“Did you do all this?” Ash asked, gesturing to the men dismantling the stage.
“I didn’t want you to see him like that,” she said, gesturing to the body under the sheet. “You don’t have to bury him alone,” she added.
“Thank you,” he said, rubbing his thumb against the palm of her hand.
“I’ll just load him up,” Samuel murmured, fingering his cap and nodding at Kara like she was some sort of queen.
Ash washed up while Kara broke the news to Marcus’ mother, Noemie. Kara helped Marcus’ mother pick out a spot for burial at the top of the hill where Sacré-Coeur once stood.
Ash laid Marcus into the grave himself, holding his burden carefully so his mother wouldn’t be able to tell his body wasn’t whole.
“I know it isn’t nearly enough to commemorate his many years of friendship and service, but this will be his resting place and his alone. No one else will ever be buried here,” Ash told Noemie.
“Thank you,” she murmured, not meeting his gaze. Samuel doffed his hat and led her away.
“Don’t take it personally,” Kara said, watching the pair leave. “She doesn’t blame you.”
He doubted that, but it was kind of her to lie to him.
“It’s nothing new,” he told her. “Noemie was never comfortable around me. Most people aren’t. Only Marcus was at ease in my presence. It’s the main reason I made him my aide.”
Kara nodded. She didn’t speak or try to touch, him. She simply stood at his side as he prayed, wishing Marcus’ soul a speedy and safe journey.
Once he was done, he turned and began walking down the hill, making sure to keep his pace slow enough for her to keep up with.
“Marcus deserved so much more,” he said with a heavy heart. “He worked tirelessly on the people’s behalf, giving everything else up. Now he’s gone. The man never even got a chance to marry or adopt children. And it’s my fault. If I had only been a little faster—I could have saved him.”
Kara veered into him so they were touching as they walked. “You can’t think like that. This was Mazarin and the others. Titouan and Klein have paid. And when he’s found, Mazarin will, too. Then we’re going to break the curse. That’s a damn fine legacy for any man if you ask me.”
Except they were never going to do that if he didn’t hand over the scroll he’d found in the demon tower.
You don’t know for sure it is the Firehorse spell. It could have been anything the demon king considered worth writing down—a list of his sexual conquests or instructions to his minions. To him, it was nothing but gibberish.
Kara will see something else. And if she didn’t, they were doomed anyway.
“I’ve been keeping something from you.” He stopped and untied the brace at his shoulder, fishing out the simple black scroll and holding it out to her.
“I took this from the records we recovered in Montmeurtre. I think Amducious wrote it himself.”
Kara slowed, hesitating before taking the small scroll from his hands. A line appeared between her fine brows.
“Why did you hide it?” She sounded more curious than upset.
“A lot of reasons.”
“Pick one,” she said, her voice flattening.
“I don’t know if it’s the Firehorse spell. I can’t read it. But if you can…it means you are a witch.”
Kara tensed. “I know your people consider witches the enemy, but…you already knew. My blood nullifies the effects of the Firehorse curse. There had to be a reason for that. We just didn’t acknowledge the fact aloud.”
No, they had tacitly agreed to ignore the blood feud between their people, but there was more to it than that.
He took a deep breath, letting it out with an audible whoosh. “The fact your blood effects the curse doesn’t simply mean you’re a witch. It means you’re part of Amducious’ line. He is the founder of your family.”
Kara’s lips parted, the blood draining from her face. “W-what does that mean?”
Ash wanted to wrap his arms around her, but when he reached out, she backed away.
He let his arms drop to his sides. “His blood runs in your veins. That’s the reason it has the effect it does. The Firehorse curse is a very powerful spell. It would have been necessary to add safeguards to make sure he didn’t fall victim to it himself. My guess is the demon king worked his blood into the ritual in order to protect himself. As his descendant, his immunity transferred to you. Or at least, part of it has.”
“But I’m a Firehorse myself. I’m not immune.”
He held up a finger. “You’re still human enough to be a victim of the curse. The part of you that makes you such an effective leader beckons it. You were born to change the world, and the curse wants to destroy that. But paradoxically, the demon blood is making it rebound. It confused me at first because you don’t work spells, yet I can detect the magic trailing from you. It’s like the two forces are constantly at war within you.”
Kara started, her mouth opening and closing a few times. “So I’m part demon? I’m evil?” she asked hoarsely.
“No!” Ash hurried to her side. He put his hands on her cheeks. “This doesn’t change what or who you are. Actions define human nature. And everything you’ve ever done speaks to the goodness and purity of your soul. Against all odds, you turned out amazing.”
Even in the face of his abandonment, Kara had become that rare hero who selflessly acted on the behalf of others. In his opinion, she was a walking, talking miracle.
But she didn’t seem to be grasping that. “How can you say that? I’m literally demon spawn.”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“How? What am I? What about the rest of my family? My grandmother?”
He shifted his weight, searching his memory. “I don’t believe Simone was evil. But many other members of your family chose to align themselves with Lucifer or other lesser demons.”
“That crazy! Why would they do that?”
