Endless Knight (The Arcana Chronicles) by Kresley Cole

“Why go back to another game? I’ve already hit my limit with dreams—with memories—of the red witch.” Or Phyta, or whoever.
    “ This Death first met you then.”
    “You mean Death in this reincarnation?” His present life had started thousands of years ago. I might have come back as three different Empresses since then, but he’d simply endured and survived year after year, game after game. “Okay, fine, so you want me to have these memories. Then why are you piecemealing this information, Matthew? Why not just give me all the memories?”
    “I did. Two games’ worth. Your mind resists. Dreams relent. Safety valve.”
    “Wait . . .” I was struggling to keep up physically—and topic-wise. “So I have all the memories from two games, I just have to dream them? Why can’t I see them all at once?”
    He gave me an indulgent look. “Then you’d be like me. Crazy. You are Death’s weakness.”
    “So you keep telling me. Does he happen to know my weaknesses?”
    “As well as his face in the mirror. Pay attention to your dreams. I’m in his pocket, so he’s in my eyes.”
    It wasn’t the first time Matthew had told me that, but I hadn’t understood him. Now I did. Death could see me through Matthew’s eyes, so he always knew what was happening with me. And though I didn’t understand how , Death could drop in on my thoughts at will. Our last exchange had been during this morning’s harried climb:
    —You deserve every second of this misery and fear, creature.—
    And you know where you can shove your scythe.
    It was one thing to have the others broadcasting in there, or to have silent conversations with Matthew. But Death poking around unnerved the hell out of me. “How can Death hear my thoughts?”
    “Through the switchboard.”
    Recalling Selena’s comments about Matthew jamming frequencies, I asked, “Do you consider our calls and thoughts frequencies?” I’d termed it Arcana Radio. Maybe it was really Arcana Switchboard. With a nervous laugh, I said, “You’re not the switchboard operator, are you?”
    As if talking to a child, he said, “I’m the Fool.”
    “Then how are we connected?”
    “Through me. The switchboard operator. The Fool is the Gamekeeper.”
    I sputtered, “But you told me that you weren’t . . .” I trailed off. He hadn’t actually denied it, had he? “So that’s one of your abilities?” No wonder he was so often confused.
    “ Respons ibility.”
    “You need to disconnect this circuit, Matthew!” I’d thought mind reading was simply one of Death’s powers. Then I recalled the Reaper once telling me, “Matto remembers his debts. He’ll show you to me. . . .”
    “Inside voices are important,” Matthew insisted.
    “Why would you allow him in my head?” I couldn’t comprehendthis. “A couple of weeks ago, he said something about you paying your debts?” Nothing. “Do you let him hear everyone’s thoughts?”
    “Death only wants yours. Death possessing Life. I’m in his pocket.”
    “So let me get this straight. You connect the Arcana calls. You let Death communicate with us all. And you allow him access to my brain alone—because of some debt?”
    Matthew offered me a charred pinecone.
    Patience! “You do understand that Death will always know what we’re planning.”
    “Doesn’t care about what we plan. No more than you would care what cannibal ants in mines plan. He laughs at our plans.”
    “I don’t want a killer like him in my head!”
    Matthew slowed, looking down at me with an expression that seemed far wiser than his years. “I do things for reasons.”
    Gaze darting, I said, “I’ve got to tell the others. This is a huge weakness! I can’t form an alliance against an enemy when he knows all our moves in advance.”
    “You feel his presence. Learn when he’s home. Death knew my gaze. Learn his.”
    “I can learn to tell when he’s snooping?” When Matthew had showed me that last vision of Death battling Joules