Arcana Rising (The Arcana Chronicles #4) - Kresley Cole Page 0,1

tightened. I screamed when their grasping hands missed my face by inches. They snapped their teeth at me, desperate to bite.

To drink my blood.

For so long we’d thought they craved liquid in any form. All this water around them, and what they truly preferred was inside me. Bloodlust.

I was prepared to die. Not to be transformed into a Bagger.

The whirlpool spun faster, faster. Ever closer to them. Closer . . . One snatched my jacket!

I kicked, breaking its grip. The next rotation would be my last—

We drifted apart, the vortex weakening. How? The current swept us toward a church bell tower, the water dividing around it. Survivors, three men, clung to the tower. The bells rang in the night.

The Baggers went right of the steeple; I shot left, struggling toward it with one arm. Can’t catch hold! One man held out his hand for me. I screamed as my claws scrabbled across the slate roof.

Adrift. In time, the current quickened again. A mountain loomed. Instead of parting to the sides, the current rushed straight for the center. Would I be bashed against the side?

My eyes widened when I saw the path of the water drop—into a tunnel. I was heading right for it!

Seconds later, I was swept down into that pitch darkness. Total black. Can’t see, can’t see! I kicked to keep my head above the surface. For air—and to hear.

Wails echoed off the tunnel walls. I jerked my head around, unable to pinpoint the sounds. Debris battered me. Things moved against my legs. Were Bagmen below me as well? I whimpered at the thought.

I bumped into something afloat. With a cry, I latched on to it with my remaining arm. I clung, bobbing like a cork. My skin was so numb I couldn’t tell what it was.

The blackness lightened to murk, and rain drummed my head again. Out of the tunnel!

I blinked at my raft. Blinked again. A skull-and-bones tattoo? A bloated belly. I was clinging to a headless, limbless body.

“Ahhh!” I flailed away, but it seemed to follow me. I kept my eyes on that corpse as it floated alongside me for what might have been days—

I collided with something hard. Metal gouged my skin. I craned my head up: a cell tower! The current trapped me against the structure, pinning my back and arm.

I couldn’t move. A pinned insect. The tower groaned in the waves, swaying.

More Bagmen sped toward me. I was completely vulnerable, laid out for a bite. If they turned me into a zombie, would I float forever?

Maybe that was how the game would be won. By an Arcana who would never quite die.

The Baggers thrashed to reach me, pale eyes frenzied. The flood defended me for once, sweeping them away like twigs.

Ah, God, a house rushed toward me. Adrenaline flared; I gritted my teeth and somehow twisted my body to face the tower. With one arm, I climbed the service ladder.

I imagined Jack climbing out of that lake of lava unharmed. We would both reach the top. He’d be waiting for me there, offering his strong hand and his heartbreaking smile. Missed you, bébé.

Another rung higher. Memories surged like Circe’s wave. Agony ripped at my chest as I recalled my last words with Jack. He and I had marveled at the snow. At tiny drifts of falling white.

Another rung. The house bore down on me . . .

It passed the swaying tower within inches. I wouldn’t be so lucky next time.

Lucky? I laughed into the wind.

At the gusty top of the tower, I coiled my arm around the ladder and laughed till I sobbed.

Jack is dead.


Day 385 A.F.?


My eyes shot open, my shaking arm tightening around a ladder rung. Tess had the power to go back in time!

Jack might be dead. He didn’t have to stay that way.

She and I had saved his sight by reversing time; we could save his life! And Selena’s. We could save Jack’s entire Azey army. I just had to reach Tess.

She, Gabriel, and Joules had been a couple of days out of Fort Arcana. The three would have heard the attack, would’ve returned.

I had to get back there. How? I didn’t know its location—or my own. I believed the fort was in northern Tennessee. Or Kentucky. Ish.

The storm had dwindled, the winds not as fierce, and the water had receded until the depth looked to be no more than a few feet. Which meant I teetered a hundred feet in the air.

From this height, I craned my head