The tug in my stomach grew stronger, more insistent. I clenched my fists against it and bowed my head in response, shoulders shaking. Not yet. Not yet not yet not yet. “I can’t just leave you, though. I can’t do it. I—I’ll never see you blush again. I’ll never teach you the rest of ‘Big Titty Liddy,’ and we’ll—we’ll never go to Pan’s or sneak spiders into Jean Luc’s pillow or read La Vie Éphémère together. You promised to read it with me, remember? And I never showed you the attic where I lived. You never caught a fish—”
“Lou.” When I looked up, he was no longer smiling. “I need to find peace.”
Peace.
I swallowed hard around the word, my eyes wet and swollen.
Peace.
It felt foreign and strange on my tongue. Bitter.
Peace.
But . . . the ache in my chest expanded to thrice its size. It also felt right. Exhaling softly, I closed my eyes in resolve. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d done wrong in my life—and I regretted few of them—but I would do right by Ansel. He wouldn’t spend another moment following me, restless, trapped in a world where he no longer belonged. He would fix my mistakes no further. I didn’t know how he’d managed to stick around in the first place—whether it’d been his choice or mine—but I couldn’t keep him here. I’d finally give him what he needed. What he deserved.
He deserved peace.
Nodding, numb, I allowed the tug in my stomach to pull me to my feet. He rose with me, and the scene around us began to swirl and shift in waves. “Was any of this real?” I asked as Reid, Coco, and Beau continued their card game, oblivious to the waters. Pressure pinched at my shoulders. “Or did I drown and imagine everything?”
Ansel’s eyes twinkled. “A little bit of both, I think.”
We stared at each other, neither willing to move.
“I don’t think—”
“It’s funny—”
“You first,” I insisted.
A touch of wistfulness entered his expression. “Do you think . . . before you go . . . you could sing me the last verse?” He rubbed his neck, sheepish once more. “If you feel like it.”
As if I’d ever had a choice.
“Their babe they named Abe,” I sang on a watery chuckle, “his brother Green Gabe. Then Belle and Adele and Keen Kate. Soon dozens came mewling, but still they kept screwing, even outside the pearly gates.”
His face burned so vivid a scarlet it rivaled my every memory, but he grinned from ear to ear regardless. “That’s indecent.”
“Of course it is,” I whispered. “It’s a pub song.”
His eyes shone too brightly now, brimming with tears of his own. Still he grinned. “You’ve been to a pub?” When I nodded, smiling so hard it hurt, my chest aching and aching and aching, he shook his head in horror. “But you’re a woman.”
“There’s a whole world outside this church, you know. I could show you, if you wanted.”
His grin faded slowly, and he touched my cheek, bending to brush a kiss across my forehead. “Thank you, Lou. For everything.”
I clutched his wrist desperately as the last of the house darkened, as the tug in my stomach deepened to a burn. The pressure at my shoulders increased, and my ears popped. Shouts penetrated the thick haze of my consciousness, echoing all around as if from underwater. “Where will you go?”
He glanced back to where Coco had sat at our table, shuffling cards and laughing. The wistfulness in his expression returned. “I have one more goodbye to make.”
The burn in my chest became near unbearable. Icy needles pierced my skin. “I love you, Ansel.”
My vision clouded as the waves truly descended, shocking and brutal. Though they pulled me away from him, I’d remember his smile until the day I died. Until the day I saw it again. His fingers slipped from mine, and he drifted backward, a beacon of light in the darkness. “I love you too.”
With a powerful kick of my legs, I surged upward.
Toward fear.
Toward pain.
Toward life.
Another Pattern
Reid
We broke the surface together. Water sluiced from her face, golden and freckled, and her hair, long and brown. She clutched my shirt as she gasped, spluttered, before tipping her face to the sky and grinning. Those clear blue-green eyes met mine, and she finally spoke. “Do you have something in your pocket, Chass, or are you just happy to see me?”
I couldn’t help it. I threw back my own head and laughed.
