The Dark Calling (The Arcana Chronicles #5)(61)

“No choice but to push on,” Joules said. “We’re skint—out of grub and running on fumes.”

What else could we do? Despite the lure, my instinct told me to head toward the light. “Jack, that must be where Circe wanted us to go.” And she was our only lead to save Aric.

Jack read me so well. “So to spring Domīnija, I’m supposed to risk you and Tee? No way.”

Kentarch said, “If we get into trouble, I believe I’ve conserved enough strength to teleport us back to the mainland.”

Jack and I jerked our gazes at him.

“Eating does, in fact, fuel an Arcana’s replenishment.”

“Well, then, that changes things, non? I doan like to be last in line, me. What do you say, Kentarch? Want to see what this chariot can do?”

“Open it up, hunter.”

Jack glanced at me. “I know how you like to go fast.”

“Then kick her in the guts, Cajun.”

He slid a grin over at me, and I spied the resemblance between him and Brandon, his dead half brother. For a moment, I was transported a million years back to before the Flash. A sunny morning over a Louisiana road . . .

Jack floored it, kicking up rooster-tails of sand, bouncing our way into the rush. What prize were we all chasing?

After cutting off two drivers at once, he veered aggressively toward a third, who flinched away. He swerved around a stalled-out truck nearly as big as ours, then charged straight up a narrowing slot between two vehicles. We gained on the lead car, a souped-up buggy with oversize exhaust pipes.

Jack feinted left, then gunned it to the right, maneuvering around the buggy. We’d just passed it when our headlights illuminated a hand-painted sign: JUBILEE. All good things flow to us.

Joules leaned forward. “What’s that coming up?”

Through the fog, I spied a structure. I worked the spotlight higher and higher over a looming crush of shipping containers. In between them, sailboat masts jutted threateningly.

“It’s a giant wall,” Jack said. Torches lit a wide opening, with a pair of huge gates. “Guess we’re heading inside.”

With no idea what we’d find. As we neared the entrance, I muttered, “Please don’t let this be a cannibal trap.”

We zoomed through the gates. Ahead of us was a line of men, dressed in hazmat suits and aiming rifles at us.

“Jack!”

He slammed on the brakes. The vehicle skidded in the sand, stopping mere feet in front of the men. Yet they made no move, seemed more concerned with holding the line—against us. Each one wore a red armband. Designating a unit or something?

Another two dozen or so vehicles careened inside behind us as the gates began to swing closed. They slammed shut, blocking several other cars.

My anxiety ratcheted up. “This is some kind of trap.”

Yet the other new arrivals were celebrating, yelling. “We did it!” “We’re in!” “We beat the rush!”

Outside the wall, the excluded drivers honked and cursed. What would happen to them?

Everyone else began turning off their engines, so we did as well.

I squinted, trying to make out what lay beyond the cordon of guards through the drifting fog. “What do you think is back there?”

Jack rubbed his chin. “Something worth guarding. Check out those rifles. They’re fitted with bayonets. Saves bullets.” He gazed around, admiring the battlements. “We must be right at the trench. They built this stronghold on the edge of a drop-off, just like I built Fort Arcana.”

I jumped when a PA system crackled to life. A male announcer said, “Please remain in your vehicle. Quarantine begins now.”

My heart sank. “Quarantine?”

“We’ll be fine.” Jack said. “Any car carrying a plague victim probably would’ve been heading for the Sick House. Not here.” He patted my knee. “This is a good sign, peek?n. First place I’ve seen with an active containment zone. Maybe life is still possible out here. We’re in an actual settlement.”

Like the one we’d dreamed of building at Haven—at least, before the threat of snowmageddon. “How long will a quarantine last?”

“I’d guess a day or so.”

“And you think it’ll be safe and good inside this place?” What sort of leader would they have? A monster like the Lovers’ father? Or a militia man along the lines of Cou Rouge? A freak like the Hierophant with his cannibal miners?

All I knew about Jubilee’s leader? He likely wouldn’t be a great one.

“Non. I doan necessarily think that. But what if?”

A half dozen more hazmat men passed through the line of guards, heading toward the vehicles. They carried what looked like medical gear.

I frowned at them. “Do you think they’ll test for plague?”

Jack tensed in his seat. “Kentarch, nobody takes her blood, no.”

The Chariot put his hand on the truck, readying to teleport. “Understood.”

The men approached us, then walked right on by. I swiveled my head around to watch them stop at other vehicles, apparently at random, to take blood samples.

Joules huffed. “No one’s interested in us? Careful that I don’t feel slighted.”

“What good would random samples do?” Kentarch wondered. “Perhaps they possess some kind of new technology.”