Home > Dead of Winter (The Arcana Chronicles #3)(67)

Dead of Winter (The Arcana Chronicles #3)(67)
Author: Kresley Cole

When I tried to rise, I heaved. Turning to one side, I vomited into that pool of my blood.

“Just stay back, Empress!” Aric’s swords sliced out.

“We got this!” Jack bashed in a Vincent head.

I tottered to my feet, propping myself up against a wall. Once my strength returned, I’d call for a flood of green from the elevator shaft—

A hand covered my mouth!

The ground seemed to move under my feet—no, we were moving. A false wall rotated us into a hidden area. Would Jack and Aric even know I’d been taken?

“If you want to see Selena alive,” a male whispered, “you’ll be a good girl.”

Vincent. I sensed he was the real one.

His idea of a good girl was something I’d never be. When he looped an arm around my neck, I grew my thorns, about to inject him with poison. One half of an icon was about to be mine!

“Recognize this?” He raised a pressure sensor in front of my face. “Selena wears the collar now.”

But . . . but the Lovers’ icon . . .

No, no, Selena was my friend. She’d lost the Archer’s arrow meant for me.

I inhaled for calm. Vincent might take me to her—and to Violet—guiding me through the Shrine. I raised my hands in surrender.

“I’m amazed, Empress. You do care for another card.” He dragged me into a smaller secreted elevator, not much larger than a dumbwaiter. “Vi and I debated if this threat would curb your bloodlust.”

He and I ascended—couldn’t tell how many floors before we stopped. He hauled me out into a hallway with that same industrial look, those same orange words spray painted.

SMITE STRUCK FALL MAD

His tableau appeared over him, upside down, but crystal clear.

At last, I faced one of the source twins.

Vincent was a far cry from his tall, flawless carnates. His real body was somehow both scrawny and pudgy, his skin jaundiced and slicked with oil. His black hair was matted, his sleeveless T-shirt and jeans bloodstained. Scars and new slices covered his arms—from his bloodletting.

He’d created carnates with his idealized appearance. Vain? Oh yeah.

I couldn’t wait to see the real Violet. “Admit it: you Photoshopped your carnates.”

“Do you really want to go there about appearances?” Even his voice was higher pitched than his carnates’. “You’re covered in blood. Surprisingly it’s your own this time.”

That was fair. “Where are your sister and Selena?”

“I’m taking you to them.” He motioned for me to walk with him.

I did, deciding to play along while I recharged and healed. I would come up with a plan to get that sensor, take out the twins, and get back to Aric and Jack.

Vincent and I strolled side by side down the hall, like we were heading to class. As if I wouldn’t kill him at the first opportunity. As if he wasn’t imagining how he’d first make me scream.

As if Baggers hadn’t just eaten his father.

The calm before the storm. Both Vincent and I knew it.

“Why paint those particular words?” My voice was thick from throwing up and screaming.

“So Violet and I never forget the power we wield.”

“And that is?”

“We control the most destructive force in the universe.”

I was done hearing that. “I was wrong when I said that about love.”

He scowled. “Of course it’s the most destructive force—it’s our power. Love begets violence, murder, and war. Why else would mortals equate it with such horrible things?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sunstruck, moonstruck, and lovestruck all mean maddened. We fear storm breaks and heart breaks. We fall blind, fall into a trap, fall sick, fall madly in love. Why not rise in love?”

I had no answer for that. I didn’t know exactly how to describe love—just knew his idea of it was perverse.

“If shot through the heart with an arrow, you get lovesick. Sounds painful, doesn’t it?” With his free hand, he pulled the collar of his shirt higher, rolling his head on his neck. “And smitten? One touch of the dart, and an invisible affliction smites you down.”

“Love hurts. I get it.”

He grinned; I grimaced. His yellowed teeth resembled his father’s. “You hurt right now, Empress. Your love isn’t diluted anymore. It’s divided—between the hunter and Death.”

Somewhere in this lair, Aric fought tirelessly for me. I did love him. As I loved Jack.

“It’s complicated.” My answer of the month.

“You broke our rules by bringing Death here. But I’m glad you did. Now we have two beloved to use against you. Perhaps we should take them alive.” Vincent’s gaze went blank, his irises turning black.

“You’re seeing through your carnates’ eyes right now.”

“We are.”

—Sievā, open your mind to me!—

Aric! I’m okay for now. Are you and Jack?

—Engaged at present.—

I’m with Vincent. Can’t find Selena or Violet.

—I’m coming for you soon. Hold tight.—

I can stall.

No answer.

Vincent’s eyes had cleared. “Have you remembered our history?”

I shook my aching head. “But when Death translates your chronicles, I’ll read all about it.”

“Our carnates are retrieving our stolen property from your horses as we speak.”

“From the Reaper’s armored mount?” I had to laugh. “All the best with that.” They had better hope they couldn’t catch that stallion. Thanatos bench pressed three eighty and made Bagger Spam with his hooves. “Why are those chronicles so important to you?”

“Our earliest memories are of Father reading them to us, each night before we went to sleep.” Blood-drenched bedtime stories. “We’re sentimental.”

Sentimental? “Because of you and your sister, your dad is being digested right now.”

He nodded. “Today we loved our father. We loved our mother as we began these new incarnations.” Had she died in childbirth?

A suspicion arose. “Vincent, have you ever left this place?”

He blinked. “Why would we?”

At my disbelieving expression, he explained, “Our father bought the Shrine when our mother was pregnant with us—just in case his children would ring in a new game, and a new catastrophe. As soon as he found out we were twins, he knew the game was starting. We’ve been safe within here since before we were born.”

   
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