The Rose and the Ghost, page 23
I curse Bellemeure. This must have been how she’d overcome his family—cut off the connection to their magic, leave them insensate like this, then send in her assassins.
But the ritual had blocked him from his magic, too, until we’d changed the spell. There must be a way to fix it.
“Come on.” I get his arm over my shoulders and heave. He’s heavier than his lanky frame would make him seem and I struggle to get him upright. “Come on, Steel, stand up.”
He manages to get his legs underneath him, rickety as a newborn colt, and I haul him through the cage door.
Somehow, I have to get him past the crowd and out of the hotel without anyone noticing. I’m so caught up in the problem that when I look up, I don’t at first recognise the figure in front of me. When I do, my blood runs cold.
Chang Mei regards me with narrowed eyes, her lips parted over white teeth. She’s changed from her dress into a baggy coat and breeches, the kind of thing any labourer in the city might wear. Her black hair is pulled up under a cap.
“You should be dead,” she says. Her gaze doesn’t leave my face, but it’s impossible for her not to recognise Steel.
“And you should be with Bellemeure,” I reply, trying to scrape together a plan.
She stares me down, not responding. Did she come here to fetch the ring’s next victim?
“You can’t be part of this,” I burst out. “You’re a demon, aren’t you? It could have been you, in one of these cages.” Something passes through her expression and I chase it. “You are a demon, aren’t you?”
Mei snorts. “You English know nothing of my people.”
“Then why are you here?” I ask. “Bellemeure’s having you murder other demons, making you complicit in her crimes. Why stay?”
“Because it was those demons that destroyed my clan,” she replies. “And it is those demons that drug us and pit us against each other for their own entertainment. Are you truly defending them?”
“Not them,” I reply, clutching Steel close. “But what possible harm could one Leviathan demon do to you? To Bellemeure? I certainly won’t stop you from taking revenge on von Tier.”
She looks amused. “Let me guess: you want me to let you go. To let him go, so he can hatch some foolish plan for vengeance. That is why you came to Paris, is it not?”
I parry her question with another. “What about von Tier? Bellemeure told you to kill him, right? Can you?” If I can goad her, perhaps I can figure out a way past her.
“If we have our way, every House will fall. Asmodeus is merely our next target.”
Asmodeus is one of the Revenant Houses. “And them?” I jerk my head at the other cells. “What are you going to do with them?”
“Where are the keys?” she counters.
“Why?” I hit back.
The woman exhales and goes to tug on her cap, then seems to recollect herself and looks at her hand with a hint of surprise in her widened eyes. “If you believe that I am going to leave them here,” she says, “then you deserve your fate.”
“You tried to kill us,” I point out. “And because of you, the Comte is dead.”
“Oh?” Her brows arch up, interested. “I was partly successful, then.”
A chorus of shouts go up from the ring, making both of us twitch. At the sound, Steel stirs against my side, putting more of his weight on his own feet. I need to play for time.
“That wine was drugged,” I say, theorising aloud. “It was the same drug you used on House Leviathan, to suppress their magic. That’s how you killed them. What is it?”
“His kind are so arrogant they disdain any art that is not born from their blood.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I examine her blank expression. “You don’t know what’s in it, do you? She hasn’t told you.”
“She doesn’t need to,” Mei snaps. “I do not create the drug. There is no honour in that.”
“But there’s honour in dispensing it? In murdering those who can’t defend themselves?”
She makes a cutting gesture. “You have barely stepped into our world. You have no idea what is at stake.”
“If you—”
Von Tier appears at the other end of the corridor and I click my teeth together to swallow my words. He is trailed by two guards, both demons. A frown flickers over the Marquis’ face, but it vanishes as he approaches.
“Fraulein,” he greets Chang Mei. “I thought you would be on your way to Vienna, by now. Is there something that bothers you?”
Mei turns sideways, keeping us all in view. Then she seems to make a decision and turns to face von Tier, putting her back to me and Steel.
