“We would be walking eight icons into their lair,” Aric grated. “They will be ruthless.”
I pleaded with my eyes, telling him, Selena’s being punished for things I did. You know better than anyone what I was like back then. If we don’t save her, I won’t be able to live with myself.
When he still wouldn’t relent, I raised my hands again, claws extended. “How much blood do you think it’ll take to bore a hole through a mountain?”
He muttered something in Latvian.
“I know that look.” Jack shook his head ruefully. “Doan worry; she’ll give you your balls back as soon as she’s done getting her way.”
I lowered my hands and squared my shoulders. “Getting my way— or leading the way?”
Jack raised his own hands in surrender. “Lead on, peekôn.”
To Aric, I said, “What are you packing?”
“It seems I can deny you nothing.” With another foreign phrase, he crossed to Thanatos, took a small cloth bundle out of his saddlebag, then returned.
Jack’s curiosity was blazing. My own as well.
Aric gingerly unfolded the edges of the black material (because of course it was black). His eyes sparked as he revealed . . . a shimmering silver baton.
I gasped. “That’s one of Joules’s!” Engraved metal gleamed. “How did you get it?”
“I caught it from the Tower, long before he was Joules.” In a dry tone, Aric said, “He shouldn’t have minded, since he threw it away.”
I found my lips curling. “Why didn’t it explode in your hand? You could have lost your entire arm!”
“I took it out of the air, catching it as one would an egg. Loss was possible. But so was gain.” Aric gazed down at me. “Without risk, life grows stilted, no?”
Jack watched our interplay keenly.
“You’ve seen this baton before, Empress, on one of the shelves in my study. Next to the crowns of the many monarchs I have felled,” he added, no doubt for Jack’s benefit.
Aric had safeguarded all of those treasures in his home for eons. But now he’d taken one off his shelf, out into the world—because he was out in the world.
He was no mere observer. The Endless Knight was interacting with us—living. Aric was right; he did evolve.
“It’s priceless, yet you’ll still use it for this?”
He inclined his head. “For you.”
Was he willing to part with one of his possessions because he thought he would have a life with me? If I didn’t choose him, would he go back to stasis? To misery? “Why did you bring it?”
As if a switch had been flipped off, Aric’s gaze went cold. “Lest we ran afoul of the Emperor.”
Once we’d rescued Selena, I would get to the bottom of Death’s animosity toward that card.
“Is that goan to have enough juice?” Jack eyed the baton, then the bunker door, and back.
“From what I understand,” Aric said, “the firepower is dependent on how hard it’s thrown—and I’m far stronger than Joules.”
Jack cast me a look: I can’t even with this guy.
“In any case, I’ll aim for your explosives on the door.”
Dragging Milo with us, we took cover behind a rise of rock about a hundred feet away. Aric manipulated the javelin until it extended to its full length.
Milo must’ve realized what Death held. He went buggy-eyed, yelling into his gag.
“Ready?” Aric surveyed us. “When I throw, I’ll cover the Empress. Because—armor.”
“Just do it, Reaper!”
He took aim, exhaled a breath. Lips thinned, he launched the javelin, unleashing that harnessed aggression of his.
The spear’s trajectory didn’t arc, just sped in one line. Like a bullet.
He hunched down, covering me right before it hit. The blast reverberated from the door.
The mountain quaked, the ground rumbling. Gravel rained from the ridge shielding us. As the percussion subsided, smoke billowed.
Had we succeeded?
The air began to clear . . . revealing the warped door. Metal had melted, leaving a huge hole.
Aric had done it! I wanted to hug him, but I quashed my excitement. This was only step one.
Besides, he looked anything but celebratory. “Don’t make me regret that, Empress.”
We approached the entrance with caution. Foreboding red emergency bulbs flashed from the interior, the only source of light.
Jack had his bow at the ready in one hand, Milo’s jacket collar in his other. Aric had unsheathed both swords. My claws dripped.
We stepped inside an industrial-looking transition area. Bulky pipes, oversize bolts, welded plates. Orange graffiti covered gray metal walls. In Goth lettering, someone had repeatedly painted:
SMITE STRUCK FALL MAD
In the flashing red lights, those ominous words appeared to move. The same words Matthew had told me.
Jack shoved Milo forward. “Only one way in.” The room had no doors, just an elevator.
“This must be a trap.” Aric swept his gaze.
“Come on, Reaper? You want to live forever?”
“I don’t recommend it.” To me, Aric said, “When we face them, you can’t hold back.”
“I won’t.” Much. I made my way to the elevator. “The twins wouldn’t have expected us to get in so they might not have traps in place. They could be rushing to do something as we speak.” I pressed the call button. “We should hurry.”
The doors yawned wide. Inside, fluorescent lights flicked on and off like those red bulbs.
Aric hastened past me to enter first, sheathing his swords. “Let me look around.” After a few moments, he motioned for me to join him. Behind us, Jack booted Milo inside.
Lit buttons showed thirteen floors. The numbering was reversed; the second floor was below us.
So many levels? This place was like a subterranean hive.
“Should we torture Milo for their floor?” Aric yanked the man’s gag away. “Do you have something to tell us?”
We didn’t have time. “Aric, look at the buttons. Hard.” With his superhuman sight . . . “Can you see which one’s been used most?”
He scanned them. “The six button has the most wear. Fitting, since it’s the Lovers’ card number.” He pressed it.
Milo went ballistic. “You trespass—you have no right! We’re the just defenders, the righteous in this game. We are love’s destruction!”