The Arcana Chronicles Book 3 - Page 54

He cannot answer me, his body strangled of air. Of life.

He is . . . dead.

Even as grief overwhelms me, a suspicion tries to force its way into my mind—

“Aric!” Across the hall, my mother sees her husband. She screams, her hands covering her rounding belly, instinctively shielding the babe they’ve so long wanted. She sways on her feet, her legs buckling.

I don’t think, just run for her. In a fraction of an instant, I’ve somehow crossed the distance. I reach her in time to catch her as she falls.

She shrieks at my touch.

“Mother? No, no, no!” Black lines fork out along her arm, emanating from my hand.

With a yell, I release my hold. As comprehension dawns, my heartbeat pounds in my ears like the G.o.ds’ thunder. The sickness is coming . . .

From me.

“Mother, fight this!”

Grueling pain has robbed her of breath, has twisted her lovely face. But I can read her dread. “A-Aric?” She too suspects me.

She writhes in agony—yet I cannot defend her, comfort her. “Please, stay with me!” My tears strike her cheek. That same light shines down on her face. “Fight, Mother. Fight for your babe. F-for me.”

She stares up at me, seeming mesmerized by my eyes—as her own grow sightless. Her life is done. She has pa.s.sed beyond.

My parents gone.

I’ve wrought my family’s destruction. Killed those I loved most, with my very touch.

My dark precipice has been reached. I throw back my head and roar as recognition takes hold.

I am Death. . . .

31

When I woke, muddy boots filled my vision. Jack?

“Get away from her, Reaper.” He was pointing a gun! “Or I’ll plug you.”

“Indeed?” Aric’s fingers stroked my cheek, smoothing away . . . tears?

I craned my head around. He sat beside me, and he didn’t stop caressing me—despite the threat.

I turned back to Jack. “Please, put that down.”

“My gun and your skull, Death. I warned you.” He faced me, his gray eyes crazed. “You slept with him?”

“What? No!” Okay, the scene looked bad.

Aric was shirtless, wearing only low-slung leather pants, his armor stacked against the wall. His glowing gaze was hooded with pleasure.

Voice relaxed, he asked, “Can you comprehend what it’s like to touch her after so long without? For this bliss, I’ll risk the bullet. I’ll take a bullet.”

When I jerked back from Aric, he tsked, as if to say, More’s the pity.

“Is this what you did at Death’s?” Jack demanded. “Let him touch your face, you? After you danced for him?”

“Just put down the gun, please.”

Stalemate. “Why didn’t you answer the radio?”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t hear anything.”

“Because I turned off the volume,” Aric said with a shrug. “The Empress needed to rest more than she needed to talk to you.”

“Jack, you’re scaring me. This looks much worse than it is.”

Precarious moments eked by before he lowered the pistol. “You’re right. I’m sorry, bébé.” He tucked the gun into his belt. It wasn’t one of the pair he’d left here. Had he carried a hidden pistol?

“She refuses both our advances, mortal.” Aric leaned his head back against the wall. “Until she sees her way clear to me.”

“Advances? You mean you messed with her head some more and reminded her of old games?”

“Not at all. I merely pointed out some of the countless ways I’m better for her than you are. Even you recognize this.” Aric rose with that supernatural speed, standing before Jack. “You keep going on about Stockholm syndrome—because you don’t want to consider the alternative: that she wishes to be with me. That she was genuinely happy with me.”

When Jack clenched his hands, I shot to my feet. “Don’t touch him!”

“Not goan to poison myself, no. Not when I have a future to look forward to.”

“Ah, yes, a new start with Selena. My wife and I extend our felicitations.”

Jack turned to me. “Evie, I can’t do this anymore! I have to know where we stand.”

Aric said, “In this, I agree.”

Both of them. Facing me. Expectantly.

For the first time they were juxtaposed with no obscuring armor. Jack had broader shoulders and thicker muscles, while Aric was leaner, tattooed, and a little taller. Both so handsome, I was spellbound just to watch them. Then they started up again.

“You think she’s goan to pick you over me? Imbécile!”

“I have no doubt in my mind.” Where was Aric’s unnerving confidence coming from? If his gift would skew my decision, then was there even a choice?

At that thought, my headache rebounded. “Maybe I won’t pick either of you! Maybe I’ll take Matthew, and we’ll go find my grandmother. By ourselves!” I rubbed my throbbing temples. “For now, can we just focus on Selena and the Lovers? I guarantee you I won’t be deciding anything about my future until I can take a second and think.”

“When we return the Archer to the outpost,” Aric said, “you’ll kindly give us your answer. The suitor you pa.s.s over will leave you alone.” He offered Jack his deadly hand. “Come, let’s shake on it.”

“Sheathe your G.o.dd.a.m.ned weapons, Reaper, or I’ll pull my own again.” He asked me, “You agree to this?”

“Yes, I’ll give you my answer then. But you should know: my decision isn’t just between you two. I have other choices. And when you both act like this, my other options look better and better.”

“Noted.” Was Aric patronizing me? “Now I find myself particularly motivated to find the Archer.”

Finally, he was getting his head in the game! I turned to Jack. “Have the dissenters seen Selena? Is she safe?”

“No one in Azey North has seen her. She’s not there.”

“The Lovers lied to us.” Shocking.

“Milovníci’s in camp, with a pair of twins, but I doan know if they’re the real deal or not.” Jack absently rubbed his bandage. How badly he must want to face them, to make them pay.

“They’re not the source twins,” Aric said. “Which makes sense. If I had the Lovers’ power, I would station myself in some unreachable location and let my carnates do all the work for me.”

“How do you know for sure?” I asked.