The falcon screeched and dove yet again. Zara snatched her pistol from her holster, trained her aim on the moving target, then fired. The falcon plummeted in a lifeless heap.

My eyes stung, but I reminded myself that the bird would regenerate.

“There. No more scouts.” Zara asked Sol, “Do your Baggers like poultry?”

“Bitch,” I sneered—or tried to. Only a wheeze crossed my lips.

Zara kicked my leg, asking Sol, “Is she contained?”

I couldn’t scream. Couldn’t die. I struggled to keep my eyes open.

“She’s been bitten enough.” Again, Sol didn’t sound proud or regretful. “She has tried to muster her powers, but can’t.”

Zara aimed her gun at my chest. “Just in case.” She fired.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Three shots—to the heart? I laughed at her, choking on blood. Bullets couldn’t hurt something that had already been destroyed.

“What a freak.” Zara holstered her weapon, shaking her head at me. “I can’t believe you have icons. The great Empress? You’re just a weak little girl.” She knelt beside me, pulling off one glove. “And you’re about to become a very unlucky one.” She reached for my face—

A wolf howled not far away, then another. Lark!

Zara shot to her feet, her gaze darting. “Fauna again?” She brandished her pistol once more, aiming it in all directions.

Sol nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Get the Empress and let’s go.” She hurried to the copter. “Come on, Sun, anda logo!”

When Sol waved his hand, one of the Bagmen grabbed my ankle and dragged me over the ground to the copter.

The Sun and Fortune were taking me to the Emperor.

14

As Sol strapped my limp body into a helicopter seat, he yelled to Zara, “We have to GO!” With another wave of his hand, he directed his pet Baggers into two more seats.

In the cockpit, Zara flipped switches and twisted dials. The engines roared louder. Wind swept through the open side door.

“Now, Zara!”

She answered with a spiel about “overtorque” and “max RPM” and “collective pitch,” ending with “asshole.”

She sounded like she knew what she was doing, and she certainly had Sol’s number. So this helicopter was a weapon for her. Part of Fortune’s Arcana arsenal.

Sol had just belted in Joe when she snapped, “Fuck it!” and pulled on some lever between her knees. We lurched into the air.

I slumped against my seat belt. Sol lunged to close the side door, but slipped over the metal-plated floor before he reached it. My blood and Bagger slime had slickened it.

He grabbed a handle for balance. Then his eyes went wide. “Oh, estoy jodido! Death’s riding for us!”

Aric? He was alive! With effort, I turned my lolling head. Death charged into the clearing on Thanatos. The warhorse had survived as well. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Thanatos bench-pressed three-eighty and swished his tail at floods.

Aric rode in with both swords raised, and my bullet-riddled heart wanted to beat for him.

But I’d led our enemies straight to him! I needed to warn him. Which meant escaping. Stay awake. Stay alert.

“Where’s the mounted gun?” Sol yelled to Zara, panic in his voice.

If a knight in black armor on a red-eyed steed charged for me, I’d be panicked too. In fact, I had been terrified when in his sights.

Now I was proud. Lark’s giant wolves sped forward to flank Aric.

“I told you,” Zara snapped. “The copter’s stripped!” Since the helicopter was Fortune’s weapon this game, she should’ve conserved her fuel.

The first law of an Arcana’s arsenal, Zara? Conserve, conserve, conserve.

She yelled, “Flare your rays!”

His eyes emitted light, a spotlight on Aric. I choked out: “Don’t.”

We seemed to hover in place for several moments. “Nada. Death’s still coming!” Sol’s beams faded. “I don’t think it works on him.”

“You’ve got Baggers nearby,” Zara said. “Use them.”

“On it.”

Damn it, I had to get off this helicopter. I could jump from the open door, if I could muster the strength to move my legs.

I summoned a single claw, nearly blacking out from the effort. When my vision cleared, Aric looked so far away on the ground. How high were we? I blinked—then again.

Behind him . . . thousands of Bagmen swarmed the field, sprinting after him.

Scarface charged ahead of Aric. With a spine-chilling growl, the wolf sprang for the copter . . . we were too high . . .

Caught us! We pitched sharply to the side. Another growl sounded from so close.

Zara screamed, “Porra!”

“The wolf’s latched onto the skids!” Sol was barely hanging on by that handle.

I clawed my seatbelt free. My body crumpled to the slimy floor. As the copter rolled sideways, I slid toward the open doorway, my head at the edge.

“No, pequeña!” Sol reached for me, struggling to keep his footing. “Estúpida!”

Scarface was just below me. I met gazes with him—and with Lark through her familiar. “Kill . . . them,” I choked out. “They’re coming . . . for you.”

The wolf thrashed its massive head, shaking the copter like a chew toy. Bea, never belted in, almost fell out of her seat. Sol scrambled for balance.