Fetch the Chasseurs!

A heavy weight settled in my limbs. Groaning, I stumbled into Reid’s side and stayed there, trusting him to support my weight. He didn’t disappoint. My voice sounded muffled as I said, “My back hurts.”

He didn’t answer, instead prying his Balisarda from me and swinging it at the men, clearing a path. The world began to drift in a pleasant, distracting sort of way, like one’s thoughts the moment before one falls asleep. Was that Claud watching us from the crowd? Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized perhaps I’d caught on fire. But the realization was quiet and far away, and the only thing that mattered were Reid’s arms around me, the weight of his body against mine . . .

“Lou.” His eyes appeared directly in front of me, wide and anxious and perfectly blue. Except—there shouldn’t have been four of them, should there? I chuckled, though it came out a rasp, and reached up to smooth the furrow between his brows. He caught my hands. His voice drifted in and out of focus. “Stay awake . . . back to camp . . . the Chasseurs . . . coming.”

Coming.

I’m coming for you, darling.

Panic punched through my stomach, and my laughter died abruptly. Shuddering against him, I tried to wrap my arms around his waist, but my limbs wouldn’t cooperate. They dangled limply at my sides, heavy and useless, as I collapsed against him. “She’s coming for me, Reid.”

Vaguely aware of him hoisting me upward—of his mouth moving reassuringly against my ear—I struggled to collect my nonsensical thoughts, to banish the shadows in my vision.

But shadows weren’t white—and this shadow was blinding, incandescent, as it tore through my throat and feasted on my blood— “I won’t let her hurt you again.”

“I wish I was your wife.”

He stiffened at the unexpected confession, but I’d already forgotten I’d spoken. With one last drowsy inhalation—of pine and smoke and him—I slipped into darkness.

Crosses to Bear

Lou

I woke to voices arguing. Though the pain in my back had miraculously vanished, my chest still felt tight, heavy. Honey coated my tongue, so I almost missed the sharper, coppery taste hiding amidst its sweetness. I should’ve been apologetic, but exhaustion made it difficult to muster anything but apathy. As such, I didn’t open my eyes right away, content to feign sleep and cherish the breath in my lungs.

They’d laid me on my stomach, and night air caressed the skin of my back. The bare skin of my back. I almost laughed and gave myself away.

The deviants had cut open my shirt.

“Why isn’t it working?” Reid snapped. A hot presence beside me, he clenched my hand in his own. “Shouldn’t she have woken up by now?”

“Use your eyes, Diggory.” Coco’s voice cut equally sharp. “Her burns have obviously healed. Give her internal injuries time to do the same.”

“Internal injuries?”

I imagined his face turning puce.

Coco sighed impatiently. “It isn’t humanly possible to move a knife—let alone throw one—with only the air in our lungs. She compensated by using the air from her blood, her tissues—”

“She did what?” His voice was dangerously soft now. Deceptively soft. It did little to hide his ire, however, as his grip nearly broke my fingers. “That could’ve killed her.”

“There’s always a cost.”

Reid scoffed. It was an ugly, unfamiliar sound. “Except for you, it seems.”

“Excuse me?”

I fought a groan, resisting the urge to insert myself between them. Reid was an idiot, but today, he would learn.

“You heard me,” he said, undeterred by Coco’s proximity to his arteries. “Lou is different when she uses magic. Her emotions, her judgment—she’s been erratic since the pool yesterday. Tonight was worse. Yet you use magic without consequence.”

All desire to shield him from Coco disappeared. Erratic? It took a great deal of effort to keep my breathing slow and steady. Indignation seared away the last of my fatigue, and my heart pounded at the small betrayal. Here I was—lying injured beside him—and he had the gall to insult me? All I’d done at the pool and pub was keep his ungrateful ass alive.

Eviscerate him, Coco.

“Give me specific examples.”

