“Kirin?” I smack him lightly on the cheek. “To quote a very wise woman, it’s called hope. And right now—”
“I’ll take that over freaking out like a little bitch any day,” Baz finishes up with a laugh of his own. She’d been talking tohimthat night—of course he remembers. Still smiling, he shakes his head and says, “All right, professor badass. You win. Let’s go get our woman.”
“Ah, one more thing.” I shoot him a glare that all but eradicates his smile. “That’sdoctorbadass to you.”
Twenty-Five
STEVIE
I wake up in darkness, my entire body burning with a pain so intense, it can only be magickal. Worse than any snake bite or scorpion sting, it feels like fire ants have invaded my bloodstream.
There’s no way I’m dead, though part of me wishes that was the case.
I’m lying on a hard slab, my arms and legs bound. The only sound is a dripping noise, like rain splashing into a bucket through a leaky roof.
Plonk… plonk… plonk…
I blink rapidly, desperate to get a read on something—anything—but there’s only blackness.
What the fuck happened?
I close my eyes again and take a deep breath, forcing my memories back to the surface.
Judgment… The Magician… incinerating my men…
It wasn’t real. So I jumped into the Void.
But… this isn’t the Void. Is it? Where is Jareth? Who the hell tied me down?
As soon as the thought enters my mind, some sort of window opens above me, letting in a swath of moonlight. Then, it starts to rain.
Tarot cards. Hundreds of them. They fall on me, landing on my body, on the stone slab around me, on the floor.
And they’re all the same.
The Magician.
“Come out and face me, you fucking coward!” I shout into the darkness. “You want my blood so badly, come and take it!”
I’m met only by my own voice, the echo like a mockery.
Come and take it… take it… take it…
The window overhead opens wider, letting in more light.
Slowly, the chamber comes into view. I’m in a cave, but it looks like someone lives here. There are animal skin rugs on the floor, crude shelves lined with old books, a small kitchen off to the side.
I see now that I’m dressed in another gothic gown—pure white, this time. On the shelves closest to me, black dahlias bloom in clay pots.
The scent of blood prickles the back of my nose. It smells near—verynear. I turn my head, trying to track the source of it.
From the corner of my eye, I spot a copper bowl on the floor to my right. The dripping sound comes into sharp relief, along with a piercing pain in my wrists.
It’smyblood I’m smelling. He’s draining me. It’s spilling from two deep puncture wounds in my wrists, collecting in a series of channels carved into the stone slab, ultimately spilling into the bowl beneath me.
“I hope your sacrificial altar is comfortable,” the monster says, finally stepping out from the shadows. He’s standing beside a low table that holds each one of the Arcana objects. “The dress isn’t my favorite, but you’ve ruined all the others.”
I suck in a cold breath. After all the illusions and games,thisfeels real. A sense of deep, unwavering dread pools in my stomach.
