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“Good a place as any, boyo. And the survivin’ half of your army might’ve tried to reach it. They could be there right now.”
“You guys doan know southern Louisiana like I do. There’re no mountains to break up this wind. No caves for shelter. Materials to build a fort would be hard-earned from the few structures that didn’t burn in the Flash, and nothing we constructed would keep us warm enough. Acadiana was a dream. A good one. But a dead one now. The simple truth is . . . if the snow continues like this, our supply cave will outdo any other place for us.”
Everyone got quiet at that.
“What about the Lovers’ bunker?” Gabe finally said. “We could go there.”
“Picked clean by the Azey before they scattered. And that bunker was as ill-omened a place as you can imagine.”
“Then let’s head to the castle,” Joules said.
The last time I’d talked to Dominija, he’d urged me to bring Kentarch and do just that. . . .
“It’s time for you to return here, mortal. Your idea to take on Minors is insane. If you can even reach them.”
“At least this way, me and the guys have a purpose. I think I’d go crazy there.” To see Evie and Death together? To live with them without being able to touch her?
Enfer. Hell.
“Are you ready to die out in the Ash? I’ve never seen anything like this weather, and I sense it’s only going to get worse. The risk is too great.”
Biting back my frustration, I asked, “Then how do we stop this? Tell. Me.”
“I only know of one way.”
“The end of the game.” Though he’d nearly finished with Calanthe’s chronicles, he’d found nothing to help us. “Eight people I care about have to die?”
“I am one of them. I don’t relish my fate. But this is how it’s been for millennia.”
“We’re not there yet. We might find answers at the Sick House.”
Joules was just getting started: “Yeah, we go to the castle! They’ve got bacon! Maybe I could get me arms around waitin’ with the Reaper till the end.”
Gabe said, “Alas, Death did not invite you to share in his fried salted pork.”
True. Dominija was still gun-shy about Arcana hanging out together. “What if he did let us live there? Then what? We twiddle our thumbs while the world ends? And what about the game? If we doan figure out a way to dismantle it, all of you die. Get me? All of you. Because my girl’s goan to survive, come hellfire or high water. The Pentacles might know something; they might not.” My voice rose to a thunderous pitch, booming in the cab. “But I for one would suffocate out on this road rather than rot in that castle till the last food runs out or you guys start picking each other off. Are you hearing me?” First time I’d lost my patience with this crew, but I didn’t regret it.
Sol cleared his throat. “Sí. I hear you. We thwart the game, or we die young, and the world will be destroyed. What we must do is clear.”
“Very well, hunter,” Gabe said. “Assuming we can live to fight another day, I too am with you.”
Joules stubbornly shook his head. “Bacon. Ba. Con.”
I turned to Kentarch. “Well?”
The soldier didn’t say anything. He just teleported us fifty feet back.
17
The Empress
Day 730 A.F.
“Love, wake up.” Aric sat beside me on the bed.
I drew the pillow over my head. “Nooo.” Why wake me? He knew I’d had a sleepless night, battling nausea. He’d rubbed my back until I’d passed out after noon.
More dreams of a poisonous wasteland had plagued me. They only grew more vivid.
I doubted these were just the nightmares of a traumatized woman during an apocalypse. I hadn’t told Aric, but they felt . . . prophetic.
Was Matthew sending them to me as a warning?
Aric patiently waited beside me.
I yanked my pillow away with a huff. “What is it?”
“You made me swear to inform you when Jack and the others closed in on the Sick House. So I am.”
I bolted upright, ignoring the aches cascading throughout my body. “Is Kentarch coming for you?” Over the last month, I’d broached the idea of Aric’s joining up with them. Since Lark rarely emerged from her room and was sleeping more and more, he’d told me he would consider leaving me for a brief window.
Now he waved at my very pregnant belly. “I can’t go, not when we’re this close.”
Granted, Tee was due at any time. Still, I opened my mouth to argue, but Aric said, “I can’t risk having to quarantine myself this close to your labor. You asked me not to go out and search for a doctor, to commit to delivering our son. I did.”
He’d accepted the challenge, rereading all his books on pregnancy and assembling a trunk of supplies—with everything from sterilized scissors for the cord to about eighty dozen latex gloves. Paul’s swivel stool sat at the ready in our bedroom next to several portable heaters.
