What happened?
—Others know your location. Beware the lures.—
As Death had spoken of. Yes, and?
—I won’t tell Jack how to reach you. So he plans to learn your location from others.—
As I sputtered mentally, Matthew continued. —We go on hunts for Arcana. Planning a new campaign!—
What are you thinking?? This was the most furious I’d ever been with Matthew. Jack doesn’t HAVE POWERS.
—Selena and Finn help too.— His tone was surly now.
Please lead them all away from danger! Promise me, Matthew.
— Proximity. Seduction. Freedom. Hunts! And campaigns!—
Then he was gone, as good as hanging up on me. Leaving me even more frantic to return to them all.
How? How? How?
Proximity? Death had a marked aversion to me. I’d ambushed him twice, but only felt farther away from my goal. My next move would be standing in the rain while he trained, looking like an even bigger idiot.
What did I know about seduction? I was sixteen going on seventeen. I’d had sex once. I’d always gotten advice from the worldly Mel.
She would know what to do about this. I remembered one time when we’d had a car wash fund-raiser for our cheer squad. She’d shown up in a tissue-thin white T-shirt and a black bra.
Her line of cars had stretched around the school.
But there were no cars around here to wash. In what situation could I be expected to wear a wet T-shirt?
It dawned on me. I turned to Cyclops. “Boy, you stink.”
Drizzling rain? Check. Wolf? Check. Thin white shirt and black bra? Check, check.
I’d just set up buckets of warmed water and my wolf prop in the courtyard—in full view of Death.
Though he hadn’t even glanced over at us, my mind had briefly blanked to see him. Today he wore a chain-mail shirt—like a long-sleeved T-shirt made of woven metal—that left little to the imagination. The mesh hung lovingly over the ridges and planes of his swollen muscles, teasing across the runes on his skin.
Focus! I grabbed the dishwashing liquid I’d filched from the kitchen. Assuming that Death’s lair had all the soap in the world, I squirted a good portion onto Cyclops.
Earlier, I’d found Lark in the gym, telling her, “I’m giving Cyclops a bath.”
Her response: “Your funeral.”
Strangely, the wolf cooperated, even when I began working the liquid into his frizzy fur. But he cast me a one-eyed look of such bafflement that I knew Lark had never washed him before. So I gave him a whatcha gonna do? look in turn and scrubbed.
Like washing a scarred, mangy Wookiee.
Sudsy water began running down the courtyard to where Death practiced. Whenever he stepped through it, bubbles splashed up around his boots. He must have noticed that. For a moment he stilled, then continued on with a determined look on his face.
Okay, now he was just ignoring me. Not acceptable.
I dumped the entire bottle on Cyclops, lathering his fur until he was covered in bubbles, a foam blanket. “My wolf in sheep’s clothing, huh, boy?”
A thick river of suds floated down to Death. Ignore us now, Reap.
Even when bubbles clung to his pant legs, the man wouldn’t glance over, just battered his target with punishing hits.
Damn it, this had seemed like such a good plan. I peered down at the wolf. “Might as well get you washed up for real.” Imagining how much better my turret would smell, I dug in to my task.
It was kind of soothing to take care of him, and when I realized he was liking it too, I smiled.
Without warning, he gave a great shake, sending foam all over me. I shrieked and jumped back, but he sidled up to me at once, wanting more attention. “You’re like a big feline!”
I squatted to work out some tangles on his neck. He snuffled, and bubbles formed over his nostrils, floating into the air. I couldn’t help laughing. It felt great to laugh. I hadn’t since that night in the cabin with Jack—
I caught sight of Death striding over, looking like he was about to annihilate something. “You interrupt my training?”
“Hmm?” Here goes nothing. I stood.
His head immediately dipped, eyes focused on my chest. I followed his gaze. My headlights were on, high beams engaged. Oops. “Just wanted to wash my roommate. Is the yard off-limits to me?”
Death’s blond brows drew tight, and he rubbed his gauntleted hand over his mouth.
“You have no other motive to brave this rain?” he said absently, still staring. “This cold rain.” Had his accent thickened? A change in accent was always an indicator of Jack’s heightened emotions.
