“All his life, all false faces. Born of a false face. You showed him yours.”

Jackson still carried the scars of his poverty-stricken childhood. His father had refused to pay support, or even to acknowledge his destitute son. His mother had been an alcoholic who’d entertained drunken lovers. Those men had abused her—and beaten Jackson, teaching him not to trust.

Teaching him to be ruthless and to communicate with his fists.

All he’d ever known was deception and violence.

How could he not see me as deceitful and violent, as more of the same? Before his eyes, I’d turned into a viney-skinned, poisonous monster—one who’d been cackling to slit some scrawny Irish kid’s throat.

Matthew said, “Think less about Dee-vee-oh, more about game.”

Toiling up a steep incline, I considered what I remembered about the cards. Last night, when I’d gazed at my new icon, memories of my grandmother had flooded me in a rush. They were still fragments, but growing more fully formed with each hour.

I could recall her telling me about players who controlled animals as I did plants. I remembered cards that could manipulate the elements.

Her voice seemed to echo in my head: “The details of the images are important. They’re to be read like a map.” “Study the cards. Memorize them. The symbols are all there for a reason, Evie. They tell you about the players.”

How I wished I could lay hands on a deck. I knew the cards were chock-full of dots to connect, threads in common. Some cards had animal images on them, some plants. Others had water or fire.

I recalled Gran humming as she’d shuffled her deck, preparing to quiz me. “Which cards are the best spellbinders?”

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I’d chirped, “The Hierophant and the Lovers. And me!”

“The strongest in body?”

“The Devil! The Devil is so strong!”

No wonder my mom had gotten spooked.

At the top of the rise, Finn waited up for us. “Evie, I wanted to apologize again for making myself look like Jack and accidentally tricking you and making you run away and all. Forgive me?”

Was I still mad? I’d been trying to look on the bright side. Okay, yeah, I was now broken up with Jackson beyond all reconciliation, a murderer, and a fugitive from a zombie horde.

But . . . I’d remembered a lot about the Arcana game, I’d saved three—well, two—girls’ lives and maybe others who would’ve fallen into Arthur’s trap. And I’d learned to control my powers.

It was a wash. Yet then I recalled how Finn had looked out for Matthew over the last two days. “I accept your apology, Finn. Just don’t pull a stunt like that again.”

Farther ahead, Jackson was taking a breather, drinking from his canteen. He gazed back down the mountain. God, he was so tall and proud. So strong. His rugged features were sigh-worthy.

We were this close, and still I missed him.

Finn caught my gaze. “I know things seem rough with him right now, but he’ll come around. He went nuts when you were missing.”

“He has a temper.” Which wasn’t surprising, considering his tragic background.

“No, Evie. He was . . . frantic, out of control. I’m talking Hulk-smash on ye olde cabin. When he realized our lack of transportation was the sole thing keeping him from you, he stormed back into that militia’s camp, striding into a hail of bullets. Dude didn’t duck, didn’t sidestep, just rolled in, killed, took that jeep.”

My lips parted as I stared up at Jackson in amazement.

“He loves you,” Finn insisted.

As if he could sense he was the subject of our discussion, Jack cast me a derisive look over his shoulder, then marched on.

“Clearly.”

“He does. The reason he didn’t have his bug-out bag last night was because he wasn’t thinking about his own survival—only yours.”

I glanced at Matthew, who gave me a short nod: That’s true.

“He just needs some time to get used to the idea of you with powers.” Finn tilted his head, taking in my face—which I knew was bright red from exertion and streaked with remains. “His girlfriend went from bunny to viper. From hot piece of ass to smokin’ monsteress.”

I raised my brows. “Smokin’? I was repulsive.”

Finn helped me over a log. “When you turned all Eviezilla, I had a boner the size of . . . well, something large and boner-shaped.”

My cheeks heated even more, but I didn’t put too much stock in what Finn said. He wasn’t exactly discriminating with girls. “Well, Jackson didn’t think so. He’s written me off. He’s got this intense sense of curiosity. He’s wicked intelligent, and he loves to solve puzzles, to dig at secrets. Yet he hasn’t asked a single question about us, about me? It’s because we’re not going to be a part of his life for much longer.”

I paused, catching my breath somewhat. One thing I had to know . . . “What were you thinking when you deceived Selena that night? Was it worth it for one kiss?”

Finn raked his fingers through his hair. “Hell no. I was way out of bounds.”

“You think? You can’t treat girls that way.”

“I know, I know. But sometimes I feel forced to trick others.”

Matthew piped up: “In his blood.”

