The Dark Calling (The Arcana Chronicles #5)(65)

Kentarch had shaken his head firmly. “I need to own it, so I can offer it as a reward for information leading me to Issa.”

Jack had opened his mouth to argue, but surprisingly, he’d backed off.

Another gust hit. I squeezed my eyes shut. Would we be blown right into the trench?

Think of something else. I laid my hands on my belly, but quickly drew them away. This pregnancy was no comfort. The opposite of.

Even over the winds, I heard Joules’s soft snores. Were Jack and Kentarch asleep as well? The guys had cots on the other end of the container, giving me the pallet behind a curtain on this end.

When the tin-can salesman—a Ciborium guard—had shown us this place, he’d asked the guys, “Is she with all of you?” We’d learned that four usually lived in one of these containers, a wife and husbands—plural. Because Jubilee encouraged females to marry a minimum of three.

While Jack had been momentarily stumped by the man’s question and Kentarch incredulous, Joules had snorted. “Sounds right.” Dick.

Before leaving, our salesman had advanced the guys gear for the trench—waterproof coveralls, performance boots and gloves, neon quilted parkas, and miners’ helmets—against their future finds.

The Ciborium company store demanded eighty percent of everything workers salvaged.

We’d also received a few boxes of macaroni and cheese, since Lorraine insisted that all newcomers got a meal advance. This was the first time since the Flash that any stranger had offered up food—other than human flesh or the poisoned fare the Hermit had plied me with.

I’d been suspicious—was this a feast when our stomachs cleave?—but nothing bad had happened.

The tin can came with some cookware and a potbellied stove with enough busted-up wooden crates to start a fire for boiling water. Jack had helped me prepare the food, giving me more from his share. As usual. I’d been about to protest, but he’d glanced at my stomach and said, “Tee needs it more than I do.”

Another gust rocked the container. I turned on my side, then to my other. Anxiety bubbled up inside me. Finally, I whispered, “Jack?”

The curtain drew back at once. “I’m here.” He’d just been waiting there? “I’d hoped you were sleeping through this.” Shirtless and barefoot, he wore only a low-slung pair of jeans and his rosary.

I held out my hand for him. He closed the curtain behind him, then lay beside me on the pallet. Even in the low firelight of the stove, I could make out the new scar on his chest. The last time I’d seen him without a shirt, he’d just taken Aric’s advice to sear the Lovers’ mark, obscuring it.

I reached forward to touch the scar. “This healed well.”

“Put it with my collection.” He sighed. “Might as well get this over with.” He turned to reveal raised scars across his back.

I stifled a gasp, unable to imagine that pain. Don’t cry, don’t cry. “What happened?” I traced one, making him shiver.

“I was a disobedient slave.”

Those slavers had whipped my Jack. I balled my fists, my claws sharpening.

“They made a mess of me, non?” In a gruff tone, he said, “Not like you’re used to with perfect Death?”

“He has scars as well. He’s not perfect. Besides, do you think I give a damn about scars when you’re alive?”

The winds howled, shifting the container stack once more. Jack faced me, noting my wary gaze. “I’m goan to get us a better place soon.” In Jubilee, you didn’t work your way up, but down.

“I’m grateful to have a roof over our heads and food. Thank you for getting us here.”

“You deserve more.” Shadows crossed his expression as he said, “When Domīnija told me how you were ‘indulged’ in every way at that castle, I wanted to throat-punch him—because we all knew I could never provide the life that he could. I’ll never be able to spoil you like you were used to. You were raised to expect better.”

“Jack, that’s not me anymore. That’s not anyone now,” I said, though I thought Lorraine was doing pretty well for herself inside her megayacht. “Let’s focus on what we’ve got right now.”

“Not my nature, me. I need to be thinking about the long game. Need to be working toward something. At least we could kill it at salvage here.”

When Lorraine had explained that they had more bounty than hands to harvest it, she’d been a touch disingenuous. We’d found out there’d been a Rift, what the locals called mass deaths when the pile of ships moved, trapping salvagers beneath the surface. That was why the Ciborium had sent a flare to call others to the new coast.

Jack was heading into danger tomorrow, and nothing I’d said could dissuade him.

I tried to look on the bright side of Jubilee. No one forced folks into the trench. Lorraine’s armband patrol kept order. With her plank, she was a ruthlessly effective leader.

So why did my intuition tell me she was a threat? Or was that my paranoia, born from bitter experience?

Echoing my misgivings, the wind blasted over this metal box, sounding like the scream of that condemned man.

When I shuddered, Jack pulled the blanket up higher around me. “Doan be scared. I’ve got you.”

I loved it when he said that, but . . . “I can’t help it. Even if it’s not the wind and this strange place, it’s the future.” I burrowed into the blanket. “Though I wish I was fearless, I’m not. I still get afraid.”