I flashed him a startled look. “The more I use my powers . . .” I trailed off.

“The more you want to kill us,” Finn finished for me.

As Matthew always did, I shrugged. But this conversation made me wonder: would Matthew gain clarity if he could wean himself from seeing visions of the future? Once things calmed down, I would ask him to try.

Conserving our powers seemed wise anyway. Our abilities weren’t infinite. Both Finn and I had tapped ourselves out, and needed to recharge. I gazed up at Selena, vaulting a gully with ease. So what happened to her if she used hers too much, other than running out of arrows? What were her weaknesses?

Changing the subject, I told Finn, “It seems like having problems with parents is an Arcana trait. Like, more than just a few spats over curfew.”

Was it our curse to be misunderstood by them? My beloved mom, rest her soul, had sent me to a nuthouse. Matthew’s mom had tried to drown him. Even Arthur had hinted that he’d melted his father in acid—

I heard another snapping branch, this time to my left. When I jerked my head around, I tripped but bounced upright. Ahead, Selena paused, canting her head. Sensing something too? She petted the flights of her last arrow, retrieved before we’d left Requiem. But after a moment, she continued walking.

Finn’s eyes were on her as well.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about how it worked out with Selena,” I said. “I know how much you like her.”

“Past tense. It’s one thing to like a girl who wants another guy. It’s another to like a girl who plans to murder you at a time of her convenience.”

“She said she was raised for this. I guess she can’t help it.” I couldn’t believe I was taking up for Selena. I turned to Matthew. “What’d you tell her to get her on my side?”

“The future. If she kills you, Death stabs her in the eye with her own arrow.”

“Such a lovely guy.”

A raindrop pelted me in the face then. Drops began to fall more steadily, as did the temperature, our breaths smoking. “Matthew, you told me that we’d grow weaker when the rain came. You said, ‘You’ve never known terror, not like you will when the rains come.’ How? Why?”

“Sunny and green? You annihilate. Now?” He shook his head. “Powers. Stop. Start. Fits. A plant with no sun is weak. Already you feel it. Plus, obstacles get faster, stronger. Foes laugh at us.”

Matthew’s lessons had fallen into four categories: arsenal, foes, field of battle, and obstacles. “Which obstacles?” No answer. “At least tell me how long the rain will last.”

With a decisive nod, he said, “Until the snow comes.” As if that answered everything.

“When will that be?”

“The Army grinds on, a windmill spins. The one who learns most wins last.”

Whatever that meant. Matthew couldn’t be pumped for information and he couldn’t be rushed to predict things.

When I saw that Jackson and Selena had stopped atop another rise ahead, I almost moaned with relief. The sun would set soon. Maybe there was a shelter nearby?

Once we reached them, I struggled to disguise how exhausted I was. Judging by Jackson’s rolled eyes, I fooled no one.

“I didn’t . . . say a word,” I gasped. “Not . . . complaining.”

After a hesitation, he muttered, “No, you never do.”

That had sounded almost not cruel.

From this vantage, we could see down into Requiem, all the way along the road to that warehouse. Just as Jackson had said, it was overflowing with Baggers. They were spilling out of doorways, huddled in alcoves. Some briefly braved the day, scurrying back to shelter. Like they were testing the sunlight.

“Is it just me, or do they look faster?” Selena asked.

I nodded. “What’s driving them out? What’s got them in such a frenzy?”

Matthew said, “Bloodlust.”

Finn shook his head. “I thought they turned to blood because there was no water around.”

“Rain means they’re always strong enough to track blood. New battery.”

“You’re joking.” I pinched my forehead. “They prefer blood?” The rain would just energize them. Sure enough, the obstacles would get faster, stronger. No longer would we see their crumbly bodies on the sides of the roads. “They’ll follow at nightfall?”

“Loved the Alchemist’s taste,” Matthew answered. “Five of us for the taking. Most blood for miles and miles. The hunt is afoot.”

Even with all our Arcana powers, we were at a serious disadvantage against that many Bagmen. Selena had one arrow. Finn could disguise us, but the zombies would just follow our scent. Matthew had no attack powers.

And me? I didn’t fight well on the run, much less with powers that were stopping and starting in fits.

“What’s the matter, Empress?” Jackson grated with a glare at my muddy right hand, at my icon. “Why you look scared, you? You can just take them all out.” The not cruel vibe of earlier had been short-lived.

I exhaled wearily. “No. No, I can’t.”

“Ain’t like you can die anyway.”

Matthew shook his head. “She can die. Death sees to her.”

—Count on it.— came Death’s whisper. —You’ll be under my sword within the week.—

7

DAY 249 A.F.

“Sooo . . . anybody else have a sense of impending doom?” Finn asked around a mouthful of Mayday bar. “I mean, more so than usual. Or maybe just of being watched?”

Teeth clattering, I said, “Oh, y-yeah.” I had since we’d left Requiem two days ago.

That first night we’d spent miserable, restless hours huddled in the shelter of some rocks. Tonight, after we’d plodded around nearly blind in the dark, Jack had come across a hunter’s shooting house. Basically it was a metal hut about five feet tall, with peeling camouflage paint and one open end.

When we’d all piled into his “find,” Jack had gazed at the sky for patience, but didn’t say anything.

There was enough room inside for each of us to have a little space, if we didn’t try to stand up. It allowed us to escape the drizzle and provided some protection until we could set out at dawn.

We were betting our lives that the Baggers couldn’t catch up with us before then.

