“Constance!” Rémy shouted, astonished. “That’s the elephant! It’s the circus! Augustus must have made it!”
As if on cue, a figure appeared on the wall. It was large and broad-shouldered, and seemed to have a pigeon perched on its shoulder.
“My God,” whispered Thaddeus, blinking through the acrid smoke as the large man swung a fist at one of the Comte’s soldiers. “That’s — that’s Dorfmann! He got our pigeon!”
More people began to appear on the wall. One was pushed up by the elephant’s trunk, others looked as if they had climbed, but all were ready to fight. And as Rémy and Thaddeus watched, fight they did — but not in the way of any usual army. Silhouetted against the wall, facing off against the Comte’s army, was the most unlikely fighting force Rémy had ever seen. She saw Erik, the great Danish strongman who rarely spoke to anyone. He had his huge barbells slung across his shoulders. As Remy watched, he swung them left and right, yelling obscenities as he marched along the wall, crushing the Comte’s soldiers as he went. There was Augustus, yelling as he barged bodily at one of the mechanical men, and there was Marcus, the fire-breather, belching in the blank faces of the soldiers. There were the Tumble Twins, using each other as catapults so as to rain blows on the men from above with their acrobatics. There was Angelique, the square-jawed Spanish knife-thrower, pelting one of the mechanical men with her blades hard enough to pierce it until it slumped to its knees.
It was the circus, in full attack. And it was winning.
“Come on,” Thaddeus shouted, grabbing her hand. “They’re giving us one last chance!”
They ran for the wall as the lava exploded out of the mountain behind them. It came like a torrent, a storm of liquid fire that devoured everything in its path. It ate up the dead waterfall, boiling the last water into steam and burning the riverbed to dry black ash. The heat was phenomenal, and it hit the people below like a wall. The mechanical soldiers, however, did not pause at all, even when the quake worsened as the mountain itself began to split in two.
Rémy glanced back over her shoulder as she ran. Everything was collapsing, vanishing into the great and terrible crack that tore toward them like a rip in paper. There was lava everywhere. It wasn’t just flowing out of the waterfall, it was bubbling up from the rents left by the quake, sucking the houses down into the mountain’s crumbling, burning guts.
Still the Comte’s soldiers fought on, senseless, careless for nothing but their orders. There were gaps along the wall now, but none that were breachable, or at least not for an ordinary mortal such as Thaddeus.
“If you can climb it, climb,” Thaddeus shouted to Rémy.
“I’m not going without you,” she yelled back.
“I can find another way out!”
“No!” she shouted. “Forget it. I’m not going without you, so forget it!”
There was a ringing thump as something struck the great gates. The blow came again, and again — the circus folk were trying to force them open from outside. The huge wooden doors shook on their hinges, but they wouldn’t budge and they didn’t splinter.
The lava was gushing toward them now, crushing everything in its path. The sulphur in the air was choking, blinding.
“There’s got to be a way out!” Rémy screamed in sheer frustration. “There must be!”
“There is — for you!” Thaddeus told her. “Climb the wall, Rémy. Do it!”
She shook her head, the tears in her eyes caused by more than the sulphur. “No,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I will not go without you. I won’t.”
Thaddeus pulled her toward him, wrapping himself around her so that her head was under his chin and she was snug against him. Rémy shut her eyes and pressed her face into his chest, hearing the roar of the lava roll closer and closer. She heard Thaddeus raise his voice to shout up to the circus folk on the wall.
“Go,” he bellowed. “Run — the wall won’t stop the lava. Get as far away as you can!”
There was a pause, and then a shout came back. It was a voice Rémy recognized. It was J.
She pushed away from Thaddeus and turned to see the airship rise above the wall as the circus folk scattered and disappeared. The policeman swore hard and waved his arms, trying to send them back.
“What are they doing?” he said. “The heat —”
“Come over,” urged Rémy. The airship was hovering on the wall itself, letting down a rope just long enough to graze the ground.
