Feet pound, coming close behind us. I swing around, my hand in a tight fist of rage. I punch hard, and my knuckles connect with something—hopefully the bastard’s face.
He grunts, but then I can’t feel him. I jump up and swipe out again. He’s gone. I remember how fast he came back at Ailesse, and grab the knife she dropped. I blindly attack the air.
I still can’t find him, but I don’t give up. I keep slashing, stabbing, striking. I’ve never felt more murderous. If he touches her again—
She staggers to her feet. “Give me back the knife.”
“No.”
“Bastien, I’ve trained to be a Ferrier. I’m—”
A frantic scream splits the air.
It’s not the Chained man.
Ailesse and I exchange a quick glance and race toward the sound. She takes the lead.
The far end of the quarry is mostly caved in, smashed by the bricks of the great house above it. We climb around the first massive chunk of broken limestone.
My heart stops.
Jules.
She clutches her throat and hovers like she’s dangling from an invisible noose.
“Bastien, the knife!” Ailesse shouts. “He’s choking her!”
I pass it. She throws it.
She has remarkable aim, because the knife suddenly stills in the air—a handsbreadth from Jules’s face.
Jules crashes to her knees and sucks in a ragged breath.
I hop off the limestone and run for her.
The knife that’s lodged in the air pulls back. Lowers. Turns and points at Jules.
“No!” I barrel toward the Chained. But I’m too far away.
The knife arcs down and tears across Jules’s arm. She throws her head back and screams.
I’ll kill him. I don’t care if he’s already dead. I’ll kill him harder.
I grab below the hilt of the knife and find his wrist. I wrench his arm. He howls in pain, and the knife falls.
Ailesse races to my side and catches it up off the ground. She holds it with both hands, raises her arms, and stabs the blade downward. Another howl. Ailesse jumps to the right, anticipating a counterattack.
My fist flies and hits the Chained. But when I strike again, I miss.
Ailesse’s shoulder flinches back. Then her leg. He’s prodding her backward. She slashes with her knife, but can’t find him.
I pick up a stone. “How do we defeat him?”
She cuts the air and hits nothing. “We can’t.” Her other shoulder jerks back, harder this time. The Chained is driving her into a corner. “We just need to stun him long enough to get away.”
I run toward the empty space she’s fighting. “How are we supposed to do that?”
“I have no idea.”
I throw the stone. It hits something solid and bounces off. Ailesse’s knife doesn’t stop thrashing. I’ve done nothing to slow down the Chained man. Merde. I don’t want us to die down here.
“Ailesse!” Jules says. She pulls something off from around her neck—the coin pouch with Ailesse’s grace bones. “Catch!” She tosses it.
Ailesse’s eyes follow the flying pouch. She jumps and grabs its leather strings. She quickly drops my father’s knife and kicks it across the floor to me. By the time I pick it up, the pouch is around her neck. Her jaw muscle flexes, her shoulders square, and her gaze focuses just to her left.
She sees the Chained man.
With a great burst of speed, she turns around and charges straight for the corner of the quarry the Chained man has been backing her into. She leaps and springs off one corner wall and pushes off the next. She zigzags upward, catching handholds and footholds. When she reaches the high ceiling, she shoves off the wall and slingshots the other way. Her body twists to face the quarry. Toward the space where the Chained man must be.
She throws a vicious punch with all her momentum. The Chained must be hurtling backward from the strike.
Ailesse lands on her feet and bolts for a target several feet in front of her. She jumps and pounces on something in midair. Her legs grip it like a vise. Her elbow wraps around what should be the Chained man’s neck. She squeezes so hard her body trembles.
I launch toward her. “Will he pass out?”
“No.” She grunts. “But he can feel the suffering.”
“Good.” I plunge my knife into his invisible chest and twist the blade. I feel him spasm and buckle to the ground. Ailesse drops with him, and her hold breaks. He yanks out the knife and casts it a few yards away. He shoves me to the ground. I roll back a couple feet.
