40

“PLANK, PLANK, PLANK!”

I blinked open my eyes, found myself kneeling beside Jack. Was he yelling at me? In my clenched fingers was a crimson-spattered noose. I could barely move my heavy limbs, drained by my power outlay.

“Jack?” My throat was on fire. From the red witch’s shrieks? Petals and razor-sharp thorns surrounded me like a victim outline.

“Snap out of this, Evie! They’re coming for us. Cut me loose.”

I leaned around him, slicing through his cuffs.

Jack pulled me close. “You back with me?”

I nodded against him, not sure of anything at all. “What happened?”

“We’ve got to go.” He pried my white-knuckled fingers from my new noose, taking the thin length from me to loop it around his waist. He zipped his coat over it.

I caught a glimpse of the dead Cups before Jack pinched my chin and drew my gaze away. “Doan look at that, peekôn.” He helped me stand.

“What did I do?” Everything was a blur.

“What you needed to.” We headed toward the exit. On the way, he seized a rifle from a fallen guard.

Outside, Jubileans clamored for the plank. “Lorraine’s dead!”

“All the Ciborium were murdered by the witch and that Cajun!”

“The criminals are still aboard.”

“Jack, what’s going on?”

“Somebody came in during . . . while you were . . .” As he tried to put my actions into words, I vaguely remembered someone rushing in, vomiting, then fleeing. “Doesn’t matter. They’ve broken into the arsenal. You got any more fight in you?”

A whimper left my lips.

“Afraid of that. Come on, you.” Rifle raised, he grabbed my hand and charged out of the ballroom.

We almost made it off the ship, but an armed mob blocked our way. “Plank! Plank! Plank!”

Jack aimed his gun from one to another.

I glanced over my shoulder. More Jubileans circled us from behind. “There’s too many of them.”

A tall, burly man took a step forward. Their new leader? Leveling a bayonet at us, Burly said, “Drop it, Cajun, or we shoot the witch in the face.”

“Putain.” After a hesitation, Jack laid down the rifle. “You’d kill a rare female?”

“After what she did in there?” Burly’s eyes held a mix of animosity—and fear. I was as good as dead in his mind. “For the murder of our queen and guard, you’ll both walk the plank. Or you’ll get stabbed to death.” He motioned with his bayonet. “You know the way.”

With frenzied grunts, the men prodded us. We had no choice but to stumble along, closer to our execution.

In French, Jack told me, “If we survive the fall, the cold will kill us in the blink of an eye.”

“Circe’s our only hope.” But how could she adjust the temperature of her element? She’d been unable to fight the ice at the castle.

The mob forced us out onto the foggy deck. In the freezing darkness, the plank loomed.

Both Jack and I stopped in our tracks.

I strained my voice to scream, “Circe!” Was she anywhere near us? Could she hear us down in her echoing abyss?

Burly snapped, “Shut up, witch.” He swung his bayonet at me, but Jack defended with his arm.

Slice. Blood poured.

“You’re goan to pay for that.”

“Save it, Cajun.”

Would they stab Jack’s stomach next? His heart? “I’d rather chance the water.” I shuffled out onto the plank, chancing a glance below. My breath caught in my throat. The trench was a hungry beast, awaiting its due.

Jack followed, keeping himself between me and those blades. “Doan go any farther, no.” He planted his boots. “If Circe is goan to save us again, now would be a mighty fine time.”

“CIRCE!” Fog banks swirled, obscuring my vision at intervals, but I thought I saw the water level rising? My imagination?

Jack peered back at me, and his solemn expression broke my heart. “Another adventure together, non?”

Now I knew we were about to die. “At least I’m with you.”

A thicker blanket of fog swept in until I could scarcely see Burly and his men. Shouts carried from the crowd below, followed by a sharp scream that ended abruptly. “What’s happening down there?”

“Maybe Kentarch and Joules came back.”

Burly ordered some men to investigate the commotion. Several hurried away, but he and three others remained focused on us. Bayonets breached that dense fog, slashing at Jack.

Another slice on his upper arm. Then his wrist. He held his ground, refusing to back up.

“You can’t take another stab!” I inched back, yanking on his hand. The plank teetered, making my stomach dip.

“Just hang on, you! Not another step.” He leaned forward, but it was a losing battle. “Putain!” The plank bounced up and down.

Up. Down. Up. Uuupppp—

The bayonets disappeared. Four loud thuds sounded. Had bodies just dropped to the deck?

Jack and I started sliding backward. We were looking up at the end of the plank—about to be dumped! “Jack!”

Over my scream came a stomping sound.

The plank stabilized! A metal boot was lodged atop the other end. Black metal.

Oh, dear God. I gazed up in dread.

The Grim Reaper loomed in the mist, clad in full armor, with both of his bloody swords drawn. His helmeted head turned, his gaze locked on me. The man who’d decapitated me twice had me in his sights once more.

Death has come to claim me . . . .