The Arcana Chronicles 5: The Dark Calling

Our strained relationship couldn't take the weight of a feather right now.

5

Day 528 A.F.

I tossed and turned in bed as the blizzard-without-end raged on. When I finally drifted off to sleep, a nightmare scene arose.

Richter and Zara, the deadly Fortune Card, were in a locked warehouse full of their ragtag prisoners--men, a few children, and even a couple of women. Ropes bound their captives' wrists.

Zara reached out a bare hand to touch one man's face. As soon as their skin made contact, her eyes and veins turned purple. She'd just stolen his luck!

She moved on to the man beside him, and then the next. She even knelt to brush one child's tears away.

When she'd harvested from all of them, Richter motioned for her to leave. They shared a look as he locked the door behind them.

Outside, Zara handed him a knife. As she gazed on with sick fascination, Richter sliced his palm. Blood welled, beginning to glow and heat, turning into lava. It pooled out of his skin, spreading over the ground, nearing the warehouse.

Then he began to slowly cook those people . . . .

I shot upright, their agonized screams still ringing in my ears.

Had that been a dream, or had Matthew sent me a vision of Zara building up her luck reserves through survivors?

I rubbed my eyes, glancing at Aric's empty side of the bed. He rarely slept these days. With a troubled sigh, I rose, anxiety like a noose around my neck.

Despite this, my stomach growled. I glared at my belly, then bundled up in a thick robe and slippers. Maybe if I could keep some food down, it'd help me sleep. As tension mounted within the castle, so had my nausea.

I started for the kitchen, my breaths beginning to smoke in the stairwell. The winter storm continued, the temperature dropping. Paul remained.

After mulling over what Gran had said and written in her last days, I'd grown more convinced that he'd harmed her. Yet I'd lived under the same roof with her killer for an additional two weeks.

I passed a frosted window and glowered at the falling snow. Nature wasn't cooperating with me--or Circe. Whenever she slept, ice would creep over the moat. To break up the frozen surface, she would strain her powers.

We often heard ice cracking down at the river shore, then the SLOSH as a huge block plunged into the water.

If the weather didn't change, she waged a losing battle. When I'd spoken to her a couple of days ago, she'd sounded increasingly weak and harried: "The ice choking my rivers is like giant earmuffs. The thicker the ice, the more isolated I feel." She'd added in a whisper, "My coffin of ice . . ."

Downstairs, I shuffled through the withered leaves covering the floor. All my vines had died. My powers showed no signs of rebounding; my red witch seemed to be taking a long winter's nap.

The light in the kitchen was on. I wasn't the only one making a food run at this late hour. Could it be Aric?

He and I seemed to have reached a standstill. When he wasn't training to an obsessive degree, he was staring out the window, awaiting Kentarch's arrival.

I'd once felt like the castle of lost time was a powder keg. Now it seemed to be a warhead. Just when I was ready to go nuclear on Aric, he would come to bed and we'd lose ourselves in sex. He was gentle, even worshipful.

Last night, I'd again tried to reach him.

"You keep saying this is my home, but it doesn't feel like it. It won't as long as Paul's here."

In a distracted tone, he answered, "I've made my decision. The rest is up to nature."

"You told me I could decide his fate."

"And you have. But I have chosen the timeline: after the blizzard."

That comment still set my teeth on edge.

I found the Magician in flannel pj's, raiding the fridge. "Blondie!" His brown eyes lit up. Since he'd arrived, he'd put on weight, thriving here--except for his leg.

I often heard Lark and him laughing as they explored the castle. I envied the simplicity of their relationship. They had no baggage, and they didn't take a single second for granted.

He asked me, "You making another attempt at dinner?"

Earlier, I'd bolted from the table to vomit up good food. Thanks, kid. Jack had once called Matthew a resource-suck; I was currently saddled with one. "Maybe I should."

Finn held up his triple-decker sandwich. "Here. Take mine." A dollop of mayonnaise oozed to his plate. Plop.

