The Dark Calling (The Arcana Chronicles #5)(22)

“You are the one who had to convince me I was knocked up! I didn’t want to believe. But I accepted it. We both did.”

“A lie is a curse you place on yourself. Now it’s time for you to pay for yours.”

Nothing I could say would sway Aric. I whirled around, running full-out. Desperation spurred my powers, and I put up wall after wall of thorns, like rows of barbed wire.

His swords slashed through the blockade as he forced his way forward. He knew how much that would hurt me, but still he cut.

A nightmare greeted me on the next flight of stairs. Hissing snakes coiled around the banister and poured down the steps. With a shudder, I charged into that gauntlet.

Fangs jabbed my boots as I leapt and dodged. From the handrail, snakes struck my arms, ripping my thick jacket. Tufts of down wafted in the air. “Lark, enough!” Pain shot through my hand. Oh, shit! One had gotten me. Was it venomous?

I’d be immune, but would this kid?

On the third-floor landing, I chanced a look back at Death. I saw no hesitation in him as he annihilated my defenses.

Where to run? There was a tower similar to mine in this wing. Maybe I could reinforce the door with vines.

I staggered up the last flight of stairs, then locked the door behind me.

Struggling to concentrate over all the sounds—Death’s spurs, the animal calls, Lark’s wails, that ominous cracking of ice—I managed a couple of vines to create another barricade.

The windows in this room had latches, unlike the sealed ones in my tower. But then, Aric had never intended to imprison anyone in here.

I opened a window, wincing against a gust. I gazed out with watering eyes. The mass of river ice had buckled into gigantic white shards. It looked like the earth had fangs.

Paul’s yellow dome had spread down the mountain to capture Circe’s river and my thorns. Maybe the Priestess wouldn’t be touched by his influence. Her mind and body weren’t actually here.

I peered down at the long drop. Normally, I wouldn’t even think—would just jump. If I could regenerate from a fall out of a helicopter while Bagman contagion fouled my blood, I could regenerate from anything.

But the kid . . .

Ice coated the slippery shale roof, the tiles glistening in the continual lightning. I’d grown rose vines on the other side of the castle, but they’d been frozen in the storm. I called on them to spread across the roof. Sluggish to respond, they needed me to rejuvenate them.

But I had nothing left in me, no way to fuel them.

Aric gave a yell; I whirled around to see a sword tip breach my vines. He was slicing through the door and my barricade as though through paper. “You will pay, Empress.” He kicked the remains of the door open. “Pay for making me believe.”

Heart pounding, I climbed up onto the windowsill. Another gust nearly knocked me back into the room. “We love each other, Aric! Shake off Paul’s power.”

Swords raised, he stalked closer—an assassin in black, with one target. The eerie sound of those spurs was about to drive me crazy!

I swallowed and stepped outside. Balancing my boots on the slick roof, I inched away from the window. Despite my coat, the cold punched the breath from my lungs.

Dizziness surged as I craned my head up. The only place left for me to climb was to the pinnacle of the castle.

I looked back over my shoulder. Aric leaned out the window, eyes enraged. He offered a hand to coax me closer, so he could strike.

I’d experienced his fury in the past, but this was different. Before, even when I’d been his prisoner, his gaze had betrayed longing. Now there was nothing but rage. He looked crazed with it.

Tears welled. “Please, come back to me, Aric. I’m wearing your mother’s ring.”

“And I will rip it off your cold dead finger—just as I collected that choker off your headless neck.”

I nearly vomited. “You will regret this for eternity. You killed your mother when she was pregnant. Now you’ll kill your wife and child.”

He hesitated for a split second. Battling Paul’s influence?

“Yes, Aric, fight him! Paul’s the Traitor.”

But the reversal was too strong. Aric’s mistrust and bitterness won out. “Speaking of rings.” He sheathed his swords, then removed one gauntlet. He tore off the wedding band I’d made him. “I forsake you, Empress.” He raised his fist.

I whispered, “Don’t do it.”

He used his ungodly strength to crush that ring. When he opened his hand, black dust scattered on the wind. His hatred was stronger even than the wood of life. “You’re next, Empress. You’ve got nowhere to go.”

A raven dive-bombed right for me! “No!” A vine shot from my palm to deflect it. The bird crashed beside me, breaking the shale tile, its head exploding. Brain and skull bits spattered my face. “Damn it, Lark!”

A second bird dove for me. I blocked with vines, but another followed it. This can’t be happening. By the staccato glow of lightning, I saw a black swarm closing in. Bats.

They teemed around me, tearing at my hair, clawing at my face. “Oh, God, oh, God!” My footing shifted, sending me off balance.

I pinwheeled my arms. Teetering, teetering . . .

Over the winds, I heard a shrill whistle. A figure swooped down from the clouds. “Gabriel!” He was heading for me—right into Paul’s yellow haze.