Dead of Winter (Page 17)

I shook my head. “I-I’ve never seen you before. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t act oblivious!” Spittle flew from Vincent’s lips. “Your line chronicles, just as ours does.”

“I’ve never read my history. I only know fragments.”

They studied me, must’ve decided I was telling the truth.

“Then we’ll bring you up to speed.” Violet moved beside her brother. “In the last game, we were in an alliance. Until you betrayed us. You trapped me in your vines, but you couldn’t catch my lover. To lure him, you tortured me so savagely—”

“—that I surrendered, to spare my beloved,” Vincent picked up. “I made the choice to sacrifice myself. At least in the end you were true to your word: you dispatched us swiftly enough.”

“Everything we do is because of you.” Violet reached for Vincent, playing with the hair at his nape. “Every move our family makes, we consider you. My father named me Violet because I’m the only flower you’ll never control. Never again.”

She talked as if I’d . . . formed them? Like they formed new Bagmen. My nausea churned anew.

Horrifying words leapt to my tongue: I was just playing the game.

But I remained silent.

If their story had been written, I would have been the villain.

Then I realized it had been written.

Chronicled.

“We are choice, Empress,” Vincent and Violet told me in unison. “We are retribution. And we remember. Soon you’ll see. We will love you ever so much.”

I expected them to clasp hands and swing their arms, but Violet kept playing with his hair while holding that sensor. He continued heating the spoon. When would they reveal their powers?

My gaze darted to Selena. What did she think about all this?

She was so close. I needed to give her more time. “I’m different than I was in the last game,” I told the twins. “I’m disgusted by what was done to you. But you’ll still punish me?”

Vincent flashed a predator’s smile. “In unspeakable ways.”

Together, they added, “Practice has made perfect.”

I stifled a shudder.

“You’ll watch us break and kill the man you love,” Vincent said. “Then we’ll take you and the Archer north, as prisoners of our love. You’ll behold the First with your own eyes—before we take them from you, naturally.” He glanced at Selena; she’d already gone motionless. “By the time you arrive, Archer, your arm will be healed,” he told her. “A blank canvas for the First to transform.”

How did he know about her arm? Spies? “Why torture Selena? She didn’t do anything to you.”

“The Archer’s body glows red, the color of bloodletting,” Violet mused. “This fascinates the First. The First will personally torment it.”

“She satisfies our tastes.” Vincent peeled his gaze from Selena. “You are for retribution.”

I told him, “That will never happen.”

“How are you going to stop us? An Empress in a world of ash?” He scoffed. “We expected more of a challenge from you and the others. We heard all your calls as you gathered. But only two faced us? This isn’t fun at all.”

Violet’s hand descended to rub her brother’s back. “We like games and fun. You’ve given us neither.”

“More are coming,” I said, bluffing. “The heavy hitters of our alliance. We’re just the opening act.”

“Alliances force choices,” Vincent said. “When to enter into one. When not to honor one. In a pinch, no Arcana will truly be an ally. You just temporarily use each other.”

My relationship with Death bore that out. But what about Selena dragging Finn home despite her broken bones? “That’s not true. Not anymore. This game is different. We are different.”

As if I hadn’t spoken, Violet released her brother to traipse behind Jack, that sensor in hand. “Prisoners of our love force choices. Now that we have the two of you and the hunter, will the rest of your alliance try to free you?”

“Of course,” I lied. Would Gabriel return? All he knew was that I’d gone crazed and clawed Tess, just as Joules had warned.

“Are you ready over there, Vi? It’s almost hot enough.” To me, Vincent said, “When the spoon singes away the eyelashes before the metal touches flesh, it’s the ideal temperature.”

Violet snatched Jack’s hair and lifted his head again. “Wake up, knave!” She gave him a shake. Nothing. “He’ll come to when you’re ready, beloved.”

I hastily told them, “If you gouge out my eyes, they’ll grow back.” I thought. “A few months ago, I severed my own thumb, and it regenerated. Don’t you want to see that? You can cut off my fingers over and over.” A sentence I never imagined I would utter.

Vincent gave me a disinterested wave of his hand. “We’re getting to that.” He inspected the sizzling spoon.

I was boring him. Think! “Where in the north is the First? Is that your dad?”

Selena gripped her sword hilt, muscles tensing—

“Now, now, Archer.” With his free hand, Vincent smoothly brandished and cocked the pistol he’d taken from Selena.

She froze.

He definitely knew how to use that gun. “Go stand next to the Empress,” he ordered her. “I want you both front row for this.”

When Selena turned toward me and I saw her face, I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

She wore an expression I’d never seen on her before: bewilderment. For the first time since I’d met her, the Archer had no clue what she was going to do next.

13

“Everything we do to him, we’ll do to you,” Vincent told me as he closed in on Jack.

Violet beamed with anticipation. “I long for his screams.” With a giggle, she admitted, “He’ll be so handsome when he yells.”

Vincent glowered, jealous. “Vi?”

“Not more than when you yell, my love.”

While they had their Lovers’ quarrel, I whispered to Selena, “Use me. As a bullet shield. Get to the sensor.”

“Fuckin’ A, Evie.” She grabbed my shoulder. “Ready?”

I nodded, bracing for bullets—

A shrieking whistle sounded, like an approaching rocket. Loud as an explosion, the tent canvas above us . . . surged upward, disappearing into the night’s murk.