Ugh. "No thanks. I'll just grab some toast."

"Suit yourself, chica." Balancing his plate, Finn maneuvered his crutch to hobble over to the kitchen table. Without a hint of bitterness, he said, "When you have a crutch, you're always one hand short." And a Magician would need both of his. Finn's Arcana call was Don't look at this hand, look at that one.

I popped a frozen piece of bread into the toaster, then poured a glass of milk. Now that Lark had taken over cooking duties, I helped her as much as possible. Mainly, I cut up things while trying not to puke.

She'd prepared meals for her dad before the Flash, so she could put together a decent spread. But she couldn't recreate Paul's staples--like hot-out-of-the-oven pastries and succulent, freshly butchered game; our frozen supplies continued to dwindle.

When Finn dropped down into a seat, he banged his bad leg, gritting his teeth. He lived with that pain every day, had only one hope of ever getting it fixed.

Yet I was standing in the way, which hadn't improved my relationship with Lark.

Her single-minded pursuit had fixated on one goal. We'd had another clash earlier:

"Just admit you're wrong about Paul," she demanded. "He'll forgive you. And then he can help Finn."

"I'm not wrong."

She studied my face. "Then are you right?"

Right in the head? Right in the definitive without-a-doubt sense? I had no good answer to that, so I asked, "Have you been talking to Paul when you bring him meals?"

She peered down at her claws. "Boss said not to."

In other words, yes. "Lark, I believe that my grandmother was warning me against him--so he murdered her."

She slapped her palm against her forehead. "That's really freaking stupid, unclean one. Who the hell would kill the dying?"

Sometimes I wanted to strangle Lark. She was like an annoying little sister. And like siblings, we fought and made up.

"Got a joke for you," Finn said between bites. "What do you call sixty-nining between two cannibals?"

I took my milk and dry toast to the table. "An exercise in trust?"

"No." His lips curved. "The first course. But I l

ike where your head's at, blondie."

"That's really awful, Finn," I said, though I had to fight a grin.

Looking pleased, he said, "The world might be different, but we've still got to find the humor. I've been working on Death. Talked to him today."

"Did you?" Though Aric didn't consider Finn a friend and likely never would, he'd gone so far as to say that the Magician's heart was in the right place. "What'd you talk about?" I nibbled the toast, trying to decide if it'd stay down. Fifty-fifty chance.

"Guy stuff. I can't betray the code. But the more I get to know the Reaper, the more I like him. You've got stout taste in dudes." At my expression, he said, "Sorry. Boneheaded thing to say."

"Don't worry about it." I considered asking Finn his opinion about Matthew's message. No, he'd tell Lark, and she'd tell Aric.

"So, are you amped about becoming a mom?" Everyone seemed excited but me. Even Lark had said, "Maybe this could end the game. Finn and I might actually have a shot at a normal existence together!"

I gave him the look his question deserved. "I'm seventeen."

"Maybe in this life. Lark said you've clocked more than a century between your incarnations. We all have, right?"

Technically, I was well over a hundred. I guessed I couldn't view Aric as two thousand years old unless I copped to being a centenarian.

Taking another bite, Finn said, "Even though you're hella old, I think you'll make a great mom. Mothering is what Empresses are supposed to do, right?"

As a little girl, I'd played with baby farm animals--not baby dolls. I'd never even liked kids. "As the Empress, I think I'm supposed to kill."

"But you're the Arcana who pushed hardest to end the killing. I thought about you a lot when I was on the road with Selena. If you could ally with her after she tricked you, I figured I could forgive her for targeting us for elimination and all." In a softer tone, he said, "I think that's the most important thing to do as a parent--forgive."

Finn's parents hadn't forgiven him for his involuntary pranks. They'd shipped him across the country, booting him from his beloved California.

"Speaking of forgiveness," he continued, "Joules and Gabe are out there, starving. Lark's falcon spotted them, and they're looking rough."