Dead of Winter Page 3

—Faster!—

Soon I was galloping through a minefield, a telepathic Arcana in my mind and a giant wolf at my heels.

I could hear those same wet breaths. The wolf had been following me! If I lived through this night, I was so going to owe Lark.

The gate creaked open ahead. I spurred the mare, racing to reach the fort.

With no idea what awaited me . . .

2

[The gates slammed closed behind Cyclops’s tail.

Matthew was there to greet us, wearing a vacant smile. When he crossed to me and held up his arms, I fell out of the saddle, legs gone boneless. He caught me against himself, helping me stand.

“What is this place?” I wheezed, taking in details. The wall was made of scrap metal: car hoods, road signs, rebar. Large military-style housing tents were spread out over a sizable area. Covered torches hung on lines above, casting light.

“The hunter was busy while you were away.”

“This is Jack’s?” Horses dozed in a stable, chickens clucked in a coop, and dozens of people milled about.

All guys, naturally. They stared not only at me—a female—but at my colossal one-eyed bodyguard, currently scarfing down the last of his human chew toy. Wolves gotta eat.

Matthew peeled me off him, shoving one of his sleeves up. “Take off your gloves, Empress.”

I did, too exhausted to protest. My head spun like I’d just stepped off a playground round-a-bout.

He brandished a knife and sliced his pale arm before I could stop him. Then he used his blood to draw a line over the back of my icon hand. “This is Gamekeeper’s blood. There’s protection here.” Crimson crossed over the two markings of my Arcana kills, as if to cancel them out. “Lots of other Arcana here, but we have trues. No one strikes on hallowed ground.”

“Truce?”

“Trues. The true-hearted cards,” he said, adding darkly, “for a time.” Matthew had created a war-free area with a power I hadn’t known about.

I gazed up at him. In the last three months, he’d grown even taller. Had his birthday passed? Was he seventeen yet? He wore a waterproof parka, a wool button-down, jeans, and a pair of hiking boots, all newish looking. Had Jack sourced clothes for him?

As Aric had done for me?

Inner shake. “Thank you, Matthew. You got me here safely.”

With his brown eyes as adoring as a puppy’s, he asked, “The Empress is my friend?” He used to declare this. Now he had to ask.

Was I still pissed that he’d covered up Jack’s lies? I’d been furious when he’d taught Aric how to neutralize my powers, but Matthew had probably saved my life by doing that.

Maybe I needed to accept that he did everything for a reason. I’d trusted him to steer me through a minefield (talk about a team-building exercise). I’d relied on his mysterious guidance to escape Death.

But trusting Matthew completely would be like falling backward. A free fall. Was I ready?

Life had been too short for grudges before the Flash. Now . . . “Evie is your friend.” I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tight. When I pulled back, I said, “Matthew, where is Jack?”

“The hunter is nigh.”

“How do I get to him?”

“Horse.”

A nondescript middle-aged man approached. With a wary glance at the wolf, he took the mare’s reins, promising to care for her. Oh. Horse.

As the guy led her to the stable, I made a mental note to grow her a treat. “Who are all these people?” Some cleaned weapons beneath a bright tarp—the kind you used to see at raucous tailgate parties. Others were heating water and doing laundry.

“Humans. Jack collects them. I like their soup.”

“Do they know what we are?”

“Jack lets them think we’re gods. They call this Fort Arcana, established Year 1 A.F.”

“What about keeping ourselves secret? You told me Arcana and non-Arcana mix poorly. You told me humans burn what they fear.”

A glimmer of something unsettling crossed Matthew’s features. “There aren’t enough humans left to consider.”

I’d have to think about that later. “Matthew, I need to get to—”

“The watchtower!” He stepped onto a narrow board path that ran through the muddy camp like a freeway. A plankway. Off he went.

“The what?” My legs were so tired, I could barely balance as I tried to keep up.

Cyclops padded along beside me, his frizzy black fur shimmying. His scarred snout was just to the right of my head, his filthy whiskers almost brushing my cheek. His enormous paws sloshed mud up my pants.

Was that a finger stuck in the knotted scruff under his chin?

I trailed Matthew to the far side of the fort. “Did you send me a vision of my mother? Or did I dream?”

Over his shoulder, he said, “Our enemies laugh. Smite and mad. Fall and struck.”

That was his answer? Sometimes I wanted to grab him and shake him.

“We’re here.” Along the back wall stood a three-story structure, clad in metal sheeting. Matthew climbed a ladder to the top.

I followed, leaving the wolf to prowl below. At every rung, I wheezed and winced. “Can we . . . please talk about . . . a rescue for Jack?”

At the top level, Matthew tilted up a license plate, revealing a small slot. “Empress.” He motioned for me to peer out.

“Okay, what am I looking at? Oh, wow.” We were high up on a blustery vantage with a sheer drop-off. A river that looked as broad as the Mississippi coursed below. An amazing sight. Before the rains, there’d been no bodies of water like this.