“Personal gain, or sometimes just for fun. Some people enjoy inflicting pain and misery,” he admitted. “But many of your family rejected the legacy. There are some very famous good guys mixed in your lineage, too.”
Kara put her hand on her chest, as if she were trying to hold her heart inside. She was breathing too fast, almost panting.
“Demons are not born,” he explained, putting his hand on her back. “They are made. Most are human souls twisted beyond recognition. But because you carry their blood in your veins doesn’t mean you’re evil or that your children will be. Every new generation is a chance to start fresh.”
And if he ever got back up to Heaven, it was the first thing he’d be telling God. No matter what happened, Kara deserved a place there, probably more than he did.
Disbelief sharpened her voice. “Are you arguing nurture versus nature? Seriously?”
Moving jerkily, she sat on a chunk of concrete littering the path. She turned the scroll over in her hands, tracing the pattern on the decorated ends.
“It’s a negative sign, Amducious’ personal symbol,” he elaborated.
Kara sighed and opened the scroll with a snap. Her head drew back. “It’s nonsense. Just a bunch of random letters.”
“You may have to sprinkle your blood on it to make the true words visible,” he reminded her.
She scowled. “Of course I do. God, demons suck.”
He was trying not to smile at her reaction when a young girl ran up to them, waving a scrap of paper in his face.
Ash bent to take the note. Assuming it was from one of the city’s many managers reporting a problem, he scanned it quickly, but then frowned. “This is addressed to you, but I can’t read anything but your name. It’s in code.”
Kara put the demon scroll in her pocket, buttoning it securely before reaching for the note. “We write in cypher for our safety.”
She scanned the note and then scowled. “It’s from Claire, the new girl.”
“How did she get a note to you here in the city?” Had Claire
broken the rules and entered Bastille?
Kara looked back down at the closely packed scrawl. “She’s sending this with Mimi, Dr. Brès’ daughter. Wait, was that her?”
She snapped up, craning her neck to look for the child.
Ash hadn’t recognized her, but the girl had been close to thirteen or so. Old enough to know her way around. “I’m sure she’s fine. What does the note say?”
Kara lifted the note and squinted. “Um… Oh, it’s about Sij. Claire was supposed to be on a special hunting trip—just Firehorses.”
She looked up, her face flushed. “That’s not a good idea. We always mix up our teams. Too many Firehorses in one place is a bad idea, even if I’m there…” She turned back to the note. “Claire tried to catch up with them, but they weren’t heading out to Gentilly. She saw them in the north-east tunnel, the one that connects to the old metro and RER lines. Her light blew out before she could catch up, and she was too nervous to go on.”
Kara shook her head. “I don’t know why Sij would be in that tunnel with so many Firehorses. According to this, it’s seven of them.”
“That sounds like way too many,” he muttered, disquiet spreading through his chests.
“Agreed.” She looked confused. “We never have that many cursed people in the same place at the same time. And this tunnel doesn’t go to the fields where we hunt.”
“Where does it go?”
“Here. It ends in the Tuilleries, in the center of Bastille.”
30
The body was lying just off the road near Val de Grace a few yards away from one of the entrances to the catacomb and tunnel system.
Kara was trembling as he knelt to examine the corpse, a young man Ash recognized from the desert band.
“I don’t understand,” she kept repeating. “What happened? Why is he here? He shouldn’t be here.”
“Who is he?”
“It’s Pablo. He’s a Firehorse from Rennes.” She tugged on Ash’s shoulder plate. “It is some sort of accident, right?”
“No, love… his throat is slit,” he said, pulling up the man’s shirt to reveal an intricately designed Amarisk.
Kara reared back in disgust. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s a demon symbol, a kind of calling card.” He’d seen it drawn by Amducious’ followers many times during the first holy war, but over the years, it had faded in prominence. Only true acolytes of the dead king would even know it.
“Something’s very wrong,” he whispered, looking up to meet her confused gaze. “Kara…how old is Sij?”
Her head drew back. “I don’t know. Who cares? She’s old!”
“Yes, but how old? Did she tell you? Has she aged since you met her?”
“She never said. As for whether she looks older, I guess not, but she was ancient when I met her.”
“Exactly my point. Sij appears to be in her seventies, at least. She’s old in a land where most people die in their forties or fifties.”
“That’s not unheard of,” Kara said, her cheeks tightly drawn. “Before the Collision, people lived to be a hundred.”
“That was then. It’s different now. But I’m beginning to believe Sij is far older than that.”
“What are you saying?”
He gestured to the corpse. “Poor Pablo probably fought, but he was overpowered. And he’s not a small man. For Sij to have done this—in front of six other people she somehow subdued—then she would have to be part demon.”
Things he hadn’t understood were starting to make sense. Sij had hated him on sight. He’d chalked up her instant dislike of him to the fact he was a stranger, but it wasn’t that. Their band welcomed strangers in distress on a regular basis.
She must have recognized me. Under normal circumstances, angels and demons knew each other instinctively. The foul stench of a full-blooded demon was unmistakable, but those of mixed blood were harder to spot. If she was half-blood or less, she might not have needed a masking spell.