Not that doing so helps—she’s still standing between us and the door. As are von Tier and his men.
“It was you,” mutters Steel, pushing off me, fixated on Mei. “It was you.”
I try to pull him back. We can’t fight all four of them.
The movement catches von Tier’s attention. “Perfect,” he purrs. “I’d thought to save the Dragon until later, but the ring is empty and my demons are starved for a fight. Bring him.”
I shove Steel into the cell and swipe the guard’s pistol from the floor, levelling it at von Tier. “Stay where you are,” I command.
“Please, Fraulein.” The demon chuckles. “You are human, and even with this Eastern savage to help you, you stand no chance against me.”
Mei goes very still. “I would not have regretted killing you,” she says, and pulls a long thin knife from inside her coat, “but now I will regret it even less.”
I lean left, changing my target to the nearest guard, and pull the trigger. The demon falls back with a shout, clutching his wounded soldier. Mei lunges at von Tier and strikes at his stomach. He pivots. The blade scrapes through his jacket and gold buttons ping off onto the ground.
Again I pull the trigger, but this time the pistol is silent. Empty. Swearing, I flip it over in my hand so I’m holding the barrel and club the guard’s outstretched hand as he leaps for me. Fire flickers over his fingers and sparks drip from his coat. I back away, but he follows.
“Aren’t you going to help your master?” I gasp out against the sound of fighting.
“After I deal with you.” Fire bursts out of his palms. I dodge and my nose stings with the scent of scorched fabric. I slap a smouldering ember out of my dress.
There’s nowhere to go except a cell. I rush into the one that holds Steel, grabbing at the door to close it. The demon slams his shoulder against it, shoves it open. He clutches onto a handful of my skirt and pain shoots through my hip as the cloth blazes.
Steel lurches between us. He seizes the demon by the throat, ignoring the flames that simmer against his hand. They grapple for a moment, grunting, then Steel sweeps the demon’s legs from under him and topples them both. The guard groans in pain. Without hesitation, Steel grabs his head and slams it into the stone floor. Once. Twice. Three times. Only when the flames sputter out does he stop. The demon’s face is unrecognisable.
I tear my gaze away. The second guard has fallen, his neck almost severed, but von Tier fights on. I can barely see Mei, just a blur of black hair and the flash of her knife. Her cap has fallen off, a detail I notice as if from far away.
With a smothered groan, Steel staggers through the cell door. He clutches at the wall to steady himself, glaring through strands of dishevelled hair. Rage flickers at the back of my head, rage I don’t feel.
“Wait,” I call, reaching for him. “You can’t fight them both, you’re not strong enough.”
Letting out a growl that reverberates in my chest, he launches himself at von Tier. The Revenant isn’t expecting it; he careens forwards, struggling to throw Steel off his back. Flames erupt over his body. Steel clamps on tighter, pinning von Tier’s arms to his sides.
Mei stills, her coat fluttering in the wake of her movement. She levels her knife and plunges it into von Tier’s chest. Steel lets out a sound. His hold loosens and he staggers back. I catch him, sickened at the burns on his arms and the blood on his shirt. The tip of the knife protrudes from the Marquis’ back.
“Foolish girl,” von Tier whispers. “You choose to make me an en—”
Mei puts a foot on his ribs, uses it to yank her knife free, and buries the blade in his throat, burying his words in a wet gurgle. Then she jerks her arm to the side, spraying blood over the walls and over her coat.
The Marquis paws at his throat as the flames on his body turn to smoke. Then Mei stabs him a third time, right through his heart. She keeps the weapon in him as he crumples, bearing him down to the ground. When he hits it, she leans on the knife, pushing it as deep as it will go. Only when half the hilt has disappeared into his chest does she let go.
Silence pools in the corridor until Steel lets out a weak growl. Mei looks over at us.
Fear climbs up my throat. “You’ve done what you came to do,” I say. “Leave. I’ll make sure the demons here are freed.”
