Arcana Rising (The Arcana Chronicles #4)(27)

A sudden thought occurred. “Lark, where are the clothes I was wearing?”

“Dunno. Paul probably burned them. They looked like you got dunked in Ragu or something—”

“There was a ribbon in my pocket.” My last physical tie to Jack. “Please find it! Please!”

“I’ll try.” Cocking her head, she muttered, “I hear your grandmother coming. Gotta scram. I’ll check back in later.”

I had so many more questions, but Lark slipped out.

Aric entered with Gran, helping her along with his gloved hands.

She looked so different from the last time I’d seen her. Her face was worn, and her hair had grayed even more. She’d lost a lot of weight, and her dark brown eyes no longer twinkled.

“Evie!” she cried, limping to my bed. She wrapped her thin arms around me.

I returned her hug. “Gran.” Her scent cast my mind back to my childhood, bringing on a rush of memories: Her pushing me on the swing at Haven. . . . Gran and Mom laughing when a duckling chased me. . . . Gran teaching me how to tend her beloved rose garden; the soil had been so warm. . . .

I’d waited through nine years and an apocalypse to see her again.

Over her shoulder, I caught Aric’s gaze. He stood in the doorway, his bearing tense. Hadn’t I heard strained exchanges between them? I couldn’t remember. I mouthed Thank you to him.

Curt nod.

Gran drew back and sat on the bed. “Look at you! You’re all grown up. And so beautiful.” Her words did sound slurred. “I was so worried when I first saw you.” Was one corner of her lips turned down?

“Are you okay, Gran?”

“I’ll be fine. We need to focus on you. We have so much to catch up on.”

When I thought of all the things we needed to talk about—Mom’s death, the destruction of Haven, my relationship with Death—exhaustion swept over me.

I looked to Aric for support, but he was gone.

“Lord, you can barely keep your eyes open.” She clucked her tongue and tucked the blanket around me. “I’m here, watching over you. We’ll figure everything out. For now, you’ve got to regain your strength. Get some sleep, Evie.”

I needed to be doing so many things other than sleeping. Such as plotting the Emperor’s grisly death.

Still, my lids slid closed. “Just for a minute. . . .”





18


Day 424 A.F.





Gran sat on the edge of the bed, brushing my hair. She chattered about the food here and the worsening weather—any topic except those we needed to speak about.

When I’d awakened around dinnertime, she had been beside me—not Aric. But, as promised, he’d filled the room with plants and sunlamps, and moved my clothes to the closet.

Gran had brought me a tray with soup, then she’d helped me take a bath and get dressed. She’d murmured, “Such pretty clothes Death has provided for you.” But she hadn’t sounded approving.

Now she laid aside the brush with a labored breath. “I’m plumb wore out.”

I turned to face her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She smoothed her gray hair, the length caught up in a careless bun. “Worry’s kept me from sleeping. But you’re on the mend now.”

Slowly. “And you?”

“I’ll be right as rain soon enough.” Had she averted her eyes?

“Gran, how did you survive the Flash?”

“My facility was old, so there was an actual bomb shelter. I sensed something coming and headed down. I was the only one to make it, which meant I had food and supplies aplenty.”

Everyone had told me she would never survive this long, but I’d believed. “I tried to reach you.”

“I knew you would, which is why I stayed put,” she said. “I figured the one thing stronger than my desire to return to Haven would be Karen’s strength of will to reunite with me—once she realized I’d been right.” Gran’s dark eyes glinted. “Death told me she . . . died a few months ago.”

Gran already knew; she wouldn’t have rested until she’d found out Mom’s fate. “She regretted not believing you. It tore at her.”

“I hate that she was hurting from it.”

I took her hand. Her grip felt weak, her bones brittle. “About Haven . . .”

“Was the house hurt on Day Zero? I thought for sure the oaks would protect it.”

“They did.” Those twelve mighty oaks had given their lives. “Months after the Flash, the Lovers closed in with an army. I didn’t want them to have our home. So we, uh . . . we burned it down.”

“H-Haven’s . . . gone?”

“I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head. “No. Don’t be. From what I’ve heard, the Lovers were as evil as they’d ever been. I’d rather you destroy our home than let them have it.” She frowned. “You said we burned it.”

“Jack and I.” Just saying his name tested my tourniquet. “He was a bayou boy I met in school. He saved me from the Lovers, and about a dozen other times.”

Her perceptive gaze flicked over my face. “You’re in love with him?”

I nodded. “But he . . . died in the Emperor’s attack.”