She narrowed her gaze. “You’re not preggers again, are you?”
“What? Good God, no.”
“You and Death have been making up for lost time, though?”
Yes, we have. My face flushed. “No more kids for me and Aric.” Between the rhythm method and my breastfeeding, we figured we were covered for now.
“Smart. I love being an auntie, but it’s time for Mama to go back to work now, you know, killing evil Arcana like Richter.”
Since Tee’s birth, my powers had grown stronger every day. Yet so did the red witch—she seemed to be readying inside me to face the Emperor.
Even with Sol’s help, four possible outcomes awaited me from that battle. Richter would defeat me. I’d burn out and die. I’d destroy the world. Or I’d somehow rein in the witch.
Fresh from one of my continual nightmares, I’d finally remembered what the Queen of Cups had whispered to me: “You’re just as evil as Richter—but at least he isn’t cunning. Your red reign will mark the end of humankind forever.”
No wonder it’d taken me so long to reclaim that memory.
The red witch was cunning and evil; but freeing her—temporarily to protect my loved ones—didn’t mean she would replace me forever.
It didn’t.
“Mama’s back at the desk,” I told Lark. “Now we just need to find Richter again. Were you able to do any surveillance this morning?” The snow had briefly cleared, but it was even colder.
“Not a lot. Taka can’t get out ahead of the blizzards. Looks like you’re our eyes and ears for now.”
Despite Snowmageddon, my vines kept growing out from the castle, slithering across the icy surface for miles, a shadow mirror to my nightmares.
But they were handy. I picked up on any intruder—from a rare rat to a Bagger—giving us a PEWS array like never before.
“If you and Death would lay off the no-resurrection rules,” Lark said, “I’d revive some cold-hardy arctic wolves.” At my look, she raised her hands. “Kidding. Got no plans to rock the ark here.”
“Definitely not.” Aric had mended fences with her and was doing his best to draw her out of her depression. Tee helped with that as well. Though Lark couldn’t touch him, she had her baby animals put on shows for him. Like living stuffies. She loved spending time with him.
We all did.
Aric wanted to change every diaper, soothe every cry. He acted as if time spent with his son was an empty tank he intended to fill—a lifetime of interactions in a limited window.
Last night, I’d watched a movie with Lark. Returning to our room, I’d found Aric standing over the crib, a tear wetting his face as he beheld Tee sleeping. When he noticed me, Aric hadn’t wiped his face, hadn’t turned away. He’d just offered his hand.
I’d crossed to him and taken it.
“Look at our child, Evie,” he’d murmured. Tee had appeared surreal. Lips parted, lashes on his pinkened cheeks. “All our toils and troubles have meaning. It all led up to him.”
I didn’t know if I believed that. Sometimes I could buy that destiny was playing a part; other times not.
Mainly I just worried about what kind of world we’d brought Tee into. Would he never see the sun shining? Or kids at the playground? Would he never fall in love—
Lark bolted to her feet. “I scent something. Evie, it’s in the castle.”
Just as she said the words, I detected movement near Tee’s crib. My claws sharpened as I ran for the bedroom. Over my shoulder, I yelled, “Go get Aric!”
I tried to sense through the crib’s vines and attack . . . but they didn’t perceive a threat?
In the hallway, I spied water on the floor. Then another puddle. And another. All leading to our bedroom.
Wait—these weren’t puddles; wet footprints made a trail.
“Circe, are you here?” She must have hydroported to the castle. What if Tee did possess the Touch of Death? I sprinted for her, slipping in the water. “Don’t pick him up! Don’t touch him.” I lurched around the corner and burst through the doorway.
Circe was barefoot, wearing a baggy overcoat, her dark skin damp. Though she looked like she could hardly stand, she held a sleeping Tee, his cheek pressed against hers.
I hissed, “He might be lethal.”
She raised her brows, her expression saying, Like I’d care? “There’s no Touch of Death here.”
“He’s not deadly?”
She stroked his forehead. “And here I thought you were rushing to save him from me.”
I gave her the look her comment deserved. “You’re his godmother!”
“Shhhhh.” The sound reminded me of gentle waves at the shore. “Don’t wake him.” She tilted her head at me. “Genuine distress? Such a change from previous games. Maybe in this one, you won’t chain me up in a basement, in order to murder me at a more convenient time.”
I rolled my eyes.
She cuddled Tee closer. “I’m so happy to meet this little imp.” Though her words were faint, they carried an island accent.
“His birth didn’t do as you’d hoped. Nothing changed.”
She shrugged. “I was trying to make you feel better about things.”
Aric sprinted into the room, spurs ringing, sword raised. He stopped short. “You’re touching him.”
Amusement flickered in her weary eyes. “Yes, he’s a snuggly fellow.” Tee was, in fact, blissfully snuggled in Circe’s arms.
Aric exhaled a breath. “His power might manifest with adolescence, as mine did.”
Circe said, “He has Arcana blood, but he’s not an Arcana. I know this as well as I know my own reflection.”
Then he wasn’t any kind of player in the game. Tension melted from me.
Aric’s eyes glowed as he stared at Tee. “He’s not . . . as I am?”
“I heard you two talking about him not being able to touch anyone, and I refused to have my godson besmirched like that.”
I narrowed my gaze. “Then you knew there was a possibility he could kill you.”
“There was also the likelihood that he couldn’t. We’re always so afraid of rare possibilities that we ignore probabilities.” When she swayed on her feet, my vines shot forward to collect Tee from her.
He snuffled, put out to leave Circe’s arms, but the vines rocked him until he settled. As they laid him back in the crib, I hurried to her side to steady her.
Aric asked her, “What are you doing here, Priestess?”
Leaning against me, she said, “I left my echoing abyss.”
The full weight of her presence hit me. Dear God, the Priestess had come to land.
26
The Hunter
Day 802 A.F.
Two militias, one raving-mad band of doomsday cannibals, and at least three hundred Bagmen later, we closed in on Kos’s hideout.
Gabe’s wings fluttered with excitement. “I earnestly hope we discover something here.”
I clenched the steering wheel. “Me too.” This place gave new meaning to the phrase out in the middle of nowhere.
Before her death, I’d asked Kos if there’d be any antipersonnel mines or other booby traps. She’d said, “No need. If you find the hangar, you deserve it. Door’ll be unlocked.”