“I haven’t finished,” she replies, eyeing Steel.
“You’re wounded.” Part of her clothing has burnt away, revealing flesh that’s black and red and blistered.
“So is he.”
“He heals faster.” It’s true; already Steel’s wounded skin is growing pale and smooth. “Do you want to risk your life to fight one demon?”
She pauses, deathly still, a cat before it pounces. Then a shout comes from far away, and a low rumbling, like hundreds of footsteps. Then I realise it is footsteps.
The shouting becomes clearer: “Put down your arms! You are under arrest!”
Scowling, Mei turns and vanishes, blurring out of view. A few minutes later, a group of uniformed officers burst into the passage, led by Dumont and René.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The agents take us to a private room while the rest of the Sûreté sweep through the hotel. I help Steel to a chair and he falls into it, his burnt and blood-drenched hands dangling over the arms.
“Some of our missing demons are here,” René tells Dumont. “I suspect the others did not survive the ring.”
“At least we can save these,” the agent replies.
“Do you have a handkerchief?” I ask him.
He blinks at me, but René fishes in his pocket and hands me a lacy blue one.
Steel’s palms and forearms are healing steadily, and as I wipe off the blood he stirs and mutters, “Where is she?”
“Gone.”
He hisses and tries to pull away from me.
“You can’t fight her like this.” His health is more important than revenge.
“What happened to the Marquis?” Dumont asks. “That was his body, among the rest, was it not?”
“Bellemeure’s companion, Chang Mei. I’ve never seen a demon move as fast as she does.” I offer the handkerchief back to René—now more red than blue—and he takes it between two fingers, wrinkling his nose.
“A specific Asian genealogy?” he guesses.
“We’re wasting time,” Steel mutters. He claws his way out of the chair, taking an unsteady step to the door. Then his legs give out and he flops to the ground.
I grab him before he topples over. “You can’t go after her, the drug is still in your blood.”
“It will pass,” he grits out.
Dumont steps between him and the door. “I think it is beyond time that you tell us the truth.” His gaze is stony and René moves to stand behind him, shoulders back and alert.
“What do you mean?” I ask, cautiously.
“If you were investigating for a client, you would not be this invested. You are hiding something.”
I swallow. Dumont’s expression does not change. Telling the truth now would be admitting that we were lying all along. As much as I’ve grown to trust them, they’re still agents.
Steel makes the decision for me. “They murdered my family,” he growls. “And I want them dead.”
Dumont’s face softens in sympathy, but he says, “Revenge is never the answer.”
“What would you know about it?”
The sound of crashing wood breaks through the quiet of the room, then the booming call of “Arretez!”
René twitches. “That’s Auguste,” he says. “They must be having trouble with the surviving Revenants.”
“We can’t stay here,” I add, holding Steel upright. He shivers as if he’s freezing, but heat resonates through my hands where I touch him. “I need to get Steel somewhere safe.”
“You haven’t told us everything, yet,” Dumont says. “How did—”
“Not now.” It comes out in English and with too much of a snap. “Please,” I add in French, forcing myself to modify my tone.
The agent exhales. “The Sûreté,” he says. “Everyone is here; it will be empty.”
“Auguste will want to interrogate us,” René warns.
“Then we had better get out of here before he finds us, yes?” Dumont counters.
I blanch. An interrogation will mean dealing with other agents, and if they’ve heard anything about us from Monaghan… We’ve already taken too many risks as it is. “Help me get him into a carriage.”
“No,” Steel protests, trying to clamber to his feet. “We need to go after her—”
“You can’t even walk straight,” I retort. “What good will you do, dead on your feet?”
He flinches, but he stops trying to free himself.
“René, take his other arm.”
The demon glances at Dumont, who nods his permission. “I’ll find a cab,” the agent volunteers. “Bring him through the kitchen. Auguste won’t think about questioning the servants yet.”
René loops Steel’s arm around his shoulder and takes some of his weight. Steel scowls, but his legs shudder, not strong enough to keep him up.