I walked around Cyclops to stand in front of Death. “The wolf has taken to sleeping in my bed. I’d rather he smelled like zesty lemon than wet dog.”
Death’s hand moved just a fraction, as if to reach for me. Then his arm fell back, his fist clenching.
His tell. Born from lifetimes of craving contact? Only to remember that he killed with it?
It was so strange to think that this immortal could only have sex with one woman in the whole world. And that he thought about touching me all the time. Would he fantasize about it tonight?
At the thought, I shivered; he bit out a foreign curse.
Remember the mission. “Um, thank you for lending me The Prince.” It was a weird book, all about unscrupulous acts in war and ruling. Plots, scheming, and ruthlessness were to be applauded. “I’ll finish it this afternoon. I was thinking I could drop by your study tonight and return it.”
Still staring at my chest, he cleared his throat before he could speak. “You wish to come to my room this evening?” Then he raised his gaze, seeming determined not to look down.
“Yes. You loaned me a book. That means we’re supposed to discuss it together. Sharing makes the book new for you all over again.” When I smiled, his eyes locked on my lips, his irises going from amber to starry.
Was he imagining kissing me right now? I detested him so much I’d figured the mere idea would make me sick—yet I felt no aversion when I imagined Death’s lips on mine.
Which left me guilt-ridden. I was in love with Jack; how could I be thinking about this man’s kiss?
My cheeks heated, and I think Death noticed.
I reminded myself that the Reaper might be attractive to, like, a glorious degree—but he was arrogant and cruel and merciless. He wanted to murder me. With that in mind, I made my tone flirtatious. “Did you choose The Prince to show me how you play the game, big guy?”
As if cut off with a switch, the light in his eyes dimmed. “I gave you that book to illustrate how you play.”
Oh. The spell was broken.
“Creature, I know what you plan. You intend to win my trust so I’ll remove the cilice. Once I’ve unleashed your powers, you’ll bide your time until I’ve let down my guard, then strike.”
“Death, wait.” I took a step forward.
He took one back. “And all the while, you’re intending to return to him. I wonder what your precious mortal would think about your actions today.” His fists clenched.
With jealousy.
There was no longer any denying it. This was more than an opposites-attract interest on his part, more than his need to touch. I recalled how he’d reacted the night I’d been with Jack, the rage in Death’s tone. Something deeper was at work here.
How far had things gone between us in my past lives? Needing to know the truth, I said, “I dreamed that you wanted to take me to bed. Long ago. Did you succeed?”
“If you want to know, then remember.” With a forbidding look, he said, “You will not seduce me, Empress. Cease trying.” He strode away.
Didn’t matter. I would still go to his study tonight.
32
There was no answer when I knocked on his door. Death was gone.
I sought out Lark, finding her in the den watching a movie. “Where is he?”
She pushed pause on the remote. “Away on business. He said he’d be back before dinner in two nights.”
“He left to go make a kill?”
“Maybe not. He travels a lot to source things for us.” She popped a handful of popcorn in her mouth, chewing loudly. “Hell, he could’ve been trying to get away—from you. For gods’ sakes, Evie, you wet-T-shirted him. I’ve never seen him so rattled.”
I felt a little thrill at the idea that I’d managed to rattle an ancient immortal, but it was immediately doused. Death would be gone for two days. Which meant more nights separated from Jack and my friends.
Jack, who could be out right now, risking his life to hunt Arcana.
How much longer could I remain here? Despite having more time on my hands than I’d ever had in my life, the days seemed to fly by, as if on fast-forward.
As if I were trapped in the Castle of Lost Time.
Feeling the pressure, I said, “Where’s the garden, Lark?” I knew she was loyal to Death, but to what degree? I’d have to risk it. “Help me get my powers back, and we could take this freaking manor from Death and Ogen. Your animals would be safe. You’d have all the comforts here, and you’d get to live past your teens.”
If she was tempted, she didn’t show it.
“I could send for my friends to help us. You could see Finn. We’d be an alliance again.”