I squeezed out my hair, settling in. “I’ve g-got an ominous f-feeling.”

Finn had produced another illusion lantern for us. I could swear the nights were getting longer, even as we headed into summer months, while the temperature kept dropping.

One day, would the sun forget to rise?

Despite everyone being waterlogged and freezing—except for Selena with her perfect outdoor gear—we didn’t light a fire. She had dry kindling in her pack, natch, but any wet firewood would smoke like crazy, and we still had Bagmen on our tail.

All day we’d wondered if the zombies could match our hectic pace. From what I understood, they didn’t heal from injuries, and most had been created the night of the Flash. At eight months old, they must have some wear and tear there.

Unless they’d been newly created by a Bagman’s contagious bite.

Fifteen hours ago at dawn, Selena had run back and scouted. Her assessment? “There are more of them.”

I’d asked her, “Where are they going to spend the day?” Though drizzly, it’d still been bright. And we hadn’t passed a single house, just mile after mile of burned-out woods.

She’d hesitated, then said, “They’re burrowing. Into the muck. The good news is that if any Arcana think to follow us, they’ll be in for a hell of a surprise.”

Like a Bagman minefield. I’d shivered at the imagery. And for the rest of the day, I’d wondered with my every step if I was going to find a Bagmine.

Now Selena said, “I’m getting the same feeling as you two. Like we’re being stalked, as hunters do with deer.” Plucking her bowstring, she admitted, “I’m not used to being on this side of things.”

I gazed over at Jackson, sitting outside our circle near the open exit, on edge as well. He’d told me that nothing could get the drop on him, and for the past several weeks, nothing had.

Did he remain with us because we shared a mutual direction, or because he felt forced to keep that promise to my mother? Since he’d refused to talk to me, I couldn’t imagine how he was handling everything. Matthew had said he burned with curiosity. Tonight I could almost feel the intensity of it.

Though Jackson hadn’t asked a single question—not his party, I supposed—he was listening, learning. During the day, I’d caught him staring at me again and again, his expression ranging from enraged to . . . confused.

“Matthew, do you sense anything?”

In answer, he studied his hand. He was pensive about something too. I wished he would talk to me, even if I understood little of what he said.

I placed half of my Mayday bar in his hand, curling my gloved fingers around his until he held it on his own. Eventually he glanced down, appearing surprised to find it in his hand. But he ate it.

“Who could be watching us?” I asked.

“Not Bagmen,” Selena said. “They would just attack. Cannibals?”

Finn shook his head. “They don’t hunt far from home.”

We were coming up on one of the charred holes in Selena’s map. I almost got the sense that we were about to fall off the face of the earth, like it should read: Here be dragons!

But as long as we were edging away from those mines—and a horde of Bagmen—I was game to go on. “We’d hear other Arcana calls, right?”

Suddenly Finn jerked a glance over his shoulder. The rest of us tensed and stared out the open end of the hut in that same direction, all at the same time, like meerkats.

He muttered, “I wish whatever’s out there would nut up or shut up.”

“Hear, hear.” Needing to take my mind off my jitters, I turned to Selena. “If you’re so keen to be in an alliance with us, why don’t you tell us what you know?”

With a condescending smile, she opened her bag—and took out a deck of Tarot cards.

“You had a deck the whole time! At moments like this, I can see the appeal of the game.”

She shrugged, laying them out atop her silvery reflective heat blanket.

“If you were trying to get me into an alliance, why keep all this secret?” I persisted.

“Because of that whole I-don’t-remember-the-game line you’ve been feeding us. I thought you were lying.” She dealt the cards in a cross formation, much like Gran used to. As soon as I saw the Tarot images, memories came into focus, springing to life like poppies bursting through a layer of snow.

Trying to draw Matthew into our conversation, I said, “Look, here’s Matthew’s.” I pointed out his card; on it, a smiling young man with an oblivious expression walked a desolate land, carrying a rucksack and a single white rose. A yapping dog nipped at his heels.

Matthew tilted his head at the likeness. “In a place where nothing grows, I carry a flower. The memory of you.”

I smiled at him. “That is so sweet.”

He frowned. “That literally happened.”

“Oh.”

Finn said, “That’s just like the image I saw the first time we met. It flashed over him.”

I nodded. “We all have those. They’re called tableaux.”

Finn held the card up next to Matthew’s face, comparing the likeness. “You look stoned, Matto.”

Matthew sighed with contentment. “Thank you.”

I held up Selena’s card. “The Moon.” Hers depicted a glowing goddess of the hunt.

Finn’s expression darkened. “Not interested. Next.”

Selena glared at him.

I pulled another card. The lightning-struck tower. “You guys already know the Tower, that pleasant Irishman who was such a joy to meet. And here’s Death.” I pointed to his card. The Reaper was clad in that black armor, scythe at the ready, riding a pale horse with evil red eyes. He carried a black flag emblazoned with a white rose.

Finn muttered, “Jesus. That dude’s real?” He wadded up his Mayday wrapper, tossing it into the shadows. “So what are his powers?”

Everyone looked at me for an answer. Even Matthew, as if he were quizzing me.

“He’s a horseman and knight with supernatural speed and strength. He uses two swords and can strike with them so fast they’re a blur. His armor is impenetrable, even to my claws. He’s fearless. In one of Matthew’s visions, I saw him walk into Joules’s lightning shower like it was nothing.” Kind of the way I imagined Jackson had walked into a hail of militia bullets. “His touch is deadly.” And he’d been able to read my mind for weeks. Though not without detection; I felt him even now.