Dead of Winter (The Arcana Chronicles #3)(57)

Jack’s eyes had widened. “Part of me wants to punish you for all that. Part of me wants you to keep talking, keep digging your own grave with her.”

Aric exhaled wearily. “You’ve yet to understand what the truth is.”

“And what’s that?”

“Any harm I do to my pursuit of her is offset by my honesty. The Empress can handle anything but deception—because she must always know where she stands. She’s been like that since the beginning of time.”

He was right. I could handle losing some of my arm better than I could Jack’s lies to me: “No secrets. Except for how bad I want you.”

Jack wasn’t deterred. “Truth? Like how you told her about her mother—out of context? Bet you couldn’t wait to tell her that.”

“He didn’t, not for months,” I said. “And only when I put pressure on him.”

Aric moved in closer to me. “Had I done the same to her mother—and I would have without hesitation—the Empress would’ve heard of it firsthand.” In a tone as old as ages, Death said, “Mortal, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years, it’s this: lies are curses you place on yourself.”

My lips parted. In that moment, I remembered why I’d started falling in love with Aric.

Inner shake. If only he’d learned in all his years not to coerce women into sex.

As if he’d read my mind (though I hadn’t felt his presence there), Aric asked Jack, “Do you know why she left me that night?”

“To rescue me!”

“I told her I could easily free you if she slept with me. I pushed her, and instead of surrendering to me, she drugged me to escape. So if you think I could ever get that woman to do something she truly doesn’t want to, you’re as mistaken about her as I was.”

Jack appeared to be grinding his molars. “And you tell me this too?”

“I take no actions that I wouldn’t publicly recount. If you can’t speak your deeds, then don’t do them.”

If Jack’s bravery was like a living thing inside him, Aric’s wisdom radiated from him.

Jack clearly didn’t know what to make of Death—an uncommon situation for the perceptive Cajun. Since Jack’s go-to response tended to be pure anger, with a side of action, I needed to defuse this.

“Look, guys, can we just secure the place? I’m exhausted.”

I must’ve sounded as tired as I was because Jack nodded. “Ouais. Come on, bébé.”

At the back of the laundry room was a door. A ring of keys hung from a wall peg beside it. They looked like old-timey jailor keys.

Jack raised his bow and flipped on all the light switches. “Stay back.”

Aric unsheathed one of his swords, tugging me behind him.

When Jack opened the door, fluorescent bulbs sparked to life in the freezing garage, illuminating the space.

I peeked around Aric. “Oh, my God. . . .”





28


“Must be twenty of them.” Jack lowered his bow.

Half-dressed men, all shivering.

Aric sheathed his sword. “They’re secured.” The prisoners had been shackled by the ankles to separate bolts.

“Secured?” I whispered. “Aren’t we going to free them?”

Both Jack and Aric shook their heads, then seemed annoyed that they’d agreed with each other.

“Just ’cause they got caught by slavers doan mean they’re innocent,” Jack said. “They could be rival slavers, murderers, rapists. They doan need to have filed teeth to be cannibals.”

Some of the men cast me unsettling stares. One ran his hand over his crotch as he ogled me. Ugh!

I’d so long equated shackled person with good person that I’d had a misguided impulse to help them.

A younger man among them told Jack, “I’m Rodrigo Vasquez. Franklin sent me a message, said I was supposed to meet you on the road.” The guy had dark hair even longer than Gabriel’s and deep brown eyes. Cute. And a friendly? “I got trapped instead.”

Jack snagged the key ring, then made his way to the prisoner. “You got something else to tell me?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Rodrigo rattled off a string of numbers and letters.

They had a code?

Jack unlocked him. “Go scavenge clothes and your gear. Radio your people. Tell them I’m ready to meet.” The co-conspirators. His plan was coming online!

That dream of him was still fresh in my mind. I’d wondered why Matthew had given me such a specific vision. Maybe it had something do with Jack becoming a leader, hinting about his future, of things to come.

No man could be more driven to make something of himself.

As Rodrigo eased past me and Aric into the house, he swallowed audibly.

Aric sighed. —You’d think after two thousand years, I’d be accustomed to looks of fear.—

To the rest of the men, Jack said, “We woan kill any of you, if you cooperate. Goan to ask you some questions.”

“You’re the hunter!” an emaciated man exclaimed. “From Cajun country. I’ve heard of you.”

Another guy said, “You killed a thousand Bagmen! With your bare hands.”

Jack was turning into a larger-than-life legend. He just needed a blue ox named Babe.