In a measured tone, he said, “She has. But the Priestess’s gifts will always be dark among the Arcana. She is an uneasy mix of sea witch and sea monster.”
The monsters will keep coming—invited into our pool house?
With a challenging lift of his brow, Aric added, “You know this. You’ve seen the inside of her temple.”
When I’d spied depictions of tidal waves engulfing ports and monsters devouring ships, I’d asked Circe if she’d controlled the monsters.
I averted my gaze from Aric as I remembered her answer:
Of course not, Empress. I was the monster. The terror from the abyss.
28
The Hunter
The door to the hangar opened with ease. I flicked on the indoor lights, revealing a lair to end all lairs.
As we slipped inside, Sol breathed, “Ay, fíjate. Whoa.”
Joules glared. “Too good to be true.”
For once, I had to agree. Everywhere I looked, the view was better than the last. A kitchen along one wall had gleaming countertops and modern appliances. Across the cavernous space was an indoor basketball court and gym. In the living area, couches beckoned us to sit in front of a big-screen TV, and a jukebox switched on automatically to play a golden oldie.
We headed into a hallway that led to bunkrooms, a communal bathroom, an office, a massive library, and an oversize stockroom.
Kentarch’s gaze roamed over the food stores. “This would keep us for years.”
“Years,” I echoed in amazement, almost licking my lips at all the boxes and the full freezers.
We secured each room, then returned to the office. Inside were a computer, filing cabinets, and a ham-radio station. A plaque above the station read:
Salute to all those who build and fortify.
To all those who learn and lead.
To all those who right the wrongs.
You shall know your place among the Swords.
A sense of recognition hit me. A sense of pride. . . .
Pictures lined the walls. I closed in on the largest one, a captioned photo of thirteen adults, each holding a different weapon—a sword, nunchuks, an automatic rifle, even a rocket launcher.
The suit of Swords.
One woman, fourth from the right, caught my eye. Dressed in a Navy Seal uniform, she had a thick braid, muscles, a cocky smile, and a resemblance to the plague-ridden woman in the Pentacles’ cell.
The caption listed her as the K.O.S., the Knight of Swords.
So she’d been legit, the actual Knight of Swords. And apparently, she’d been a badass.
I beckoned Joules over. “Meet Kos.” I gave him a how you like me now? look.
Still, I shouldn’t celebrate yet. In the Arcana game, a find like this hangar usually spelled trouble.
“We’re not in the clear, Cajun. There’s more to secure.”
Only one door was left at the end of the hall, but he was right. “Let’s go.”
“I’ll stay behind.” Joules dug through a filing cabinet. “Sniff around here some.”
“All right. Stay sharp.”
“Me javelins always are.”
Dieu aide-moi. The rest of us headed to the remaining door. It led to a stairwell, so down we went—into an area that slackened my jaw. “Kos didn’t overplay her hand.”
Crates of weapons and ammunition were stacked with military precision, each group labeled. Racks of shining guns stood ready for action. We found tactical riot gear and comms equipment so high-tech they made Death’s look outdated.
Sol turned in a circle, beaming. “Our new lair is apocalypse-proof—and Batman-approved.”
Kentarch slid me a look of respect, but I hadn’t done this alone. We’d all fought to make it here.
Gabe inhaled deeply. “I don’t scent anyone.”
“Let’s separate and clear the area just in case.” As we explored, I realized this hangar must be heated geothermally. The floors were warm, the air downright toasty. I also found valves for underground fuel tanks. All full.
I called, “Clear.”
The guys echoed the word from every corner. Even Joules would have to say no strings were attached.
When we met back at the stairs, Kentarch said, “I found four antiaircraft rocket launchers that are reloadable and self-cooling—so advanced they weren’t available to most military. There are crates of munitions. If we have to hit Fortune and the Emperor a hundred times each, those would do it.”
Sol punched my shoulder. “Not bad for a little road trip. Looks like the hunter is outfitted to change the course of the world.”
“We will change it,” I corrected. “I say we divert half of those rockets to the castle, prepping both here and there for war.” Domīnija had wanted a bolt-hole. We could finally give him that.
Sol said, “If we brought in fertile dirt and seeds, I could grow crops in that windless valley.” He’d need to practice with his powers every day anyway. “We could maintain a goat or a cow from the castle.”
“Fresh milk?” Gabe’s eyes brightened, his appetite as strong as ever.
All my misgivings about the other things Kos had told me faded away. “I’ll call the Reaper, let him know—”
“Oi.” Joules stomped down the stairs. “Hold off on your victory lap, Cajun. Seems you weren’t tellin’ us everything.”
Merde.
“Like the fact that you’re a feckin’ Minor!”
Double merde.
“You forgot to tell us the Swords had been searchin’ for their missing Page Card!” He marched up to me and waved a piece of paper in my face.
It was titled Page of Swords Potentials and had a list of ten names. Right at the top: Jackson Daniel Deveaux, the Cajun General.
Someone had written in the margins: Built Fort Arcana. Seized command of the Azey. Presumed KIA in Emperor strike.
Before I could skim more than a couple of the other names, Joules yanked away the paper and showed it to the guys. Sol frowned. Kentarch remained cool. Gabe tilted his head, hawklike.
“Where’d you find that?” I asked.
“A lot of records in that office. Grand reading.”
Sol looked disappointed in me. “I thought we were all allies now. Why didn’t you tell us you might be a demigod?”
“We’re not . . . they’re not . . . Minors aren’t demigods. And I didn’t tell you ’cause you all kept yammering about not trusting them. Not a great time to be revealing that I might be one.”
“Might?” Kentarch said. “You didn’t see Kos’s tableau?”
“Minors doan have them. The only way for a Sword to confirm another was through touch, and I couldn’t take her hand.” I’d been tempted to, but she had refused: I’d rather you be alive and active in the fight than sure and dead.
Gabe asked, “Are you related to Kos? The Cups were blood-related, and the Pentacles looked as if they were as well.”
I shook my head. “The Swords weren’t kin. They sought out each other based on certain characteristics.”
Joules crossed his arms over his chest. “This I have to hear.”
Biting back my frustration, I said, “According to Kos, all of the Minors survived the Flash, either because they prepared, or because fate stepped in. So the Swords were looking for someone still kicking. He or she would be a leader of the people, and like the Chariot, they’d be talented with weapons. That’s one of the Swords’ powers.”