“Their icon is right where it should be. As are the two you wear.”
Odd way to answer. “I never want another. I plan to stop this game.”
She tilted her head, giving me what might have been a sad smile. “You always had a high regard for yourself.”
“How would you know that? I thought no one but the Fool had memories of past lives.”
“My previous incarnation cast a spell, allowing me to relive my memories through trances. Who needs a chronicler when you have firsthand information?”
A spell? “Are you a witch?”
“It depends who you ask,” she said wryly. “Did the Fool give you your memories? In visions and dreams?”
“He did. I’ve been accessing them slowly.”
“Wise. I view mine for ten minutes a day, every day without fail.”
She came across as so disciplined and with-it. Unlike me. I could go weeks without a vision, then binge-watch. No wonder my brain felt like jelly.
“With each memory, I better appreciate how epic this game is,” she continued. “It shapes the history of gods and man, yet the Empress doesn’t want to play anymore? There’s no stopping it, Evie Greene.”
“Because it’s impossible? You just said the game makes the impossible possible. When the alternative is murdering kids, I’ve got to try.”
“Did you try?” She gave my hand a knowing look.
“I did.” I’d wanted to appear strong, but fatigue washed over me. “I tried so hard, Circe. It’s not murder if done in self-defense, or to defend the people you love.”
“The Empress speaks of love—and not with derision. Now I see why Death is so taken with you this game. You are not you.”
“Thanks?” I felt so out of it, the coyote to her roadrunner. “So why did you want to meet?”
“You’re a mystery. I concern myself with mysteries. With esoteric lore. With things that must be brought to light.”
“Like the mysteries of the deep?”
“Just so.” More skittering. “Another time, another place, I might have liked to know this incarnation of you.”
“Why not now? We can ally.”
“We are enemies almighty, Evie Greene.”
“Were we ever allies?”
“Sworn allies. Oh, the games we played! I remember the forest we claimed. I had a river, and you had your green killers. How we used to laugh together! No card could challenge us—until the Emperor arrived with his ember eyes full of fire, his hands bleeding lava. He’s the one you should be targeting. Put the Lovers and your mortal male behind you.”
Check-check on the Lovers. Leaning toward never on my mortal male. “You know about Jack?”
“I hear whispers. They flow down to me like water seeking its own level. Yet I can’t figure out what you did with Death.”
Had I been eating the lotus with Aric, uncaring that my real life was outside his castle? Before he’d captured me, I’d been a friend, a girlfriend, a granddaughter. My human life had come first.
Did it still?
Moving on . . . “The Emperor’s not close. I haven’t heard his call.” I couldn’t remember what it was.
“By the time you hear him, it’s already too late.” Circe shook her head ruefully, and on either side of the water window, whirlpools began to twirl in the river. The blanket of mist turned into thousands of soft cyclones. “He’ll be coming. With so many Arcana converging, we’ll all be attracted, pulled as if by tides.”
“And you’ll be waiting to drag them to their deaths?”
“As ever.” In a quieter tone, she said, “Sometimes they ask me to take them to the abyss. Sometimes that’s the only place they can see to go.”
Her words gave me chills.
“But not the Emperor. That no-necked tyrant craves cataclysm. This game, he calls himself Richter. As in scale.” With a grin, she said, “We should thrash him just for that.”
I found my lips curling. “We were friends, weren’t we? Not just allies.”
She fidgeted with the trident on her lap, jutting her chin. “As close as sisters, if you must know.”
“Until I betrayed you?”
Glare.
Show of hands: who didn’t I betray in past games? “I’m so sorry. I wish I hadn’t.”
Circe’s glare changed to an expression of bafflement. “You are not you,” she repeated. “Until next time, hail Tar Ro, Empress.”
The water window disintegrated, as if melting.
The Priestess was gone.
Jack was still out when I returned to his tent.
Selena sat in a chair beside his cot. “Took you long enough.” As if she’d minded.
She and I might be solid again, but Selena would always be a superhuman pain in the ass. “Matthew hasn’t come back?” I’d been gone awhile.
After my confusing meeting with the Priestess, Cyclops and I had found a secluded patch of ground for me to grow fruit. My phytogenesis had been a sluggish process, taking tons of blood.
By the end, I’d been so woozy I’d blundered my way to Tess’s tent. But I’d delivered a bumper crop, a poncho full of treats, more than she could ever eat by herself.
With the archangel watching over her, she’d slept, her body so small under the blankets. But she’d already looked better.
Selena stood. “Matto’s probably wandering around the fort. As usual.” She gazed past me. “You’re letting that butt-ugly wolf inside?”
“The majestic wolf—that keeps saving my life—is an indoor pet.” I’d had a night like no other, just wanted to pass out.
“Whatever. You look like shit. Go to sleep, but plan on a talk when you get up.”
“About what?”
“Things.” With a lingering look at Jack, she ducked out of the tent. Sleep. Yes. I took Matthew’s cot, figuring he’d wake me if he wanted it back.
I lay on my side, so I could watch Jack. Despite my exhaustion and recent blood loss, I remained awake, as if my gaze refused to be parted from him.
At what should been dawn, roosters crowed. They did at Death’s home as well, undaunted by the lack of sun. Lark had once told me they crowed to their own rhythms.
Though the camp would be waking, maybe I could get an hour of sleep.