They ran toward it. Thaddeus forced Rémy to go up first, and she did, faster than she’d ever climbed before. J and Dita stood in the open hatch, white-faced, to haul her in.
“Climb!” She yelled down to Thaddeus. “For God’s sake, climb!”
J lifted away before Thaddeus had even got halfway up the rope. Rémy wrung her hands in fear as the policeman was scraped harshly against the stone, but he held on. The lava reached the last line of houses as Thaddeus’s feet were dragged over the top of the wall. He had stopped climbing and was merely clinging on for dear life.
{Chapter 52}
A PAUSE FOR BREATH
The fear was that the lava would devour the walls of Mont Cantal and set fire to the forest outside, turning it into an inferno that would be impossible to escape. In the end, though, that was not to be. The mountain that had appeared so impenetrable from the outside had been weakened from within by the Comte’s own folly. It collapsed, folding in on itself like a house of cards and taking the remains of the city down with it. The lava reached the walls, chewing on their stones and picking off the golden men with its hot tongue, but then it, too, was sucked down into the great sinkhole of what once had been the Comte de Cantal’s glorious and fearful home.
The airship fled the flames, flying far enough to touch the far edge of the forest where it met a river that had not been starved of water. Thaddeus jumped from the rope, his arms aching with the effort of holding on, his leg painful from his earlier burns. It was dawn, the pink tinge of a new day spreading out like a brilliant flag of peace.
“J,” said Thaddeus, once the ship was safely down.“That was insane. But thank you. We’d be dead now, if not for you.”
The boy grinned, the relief plain on his face as he and Dita stood close together on the gangplank. “Well, I wasn’t just going to let you two roast now, was I? Tell you what, though, I’m not keen to have that kind of lark again in a hurry.”
Thaddeus nodded, the exertion of the past day settling on him. He felt more tired than he ever had in his life. “You and me both, J. You and me both.”
He and Rémy looked at each other, and J cleared his throat.
“Ahem,” said the boy. “Well, I reckon we’ll go and see where the rest of the folk ’ave got to, eh, Dita? Let them know where we are, like.”
“Yes,” said Dita flashing them a bright grin. “We will . . . leave you two. Back soon, yes?”
J and Dita headed off down the path they had followed from above the trees, soon disappearing into the greenery.
“They were holding hands,” Rémy murmured. “Did you notice?”
Thaddeus reached for one of hers, lifting it to his lips and kissing her fingers gently. “I suppose an experience like that makes people think about what’s important,” he said.
Rémy smiled, and they sat side-by-side on the airship’s walkway, both utterly exhausted. She frowned suddenly, and dug into the pocket of her breeches. She pulled something out and dangled it from her hand — it was a thin gold chain with a pendant hanging from it.
“Your opal,” Thaddeus exclaimed. “You found it!”
Rémy nodded. “Yannick did have it. He knew what it meant to me, but he took it anyway.” She looked up at Thaddeus. “How could I ever have trusted him over you?”
Thaddeus smiled. “None of that matters now. Do you want me to put it on for you?”
Rémy hesitated, staring a
t the jewel in her palm, and he frowned. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Don’t you want to wear it?”
Rémy grimaced. “I do, but . . .” she trailed off.
“But what?” Thaddeus asked.
She took a breath. “It’s just . . . the opal. I never told you, but after I nearly died — back in London, with Abernathy . . .”
Thaddeus took her hand, holding it tightly. “Whatever it is,” he told her, “you can tell me. You know that, don’t you?”
“I hear other people’s thoughts,” she said simply, before she lost courage, and willed him to believe her. “I don’t know how, or why, but . . . since that day, when I’m wearing it, I can tell what people are thinking.”
He stared at her for another moment and then looked down at the stone. She watched his face as he frowned in silence.
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
“You’re sorry?” blurted Rémy in surprise. “What have you to be sorry for?”