“Come on,” I murmur. “The sooner we get you healed, the sooner your magic’s back.”
That seems to bolster him; he takes a faltering step, then another, and soon we’re out of the room, staggering through the servant’s corridors.
From somewhere nearby comes a crackle and a shout, and as we pass an open door something flashes orange-red.
“Damn Dragon,” René says. “You couldn’t have waited to get drugged until after the fighting was done?”
Steel lets out a huff of breath and says nothing, doesn’t even attempt a witty rejoinder. My stomach tightens.
We pull him through the kitchen—abandoned, pots still simmering—to a double door that leads onto a refuse-laden alley. Dumont meets us there, beckoning us into the street.
“I’ve hailed a carriage,” he murmurs. He offers to take Steel from me but I can’t release him, so he settles for putting a hand on my back, directing me forward.
The cab’s waiting, the driver yawning on his perch. He sees us and says something to Dumont. The agent replies with a strained laugh, something about too much good wine and too little French spirit.
I hustle Steel inside. René piles in behind me and Dumont swings up beside the driver, apologising to the man for the inconvenience. The driver takes it in stride, retorting with a jest about weak English blood, and then we’re moving.
I don’t pay attention to Paris as it flits by. My whole body is trained to the sound of Steel’s laboured breathing, to the muscle clenched in his jaw.
“We’re nearly there,” I murmur, though I have no idea if it’s true. “Just a little longer.”
He snorts halfheartedly.
When we stop, René jumps out and helps me pull Steel onto the street. Dumont pays the cab and it trots away, revealing the looming grey agency building, as forbidding now as it had been in daylight.
“It is a rear entrance,” Dumont explains, hurrying to let us in. “It’s best if no one sees you for now. Then we can figure out what to do.”
It’s silent in the halls of the Sûreté, but enough lamps are lit to lead us to a foyer.
“Where do we put him?” René asks and Dumont replies, “The second room, behind the little study. No one uses it unless there’s an emergency—”
“Sebastien!” We stop, Dumont in front of me, partly blocking my view. Jacques appears, wringing his hands.
“What is it? Are you well?”
“There is an English woman who wants to see you.”
“What, another one?” mutters René, on Steel’s other side. “Are we being invaded?”
“A woman and a demon,” Jacques says. “They’ve been waiting for hours. They wouldn’t leave.”
Then comes a familiar voice that makes me startle and lean past Dumont to see better. “My name is Eve Wilson,” the voice says. “And I am here for Hazel Locke.”
Dumont steps aside. It is Eve, thinner than the last time I saw her and with blue streaks cupping her eyes, but still Eve.
“Eve,” I choke out, before all the reasons why she would be here come rushing back. And that’s when I see the lanky red-headed demon at her side. “Cassius?”
He lunges towards me and the foyer erupts. René drops Steel and slams the Phantom back, halting his attack.
Cassius snarls at him. “Out of my way!”
“Stop!” Eve yanks him to her side. “What did I say about acting without my authorisation?”
“You have orders, remember?” Cassius demands, shifting under her grip but not fighting back. “We should take her now.”
“I’m not going to drag her back to London against her will,” Eve replies. “Besides, how far do you think we’d get before the police arrest us for kidnapping? If you’d stop being a fool and listen to me—”
He bares his teeth, part grimace, part grin, and I look again at Eve’s face, horrified. They’re bonded.
Steel makes a winded noise beside me.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” I say, which is a bald-faced lie, “but right now I need to take care of Steel. Dumont, could you take us to a room, please?” The woman stares at me. I drag Steel forward and Dumont ducks under his arm to take René’s position.
“It’s through here,” he says and then adds, “Jacques, settle them somewhere and fetch us some water.”
Cassius says something, too low and muttered for me to catch. Cassius. The last time I saw him he was fleeing the Agency after Rayne’s—after I killed Rayne. What is he doing here, partnered with Eve? What the hell is Monaghan thinking?
