The Arrivals

  “Of course!” Daniel looked around, and then he beckoned a man over to them. “Could you take a message to”—he glanced at Chloe—“the Gulch House, I assume? That’s usually where Kitty stays.”

  Mutely, Chloe nodded.

  “Tell Katherine Reed, the Arrival woman, that her friend Chloe is joining me for dinner,” Daniel said. He glanced at Chloe, smiled, and then added, “Oh, and let Kitty know that she’s welcome to join us as well.”

  They were in a desert where a harsh sun beat down and the simple act of breathing caused sweat to trickle down Chloe’s skin. Despite that, Daniel offered her his arm, a gesture as out of place in the desert as everything else about him. After a moment’s hesitation, she took it. The material of his shirt felt like silk of some sort, slithery soft under her hand.

  As they walked through the dusty town, Chloe weighed her words carefully. She had only one gun and a few bullets, and she was walking through a strange town with a man she’d only just met. She’d already given her trust too easily to the other man she’d met here. “I don’t trust you,” she said levelly. “I’m agreeing to dinner, but that doesn’t mean we’re friends or anything—or that I’ll be giving up my gun.”

  “That’s logical.” Daniel gave her a sympathetic smile. “You should keep your gun. This is a dangerous world.”

  Chloe nodded, feeling both appeased and foolish.

  “I know you’re one of them,” Daniel continued. “Gallows is a small town, and anything to do with the Arrivals elicits interest. What year are you from?”

  “Two thousand and thirteen,” she murmured.

  He nodded. “Things there are probably a lot different there than here. I think it was easier for the others. This world is more familiar to those who lived in harsher times.”

  “Some things are timeless,” she suggested, thinking about the way she felt for Jack, the way the natives looked at her and the other Arrivals, the simple need to find food and shelter no matter when or where a person was.

  “I can’t imagine it’s been easy,” Daniel murmured.

  A trio of women and one creature of indeterminate gender waved and called to them from a balcony.

  “Do you know them?” Chloe asked.

  “They’re doxies,” Daniel said conversationally. “Not one of the worst of the brothels, but one that caters to unusual appetites.”

  “Oh.” Chloe looked again at the four beings. Nothing about their dress or the building confirmed his claim, but nothing disproved it either.

  They walked in silence until they reached a building that was much nicer than anything else Chloe had seen. Where the other structures all looked weathered, this one looked like it had been recently constructed.

  “Here we are,” he said. “Would you like to eat first or enjoy a hot bath? The servants can prepare one for you, and I suspect you might enjoy washing away the sand.”

  Chloe blinked at him. “This is your home?”

  “No. I’m just staying here.”

  As they approached the building, a servant opened the door. Just inside the door another waited to remove their shoes and wash their feet. At the same time a third servant brushed their clothing off, and the servant who’d opened the door swept the dust outside. Chloe didn’t know whether this was ostentation or practicality. If she and Daniel kept their footwear on, they’d track dirt and sand everywhere.

  One of the servants said, “We prepared your bath.”

  Daniel caught Chloe’s gaze. “Why don’t you take it? I’ll wait for you in the conservatory.” When she hesitated, he added, “You’ll feel refreshed. Then we’ll dine, talk, and relax. Maybe Kitty will even arrive by the time you join me.”

  The temptation was hard to resist. After the hours of fever and the fights, an actual soak in a tub would be wonderful. She’d bathed in the tent, but it hadn’t been a proper shower. “Thank you,” she said.

  And just like that, she was whisked away by yet another servant. As she followed the silent woman through the darkened hallway, Chloe had to admit to herself that this was a vast improvement over both the camp where she’d been staying and the Gulch House.

  Chapter 28

  Kitty and Jack had very little luck coming up with a plan beyond “research cures.” They debated and discussed as Jack alternated between pacing and sitting. All the while Edgar remained with Francis, and neither Hector nor Melody returned to the inn. Unlike the rest of the Arrivals, Melody wasn’t particularly quiet unless she was hunting—which meant that they all always knew when she returned. It wasn’t Melody or Hector who had Jack so jumpy, though. Only a fool would mistake his uncharacteristic tension for normal post-conflict or even post-Verrot agitation. Whatever was going on with Chloe had Jack as jittery as a june bug. Kitty was trying not to pry, but while they discussed options, Jack’s gaze darted to the door every few minutes in hopes of hearing a knock that wasn’t coming.

