Book 3 - Page 58 (1/2)

I sighed. Just over a year ago, I’d been in high school, making friends with such ease.

Then I caught a fragment of conversation coming from the other side of the tent—about Jack. Was that Rodrigo?

Sidling closer, I eavesdropped as he told another soldier how the hunter had single-handedly ganked dozens of Baggers last night—with nothing but a tire iron.

After Jack had promised me not to take unnecessary risks?

The. h.e.l.l.

I strode over to the pair. “Rodrigo, can I talk to you for a second?” Something in my tone made the other guy scurry off.

Rodrigo swallowed. “Sure?”

“You were exaggerating about Jack. Right?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, relaxing a touch. “Some of the older guys didn’t believe the rumors about Deveaux and Baggers, so they told him to nut up or shut up. I saw him charge into a horde with my own eyes. That guy’s fearless.”

Jack had broken his promise to me—the same night he’d given it. “Thanks. Uh, carry on, soldier.”

When he wandered off with a bemused grin, I pulled that red ribbon out of my pocket.

Why did Jack feel he could risk himself like that? Maybe he did have a death wish.

By the time Aric and Jack emerged, I’d decided not to confront him. For now. We were too close to freeing Selena; nothing could get in the way of that. Not my anger, not his disregard. “Well?”

“That man could dish out the torture, but couldn’t take it, no.” Jack scrubbed a palm over his chin, his scarred knuckles bloodied. “He told us the twins are in a blast-proof bunker.”

“It’s over a day north of here,” Aric added. “High in the mountains and accessible only by horse. A place they call the Shrine.”

Milo could be lying. “Can you trust what he says?”

“Ouais. I usually got a good sense about these things, and I think he spilled some truths—in between spitting out teeth like yellow Chiclets. Just to be sure, I can confirm.” Jack unclipped a transceiver from his belt. “Got the jammers turned off, me. You ready to ring up the twins’ bunker?” I might have been mistaken, but I thought he’d asked me and Aric.

“Let’s do this.” I held my breath as Jack hailed them.

And released it with dread when we received no answer.

34

“I can’t remember when I last beheld such a show.” In the doorway of our roadside shelter—an old clapboard church—Aric stood silhouetted by lightning. Bolts teemed across the black sky.

Inside, Jack was inspecting the explosives he’d requisitioned from the army. Milo was tied up, fettered to a rough-hewn pew. So I’d joined Aric to watch the fireworks.

After pus.h.i.+ng for miles through a brutal squall, we’d found this isolated, still-standing church and rewarded ourselves and our horses with a few hours of rest.

In the nearby graveyard, the tombstones were all crooked and scorched, as dark and foreboding as Aric’s armor. When we’d first stopped, he’d breathed in deeply amid the crosses, headstones, and slabs, so at home that I’d raised a brow. “I like churches,” he’d said with a grin. “Graveyards especially.”

Even though he’d named his horse Thanatos and he’d discovered his armor on a corpse in a bone crypt, I’d never thought of Aric as so, well, death-y.

This wasn’t off-putting to me. In fact, I found his fascination with deathly things attractive, because it was a part of him.