“Don’t let him go!” Ailesse fumbles to right herself.
“Where is he?” I swing around.
“He’s right—” Ailesse points. Frowns. Turns in every direction. A strand of hair catches at the edge of her mouth. She scales the chunk of limestone and stands on top for a better view. She glances around for the chains or whatever it is she sees.
Someone taps the back of my shoulder. I startle and turn, but it’s only Jules.
“Bastien . . .” she says on a faint breath.
Her face is alarmingly pale. Her sleeve is drenched in blood.
My pulse trips. I reach for her.
Her head droops, and she doubles over.
No, no, no.
39
Ailesse
I HOP DOWN FROM THE limestone and hurry over to Bastien and Jules. “We need to leave. We’ll be safer once we’re deeper in the catacombs.”
Bastien has Jules’s head in his lap. He rattles her. She won’t open her eyes, but at least she’s breathing.
“Bastien, please.” I grab his arm.
He takes in my pensive expression. “Is the Chained man still here?”
“He disappeared.” I shiver. “We have to go before he comes back.”
He swallows and nods. “Right.”
He starts to heft up Jules. I try to help him, but he angles away. “I’ve got her,” he says, and leads the way as we rush out of the quarry. He doesn’t take the tunnel toward his hideout under Chapelle du Pauvre.
“Where are we going?” I ask, holding the lantern near him so he can see into the darkness.
“Our old catacombs chamber.” He climbs over some fallen debris. “I’m betting that’s where Marcel is.”
Our journey lengthens through the branching tunnels, and Bastien starts panting.
“I can carry Jules,” I offer again. “I have my graces back.”
“No.” He lowers his brows. “Please, Ailesse, let me do this. It’s my fault . . .” He shakes his head, and his eyes fill with pain as he looks at her.
We finally arrive at our old chamber. Bastien kicks open the door by the wall of skulls.
Marcel’s sitting at the overturned cart table with a pile of open books. He glances up, and his face brightens. “Bastien! Ailesse!” Then he sees his sister and blanches. “What happened?”
“A Chained man attacked her.” Bastien barges inside. “Sliced her arm and nearly choked her to death.”
I grab a blanket and spread it on the ground. Bastien lays Jules on it and applies pressure to her bleeding arm.
Marcel stares at us, aghast. “He choked her with chains?”
“No. He was a dead man,” Bastien says. He looks at me, and I quickly explain how the gods mark evil souls.
“Is Jules going to be all right?” Marcel asks.
“Yes.” The edge to Bastien’s voice is so sharp it dares either one of us to disagree. “Bring me some water.”
I’m immediately on my feet. I step toward the bucket by the shelves, but Marcel is closer. I move out of his way as he rushes it back to Bastien. Both boys are hovering over Jules now. Bastien splashes a little water on her face. “Come on, Jules.” He slaps her cheeks twice, and I wince. “Come on!” His voice breaks. “You’re tougher than this. You’re not allowed to die on me.”
My eyes blur with threatening tears as he desperately tries to wake her. This is what it would feel like if I lost Sabine.
; Jules’s chest rises and falls more shallowly. Then it stills.
Marcel covers his mouth. Bastien’s shoulders hitch up. He buries his head in her stomach. I step closer, my throat aching. I want to fold my arms around him.
Just as I reach out to touch him, Jules’s eyes fly open. She inhales a ragged breath.
I flinch back. Bastien jolts upright. Marcel’s head sags forward in relief.
“What are you all staring at?” Jules asks, her voice frail.
Bastien bursts into warm laughter. He kisses her three times on her forehead.
I grin, though a stitch of pain forms in my chest. Their deep affection makes me miss Sabine even more. I place a hand on Bastien’s shoulder. “I’ll find something to dress her arm with.”
He tosses me a grateful smile.
I walk to the wall of shelves and look through the supplies. A roll of clean fabric is tucked behind a small pot of crushed herbs.
“I’m sorry I left you,” Jules murmurs to Bastien.
I smell the herbs. Yarrow. Good for wounds.
