The Dark Calling (The Arcana Chronicles #5)(96)

“Hey, now.” Jack hurried inside, striding between us. “Let’s save some fight for the days ahead.”

“Being in this place makes me remember things. Like licking an empty cat-food can while talking to him.” I pointed accusingly at Aric. “Or Kentarch trying to feed me his blood. I should’ve tried to drink it. If not for me, then for . . .” My voice cracked.

Was I even expecting a kid anymore? Just like that, I burst into tears.

Jack pulled me into his arms. I could feel him waving Death away behind my back.

In a rasp, Aric said, “Please forgive me.” His spurs were silent as he left the cave.





45


Death





I paced outside, sucking in lungfuls of air. The weight of a meteor rested on my chest. It must be that—my heart couldn’t pain me this much otherwise.

I could hear my wife sobbing in the mortal’s arms. Yet I could do nothing to comfort her. When we’d spoken on the phone, she’d predicted that the guilt would torture me.

It does.

I heard Deveaux murmur, “Shh, I got you.”

Fists clenched, I stared at the sky. She’d once told me that he used to say that to her. Jealousy warred with despondency.

“Bébé,” he continued in a hushed tone, “you might’ve caught a touch of PTSD. Not surprising, non? But remember, there’s nothing we can’t get through as long as we’re together.”

I flinched at that, cursing my enhanced hearing.

“Just breathe,” he told her. “That’s it, ma bonne fille.”

“I-I can’t do this anymore.”

“If you can’t be here, then let’s go. I’ll take you anywhere you want.” I half expected Deveaux to walk out and tell me the two of them were setting off: Au revoir, Reaper.

She cried, “Y-you know where I want to go. To confront Paul. You t-told me if I could show you some powers, you would support me. I killed all the Cups.” She cried harder at that.

How much more violence and grief could she be expected to suffer? I’d concluded that she’d been through too much trauma even before the Hanged Man had woven his insidious web.

He was my kill to make. And yet, I couldn’t. After being in control for millennia, I could do nothing but endure this misery, lest I get taken in by that sphere once more.

The mortal was right—I was the biggest threat to them.

“Shh, shh, calme-toi. You got to breathe.”

After all her trials, being near me while in that cave had pushed her past some limit that I’d never known existed.

She’d sent me awash in the scent of her deadly roses. Maybe she would poison me in my sleep. I deserved nothing less.

The day she’d fled the castle, I’d taken all of my rage combined through the ages, and I’d afflicted her with it.

Of my many past sins, that pained me most—and I’d been a murderous son. I put my head in my hands and squeezed.

So many sins. I’d left her unprotected against Ogen, her powers bound by the cilice. She’d nearly died in the grip of that devil—my ally! I’d kept Paul in the castle, despite her doubts, despite her pregnancy. While Deveaux kept trying to shoulder every burden for her, I’d let her grandmother’s killer live in our home.

I hadn’t trusted my wife’s judgment when she’d needed me most.

I gazed back at the cave where she’d nearly starved. On the phone, she’d pleaded with me to come home, and I’d laughed. Home? Do you mean my castle?

If Deveaux hadn’t come along, my wife and son would be dead. The babe might be even now. And how could she weather that? With me as a reminder of our bloody history? Or with Deveaux’s understanding?

What right did I have to her? What if this had always been her story with Jackson Deveaux, and I truly was the villain?





46


The Empress Day 585 A.F.





A blur of movement outside of the truck caught my eye just as Jack and Aric both tensed. I straightened in my seat between them. “What was that?”

We’d been riding in silence since we’d left the cave. I was mortified by my breakdown. I usually handled my business better than that. And what was the point of my fury? I couldn’t possibly punish Aric more than he was punishing himself.

He frowned, his eyes bloodshot. “A Bagman in a hurry.” I wondered when Aric had last slept.

Last night, even the fire hadn’t been enough to keep me warm, so Jack had climbed into my sleeping bag. I’d been dozing off when Aric had finally returned, hours after he’d left. Though nothing had happened between me and Jack, Aric had sat on the other side of the fire and met my gaze with pure anguish in his expression.

“Up ahead.” Jack grabbed his bow from the backseat. “Three o’clock.”

When Aric braked, I squinted into the snowy dark. Dozens of Bagmen swarmed along the roadside. Why had they gathered?

“My gods,” Aric muttered, just as I caught sight of their meal.

A white horse. Thanatos.

He lay on his side in the bloody snow—but was still moving!

Aric slammed the truck into park, then leaped out. He drew his swords with a yell. Metal flashed in the headlights; Bagger heads and entrails went flying.