Home > Dead of Winter (The Arcana Chronicles #3)(12)

Dead of Winter (The Arcana Chronicles #3)(12)
Author: Kresley Cole

As we waited, the World Card bit her fingernails and tapped one of her boots. To everyone else, she’d appear to be a two-hundred-pound soldier with a nervous disorder.

Selena slapped the girl’s hand. “At ease, Quintessence.”

“You could stay here,” I told Tess. “Keep watch or something.”

“She goes where I go,” Gabriel said. “And I’ve got the scent. Ladies, shall we rescue the hunter?”

8

The camp was like a ghost town. No soldiers roamed the grounds as we navigated our way through a maze of tents and lean-tos.

One large tent had light spilling from it, and male voices carried from within.

A middle-aged woman shuffled around a nearby cooking fire, ladling food into bowls. Her ankles were hobbled, her feet bare on the freezing ground.

A slave. Under General Milovníci’s orders, this army abducted females, “involuntary recruits.”

My nails lengthened, turning into purple thorn claws.

Selena must’ve noticed my tension. “Don’t even think about it. Stay focused on J.D. Once we free him, we’ll worry about these prisoners.”

With difficulty, I turned away from the woman.

Gabriel inhaled short bursts of air. “I scent Jack just around the corner of the ridge ahead. He’s in a tent that’s off by itself, a boon for us.”

Selena’s gaze swept the area. “Can you tell how many guards?”

“I think about twenty or so.”

I shoved up my sleeve to reach the glimmering spore glyph on my forearm. “Pull up your bandannas. It’s time.”

Once the others were ready, I drew from the glyph, filling my hand with a sleeping toxin. As we rounded the corner, I blew against my palm to spread the spores. Like starting a blaze from kindling.

Dozens of men guarded a gigantic tent. And they all wore . . .

Gas masks.

My invisible onslaught drifted harmlessly over them, carried off on the wind.

Tess gasped, muttering, “You can’t put them to sleep.”

“Keep it together!” Selena yanked down her bandanna, and the others did too.

Now what were we going to do? There was no reason for us—or the four soldiers we resembled—to be this far from the main camp.

“Gabriel, you’ll have to talk to them,” I whispered. “Tell them that Vincent sent for us.”

He called to the guards, “Greetings!” He might as well have said, “Hail, fellow, well met!”

I inwardly groaned. Tess gasped again.

“Vincent summoned us.”

A tall, lanky soldier, the apparent leader, said, “He told us he doesn’t want to be disturbed.” The man sounded creepy through his gas mask. “Not for any . . .” He trailed off, eyes going wide.

At Tess.

Her illusion flickered like an old TV, going from girl to burly soldier. Girl. Then soldier.

“Enemy in the camp!” one of the guards bellowed.

We whirled around and bolted. With yells, half of the men gave chase.

Gabriel spread his wings, snagging Selena.

“Don’t take me first!” She flailed against his grip. “They’re dead if we leave them!”

He shot into the air like a reverse bungee, arcing upward and away.

Tess and I kept running. Conjuring my powers on the move like this felt impossible. I needed time to concentrate and seed my arsenal. Or I needed the witch. . . .

If we could just buy time for Gabriel to return! The bluff dropped off at a sheer cliff, so I skirted the edge of it, heading down the mountain. “This way!” I cried, careening along a winding trail.

Down and down we went into a gully of rock, those guards right on our heels. At last, the gully opened up into an inlet, a sandy beach that led to the river’s shore. The Priestess’s domain.

—Terror from the abyss!—

Between breaths, Tess asked, “D-did you hear her, Evie?”

The guards barreled onto the beach, pinning us back against an Arcana. Would I rather be a captive of the Lovers? Or bet on the Priestess not to kill me if I trespassed into her element?

I’d choose the Lovers. “Stop, Tess. Don’t go any closer to the shore—”

A huge splash sounded behind us. We twisted around.

Towering plumes of water burst from the surface. Like tentacles, they snaked across the sand.

To drag Tess and me down.

We ran toward the dumbstruck soldiers, but those tentacles focused on me. Wet pressure coiled around one of my boots! Caught!

Yank. I landed flat on my face, spitting a mouthful of sand, half-blinded by grit.

The thing jerked me toward the river, my body plowing the beach. I scrabbled for purchase, but the tentacle reeled me in like a fish.

Tess lunged forward to grab my hand. I stretched for her. Every time she got close, the tentacle snatched me back.

As if playing with us.

A girl’s disembodied voice said, “Enemies almighty.” Was the river speaking? “I thought you’d give me more sport than this, Empress.”

Taunting me? On the heels of my failed rescue?

Fury banked inside me, like fuel—or bait—for the red witch. My glyphs stirred, my hair reddening. My claws dug into my palms until blood poured to seed my own soldiers.

I spat more sand. “Get out of the way, Tess!”

She scrambled back.

Vines erupted from the ground, shooting like rockets toward those tentacles. The ropes of green twined around each arm of water, choking them, forcing them to regrow.

Gabriel yelled from above. Returned!

But he couldn’t get around the vine and water strikes to reach me and Tess.

Wherever the Priestess launched a water tentacle, my plants were ready to intercept and strangle. My arsenal fed from hers, fattening right before my eyes, seeping water.

When the tentacle around my ankle collapsed into a puddle, I levered myself to my feet. Vines flanked me, helping me stand.

“Come, Priestess, touch.” I raised my palm, and three barbs appeared. “And pay my price!” I tossed the barbs into the air, and a thorn tornado spun to life.

The Priestess attacked once more, but the tornado sheared her water feelers down like a propeller. They grew slower, regenerating with difficulty. She was weakening!

I laughed at her. “The earth went so long without water, Priestess. You must still be feeling it.”

“Only for a time, my sister enemy.” Her watery voice carried a melodic accent. “Ah, this rain, it falls without cease, no?”

The weary tentacles dropped, a last splash in the river. A final wave rippled. “We’ll meet again, Empress.” The surface settled to glass calm as the Priestess retreated.

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