The Dark Calling (The Arcana Chronicles #5)(8)

“But confusion on my part does?”

Changing the subject, Aric said, “Are we not to talk about our baby?”

“The li’l Bagger I’m carrying?” Sol had told me that his zombies transmitted a ‘radiation-based mutation.’ That couldn’t be good.

“Our child will be mortal or Arcana. No more, no less. I’ve lived a long time, and I feel that all will be well.” He reached for my belly. “I am asking you to trust me.”

I brushed his hand away. “You have lived a long time. You’ve garnered a lot of experience. But not in this area.” My head started to hurt. When would Matthew contact me again? Where are you?

For the hundredth time, I replayed my last exchange with him. Through our spotty telepathic link, he’d whispered in my mind . . . .

—Have a secret. He doesn’t want me to tell you.—

My nose had been bleeding, my temples pounding. I’d mentally shouted, Get out of my head, Fool! He’d killed me in the first game, and he’d let Jack die. How dare he contact me!

He’d told me to listen. Then I’d heard Jack’s voice: —“What kind of danger is she in? Damn it, tell me! What’s coming, coo-y?n?”—

I’d whimpered. Jack??? Is that you? He’d sounded so close. Though I’d called for them, no one had answered, and I’d blacked out.

Aric narrowed his amber eyes. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Until he trusted me and my memories, I wouldn’t tell him about the message. “You, Lark, and Paul keep talking about how mixed-up I was when Gran was dying, that my head must not have been right.”

“You’d suffered through so much, love.”

“During that exact time, I made a big decision—to be with you. To be your wife. Maybe I really was mixed-up. Maybe I shouldn’t have made any far-reaching decisions in that frame of mind.”

His lips parted. “Sievā . . .”

“We either trust both my memory and my judgment, or we distrust both. What will it be?” When he didn’t answer, I turned over on my side, giving him my back. “Jack would believe me.”

I could feel Aric’s gaze lingering on me. His troubled sigh made my chest tighten.





3


Day 514 A.F.





“A baby on the way—how delightful.” A stream of water had just slicked across the ceiling of the (plant) nursery, then descended in front of my face as a plume of liquid.

Circe.

I sat in a corner with greenery all around me. In my lap were my chronicles and the list of Gran’s statements. “Is nowhere off-limits to you?”

“Irrigation is my friend,” she all but purred from the water. “Such a week you’ve had, Evie Greene. In your bid to save the Magician, you were attacked by the Emperor and Lady Luck, then aided by the Sun. Upon your return, you discovered you’d been impregnated by Death. Yet there is contraceptive drama . . . . Did I miss anything?”

“I am not in the mood.” The breakfast I’d helped Lark prepare sat badly in my stomach. My cooking skills hadn’t improved with disuse.

For the past two days, I’d come down here to search for clues, practice with my powers—and get a break from Aric. This morning, he’d tried to ply me with vitamins.

Even with the sunlamps on high, I’d barely managed to germinate seeds. As my chaotic emotions all battled each other, fury and misery took the lead.

I was furious at Paul for being a devious liar—and at myself for getting played. I was furious that Aric didn’t trust me enough.

I was miserable not knowing whether Jack was alive. What if he’d somehow survived but he and Matthew were now in trouble? Had the Fool’s message to me been a garbled plea for help?

Before that contact, I hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, not since I’d read about his betrayal in the first game.

According to my chronicles, in the second game, he’d vowed never to win again if I would forgive him. I’d spared him, allying with him, while planning to poison him at a later date—just as I’d done with my other allies: Aric, Lark and Finn, the Lovers, and even Circe.

If my current allies could get over my vicious past, how could I hold Matthew’s against him? Apparently, I could forgive him for my murder—but not Jack’s.

Matthew, are you there? Answer me! Jack? Are you . . . alive?

Tears welled, so I turned away from the water plume. It slinked around to my other side. “Ugh! You’re like a spider dangling from a web.”

“If I’m Charlotte, that makes you Wilbur.” When I didn’t remark on that, she said, “Come now, chin up. This isn’t the end of the world. That already happened.” Though she sounded playful, a strain of fatigue marked her voice.

“You truly didn’t hear me talking about that shot with Paul?”

“No.” At my irritated look, she said, “I do have to sleep every now and then. And I monitor other bodies of water all over the world.”

“Have you seen Matthew or anyone else out in the Ash?” I was tempted to reveal that I’d heard them, but my same hesitation arose. Something told me that in the very near future I’d need all the credibility I could muster.

“I’ve seen no one. I would’ve told Death if I had.”