The Dark Calling (The Arcana Chronicles #5)(74)

Jack leaned back in his chair. “Not happening.”

I raised my brows. “I don’t remember there being a question mark at the end of my statement, Jackson.”

“The men here are dangerous,” he said. “We didn’t want you to worry, but it’s not safe enough for you to walk around, much less mingle. And who knows what they’ll do if they see a pregnant woman?”

If I untucked my shirt, I didn’t look pregnant yet. “I was out for several hours today.”

Jack’s expression said, Dafuq?

“No one messed with me. Besides, if anyone tried to hurt me, then your adored Lorraine would make him walk the plank.”

Jack said, “The plank comes after somebody hurts you. You might regenerate, but will Tee?”

I turned to Kentarch. “If I work, you could search more.”

He’d shown around Issa’s picture, garnering some new leads. With each one, he would teleport away, often taking Joules with him.

Whenever the Chariot was here, he would pace well into the night. If he did sleep, he would call his wife’s name.

I told him, “I could monitor all the gossip, maybe even gather more leads.” And information on Lorraine. Damn it, something wasn’t right about her. Nobody could be that perfect after the Flash.

Kentarch put down his fork. “Now is as good a time as any to talk about the future. The Empress is right—I’m spending more time searching for food than for my wife.” In his quietly intense way, he said, “Everyone at this table has known loss. But I might be able to reverse mine, just as the Empress did with Jack. I don’t want to be disloyal or selfish, but you three must understand my situation.” He asked Joules, “What would you do to reunite with Calanthe?”

“Bloody anything. No offense, but if frying you blighters could bring her back, you’d be fricassee.”

In a dry tone, Kentarch said, “We each have our personal boundaries, no?” He turned to me. “In any case, how much longer can we wait for Circe? I haven’t wanted to add to your worries”—quick glance at Jack—“but we can’t continue like this indefinitely.”

As much as they tried to limit the pregnant chick’s stress, I still felt tons of it. “Circe’s reading every wall in her temple, all the fine print. That’s got to take time.” I told myself that over and over, but lately I’d begun to suspect she would never show, that her coffin of ice had closed over her forever.

Shouldn’t I start considering the possibility that we might be stuck here? I gazed at Jack. Should he have to live with a ghost between us?

Expression grave, Kentarch said, “How long, Empress?”

“What are our options? Take away the fact that you need Lark’s abilities, and I need to free Aric—we all need the resources at the castle.”

Kentarch drummed his five fingers on the table, clearly wanting to say more. Yet then he abruptly rose and took his plate to the dish bucket. Letting the subject drop, he said, “I have a lead I want to check out, but it will take some time, perhaps till morning. I will also stop by the castle.”

The Hanged Man’s influence continued to spread, like the plague. But Kentarch could find no discernible pattern of growth. Some nights Paul would gain an inch, other times a mile.

“I’ll come with.” Joules hopped up, leaving his plate on the table. Dick.

With a nod, Kentarch clasped Joules’s shoulder, and they disappeared.

Jack exhaled a breath. “We’re on borrowed time with the Chariot. As soon as he runs out of leads, he’s goan to head out.”

“We can’t lose him.” Another worry to put on the list.

“I understand where he’s coming from. When Matthew got me out of that mine, I would’ve done anything to see your face. ’Bout went crazy, me.”

I rose to put another piece of wood on the fire. Over my shoulder, I asked, “Then how could you decide to leave me behind forever?”

He crossed to stand behind me. “I was trying to protect you from a breakdown.” He turned me to face him. “Never doubt that I longed for a life with you.”

“And now? More than a month has passed since I found you, Jack. A month A.F. might as well be a year. We’ve been in limbo this entire time. You’re okay with that?”

“Hell no, I’m not okay. You know I want you for my own.” Lowering his voice, he rasped, “Corps et ame.” Body and soul. That combustible heat between us simmered. “But at the end of the world, the last thing you need is more pressure.”

“Maybe I want you to put pressure on me. If you believe Jubilee is such a great place—”

“I believe it’s a . . . place. It’s got possibility. You’ll have the midwife to help you with labor. You have food you can keep down. A warm place to sleep.” Jack ran his fingers through his hair. “What more do you want from me?”

“Limit your time salvaging.” Today when I’d explored Jubilee, I’d headed up to what the weeping bride had called the widow’s walk—the observation platform we’d first climbed to view the trench.

I’d stared down into that angry depth, sea foam gathering around my feet. Against the strength of those waves, the Jubileans’ network of welded passages and scaffolding had looked like gossamer. A spiderweb quaking before a hurricane.