”


“Matt should be able to foresee a strike, and you should elude it with your magic. But he’s crazy and you’re weak.”


“Eight . . . seven . . .”


Here we were: a mentally unstable Fool, an all but arrowless Archer, a magically challenged Magician, and me, running on fumes and anger.

What could possibly go wrong?

I reminded myself that today’s encounter might be step one in bringing down this ancient contest. I imagined the game as a machine with cogs and wheels grinding to life every few centuries. I wanted to jam a stick of dynamite into the cogs and laugh as it exploded forever.

“Shh.” Matthew covered his lips with his forefinger. “They’re here.”


When the three rounded the corner, two on foot and one in the air, my adrenaline surged. Yet then I noticed that our adversaries weren’t as intimidating as I’d expected. Gabriel, for one, flew in obvious pain, blood seeping from one silky black wing, staining his old-timey gray suit. Underneath hanks of jet hair, his face was pale.