“Nah, I’m good here.”
Squeezing my temples, I sank down on the couch opposite her. “Why this loyalty to Death?”
She set her popcorn bowl to the side. “He’s not like you think he is.”
“So you’re saying he’s not a stone-cold killer?”
With reluctance, she admitted, “No, he is. But he’s not like the Lovers, or the Hierophant.”
“We use them for comparison now?”
She shrugged. “Try to put yourself in his shoes. The only girl in the world he can touch has vowed to kill him.”
I almost yelled, He started it! Even before the Flash, he’d threatened me. “I just wanted to live on my farm and mind my own business. He was the one who terrorized me, telling me he’d drink my blood from his sword and such. How was I supposed to react?”
“Have you asked yourself why he’d do that?”
“Oh, I have. And I’ve asked Matthew. And even Death himself! Do you know?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Speaking of fauna—you’re being pigheaded. You are stubbornly sticking to a path that leads to one outcome, and it’s the worst possible.”
“I’d say that’s debatable. You forget, I’ve seen the inside of a cannibal pantry.”
“Have you and Death worked out a system for your execution? Will he tell you when you’ve got a year left? A week? It’s sick what he’s doing to you. Why would you tolerate it?”
She shrugged again, tinkering with the remote.
“I wonder what will happen to your pets once you’re buried. Or do you think Death will let Ogen feast on your bones?” Out of patience, I stood. “When the Reaper’s sword is at your neck, I want you to remember this night. Remember that you could’ve changed your future. . . .” I trailed off when the mountain rumbled. A quake? We’d had them at Haven, an additional A.F. perk.
Outside in the wet night, Ogen responded with a bloodcurdling roar.
Lark met my gaze, suddenly looking very young. “The Devil you know.”
Done with her, I made my way back to my room, flagging with each step up. Groundhog Days were exhausting.
When I reached my bed, I fell back, passing out.
Later that night, I shot awake with a strangled cry.
I’d dreamed of Death again, but this time it was no memory of a past life. This was my mind betraying me, because I’d dreamed he’d taken me into his arms, kissing me out in the rain—and I’d loved it.
In the chill downpour, his lips had been hot on mine, as hot as they’d been when he’d breathed air into my lungs, bringing me back from the dead.
As he’d claimed my mouth over and over, his grip had been crushing, but I’d nearly cried with pleasure.
On the very night that he’d ridden out, likely to reap some unsuspecting kid, I’d experienced the most erotic dream in my life—of Death?
Dear God, what was happening to me?
33
DAY 281 A.F.
Death was expected back tonight, and I had my excuse for going to his study: returning his book. I simply chose to ignore his “parting gift” jab.
With the memory of that kissing dream firmly buried, I readied myself to see him. I took care with my clothes, wearing a fawn-colored skirt and a scoop-neck navy blouse. The neckline plunged lower than any I’d worn since the apocalypse. I left my hair loose.
I had an agenda for tonight, one made even more important in light of Matthew’s curt check-in last night: —We got away. We all lived.— It was as if he’d been overridden by other calls, the Arcana abuzz for some reason. Something about the Arcane Navigator?
My friends were out there in a dangerous world, doing God only knew what. And I couldn’t help them from here.
I exited the bathroom, crossing to the bed, where Cyclops was sprawled. “How do I look. . . .” I couldn’t manage another word, too stunned even to shriek.
Part of Death’s book was still lodged between the wolf’s mighty jaws; the rest was an array of slobbery bits scattered over my bed, like a crime scene. Cyclops belched wetly around his new four-hundred-year-old chew toy.
“Oh my God.” I had to tell Death that one of his precious books—his favorite—was no more. Under my care, his “child” had been eaten.
When Thanatos’s hooves charged onto the property, heralding Death’s arrival, I trudged down the stairs with leaden feet.
Death strode through the front doors not long after, removing his helmet. He looked exhausted, his eyes dim, blond stubble highlighting his defined jawline. His armor was splashed with mud.
Once he saw me, I could have sworn his eyes lightened a fraction, as if he was happy I was here. He looked approving of my appearance.