  “So we wait on Garuda,” he said again.

  “Yesss,” Kitty stretched the word a bit more than she meant to, and then added, “And if Hector isn’t back soon, you and I or Edgar and I can head out to camp to get the Verrot.”

  They’d discussed that exact thing not two minutes ago.

  “Right. That’s good.” Jack looked at the door again.

  “That’s it,” Kitty snapped.

  “What?”

  “Your attention is not on business,” she pointed out. When he remained silent, she leaned back in her chair and asked, “Do you really think she’s sleeping?”

  “No.” He focused his attention on Kitty, looking as guilty as she’d ever seen him.

  “What did you do?”

  For a moment he said nothing. He didn’t squirm, that wasn’t Jack’s way, but he did come to his feet and pace the length of the small room. He looked out the tiny window down at what Kitty knew to be an uninteresting view of the dusty street.

  Finally, with his back still to her, he said, “I called her Mary.” He glanced over his shoulder at Kitty and clarified: “It wasn’t like I called her Mary when I was talking directly to her, but Edgar knocked and I said that ‘Mary and I’ were busy.”

  Kitty tried to hold her brother’s gaze, but he looked away. So she pointed out, “She’s just arrived, and even if she had been here awhile, it’s not a crisis to call someone the wrong name usually.” She watched him tense, so she continued: “Now, I can see a woman being upset if, say, she’d been intimate with someone and then or dur—”

  “No.” Jack cut her off. He turned to face her, crossed his arms over his chest, and scowled. “It wasn’t during, and we hadn’t had . . . relations. We just . . . Damn it, Katherine, it’s not something a man discusses with his sister.”

  Calmly, Kitty suggested, “It might be something that you want to discuss with Chloe instead of letting her stew on it.”

  This time, he did squirm. His expression was troubled, and he darted another look at the still-closed door and then back at his sister. “I was trying to let her have some space.”

  “Coward.” Kitty grinned at her brother. Seeing him off-kilter was rare, so she couldn’t help but take a moment’s amusement from it.

  “Fishwife.”

  Kitty laughed. “Spineless fop.”

  “Hoyden.” Jack’s tension had visibly lessened, and a thread of a smile curled his lips.

  “Do you want me to talk to her?”

  He gave Kitty a grateful look. “Would you?”

  “You’ll still need to tell her you were an ass, and that you ought to have known better. You probably ought to beg, but at the very least, rustle up some of that gambler’s charm you used to know how to use.” Kitty patted him on the arm, and then she went to find Chloe.

  It was a little ridiculous that a man Jack’s age could find a bit of muslin so scary, but he’d never had a real relationship. There were women he rolled around with, women he’d rented, and women he’d called friends of a sort. Kitty couldn’t remember ever seeing him act like a fool over one, though. Pa
rt of her approved of it, but the rest of her hoped she wouldn’t have to shoot Chloe. The woman seemed decent enough so far, but decent enough wasn’t exactly the same as deserving-of-Jack.

  Kitty tapped on the door of the room that Jack always rented. She called out, “Chloe?”

  When no one answered, she tried again in a louder voice. “Chloe, it’s Kitty. Are you awake?”

  There was still no answer, so Kitty turned the knob and found the door unlocked. Out of years of habit, her hand went to her gun. Just in case. She repeated herself as she walked into the room, “Chloe? It’s Kitty.”

  A quick survey proved that it was empty. A slower look verified that nothing of Chloe’s remained in it either. After Kitty looked around to assure herself that there were no signs of struggle or anything amiss, she left the room, pulling the door closed. Logic said the other Arrivals would have heard if anyone were outside the rooms they’d rented. Francis’ quarters were only a couple of doors away, and Chloe would’ve had the sense to raise a ruckus if someone had managed to creep in quietly.

  With a sinking feeling, Kitty returned to Jack. When she walked into her room, he looked past her to the hallway, his gaze clearly seeking the absent Chloe.

