Endless Knight(19)

“What’s the matter, Empress?” Jackson grated with a glare at my muddy right hand, at my icon. “Why you look scared, you? You can just take them all out.” The not cruel vibe of earlier had been short-lived.

I exhaled wearily. “No. No, I can’t.”


“Ain’t like you can die anyway.”


Matthew shook his head. “She can die. Death sees to her.”


—Count on it.— came Death’s whisper. —You’ll be under my sword within the week.—


7


DAY 249 A.F.

“Sooo . . . anybody else have a sense of impending doom?” Finn asked around a mouthful of Mayday bar. “I mean, more so than usual. Or maybe just of being watched?”


Teeth clattering, I said, “Oh, y-yeah.” I had since we’d left Requiem two days ago.

That first night we’d spent miserable, restless hours huddled in the shelter of some rocks. Tonight, after we’d plodded around nearly blind in the dark, Jack had come across a hunter’s shooting house. Basically it was a metal hut about five feet tall, with peeling camouflage paint and one open end.

When we’d all piled into his “find,” Jack had gazed at the sky for patience, but didn’t say anything.

There was enough room inside for each of us to have a little space, if we didn’t try to stand up. It allowed us to escape the drizzle and provided some protection until we could set out at dawn.

We were betting our lives that the Baggers couldn’t catch up with us before then.

I squeezed out my hair, settling in. “I’ve g-got an ominous f-feeling.”


Finn had produced another illusion lantern for us. I could swear the nights were getting longer, even as we headed into summer months, while the temperature kept dropping.

One day, would the sun forget to rise?

Despite everyone being waterlogged and freezing—except for Selena with her perfect outdoor gear—we didn’t light a fire. She had dry kindling in her pack, natch, but any wet firewood would smoke like crazy, and we still had Bagmen on our tail.

All day we’d wondered if the zombies could match our hectic pace. From what I understood, they didn’t heal from injuries, and most had been created the night of the Flash. At eight months old, they must have some wear and tear there.

Unless they’d been newly created by a Bagman’s contagious bite.

Fifteen hours ago at dawn, Selena had run back and scouted. Her assessment? “There are more of them.”


I’d asked her, “Where are they going to spend the day?” Though drizzly, it’d still been bright. And we hadn’t passed a single house, just mile after mile of burned-out woods.

She’d hesitated, then said, “They’re burrowing. Into the muck. The good news is that if any Arcana think to follow us, they’ll be in for a hell of a surprise.”


Like a Bagman minefield. I’d shivered at the imagery. And for the rest of the day, I’d wondered with my every step if I was going to find a Bagmine.

Now Selena said, “I’m getting the same feeling as you two. Like we’re being stalked, as hunters do with deer.” Plucking her bowstring, she admitted, “I’m not used to being on this side of things.”


I gazed over at Jackson, sitting outside our circle near the open exit, on edge as well. He’d told me that nothing could get the drop on him, and for the past several weeks, nothing had.

Did he remain with us because we shared a mutual direction, or because he felt forced to keep that promise to my mother? Since he’d refused to talk to me, I couldn’t imagine how he was handling everything. Matthew had said he burned with curiosity. Tonight I could almost feel the intensity of it.

Though Jackson hadn’t asked a single question—not his party, I supposed—he was listening, learning. During the day, I’d caught him staring at me again and again, his expression ranging from enraged to . . . confused.

“Matthew, do you sense anything?”


In answer, he studied his hand. He was pensive about something too. I wished he would talk to me, even if I understood little of what he said.

I placed half of my Mayday bar in his hand, curling my gloved fingers around his until he held it on his own. Eventually he glanced down, appearing surprised to find it in his hand. But he ate it.

“Who could be watching us?” I asked.

“Not Bagmen,” Selena said. “They would just attack. Cannibals?”


Finn shook his head. “They don’t hunt far from home.”


We were coming up on one of the charred holes in Selena’s map. I almost got the sense that we were about to fall off the face of the earth, like it should read: Here be dragons!

But as long as we were edging away from those mines—and a horde of Bagmen—I was game to go on. “We’d hear other Arcana calls, right?”


Suddenly Finn jerked a glance over his shoulder. The rest of us tensed and stared out the open end of the hut in that same direction, all at the same time, like meerkats.

He muttered, “I wish whatever’s out there would nut up or shut up.”


“Hear, hear.” Needing to take my mind off my jitters, I turned to Selena. “If you’re so keen to be in an alliance with us, why don’t you tell us what you know?”