Endless Knight(56)

Death raised his brows, unashamed to be caught ogling. “Just because you’re a gutless harlot doesn’t mean I won’t find your . . . attributes attractive. I might be immortal, but I’m still a red-blooded male.”


Attributes? Was that why he’d kept me alive? Each morning, I had asked him, “Have you decided whether you’re going to kill me today?”


He’d always answer, “Not yet, creature.” Each night by the fire, Death used the tip of one sword to carve barbs in that flattened metal strip from his armor. Though I had no idea why, he seemed very pleased with himself, would gaze at me as he worked. Was his attraction intensifying . . . ?

“Harlot? Who talks like that? Father Time, meet the Flintstones.”


“You are bold, considering you were roundly defeated and all your people were lost.”


I gritted my teeth against a scream. The idea that he bore my friends’ icons burned inside me like the Alchemist’s acid. Death always wore those gloves, so I hadn’t seen the markings. But I knew he had to have them because Lark’s and Ogen’s hands were clean.

“I have suffered loss,” I told him. “But at least I know what it’s like to have had those relationships. I had trust and caring.” Love and passion with Jackson. I would hold those memories of him close for the rest of my life, short as that might prove. “And you—you’ve got Ogen.”


Hearing his name, the Devil lumbered closer to me. If Death looked at me like he wanted to sleep with me, Ogen looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to sleep with me—or suck the marrow from my bones. His foul appearance was equaled only by his stench.

“You believe you had trust?” Death scoffed. “Arcana rule number one: trust no one.”


I stopped to face him with a look of realization. “No wonder you’re so good at this game. It’s all you’ll ever really have.”


“You know nothing about me. Take care that you don’t provoke my wrath.” With a last sneer, he rode forward.

Death would soon regret his decision to spare me so far. For the last several months, I’d wanted to kill him because he was so bent on killing me. Now I craved a bloody revenge, one that would make the red witch proud.

If I couldn’t take out this trio by myself, I figured I had two options.

Catch Death without his armor, which wasn’t likely.

Or get help. In that case, my first step was escape. I might have worried that Death would just read my thoughts and foil any attempt. But I believed the link between us had been broken. Severed with Matthew’s passing. Don’t cry. Don’t give him the satisfaction. . . .

So far there’d been no opportunity to get away. It wasn’t like I ever had privacy. Lark accompanied me each morning to wash off, her wolves trailing us like chain-gang guards. When I was alone with her, she always looked like she wanted to tell me something. Information there for the taking? But I hadn’t yet been able to bite back bile and cozy up to her.

“Yo, boss,” Lark said, her eyes going red. Falcon-cam. “We got a pretty big river ahead.”


The fog began to thicken. Soon I could hear the sound of rushing water. With each step closer to this unseen river, Ogen grew antsier. I’d learned the Devil was more afraid of bodies of water than Matthew had been. I doubted the beast could swim.

Fifteen minutes later, we reached the edge of the rapids; all four of us came to a halt, staring at the surreal scene. The violent currents carted along pieces of houses, a huge satellite dish, and a . . . car. A red Volkswagen rocketed past us, the steering wheel spinning as wreckage hit the tires.

Taking Ogen’s temperature, I said, “Right on. I vote we swim it.”


He whimpered. “No swim—NO SWIM!”


Death commanded him in that foreign tongue, and he shut up.

“Well, aren’t you a good wittle doggie, Ogen?” I said. “You know how to sit, stay, and hush even better than Lark’s wolves.”


He stared, disbelieving that I’d just insulted him like that. “I am the DESECRATOR! I sit upon Lucifer’s knee!”


“That makes total sense, Scooby.”


With a puzzled expression, Death said, “You taunt him at your peril.”


“What’s he going to do? Kill me?” Over my shoulder I told Ogen, “Get in line, dick.”


Ignoring both of us, Death said, “We cross there.”


I followed his gaze to a suspension bridge above, so high it was nearly cloaked in clouds. Connecting two canyon walls, it looked charred and rickety, as if those support cables could snap at any second.

Lark nodded eagerly. “Good idea, boss.”


“Ass kisser,” I said, earning a flash of her fangs.

Up the muddy trail, she and Death rode their horses. I had to climb, my feet getting sucked down in the calf-deep muck.

Maybe when we got up on the bridge I’d jump, Last of the Mohicans their asses!

I’d thought that half in jest, but the idea wouldn’t go away. I didn’t know if I had the guts to leap from that height, but strategically it made sense. The water would carry me away faster than their horses could follow in this terrain. The three would relax their guard up there, because no one in her right mind would dare that jump.