The Dark Calling (The Arcana Chronicles #5)

“Oh, I’m in,” Jack quickly said.

She pointed out, “You’d be going up against three powerful killers.”

“I’ve faced worse odds for a ton less upside. You were worried about me shooting your friends. I woan take a gun, will only be carrying swords and a noose. With that disguise, I can walk in and strangle the Hanged Man. Then Gabe and Lark woan be threats.”

She cast a glare from Jack to me. “The plan won’t work. If Lark’s awake, she’ll scent the difference. Gabriel could too.”

I said, “Not if they don’t get too close, and Jack is wearing my clothing underneath.”

“He would have to sound like you. And, Aric, you’ve already commented on—how should I put this?—his license with the English language.”

I’d said he slaughtered the English language anytime he attempted it.

Jack’s lips curled. “Now, how hard will it be to sound like an arrogant prick from Russia?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Latvia.”

“Come on, peek?n.” I loathed it when Deveaux called her that—because she clearly loved it. “I can learn a few short phrases to use and imitate his accent.”

She turned to me. “You sweetened the pot too much. He’s not going to be thinking straight. I’d rather take the risk myself. I want to reclaim the castle, then think about the future . . . .”

Jack and I both pressed our case to her, and half an hour of arguing ensued.

At length, she said, “Fine! I’ll agree to this—if I go as Jack’s prisoner. We’ll wrap the noose around my wrists, and he’ll lead me inside with it.”

“Bonne idée,” Jack said. I thought he was making a valiant effort not to crow with victory.

“Are you two happy?” A flash of something cunning crossed her blue eyes.

I suspected she had agreed to the battle strategy, but not my terms. No matter; if Jack succeeded, I would keep my word and forfeit my home.

Which meant that regardless of the day’s outcome, somehow I would be losing my wife for good.

“No time to waste.” Jack started unbuttoning his shirt. “Let’s do this.”

Though she’d seen both of us unclothed, she turned her back while we traded clothes.

But I hesitated to hand him the first piece of armor. “I have never—in two millennia—allowed another to wear this.”

“First time for everything. Come on!” He could barely contain his excitement. And why not? He’d be getting what he wanted most. The castle was icing on the cake.

Wearing Jack’s gloves, I helped him strap on the pieces.

“Damn, this metal’s light.” He pounded his gauntleted fists against his chest. “Are we pissing off some death deity with this stunt?” Jack knew I’d been divinely led to this suit by my god sponsor.

“Probably.”

When he dropped the visor down, I did a double take. I hadn’t gazed at my armored self in a mirror in ages. Was this what I looked like to others? No wonder everyone was terrified of me. Add in red-eyed Thanatos . . .

Then I recalled that my steed was dead. Turn your mind from that scene, from the guilt.

Jack asked me, “You never get, uh, claustrophobic in here?”

He had no idea. “Just try not to think about the decomposing corpse I scavenged the suit from.”

He muttered, “Beck moi tchew.” Bite my ass.

Reminded of his drawl, I said, “The Empress can talk over you, but you’ll need an approximation of my accent. Say the word silence as I might.”

“Saylanss.”

I stopped myself from cringing. “Enunciate the syllables, mortal.”

She added, “And sound more arrogant. As if you never make mistakes.” I stiffened at that, and she noticed. “I’m not giving commentary, but you do usually sound infallible.”

“Infallible?” Choking back my frustration, I managed a harsh laugh. “I killed my parents, my unborn sibling, and nearly my wife and son. Infallible and I aren’t in the same realm.” I regretted the words as soon as I’d uttered them. The Empress wasn’t the only one having difficulty governing her emotions.

She softly said, “Aric, don’t.”

Assuming a brisk demeanor, I said, “We’ll spend the next hour practicing some catchphrases. You can get used to the armor and the swords at the same time.”





Another mile beneath my boots. Wolves howled from the castle, preparing for a hunt. Still time! I powered up a mountain rise, fingers digging into the snow . . . .





Before she and Jack set off, I told him, “I am entrusting everything I love to you, mortal.” I would be doing something so much harder than riding in to save the day. I’d be letting go. Depending on another. A rival.

“And I’ll handle it, Reaper. But I want it noted that you once told me you’d never need my help.”

“I need it more than I’ve ever needed anything.”

With a nod, he continued to the truck, giving me a moment alone with my wife.

I told her, “Be your magnificent self. At any cost.”

She gazed up at me from under a shining lock of hair. So beautiful, she pained me. “Aric, if I don’t succeed, you’ll have to win the game.”

“I know I have no right to ask anything of you. But imagine what the next centuries would be like if you do not seize a victory. Could any man withstand such guilt and loss for one lifetime, much less several? I am relying on you to fight hard and prevail. I am expecting you to slay our adversary.”

The pulse point in her throat fluttered. Nervousness about the upcoming battle? Or my nearness?

“I believe in you, love.” I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers, knowing it would be our last kiss.

She allowed it, which made my heart thunder . . . .





Running headlong, I spied the boundary’s glow in the distance.

The need to charge into that fray blistered me inside. I didn’t crave the Hanged Man’s false sense of clarity—I craved fighting for my family.

I felt as if my entire endless existence had led up to this. As I ran, I clenched my fists impotently. Please, gods, let her prevail.

How many times had I clenched my fists because I couldn’t touch? Now I couldn’t even kill—the one thing I’d been born to do.





51


The Empress





“Evie, now!” Jack yelled, his voice distorted behind Aric’s helmet.

As I slipped from my bindings—the noose—Paul’s expression twisted.

That light behind his head flared. “You can’t kill me.” He still held the other end of the rope.

“This is for Finn, you asshole!” With a wave of my hand, I commanded the noose to strike. Like a serpent, the length shot up his body, coiling around his neck.

“Nooo!” His fingers clutched the rope, digging in between the hemp and his skin.

Finn’s icon was stark on his right hand. I’d barely kept up my damsel-in-distress act when I’d first seen it.

Wolves howled, answering his scream. They were inside the castle!

When Lark had first blown our cover, Jack had run for the door and slammed it closed, locking it.