  “She’s not there,” Kitty said.

  In an instant, Jack was on his feet and out the door. He didn’t race down the stairs, but he moved quickly enough that Kitty had to scurry to keep up with him. Chloe wasn’t in the main drinking room or in the attached courtyard. None of the other Arrivals were in sight either.

  Outside, Jack stopped and scanned the street. None of their people were there either. His expression was one of worry, not anger, and Kitty hoped that Chloe hadn’t wandered off and gotten herself into trouble. In many ways, she was safer here than in the desert. Many of the Wastelanders were unlikely to start trouble with one of the Arrivals, but they didn’t know Chloe yet. They might think she was simply a Wastelander they didn’t know, a stranger passing through town.

  As Jack started prowling the streets, Kitty kept one hand loosely at her side in case she needed to draw. The thought of the joint threats of more monks and of Ajani’s people made her more than a little uneasy, but it wasn’t like they had backup handy. Edgar was with Francis; Melody and Hector were who knows where. Typically, with Jack at her side, Kitty wouldn’t worry overmuch, but between the dangers out there, the poison that was currently blinding Francis, and Jack’s unexpectedly emotional state, she wished she could summon the other Arrivals to her side. She couldn’t, but there was someone she could call on for help.

  “Garuda?”

  In Kitty’s mind, she felt the doorway to Garuda open up. He’d been being very courteous about keeping it closed, and she suspected that her conversations with him—and her confession to Jack—had made the old bloedzuiger behave better than he usually did. Typically, he was a nuisance when she’d taken Verrot.

  “Is someone else injured?” Garuda’s normally calm voice was less carefully modulated, and Kitty could hear the worry. “It’s not Jackson or your mate, is it?”

  “No.” She smiled despite herself before adding, “Or me.”

  Garuda tsked at her. “Of course it’s not you. I’d have known.”

  Kitty filed that detail away. “Chloe is missing. Has any of your pack seen her?”

  “No.” After a heartbeat’s pause, Garuda said, “They are seeking her now.”

  As Kitty waited for more information, she continued walking alongside Jack. They’d reached one of the brothels that never seemed to completely close. It was early for business, but that didn’t stop the girls from hanging over the balconies or from the windows watching for anyone ready to be parted from his or her money. The business wasn’t something that made Kitty uncomfortable, but she didn’t like how eagerly the brothels tried to recruit Arrivals. Wastelanders might not find them acceptable to date or wed, but they’d pay premium for a taste. That attitude made Kitty froth at the mouth—which was precisely why Jack insisted that the Arrivals not accept free pleasure from the prostitutes and why he wouldn’t allow any of the team to take on any side work at the brothels. If they were on the team, they were expected not to sell their flesh, and if they had need of comfort they couldn’t find in camp, they paid for their business at the same rate as the locals did.

  Of course, his attempt to have the Arrivals treated like the Wastelanders treated each other only served to make him more desirable to the brothel girls. He tipped his head to them when they called out, “Jack!”

  Kitty shot them a quelling look, but they only waved and smiled.

  “If you’re looking for your new Arrival, she took off walking with Daniel,” one of the girls called out.

  “Willingly?” Jack’s shoulders visibly tensed.

  “Looked like it,” the girl said.

  In Kitty’s mind, she heard Garuda confirm what the girl was saying. Quietly, she murmured to Jack, “Garuda says the girl is right.”

  Jack didn’t reply, but a look of fury crossed his face. Whatever Chloe had said or done, she seemed to have caught his attention in a way no one else had—and right now Kitty wanted to kill her for it. Jack was the together one, the person who kept them all sane in this crazy world. He was the calm in a sea of chaos, and because of Chloe he was hurting. Kitty felt betrayed and more than a little unsettled.

  “A lot of the Arrivals talk to Ajani,” Garuda reminded her. “Daniel is simply expediting the process.”

  “Please don’t be reasonable right now,” she implored. “Find me the cure for Francis. I’ll handle Jack.”

  As Garuda retreated, another of the women bent forward over the railing, offering a generous view of her bosom. “I could make you feel better, Jackson.”

