Free Dead of Winter by Kresley Cole

eyes were just as Jack had once described: vacant, like a dead fish’s.
    Why weren’t they threatened by us? Why weren’t they trying to mesmerize us?
    Though fraternal twins, they were nearly identical, with their marblelike skin and sharpish features.
    Their clothing was all black, neatly pressed. Violet wore a cropped jacket and a skirt as full as a ball gown. A trench coat molded over Vincent’s tall muscular form.
    Expertly drawn eyeliner highlighted their lifeless eyes. Their nails were painted black, no chipping.
    Vain? Oh, yeah. They weren’t physically attractive, but they were faultless.
    They sported brass knuckles on their left hands, as well as a Goth-looking tattoo. In her right hand, Violet held what resembled a remote control.
    The twins finally turned to us. They stared at me with such intensity. As if seeing a ghost . . .
    â€œWe were wondering when you would arrive, Empress,” Vincent said. His voice carried a trace of some European accent.
    The Lovers’ tableau appeared over them, but the image differed from other Arcana’s. Theirs was upside down—reverse, perverse—and flickered like a bad copy. Because they shared it?
    â€œWhere is he?” Selena demanded from behind the gun barrel.
    I gazed around, saw trunks, tables, and one bed—because the twins shared it. No Jack.
    â€œYou’re just in time,” Violet told us. “Our knave refused to turn the crank.” With a swish of her overblown skirts, she stepped aside, drawing back one last partition to reveal—
    â€œJack!” He knelt with his hands tied and hung above his head, like the other man. He was shirtless, his torso covered with bruises. He seemed to be in and out of consciousness, trying to raise his lolling head.
    His arms were dislocated, the right side of his face bloodied. They’d been hitting him with the brass-knuckles on their left hands.
    I choked on a breath. That symbol had been branded into Jack’s chest, over his heart.
    The twins had met up—they’d started his torture. They’d burned the smooth skin that I’d sighed against and kissed.
    They’d branded my Jack.
    As I imagined that ungodly pain, my glyphs went ablaze, radiating through my clothes. Rage pumped inside me. My rose crown slithered around my head and neck as I grew stronger.
    These two Arcana were not just going to die; the red witch would make them die bloody.
    Selena was ice cold as she aimed her gun. “We’ll be taking him now.”
    â€œNotice something?” Violet grabbed Jack’s hair with her free hand. He didn’t react, now completely out. She yanked his head back, exposing a metal collar around his neck, with wires attached and a railroad spike jutting from the loop. “If anything happens to me and I release this pressure sensor”—she raised that remote control—“the hunter gets the spike. Then it’s game over.”
    Dread overran me, and I fought to rein in the witch, to call back my fury.
    â€œIf you want him to live, drop the gun, Archer.” Vincent motioned toward her weapon. “And kick it over here.”
    Outwardly cool, Selena complied. Then she eyed the twins with deadly intent, waiting for her opening.
    Vincent swooped up the gun, smiling at his sister. “It never fails. Control the beloved, control the lover.”
    Violet smiled back, releasing Jack. “We go into a person’s heart and see who it aches for. Then we enslave both lovers.”
    Vincent stowed the gun in his waistband, turning to me and Selena. “Imagine our surprise when we discovered the hunter loves the Empress. Could it be requited? We heard your call nearing and we knew—”
    â€œâ€”you were here to save him,” Violet continued seamlessly. “Our soldiers might have failed to seize you in the stone forest, but we forced you to come to us. We can control you utterly, because of how you feel