“Tu ne me manque pas. Je ne te manque pas.”
I freeze.
My heart thuds slowly as I turn around.
He’s holding Jules’s hand the same way he held mine when he spoke those same words to me. The words his father said to him. I thought they were sacred, a gift Bastien only shared with me.
He brings Jules’s knuckles to his lips and kisses them. “You were never missing from me, Jules.”
A rush of weakness trembles through my knees. I have to sit down.
I stumble to a corner of the room. Then I realize it’s the corner with the limestone slab. My chest tightens, and I move to sit at the table instead. I set down the fabric and yarrow and take steadying breaths.
Bastien and Jules fall deep in conversation. He laughs at something she says and smooths her hair off her face. A hollow ache carves through me.
You’ve been deceiving yourself, Ailesse. He could never love you as much as he loves her.
I should be used to feeling second best; my mother always favored Sabine.
Marcel wanders over and sits across from me with a lazy smile on his face. “Can you believe we’re all back together again?” he asks, like I’m a tight-knit part of their family, and the three of them never abducted me. “Too bad Jules and I haven’t found a way to break the soul-bond yet, but we’ve had a real adventure all these days without you.”
“Oh, yes?” I absently flip through one of his books, trying to keep my eyes off Bastien. Now Jules is laughing with him.
“We found all sorts of new and interesting hideouts in Dovré. Bastien almost found us one time, so Jules and I decided to move back down here. We’ve been in this chamber all this last week.”
“Clever,” I reply. Bastien told me he checked here once, and when he found it empty of their belongings, he never came back.
Marcel nods, his lackadaisical enthusiasm on point. “We’ve got it all stockpiled with food and black powder again. I’ve been making some of the runs myself.”
I spare a glance at a dozen or so small powder casks stacked against the wall. “Eager to blast my mother into a pit again?” Or me?
He snorts. “Something like that.”
I force a grin and pass him the rolled fabric and yarrow. “Could you give these to Bastien?”
“Sure.” He gets up and swaggers over to his friend. Bastien covers Jules with another blanket, taking extra care to tuck it tightly around her.
My eyes sting. I look back down at Marcel’s book. A corner of a sheet of parchment sticks out from beneath it. My gaze lands on a small scribbled drawing labeled “bridge.”
I frown, scooting the book aside so I can see the whole sheet of parchment. It’s covered in a labyrinth of more scribbles. “What is this?” I ask Marcel when he returns.
He sits down again. “Oh, I updated my map of the catacombs.”
“There’s a bridge here?”
He nods. “Remember that tunnel I exploded? The bridge is nearby it, beneath the mines. Turns out there’s a vast network of caves down there.” He leans back and laces his hands behind his head. “I discovered a shaft leading to the bridge. It was a bit tricky to navigate, especially on the way back up. I thought a different path would be easier, but the hatch at the top was impossible to pry open, even with my knife.”
My brow furrows as I try to follow him.
“Merde!” Bastien says. He stands and grips the empty sheath at his belt.
It takes me a moment to understand what’s upset him. I gasp. “Your father’s knife.” We left it behind in the quarry. The Chained man threw it out of reach just before Jules fell unconscious. “I’ll go back for it, Bastien.”
He blows out a tense breath and rakes his hands through his hair. “No, you can’t be exposed under the dome again.”
“I have my falcon grace.” I rise from the table. “I’ll be quick.”
“And if you’re attacked?”
“I have my tiger shark grace.”
“That’s not going to cut it if a horde comes after you.”
Marcel waves a sluggish hand. “I’ll go.”
The look Bastien gives him says that’s the worst idea yet. “I’m going,” he says adamantly.
My stomach clenches. “But what if the Chained man comes back there?”
“I’ll be fine. Until tonight, the dead have left me alone. It’s you they’re drawn to, Ailesse,” he says, and then looks down at Jules. “Will you be all right while I’m gone?”
She rolls her eyes at him and smiles. But as soon as Bastien turns away, a small convulsion runs through her.