When I’d found her drifting beneath the surface—her body limp and cold, her white hair floating eerily around her—I’d feared the worst. I’d seized her. Shaken her. Kicked to the surface and shouted her name. Nothing had worked. In a fit of rage, I’d even dived back down to find the white dog, but it’d vanished.
As we’d risen the second time, however, something had changed: her legs had started to move. Slowly at first, then swifter. Stronger. They’d worked in synchrony with mine, and I’d watched, amazed, as her hair had grown longer with each kick, as the color had returned to each strand. To her skin.
She’d healed before my very eyes.
Crushing her to me now, I spun us in the water. It didn’t ripple with the movement. I didn’t care.
“Lou.” I said her name desperately, pushing the long locks from her face. “Lou.” I kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her throat. I kissed every inch of her I could reach. Still laughing. Hardly able to breathe. She laughed with me, and the sound sparked in my bones. Light. Bright. If I stopped swimming now, I would’ve floated. I would’ve flown. I kissed her again. I’d never stop kissing her. “Lou, are you—?”
“I’m all right. I’m me.” Her arms wove around my neck, and she tugged me closer. I buried my nose in the crook of her shoulder. “I feel—I feel better than I have in ages, honestly. Like I could fly or wield an axe or—or erect a statue in my honor.” She wrenched my head up to kiss me once more. When we broke apart, gasping for breath, she added, “It’d be made of sticky buns, of course, because I’m starving.”
My cheeks hurt from smiling. My head pounded in rhythm with my heart. I never wanted it to stop. “I have one in my—”
Coco’s shout at the shore caught us both unaware, and we turned as the world rushed back into focus. She’d sunk to her knees, staring into the waters like she’d seen a ghost. “Ansel,” Lou whispered, loosening her grip to better tread water.
I frowned. “What?”
“He wanted to say goodbye.” Smiling softer now, she kissed me again. “I love you, Reid. I don’t say it often enough.”
I blinked at her. Warmth cracked open in my chest at her words, spreading to the tips of my fingers and toes. “I love you too, Lou. I’ve always loved you.”
She scoffed playfully. “No, you haven’t.”
“I have.”
“You didn’t love me when I plowed into you at Pan’s—”
“I absolutely did,” I protested, brows shooting upward. “I loved your god-awful suit and your ugly mustache and—”
“Excuse you.” She leaned back in mock outrage. “My mustache was magnificent.”
“I agree. You should wear it more often.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
I leaned closer, brushing my nose against hers. Whispering against her lips. “Why not?”
Her eyes gleamed wickedly in response, and she wrapped her legs around my waist, nearly drowning us both. I couldn’t bring myself to care. “You’ve corrupted me terribly, Chass.” With one last maddening kiss—slow and deep—she disentangled herself and flicked my nose. “I’ll wear my mustache for you later. For now, we should—”
Then Coco screamed again.
I knew immediately this scream wasn’t like the last—knew it before a man’s body thudded to the beach, knew it before Lou released me abruptly. I reached for her again, drawing her into a protective embrace.
Because I recognized the man’s body.
And Constantin—an immortal being ma
de of water and mist—was dead.
Coco sprinted forward with another cry. “Constantin!” Her hands fluttered over him helplessly while Lou and I treaded water in silent horror. Ice crept up my spine at his wide-open eyes. His slack mouth. The bloody hole in his chest. “Constantin!” Coco shook him fiercely now, clearly unable to process. Her shock, no, denial, mirrored my own. Constantin couldn’t have died—the melusines had cursed him eternal.
No one is safe here, Cosette.
Lou’s knuckles turned white on my arms. “How is this possible?”
My grip tightened on her waist. “I don’t know.”
When Coco continued to shake him, her hysteria rising, Lou swam forward determinedly. “Right. We can fix this. The waters restored him once, which means—”
I caught the back of her chemise. “Wait—”
A high, chilling laugh echoed over the cliffs, down to the shore, and Morgane le Blanc stepped from the path onto the beach. A dozen witches followed. They fanned out behind her in a defensive formation, eyes sharp and mouths hard. Resolute. Coco scrambled backward into the water, dragging Constantin’s body with her.