Thaddeus sighed. “The robberies, back in London. That night you got the ruby ring, and I came to see you — you were upset because you thought I suspected you. But you didn’t just think it, did you? I thought it, and you heard me. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that it ever crossed my mind.”
Rémy shook her head. “I don’t blame you. I don’t. I didn’t even then, I just . . .” She sighed. “Why wouldn’t you have suspected me? Given what you knew of me, how could I be surprised? And I wasn’t. But it made me think . . . it made me think that we just don’t . . . that we just can’t . . . that we’ll never be able to . . .”
“Rémy, look at me,” Thaddeus said, interrupting her. She did, and he smiled. “I don’t think you need a mystical stone to tell what I’m thinking right now.”
She didn’t. He kissed her softly. Rémy reached for him, and Thaddeus pulled her against his chest. When they finally broke apart, they stayed like that, as entwined as a stone comfortable in its clasp.
“I love you,” she told him. “I don’t know why I find that so difficult to say. But I do. I just don’t know how we’re ever going to work.”
Thaddeus kissed her again. “We already do,” he said. “We just have to remember that. No matter how complicated things seem.”
There was a rustle in the woods beside the caravan. Rémy sprang out of Thaddeus’s arms, spinning around, imagining an attack. But it was Amélie who stepped from the leaves, followed by Claudette. Rémy rushed to her friends, pulling them close.
“Thank you, Little Bird,” Claudette said huskily. “Thanks to you, the Lost Comtesse is finally dead for good. She’s gone forever, and I can go back to being nothing but a fortune teller. And a pickpocket, if need be.” She glanced at Thaddeus. “Sorry, monsieur. I am too tired for anything but the truth, and I do not know how else we will make a living with the circus gone.”
Thaddeus shook his head. “No need. We are a long way from England and my desk. If I even have one anymore, of course.”
“What do you mean?” Rémy asked, looking up at him. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“It’s not important now,” he said. “But I left without taking proper leave. And with Yannick . . . gone, I’ll never recover the jewels he took. I can’t imagine my name will be anything but mud back home . . . again. And there are some who still don’t trust me after last time. Not that I care,” Thaddeus added. “I would have come whatever the cost.”
“Well.” Claudette looked from Rémy to Thaddeus, smiling slightly. “What a good pair you make. Odd, but then who among us is not?”
Amélie left her mother’s side and surprised them all by wrapping her arms around Thaddeus’s waist. He crouched so that he was her height, and smiled.
“Hello,” he said to the little girl. “I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced, Amélie. But I am very glad to know you.”
The little girl looked at Rémy expectantly and then pointed to her neck. She wanted her to wear the opal, it was clear. Rémy opened her hand, looking at the jewel with misgiving. She had missed it and missed the love that her mother had given with it, all those years ago before Rémy had even had a chance to know her. But she didn’t want to wear it — she didn’t feel she could. Not anymore.
“Claudette,” she said. “I want you to have this. And I want you to wear it. I think it will change your life. And Amélie’s.”
“What?” said Claudette, startled, as Rémy moved forward and began to fasten it around her friend’s neck. “No, Rémy — I can’t! I know how precious it is to you. Why would you . . .”
“I was told once that the opal is a talisman when given in love,” Rémy said, taking Claudette’s hand. “I think this will work. Shut your eyes and think of Amélie. No,” she said, before Claudette had a chance to say anything. “Please, just do as I say. If it works, you’ll understand.”
Claudette shut her eyes. For another moment or so, the confused frown stayed on her face. Rémy watched and waited. A moment later, Claudette’s eyes flew open, shocked as she stared at her daughter. She looked at Rémy.
“What is it?” she asked. “I don’t understand. How —”
Rémy shook her head. “Don’t question it. Just listen. Listen. Amélie is talking to you.”
Claudette’s eyes filled with tears. “She says she wants you to know she is grateful, Thaddeus Rec,” she said, smiling. “And that you are family now, just like Rémy. She’s right, of course,” the woman added, wiping her eyes before taking Amélie’s hand.