“Marcel and I will take care of her.” I cross to where she’s now propped up against the wall. She stares at the coin purse around my neck, and her eyes grow narrow and cold.
Bastien gives a curt nod and grabs his lantern, then he bites his lip and veers over to me. “We’ll talk soon, all right?” His fingers feather across mine, and I flush with heat. His eyes are apologetic, maybe even regretful. I know the conversation he means to have when he returns. He’s going to explain his feelings about Jules.
I muster a smile. I don’t want him to think I’m upset. He and I were star-crossed to begin with. “All right,” I whisper.
He searches my eyes, and I lower them so they don’t reveal anything. “I’ll hurry as fast as I can,” he says.
His hand slips away from mine, and my fingers curl. He ducks under the low doorway.
And then he’s gone.
A fierce ache rises at the back of my throat.
Jules shoots me a look of contempt. “You’re cruel to tempt him when all you want to do is to kill him.” Her body convulses with another tremor. “I saw you two in the quarry. You were about to kiss.”
I stare at her, surprised by her sudden mood swing and rock-hard expression. I try to see past it to the Jules that Bastien has always known. I try to see even deeper to the girl she might have been if her father had lived. “No matter how much you hate me, Jules, you need to believe I’ll never kill Bastien. I give you my promise.” I wish I could save him from his fate, but he and I have been deluding ourselves. There’s no way to break our soul-bond. I knew that from the start.
She scoffs. “Your promises mean nothing.”
I draw a calming breath. I know what I need to do now, and it’s for the best. “What if I promise to leave your lives forever? Would you believe me then?”
Some of the malice leaves Jules’s face. “You’d leave Bastien? Why?”
Because you’re the one meant for him. “Wouldn’t you leave the person who’d held you captive?”
She shivers with another tremor. Her body is in shock, and I’m only upsetting her more.
I look at Marcel. “Can I talk to you for a moment outside?”
His brows rise. “All right.”
He follows me out of the chamber, and I shift back from the looming wall of skulls. “You’ve always been kind to me,” I say, keeping my v
oice low. “That’s why I hope you’ll help. I have my grace bones now, but I still need the bone flute.”
A shaky laugh escapes him. “You’re going to have to ask Jules. If I give it to you without her knowing, she’ll murder me in my sleep.”
“But aren’t you angry she was almost murdered? This is how you can get your revenge on the Chained man who hurt her.”
“By giving you the flute?”
“The dead can’t be killed; they can only be ferried.” I lean closer. “You must know where Jules is hiding it.”
His grin quivers as he rubs his earlobe. “Can we talk about this when Bastien comes back? I don’t think he’s forgiven me for letting you steal my knife.”
“Bastien will be glad I have the flute.” Tears form as soon as I say his name. I blink them back. “I might be able to break our soul-bond if I play a different song on it.”
Marcel stiffens. “Could it really be that simple?”
“I hope.” I don’t waste another breath explaining my theory or the fact that I don’t know any soul-bond-breaking songs. “Please, Marcel. Tonight is a full moon, and midnight is just over three hours away. That’s when I need to start ferrying. I don’t have any more time to lose.”
“Full moon?” he repeats with a frown. “You said the Leurress ferry on the new moon.”
“Yes, but the bone flute has both symbols—the new moon and the full moon. At first I thought the full moon was only on there to show when a Leurress could perform her rite of passage, but all day long I’ve been thinking . . . what if the full moon on the flute means more than that? What if the dead can be ferried on a full moon, too?”
Marcel drums his fingers on his lips. “The lowest tides do occur during full moons as well as new moons,” he concedes.
“I have to try,” I say. “The bone flute is finally within my reach again.” I set my jaw and steel my nerves, grateful I have a monumental task to distract me tonight. I only pray my mother will be willing to attempt ferrying with me. If nothing else, she’ll be relieved to have the bone flute back in her possession.
“Will you have enough time to find the other Ferriers and make it to the land bridge by midnight?” Marcel asks.
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