“Well, isn’t this sweet.” Hair gleaming in the moonlight, Morgane clapped her hands in applause. Her gaze flicked from Lou and me to Coco, who lifted a silver chalice to Constantin’s lips in a final attempt to revive him. Her lip curled. “You must be so proud, Josephine. Look how your darling niece frets over the guardian.” To Coco, she said, “He’s dead, mon petit chou.” She lifted her stained fingers. “Surely you know magic cannot live without a heart?”
“How—how did you—?” Coco’s voice stuttered as she stared helplessly at Constantin. “He’s the guardian. How did you kill him?”
Morgane arched a brow. “I didn’t.”
La Voisin stepped into view. A dark substance coated her hands. It matched the hole in Constantin’s chest. “I did.”
Coco rose slowly to her feet.
“Foolish man. We presented our black pearls, of course, but still he put up quite the fight.” Though Morgane tutted, the sound lacked her signature melodrama. Deep purple shadowed her eyes, like she hadn’t slept in days. Her skin was paler than usual. Burns riddled her face and chest, and her hair appeared singed in places. “Unfortunately for Constantin, we are the two most powerful witches in the world. Now, I will admit, the dragon gave us pause. It stole my broken toys, nearly razed my dollhouse to the ground, but no matter. The dragon has gone, and we shall not be caught unprepared again.” She glanced out at the waters, clearly displeased. “We are here now.”
“A dragon?” Lou whispered. “Who . . . ?”
“Zenna.”
She’d saved the others, after all. She’d flown back to Cesarine.
Coco could’ve been carved from stone. “What have you done, tante?”
La Voisin met her niece’s hard stare, impassive. Her expression revealed nothing. With the dip of her chin, however, three blood witches marched forward. Between them floated two gagged and bound figures. Eyes wide, both thrashed against the magic holding them to no avail.
Beau and Célie.
Lou cursed softly.
“What I must,” La Voisin said simply.
A beat of silence passed as they stared at each other.
“No.” Coco’s eyes burned at the word, her hands curling into fists. She took a small step forward, and the waters—they rippled beneath her foot. La Voisin’s eyes tracked the movement, narrowing infinitesimally. “That isn’t an answer, and neither is Morgane le Blanc. How many times did we ask for her aid? How many of our kin have perished from cold and disease? How many of them have starved while she stood idly by?”
La Voisin arched a brow. “As you have stood idly by?”
Coco didn’t so much as flinch. “I’m not standing idly by now.”
“No. You are actively standing in my way.”
“You betrayed us.”
“I am losing patience,” Morgane said with quiet malevolence. Her fingers twitched.
“Foolish child.” La Voisin spoke as if she hadn’t heard her. “You would have us continue to sicken and starve. Why?” Her black gaze found Lou and me. “For them?” Lip curling, she shook her head in a slow, winding movement, like a cobra preparing to strike. “You are the Princesse Rouge. Once, I would have encouraged your voice. I would have respected your opinion. But now your empathy rings hollow. You do not care for our people. You do not claim them as kin. You may protest my betrayal, Cosette, but you betrayed us long before this. Morgane has promised our coven safety in Chateau le Blanc”—her eyes seemed to harden at the name—“in exchange for Louise. I would do far worse than betray you to procure it. The time has come to choose your side.”
She stepped beside Morgane at the last, tall and unyielding. Together, the two formed a striking image. Both regal, both beautiful. Both queens in their own right. Whereas Morgane possessed a dark sort of glamour, however—ever the showman—Josephine boasted no decoration. She was stark. A study in harsh reality and bleak truth. The malice in the former’s eyes looked comically bright next to the flat, cold cunning of the other. The honesty. She didn’t try to hide it.
La Voisin loathed Morgane.
“The ends justify the means,” she finally murmured. “If we don’t stand together, we will fall.”
Coco stared at her aunt as if seeing her for the first time. “You’re right.” The Dames Rouges on the beach stilled at Coco’s unexpected response. I recognized a few of them from our time together in Léviathan. “I was a child,” she continued, her voice growing stronger with each word. Impassioned. “I was a child scared of my own birthright—of leading everyone, of failing anyone. Of disappointing you. I feared the responsibilities such a life would entail. Yes, I ran, and I am sorry for that.”
