The Hunter
“What do you mean, he didn’t answer?” Joules demanded, when I told the crew I hadn’t gotten in touch with Death. “What else does the Reaper have to do? Dentist appointment? Feck’s sake.”
I’d called and texted Domīnija at all hours, and he’d always answered or responded right away. I stared into the fire, running through scenarios, each one making my stomach roil worse than the last.
As of tonight, we knew the castle was hidden from Richter, and Domīnija and Evie could handle any other threats. Except from Lark.
I’d just parted my lips to ask Kentarch for a ride when the phone rang. I connected the call. “Why didn’t you pick up?”
“Is there an emergency?” Domīnija hadn’t answered the question. And his voice was even raspier than usual, as if he’d been yelling in a battle or something. “I’ve got Evie on the phone.”
“Hey, peekôn.” I fucking love you. Almost died tonight, and the thought of never seeing you again nearly sank me. I shouldn’t have left you.
“Hey, Cajun.” First time I’d spoken to her in weeks. Her own voice was throaty. Heat spiked through me. She’d sounded like that after she’d screamed against my palm in our bed in Jubilee.
Realization dawned. Domīnija and Evie had just been together. Pain ripped through me, even though I’d known it would happen.
Phone in hand, I staggered to a storage crate and broke out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. I hadn’t had a drink since Kentarch had returned from Africa, and the burn in my throat felt hollow.
“Ça va, Jack?” she asked me.
“Bien. Toujours bien.” I sounded like anything except always good.
“Jack, I . . .” She what? Did she miss me? Love me? Want me to find a way back to her? “I’m glad you’re safe.”
Gutted. “Ouais. How have you been?” I asked, grasping for equilibrium.
“Busy. Reading texts.”
Merde. I started putting things together. She’d read our messages and realized Domīnija was determined to sacrifice himself. Whenever something threatened her loved ones, she tended to go overboard clinging to them, treasuring them. I’d been the recipient of that in Jubilee.
Guess Death musta felt pretty treasured earlier.
“Answer me,” Domīnija said. “Has something happened?”
“I’m getting to that.” Ignoring the ache in my chest, and the looks of my crew, I recounted the night. . . .
Sol hitching a ride with us to safety. His knowing about the castle and Tee. The Sick House on the map. Calanthe’s chronicles (with background commentary from Joules).
Domīnija focused on one thing: “You breached the Emperor’s lair without checking with me?”
My eyes narrowed. “Didn’t know I was your lackey, Reaper.”
“Aw, snap!” Joules cackled at my side of the conversation.
“You risked Kentarch, mortal? He is instrumental in the fight against Richter.”
“I wouldn’t risk him.” Well, not exactly. There would’ve been little risk if Kentarch hadn’t frozen.
No, frozen wasn’t the right word; the guy was brave as hell. Kentarch had looked at the river of flames like he would a door to wherever Issa was. Which, maybe, it was.
Would he always hesitate when his life was on the line?
Domīnija exhaled an exasperated breath. “We need to ask Sol some questions.”
I put the phone on speaker and waved to Sol. “Evie and Death want to talk to you.”
“¡Pequeña!” Sol smiled, and sunlight lit the cave.
Felt amazing. I basked in that light and imagined I was sitting with Evie under a blue sky.
“Sun God! How are you?”
“It’s good to hear your voice.”
Not for me. Another swig. Jealousy clawed me.
“I’m so glad you got away from Richter and Zara,” she said.
“Thanks to my new friends and allies.”
Allies, huh? Given my history with Baggers, could I really work alongside the man most connected to them? The Bagger King?
Peut-être. Maybe. After all, in the past, his light had empowered Evie, healing her. And I would have four Arcana to work with, which came with both benefits and problems.
Even now, Joules sparked with slitted eyes. “Allies, me arse! He’s supposed to be givin’ us intel. You heard anything intelligent out of that one?”
“Ask me questions,” Sol said earnestly. “I’ll answer any you have.”
“You talked about their weaknesses,” I said. “Tell us what you know about Richter and Zara’s vulnerabilities.”
“Zachter. Zara and Richter equals Zachter.”
Naturally Joules piped up. “No way. Richtra.”
So help me. “Let’s doan get bogged down here. Weaknesses, Sol.”
“Sí, sí. I spied on them often. I learned that Zara is vulnerable to attack, even when empowered.”
With raised brows, Kentarch held up his right arm, indicating his missing hand.
“Oi, Tarch begs to differ.” Joules took a seat by the fire to polish a javelin with a rag. His spears were flawless, so I figured he was soothing his nerves—or showing off to Sol.
The Sun continued, “True, when Zara’s full of luck, she can be nearly impossible to defeat. Nearly. But even a cat with nine lives will die if you kill it ten times. For instance, Zara can only avoid so many bullets heading straight for her face. The problem is the more luck she steals, the more fatal blows it will take. My WAG—wild-ass guess—is a hundred or so. But who can deliver them without dying first?”
“Maybe eight united Arcana,” I said. And one determined human. “But this is nothing new. Death already told us we’ve got to burn out their powers.”
“Has he told you that you can get close to Zara if you don’t have ill intent? It’s only when you decide to kill her that her environment will attack you.”
This was interesting. Had Domīnija known that?
Joules paused his polishing. “What about Richter? How do we kill him if all our weapons melt?”
“Burning grain is easy for him, but melting bullets and javelins takes focus. He’s not a big thinker, that one. As with Zara, if we hit him with enough strikes, he will go down. For reference, just think a hundred unanswered hits. Because his answers usually mean you’re dead.”
I didn’t mind Sol’s WAGs. I needed a starting point, and one number did as well as any other. “That’d be a lot of firepower,” I said, dreaming about antiaircraft rockets and tanks. But we’d located none on the road.
“Richter doesn’t believe anything like that exists anymore,” Sol said. “Circe is the only one he fears. When she struck him with her flood, she wiped him out. Where is the Priestess now?”
“She has a temple beneath the sea,” Domīnija said smoothly. Not a lie, but we didn’t know if she was in it or what had happened to her after Jubilee. “What is Richter’s plan?”
“He wants to kidnap pequeña. At least for a time.”
My fists clenched, but again, this wasn’t new information. “And Zara?”