The Dark Calling (The Arcana Chronicles #5)(102)

Good for nothing—except making all my dreams come true.

“Under Paul’s influence, you would forget all the good. He would force you to dwell only on the negative, magnifying your bitterness.” I nudged Domīnija to take the bottle, and he drank. “Even after what I’d done in a far-distant past, the loved ones I’d wronged, I nearly repeated my sins on the one I love above all.”

“Evie told me what happened to your folks. You were close to them.”

Gazing out at the sphere, he said, “Very. I adored my mother, and my father was my best friend. I’d planned to take a wife, and thought their new babe would grow up with my own. Instead I killed them all in the most painful manner conceivable.”

“Wasn’t your fault.”

“And yet . . .” He still felt the anguish, would forever. I knew this because I’d forever feel it over ma mère.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Were you close to your mother?”

“As much as I could be. She didn’t make it easy toward the end.” Because she’d given up hope. If I couldn’t be with Evie, would I? “She told me the people of our family love only once. She loved and lost. Said it felt like something was missing from her chest every second of the day.”

“What happened to her?”

My hand went to my rosary. The Reaper had just admitted he’d killed his family. Could I be as forthcoming? Like the man had said: If you can’t speak your deeds, then don’t do them.

I snapped my fingers for the bottle. He handed it over, and I took a chug. “On Day Zero, I got separated from her. She was stuck in our old cabin. No protection from the Flash.”

The Reaper’s lips parted. “She was turned.”

I swallowed thickly. “Not a day later, she attacked Clotile, goan for my sister’s throat. Ma mère was so goddamned strong, so frenzied to drink. I . . . I struck her down. Me, raising a hand to my own mother. Chère défunte mère.”

“You had no choice. In any case, she was dead by the time you acted. The Sun Card might think differently, but these Bagmen will never return to how they were. I can sense death, and once the thirst for blood rises up in them, they are already gone.”

I eyed him over the rim of the bottle. “That true?”

“Yes. Deveaux, know this: your mother died in the Flash.”

My God, that relieved my mind. Another thing I owed Domīnija for. “Never told Evie that, no.”

“You should. She would understand.”

“It’s why I’ve killed so many of ’em.” I took another swig. “’Cause if I ever got turned, I’d want someone to take me out before I hurt anyone.” I handed him the bottle back, and we sat drinking until a few flurries drifted down.

“There’s something I’m curious about,” he said. “When it first started to snow, she would grow sad. It must have something to do with you.”

“The first time I saw snow was right before Richter attacked. She and I were talking on the two-way radio, and she could hear my excitement.”

“First time?” This must be odd for a man who hailed from the snowy north. “And what does this mean to her?” He pulled that red ribbon from his pocket.

Couldn’t take my eyes off it, me. “I gave it to her when the three of us were on the road to save Selena. Told Evie to return it to me when she’d chosen me for good.”

“I see.” He shuttered his expression, but I caught the glint of pain. “She’d intended to give it to you before the massacre. I took it from her drawer after she fled the castle, but I will return it to her.” He pocketed it.

“Hell, Reaper, she might give it to you. I saw the way the two of you were looking at each other when your kid was kicking away.”

“You say that just when I’ve decided I’m the interloper in her story with you.”

Seriously? I mulled that over for a moment, sighed. “We all have our curses. The people of my blood are cursed to love only once. You’re cursed never to touch any but one. And Evie? She’s cursed to love us both. She really does, you know.”

“She did. Before . . .”

“She still does.” Unfortunately. “You know, Evie and me were only together for one night. Took me nearly dying in the trench before anything happened between us. She didn’t want to give up on you.”

He tilted his head at me. “Why tell me this?”

“It proves her feelings for you never died.”

“Thank you. It helps.”

I gazed at the cabin, picturing her asleep. “She’s due on her birthday.”

“Just so,” Death murmured. “What if I hadn’t escaped the Hanged Man? Were you prepared to raise my son?”

“De bon c?ur.” Wholeheartedly. “I told Evie that you’d rather me keep her and raise your kid as my own than risk them at the castle. Was I wrong?”

He leveled his gaze at me. “You were not.”

Why’d he have to be so damned stand-up?

Straightening his shoulders, he said, “You’re a good man. I can think of no one better to be a father.”

Before I could ask what he’d meant by that, his eyes flickered to the sphere yet again.

“You keep looking at it, Reaper.” Making this Cajun nervous. “Where’s your head at?”