On the other hand, he would have been unmistakable to her. It was why he lived in hiding during demon rule.
Kara rubbed her arms. They had goose bumps all over them. “So Sij is like me? Is she…related to me?” Her tone was filled with disgust—for herself.
“I don’t know. Does her blood work like yours against the curse?”
She shook her head. “She needs mine. I know for sure.”
Okay, that was something. “Then she’s just likely another demon acolyte. Hell, she could just be another witch with enough knowledge of black magic to extend her own life. We need to find her. The others are in great danger.”
So was the whole damn city. One Firehorse in the city could spell disaster. If Claire had counted right, then there were six others loose in the city.
Kara was already on her feet. “We don’t have time to bury Pablo. We need to find the rest of the Firehorses. If the curse gets reactivated, it will be like a bomb going off—” She broke off. “Oh, God. That’s her plan, isn’t it? She wants to finish the city off.”
He knew she was right before the words finished leaving her mouth. Hurrying, Ash put Pablo in the tunnel. Most of the denizens of Bastille avoided them, so the body would be safe until they could come back to take care of him.
He drew a quick cross on Pablo’s forehead before rushing back out into the open. “Where would she go?” he asked.
Kara wrapped her arms around her middle and squeezed. “I don’t know. Is there a location that would cause the most damage?”
It was his turn to stare blankly at her. “Everywhere?”
Bastille was a badly balanced runaway train, one he was forced to repair on the fly almost every other day. He didn’t have a clue where to start.
“Could her target be the radio station?” As of today, it was the most advanced technology in town.
Kara shifted her weight, the crease between her brows deepening. “It’s not essential for life,” she said. “Think bigger.”
“It could be one of the refineries or a granary. Or it could be the water-purification plant on the Ile de la Cite. We haven’t succeeded in keeping the alternates up and running for longer than a few weeks at a time.”
Kara snapped her fingers. “It must be that one…maybe.”
She buried her hands in her hair, pulling it hard. “Ugh, I don’t know! We can second-guess this till Hell freezes over.”
Merde. He did not want to do this. “We need to split up. With all the effort we’ve made to decentralize critical services, there are too many potential targets.”
Ash slipped the angel blade he’d found in Montmeurtre from his pocket, and handed it to Kara. In her hands, it was the length of a short sword. “Take this. It will kill her no matter how much demon blood is in her.”
Kara swished the knife experimentally. Like his sword, it had a preternaturally sharp edge—the kind that made it sing when slicing the air. “What about you?”
“If I find her, I won’t need a weapon to take her out,” he said, enfolding Kara in his arms. He pressed her close, taking the opportunity to draw a protective symbol on her back with his finger.
The ward would have been stronger if he drew it in his blood, but he didn’t know how it would react to the bit of demon in her.
He flew her to the water plant on the banks of the Seine, dropping her outside the door. Then he beat his wings twice as hard, heading east in the direction of the main refinery.
Don’t look back, he repeated over and over. Kara was a capable woman. If she found Sij first, she’d be able to handle her.
I should have been teaching her defensive spells all this time, not making love. Next time they had an hour to themselves, he’d begin training her in the craft, he promised himself.
Only, there might not be a next time. If they didn’t stop Sij now, Bastille was finished.
31
All the mills and refineries were vulnerable. He didn’t know which one Sij would target.
Without the wheat and ma
ize stored in the granary, a quarter or more of the population would starve. But attacking one of the refineries would have a larger and more immediate destructive impact.
He flew north, wondering which one to check first.
A hint of something caught his eye as he flew. A black aura was gathering over one of the buildings along the old concourse, where the Moulin Rouge had been repurposed into a manufacturing district. The darkness was concentrated over the steel factory.
It was as if Sij had hung a huge arrow in the sky to attract his attention. The fiend is calling me out.
She wasn’t trying to hide from him. Good. He didn’t want to put off this fight either, but he needed to be ready. The old bitch was up to something diabolical.
His hands were tight fists as he shouldered his way inside the main doors.
A blast of heat greeted him as he stepped inside. Ash blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dimmer light. This place always reminded him of Hell. Despite the lights, the room was dark. Most of the illumination came from the molten metal pouring into a clay molds. Today, they were laying out the pieces for a construction truss.
Ash winced, his retinas burning as he watched the white-hot liquid spill down just a few feet away from a worker in an asbestos-lined suit. He scanned the factory floor. Nothing looked out of place. All the refinery workers were going about their business, completely unaware that at this moment a cursed time bomb was about to go off. Whatever Sij was up to, she had stayed away from the main operation room.
“We’re closing up for today!” he shouted in a loud voice, before pulling the nearest workman aside. “Tell Christophe, the manager. I need you to wind up operations as soon as possible.”
“Is there a new Firehorse? I didn’t hear the klaxon,” the man said. Ash could hear the panic in his voice.
“This is preventative,” he assured him. “But don’t waste time. Turn this off and go home. Now.”
The man hurried to obey. He scrambled to the catwalk above the manually powered conveyer belt. Fixed to the handrail was a hand-crank attached to a siren. The workman climbed up the rail next to it, turning the handle.
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