The little girl hugged her mother fiercely. They pair stepped away, talking properly for the first time ever. Thaddeus walked to Rémy, watching them.
“Won’t you miss it?” he asked, taking her hand. “And what if it really was a talisman?”
She smiled, squeezing his hand. “It’s fine,” she said. “I have a new one.”
{Chapter 53}
AN IMPOSSIBLE PARTING
By mid-afternoon, the circus folk were all assembled again. Thaddeus shook Dorfmann’s hand when he came to return both the pigeon and the homing device. The big German slapped him heartily on the back, introducing the performers he had brought with him.
“When your pigeon came, I had no choice, ya?” Dorfmann explained. “When one of us is in trouble, we are all in trouble. We are family, you understand?”
Thaddeus did understand. It became even clearer as he watched them all milling about, laughing and chatting, the relief of their victory — and that they were all alive — clear on their faces. Someone started to play a guitar, then someone else began to sing, and before anyone knew what was happening, there was a party taking place right there in the forest beside the river.
Thaddeus watched Rémy, talking to Claudette, hugging Augustus, dancing with the circus children. She seemed so at home here — she was at home here. She had even retrieved her pack from the airship and seemed determined not to be parted from it. The sight sunk something painful into the pit of his stomach: a lump of stone that was as cold as it was heavy. He had a feeling that the next time the airship took off, it would be without Rémy Brunel. For how could she leave these people, who had risked so much and lost everything but their lives?
The thought made Thaddeus feel ill, because as much as he might want to, he couldn’t stay here. Neither could he return to London, at least not straightaway. He knew, somehow, that for him this unexpected journey was not yet over. An image of the Comte’s tattoo floated into his mind — a cutlass set with a sapphire stone. What was it that Desai had said as he’d left? That he had to return home to India . . . to deal with the Sapphire Cutlass. What was the plan that the Comte had boasted of in his cavern of terrifying constructs?
Whatever it was, whatever the truth that lay at the heart of the madness that had taken over both Lord Abernathy and the Comte de Cantal, Thaddeus knew he couldn’t simply return to London and forget about it.
J appeared at his elbow,
rosy-cheeked and cheerful. “They sure now how to party, these circus types, eh?”
Thaddeus smiled. “You could say that.” He was still watching Rémy, who, feeling the scrutiny of his gaze, disentangled herself from the dance and walked toward him, smiling.
J clapped his hands against his thighs as she approached. “Right then,” he announced, with an air of decision. “I says we get some grub inside us, then sees about saying our goodbyes. If we take it in turns at the controls so I can get some shut-eye, we could be back at the Prof’s warehouse before sun-up tomorrow. How does that sound?”
Rémy frowned, glancing at him and then away again, and this time Thaddeus’s heart sank fully to his shoes. He knew then that she wasn’t going to come with them. Of course she wasn’t — her friends had an entire circus to rebuild, and they needed all the help they could get.
“J,” he said quietly, “slow down a little. There’s no rush. Let’s — let’s just stay here for tonight, eh? Get our strength back.”
“Yes,” said Dita, “and what about me?”
J looked at her. “What about you?”
“You aren’t even going to offer to take me with you? After everything I’ve done for you?”
“What you’ve done for me?” J repeated, in his best “offended” voice. “What are you talking about? After everything I’ve done for you, you mean! Anyway, what makes you think you’d be welcome in London?”
“Agh,” Dita shouted, her hands on her hips. “After all those stories you’ve told me about your amazing warehouse! There’s room enough for a hundred people, so it sounds! You can fit me in! Me, who has no home and has risked her life over and over for this stupid contraption!” She nodded violently at the airship, her dark curls bobbing furiously.
“It ain’t stupid!” J yelled back, incensed. “And anyway —”
“Thaddeus?” He jumped a little as Rémy spoke at his elbow. She was frowning up at him. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
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