She looked to her kin then, bowing her head, accepting her culpability in their hardship. They regarded her with a mixture of suspicion and admiration. “I am no longer that child. You are my kin, and I want to protect you as much as my aunt does. But her life”—she pointed a finger in Lou’s direction—“is worth just as much as yours.” She turned back to her aunt. “Morgane has been hunting the king’s children. We found Etienne—the king’s son—butchered in our own camp, and Gabrielle disappeared shortly after. Morgane was responsible, tante. But you already know that, don’t you? Did you offer them up yourself? Your own people?” When Josephine said nothing, confirming her suspicions, Coco exhaled harshly, moving to stand between us and her aunt with deliberate care. “I’ve chosen my side.”
Lou went still at her words. The blood witches, however, stirred. Murmurs rose from a few of them. Whether in support or dissent, I couldn’t tell.
La Voisin’s expression didn’t change at her niece’s declaration. Instead, she jerked her head to the witches nearest her. “Take her.” When they hesitated, shooting anxious glances at Coco, La Voisin slowly turned to face them. Though I couldn’t see her expression, they hastened to obey this time.
Coco skittered backward as they approached, and the waters rippled again. Kept rippling.
The witches halted at the shore, reluctant to follow, until the bravest took a tentative step forward.
When her toe touched the waters, her entire body jolted, and—as if a spectral hand had reached forth to snatch her foot—she slipped, vanishing into their depths. They swallowed her scream without even a ripple. Sinister and still in the moonlight.
The witch might’ve never existed.
Morgane tsked as the other witches balked. Her voice rang out hard. Ruthless. “I suppose rules are rules, aren’t they? Dreadful things. As if any one of us had time to speak our truth. Never fear, though, tata,” she said to Josephine, whose jaw clenched at the diminutive epithet. “The poor dears will have to come out eventually, and we have all the time in the world.” She snapped her bloody fingers, and Beau and Célie dropped to their feet. “These two, however, don’t have much time at all. What say you, darling?” she called to Lou. “How shall I pl
ay with them?”
“You’re sick,” Beau snarled, the veins in his throat bulging as he fought to move.
She only smiled. It held no warmth. From her cloak, she extracted Célie’s injection, hurling the syringe into the water. “Though perhaps I tire of play altogether. Come here, Louise, or I shall kill them. Our game is done.”
Lou started forward instantly, but my fingers caught her chemise. I didn’t let her go. Couldn’t let her go.
“Reid, don’t—”
Baring her teeth, Morgane snapped her fingers again. Swords appeared in Beau’s and Célie’s hands. Another snap, and Beau lunged forward, his blade slicing through Célie’s side. Blood welled in its wake. With the flick of Morgane’s finger, Célie retaliated with a sob, her sword lodging deep in Beau’s shoulder. Toy soldiers. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, arms trembling as she attempted to combat Morgane’s magic. “I’m so sorry—”
“I’m fine.” Beau desperately strove to comfort her as he countered her strikes, teeth gritted. Breath shallow. “We’re going to be fine—”
Célie stabbed again, this time in his thigh.
Blood poured.
With a wild cry, Coco surged forward as Lou twisted in my arms. Morgane waved a hand, however, and when Coco cleared the water, a glass cage descended around her. She pounded against its walls, furious, and strings wrapped themselves around her wrists and ankles.
Baring her teeth, La Voisin darted forward to intervene.
“The ends, Josephine.” Morgane waved another hand, and the strings tightened, stretching Coco’s limbs taut to the point of pain. A doll in a box. “They justify the means. Is that not what you said?”
La Voisin stopped dead in her tracks. Her body quivered with fury. “My niece remains unharmed.”
“She is unharmed.” Those glittering emerald eyes found Lou. Beau and Célie continued battling behind her, their blood splattering the sand. “For now.”
“You have to let me go, Reid,” Lou pleaded. “She won’t stop—”
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