I frowned into my bedroll. That wasn’t quite the response I’d expected. And was that—was that concern I detected? Surely Coco didn’t agree with this nonsense.

“She dyed her hair with little to no forethought. She tried to strangle Beau when it went wrong.” Reid sounded as if he were ticking items from a carefully constructed list. “She wept afterward—genuinely wept—”

“She dyed her hair like that for you.” Coco’s voice dripped with disdain and dislike, and I peeked an eye open, slightly mollified. She glared at him. “And she’s allowed to cry. We don’t all suffer from your emotional constipation.”

He waved a curt hand. “It’s more than that. At the pub, she snapped on Claud Deveraux. She laughed when she hurt the bounty hunter—even though she hurt herself in the process. You saw the bruise on her ribs. She was coughing up blood.” He raked a hand through his hair in agitation, shaking his head. “And that was before she killed his friend and nearly herself in the process. I’m worried about her. After she killed him, there was a moment when she looked—she looked almost exactly like—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Stop.” Blood still beaded Coco’s hand, which clutched an empty vial of honey. Her fingers shook. “I don’t have any comforting words for you. There is nothing comfortable about our situation. This sort of magic—the sort that balances life and death on a knife point—requires sacrifice. Nature demands balance.”

“There’s nothing natural about it.” Reid’s cheeks flushed as he spoke, and his voice grew harder and harder with each word. “It’s aberrant. It’s—it’s like a sickness. A poison.”

“It’s our cross to bear. I would tell you there’s more to magic than death, but you wouldn’t hear it. You have your own poison running through your blood—which, incidentally, I’ll boil if you ever speak like this in front of Lou. She has enough steaming shit to sort through without adding yours to the pile.” Exhaling deeply, Coco’s shoulders slumped. “But you’re right. There’s nothing natural about a mother killing her child. Lou is going to get worse before she gets better. Much, much worse.”

Reid’s fingers tightened around mine, and they both peered down at me. I slammed my eye shut. “I know,” he said.

I took a deep breath to collect myself. Then another. But I couldn’t ignore the sharp burst of anger their words had evoked, nor the hurt underlying it. This was not a flattering conversation. These were not the words one hoped to overhear from loved ones.

She’s going to get worse before she gets better. Much, much worse.

My mother’s face tugged at my memory. When I was fourteen, she’d procured a consort for me, insistent that I live a full life in only a handful of years. His name had been Alec, and his face had been so beautiful I’d wanted to weep. When I’d suspected Alec had favored another witch, I’d followed him to the banks of L’Eau Mélancolique one night . . . and watched as he’d laid with his lover. Afterward, my mother had cradled me to sleep, murmuring, “If you are unafraid to look, darling, you are unafraid to find.”

Perhaps I wasn’t as unafraid as I thought.

But they were wrong. I felt fine. My emotions weren’t erratic. To prove it, I cleared my throat, opened my eyes, and—stared straight into the face of a cat. “Ack, Absalon—!” I lurched backward, startled and coughing anew at the sudden movement. My shirt—cut from my back in ribbons—fluttered at my sides.

“You’re awake.” Relief lit Reid’s face as he sat forward, tentatively touching my face, sweeping a thumb across my cheek. “How do you feel?”

“Like garbage.”

Coco knelt next to me as well. “I hope you nicked more clothing from that peddler. Your others quite literally melted into your back tonight. They were fun to remove.”

“If by fun, you mean grotesque,” Beau said, sidling up beside us. “I wouldn’t look over there”—he waved a hand over his shoulder—“unless you’d like to see your love child of flesh and fabric. And Ansel’s dinner. He parted with it shortly after seeing your injuries.”

I glanced across the Hollow to where Ansel sat, looking miserable, while Madame Labelle fussed over him.

“You should change,” Coco said. “It’s near midnight. My aunt will be here soon.”

Reid glared at her, shifting to block me from view. “I told you. Lou comes with me.”

Coco fired up at once. “And I told you—”