The Dark Calling (The Arcana Chronicles #5)(83)

Should I try to attack an armed suit of Minors? One bullet could end my kid, and they had Jack as their hostage. I caught his gaze as he grappled to get free of those cuffs.

Lorraine told the King of Cups, “Kill her.”

Two words I’d never wanted to hear again. “You’re not allowed to harm me.”

“We have no choice,” Lorraine said. “You’re pregnant with an abomination!”

I didn’t necessarily disagree. But Tee was my abomination.

Squaring her shoulders, she said, “You broke the rules; you no longer deserve to be protected by them.”

I had broken the rules. I wasn’t supposed to be with Death. Or to defy the gods’ dictates. Or love two men at the same time.

The king raised his brows. “Make her a sacrifice?”

Before Lorraine could answer, I said, “You really want to go there?” I might not be the Empress I once was, but I still had powerful friends. “Circe is my child’s godmother. If you throw me in the trench, you’ll suffer her wrath.”

The Cups murmured as one, “Abysmal.”

“Take her to the mainland,” Lorraine told the king. “Quietly. Then return with her head.”

My slitted eyes took in the guards’ expressions. These men looked excited by the prospect of beheading a pregnant teenager.

My God, it was never going to stop. Just like Jack said—the monsters would keep coming. Richter, Zara, cannibals, the Sick House, another Hal and Stache. And I’d been battling them all with one hand tied behind my back.

Faced with these assholes, I came to a startling realization: I’d rather risk the toxic well.

Jack bit out, “Fight, Evie! You’ve got no choice.”

I agreed. The red witch stirred inside me and blinked open her eyes.

Lorraine commanded, “Shut him up!”

A guard launched another punch, but Jack kept yelling. “Rise up or die! The little doll’s got teeth!”

My claws dug into my palms, bloody crescents. My breaths came in shallow bursts. They’d beaten Jack, they’d torpedoed my hopes of saving Aric, and they planned to end me. A disgusting old Cup wanted to behead me on a dark shore.

Tee would be no more. The red witch bristled at the idea. Protect what’s yours . . . .

“I’ll bring you back, bébé. I’ll always bring you back.”

Glyphs sparked across my skin, my hair turning colors. I told Lorraine, “One last warning: let us go—or you’ll pay the price.”

“And doom the earth for all time? Never!”

Then it’s done. Before I could surrender to my rage, she gave some kind of signal.

“Evie, look out!”

I turned in time to catch a rifle butt with my face.





39





Dizziness . . . pain . . . Jack’s yells . . .

I couldn’t seem to raise my head—or wrap my battered mind around what was happening.

My forehead throbbed, yet my cheek and nose also tickled. Blood running down my face? Yes, my hair was wet with it.

Guards cuffed my wrists in front of me. Another sliced my arm, spilling more blood into an awaiting chalice. Were they replacing the one Lorraine had splashed over the wall or further weakening me for my execution?

As if from a great distance, I heard Jack bellowing that I couldn’t lose more blood.

When the King of Cups lifted me into his arms, Jack thrashed like a madman, so the guards beat him some more. He landed a vicious head-butt against one, but without his fists . . .

Lorraine glided over to me, her gown swishing. In a soothing tone, she said, “You shouldn’t take this personally, dear one. Just consider today a reverie. Surrender to the dream, and it will be over soon.”

All you have to do is surrender, Gran had told me, draw on your hatred and pain. Become her: the Empress you were meant to be. I twisted against the king’s grip.

“Calm yourself.” Lorraine’s blissed-out voice sharpened as she commanded her guards, “Shoot the Cajun.”

Jack suddenly went quiet.

Oh, hell no. I sank my teeth into the king’s wrist.

He tossed me away. “You bitch!”

I hit the bloody, wooden floor, and jerked my head up. A guard had his rifle aimed at Jack’s forehead.

“Evie.” We met gazes as the gun cocked.

Wooden floor. Wooden . . . With a shriek, I stabbed my claws into the floor and revived the boards. Shoots exploded upward across the room, impaling the Cups, stabbing limbs.

Shafts of wood immobilized each of them—just as I’d done to Cyclops back at the castle. Had some part of me wanted these Minors alive?

Jack alone was unharmed. He looked dumbfounded by my handiwork; he’d get over it.

Across the dance floor, the Cups were trapped upright like pinned butterflies, unable to raise or reach their weapons. They yelled in agony, struggling to get free, yet only injured themselves worse.

I used my claws to slice the cuffs off my wrists. Swiping blood-drenched hair from my face, I stumbled to my feet and stalked toward Lorraine.

She craned her head around to keep me in view, sniveling at my approach. “No, nooo!”

As I passed the other Cups, they spat blood, hissing that I was carrying an abomination. That I was condemning the world.