  “Not today.” Jack looked in the direction of Ajani’s local residence.

  “Jack?” Kitty put a hand on her brother’s forearm. When he looked at her, she said, “Maybe Daniel didn’t take her to—”

  “Katherine . . .” Jack started in that lecturing tone of his.

  But Kitty wasn’t in the mood for his high-and-mighty act. She held up a hand. “If Daniel took her to Ajani—which admittedly, makes sense—she’ll make a choice. We don’t even know that she went there. Daniel might just find her . . .” Her words dwindled; there was no good way to say that the woman who’d been warming the sheets of her brother’s bed might find Daniel’s companionship enjoyable. Cautiously, she added, “Whatever she decides, it’s not your fault.”

  The hurt in her brother’s eyes was far too similar to the way he’d looked when Mary hadn’t woken up, and Kitty decided right then that she’d be putting a bullet in Chloe next time their paths crossed if the woman did decide to work for Ajani. Hell, she might do it as well if Chloe opted to become Daniel’s lover. No woman worth anything would choose to work for Ajani or screw Daniel when Jackson wanted her. It seemed downright ridiculous that he’d gotten so smitten after only a few conversations and a bit of rough-and-tumble, but as Kitty looked at his face, it was pretty damn clear to her that he had.

  “Francis needs us.” She felt a twinge of guilt for forcing her brother to focus on Francis, but she didn’t know what else to do.

  Jack was silent.

  “Please? If you go into Ajani’s house, he can come into ours,” she added. “He can come after me.”

  Her brother looked at her. “I’d never do anything to endanger you.”

  “Then come back with me now,” Kitty pleaded.

  He nodded. Years ago Jack and Ajani had come to a gentleman’s agreement on the protocol for dealing with the Arrivals. It wasn’t quite the extreme etiquette that bloedzuigers followed, but it was awfully near to it. Unlike most of the Arrivals the past few years, Jack was from a time when a man’s word mattered. Ajani was . . . well, no one knew for sure what he was or where he was from, but whatever his history, he had abided by the agreement. Ajani might not be willing to share anything about his history, but he kept his word the way Jack did. If Chloe was in any of Ajani’s hou
ses by choice, there was nothing Jack could do about it—just as the reverse was true.

  After another moment in which he looked like he was struggling for self-control, Jack turned and headed back toward the Gulch House. “Tell Edgar we’re headed out to camp to get the Verrot. Tell Garuda we’ll see him in the desert.”

  Chapter 29

  Jack steadfastly walked back to the Gulch House to gather his gear before heading out to meet Garuda. As he’d stood in the street with his sister, he’d considered throwing everything away—over a woman he’d only met a couple of days ago. It was completely illogical. There were rules, ones that had been in place for over two decades, ones that Jack couldn’t violate without throwing safety so far out of reach that there would be no return. Ajani wouldn’t meddle with the Arrivals if they sided with Jack, and if they went with Ajani, Jack wouldn’t interfere. He and Ajani had agreed not to use force or coercion. In truth, those rules aided Jack more than Ajani. If not for the gentleman’s agreement they’d made, Ajani could attempt to take Katherine by force. Even with the rules in place, Jack and Edgar still did everything they could to keep Katherine from being out and about on her own.

  And Jack had just left her standing in the street when he’d turned back toward the Gulch House. He glanced over his shoulder and, with no small amount of relief, saw Katherine walking toward him.

  “I’m fine,” he lied when she caught up with him.

  She smiled, but she still looked worried. “I know. It’s just a lot to deal with lately. We’ll figure it out. Francis will be fine, and we can do the job with one less person anyhow.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “Chloe might not even choose Ajani, Jack. Let it go.”

  “I know you trust Daniel, but he’s not our friend.” Jack didn’t quite understand how his sister managed to hold on to her tenderness for Daniel, but he wasn’t having a great deal of luck understanding his own emotions just then. It wasn’t that he loved Chloe; he didn’t even know her well enough to like her all that much. All he could say was that he felt a spark, and after so many years of thinking he wasn’t even capable of such a thing, he was eager to find out what could come of it.