Finn nodded eagerly. “The more I use my illusions, the more I need to. I get antsy if I don’t. That was one of the reasons I was deported from SoCal to South Carolina to live with the redneck cuzzes—because of the pranks on my parents.”

“Like what?”

“My mom freaked when she woke up with a pink faux-hawk the day of a society dinner. My dad, weirdly, didn’t think it was funny to see a clown with a bloody ax in our pool house. They didn’t know for certain that it was me, but they knew something was going on and couldn’t handle it. But still, I couldn’t make myself stop. It’s like a compulsion.”

I flashed him a startled look. “The more I use my powers . . .” I trailed off.

“The more you want to kill us,” Finn finished for me.

As Matthew always did, I shrugged. But this conversation made me wonder: would Matthew gain clarity if he could wean himself from seeing visions of the future? Once things calmed down, I would ask him to try.

Conserving our powers seemed wise anyway. Our abilities weren’t infinite. Both Finn and I had tapped ourselves out, and needed to recharge. I gazed up at Selena, vaulting a gully with ease. So what happened to her if she used hers too much, other than running out of arrows? What were her weaknesses?

Changing the subject, I told Finn, “It seems like having problems with parents is an Arcana trait. Like, more than just a few spats over curfew.”

Was it our curse to be misunderstood by them? My beloved mom, rest her soul, had sent me to a nuthouse. Matthew’s mom had tried to drown him. Even Arthur had hinted that he’d melted his father in acid—

I heard another snapping branch, this time to my left. When I jerked my head around, I tripped but bounced upright. Ahead, Selena paused, canting her head. Sensing something too? She petted the flights of her last arrow, retrieved before we’d left Requiem. But after a moment, she continued walking.

Finn’s eyes were on her as well.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about how it worked out with Selena,” I said. “I know how much you like her.”

“Past tense. It’s one thing to like a girl who wants another guy. It’s another to like a girl who plans to murder you at a time of her convenience.”

“She said she was raised for this. I guess she can’t help it.” I couldn’t believe I was taking up for Selena. I turned to Matthew. “What’d you tell her to get her on my side?”

“The future. If she kills you, Death stabs her in the eye with her own arrow.”

“Such a lovely guy.”

A raindrop pelted me in the face then. Drops began to fall more steadily, as did the temperature, our breaths smoking. “Matthew, you told me that we’d grow weaker when the rain came. You said, ‘You’ve never known terror, not like you will when the rains come.’ How? Why?”

“Sunny and green? You annihilate. Now?” He shook his head. “Powers. Stop. Start. Fits. A plant with no sun is weak. Already you feel it. Plus, obstacles get faster, stronger. Foes laugh at us.”

Matthew’s lessons had fallen into four categories: arsenal, foes, field of battle, and obstacles. “Which obstacles?” No answer. “At least tell me how long the rain will last.”

With a decisive nod, he said, “Until the snow comes.” As if that answered everything.

“When will that be?”

“The Army grinds on, a windmill spins. The one who learns most wins last.”

Whatever that meant. Matthew couldn’t be pumped for information and he couldn’t be rushed to predict things.

When I saw that Jackson and Selena had stopped atop another rise ahead, I almost moaned with relief. The sun would set soon. Maybe there was a shelter nearby?

Once we reached them, I struggled to disguise how exhausted I was. Judging by Jackson’s rolled eyes, I fooled no one.

“I didn’t . . . say a word,” I gasped. “Not . . . complaining.”

After a hesitation, he muttered, “No, you never do.”

That had sounded almost not cruel.

From this vantage, we could see down into Requiem, all the way along the road to that warehouse. Just as Jackson had said, it was overflowing with Baggers. They were spilling out of doorways, huddled in alcoves. Some briefly braved the day, scurrying back to shelter. Like they were testing the sunlight.

“Is it just me, or do they look faster?” Selena asked.

I nodded. “What’s driving them out? What’s got them in such a frenzy?”

Matthew said, “Bloodlust.”

Finn shook his head. “I thought they turned to blood because there was no water around.”

“Rain means they’re always strong enough to track blood. New battery.”

“You’re joking.” I pinched my forehead. “They prefer blood?” The rain would just energize them. Sure enough, the obstacles would get faster, stronger. No longer would we see their crumbly bodies on the sides of the roads. “They’ll follow at nightfall?”

“Loved the Alchemist’s taste,” Matthew answered. “Five of us for the taking. Most blood for miles and miles. The hunt is afoot.”

Even with all our Arcana powers, we were at a serious disadvantage against that many Bagmen. Selena had one arrow. Finn could disguise us, but the zombies would just follow our scent. Matthew had no attack powers.

And me? I didn’t fight well on the run, much less with powers that were stopping and starting in fits.

“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.”




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