tone, “I did.”
23
The Hunter
“Coo-yôn?”
A light neared, getting brighter. A lantern? Shadows wavered over the rock walls. I raised a hand to my forehead, shielding my eyes. Hadn’t seen this much light in weeks.
I squinted. Blinked. Blinked again. The image remained.
Before me was two of . . . Matthew. “Hunter!”
“You a ghost? You goan to take me to hell?”
He frowned. “Do you know the way?”
Sounded like something he’d say! Could this truly be coo-yôn? My heart got to pounding—made my leg throb like the devil. “You real?”
In a too-loud voice, he said, “We’re leaving.”
“Shhh! You are real.” I choked out words: “Did Evie . . . d-did my girl . . . live?” I held my breath, waiting for his answer. The next few seconds would decide whether I hoped for a future—or accepted the end of a life that already felt too long.
Every moment of my existence seemed to lead up to this strange kid’s next words. All the pain. All the confusion. And then that sweet, sweet time when Evangeline Greene was all mine . . .
“Empress lived. Her smile died.”
“Ah, God, my girl’s alive.” Relief made me even more lightheaded. “Alive.” I shuddered, and my eyes grew damp. Couldn’t control my emotions, me. “How? I thought I got her killed like the rest.”
“Tredici saved her.”
“Tre-what?” Was he talking about Domīnija? I’d figured as much.
“Death!”
“Quiet, coo-yôn.” I slept apart from the other captives, but somebody would hear him before long. “I gotta get to Evie.” I tried to scramble up on my good leg. Only busted my ass.
Waves of dizziness hit. I had to gnash my teeth to keep from blacking out. “How’d you sneak past the guards?” Shackled slaves could move around down here at the terminus, but two armed guards kept anyone from getting near the mine elevator.
Coo-yôn shrugged. “Mad skillz.”
“Who’s with you? They comin’ in guns blazing?” I was going to get free of this hellhole! I’d get back to my girl.
He lowered his lantern. “I’m rogue.”
I tried sitting up again, slowly. “What’s that mean? Is Evie close?” God, let her be.
“I’m alone.”
The fuck? “No other Arcana with you? Then I’m trapped here. And soon you will be too if you doan go.” I sank back against the stone wall. “Tell her I love her. Tell her . . . tell her I’ll see her again. Somewhere, someway. Now leave!”
He shook his head and covered his lips with a forefinger. He was shushing me? After he’d been so loud? “Time for you to go.”
Started to ask him if he was crazy. Already knew the answer to that, me. “You must mean I’m about to die. You here to see me out?”
“To see you up.”
“You talking topside?” I squinted again. Was that blood on the backs of his hands?
Blood on his hands. Just like I had blood on mine. An army’s worth. “Why didn’t you warn me about Richter?” Jaw clenched, I grabbed the hem of his coat. “We lost Selena to that fils de pute. We lost an army.”
“I see far.”
“Goddamn it, why. Tell me you had a reason to let everyone die.”
“I had a reason.”
“More important than the future of mankind? ’Cause that’s what we were dealing with.” Maybe that attack had kept Richter from targeting even more people. Maybe the entire army would’ve gotten bonebreak fever and died in agony. “How can I trust you again?”
“Attempt escape, Hunter. Or be cut up for meat.”
Trusting him would be like playing Russian roulette with more than one bullet in the chamber.
He slanted his head. “It’s time for you to go. I thought you’d want to see her.”
“Of course I want to! Desperate to. But unless you got a hacksaw . . .” My blurry eyes tried to follow his movements.
From a backpack, coo-yôn produced a goddamned hacksaw! The Fool was saving my ass? The rescuer being rescued?
Dizziness had the mine spinning. I gave my head a hard shake. “Might pass out, coo-yôn. You got a plan to get us out of here?”
He knelt to saw. “No plan.”
Merde! “You ready to fight your way out of here, boy?” I asked, though he’d never lifted a finger to fight in the past. “If we doan win, they’re goan to catch us and lock you down here.”
When he peered up at me again, my blurred vision failed to place him for a second, almost as if I were seeing another face. Or a . . . mask. He didn’t look like the boy I’d spent months working beside.
Then he