Blood & Honey
“It’s a real pity,” Beau finally muttered, shaking his head and looking at each of us in turn. His eyes shone with disappointment. “I know you’re all too preoccupied with your pining to notice, but I just caught my reflection in that last puddle—and damn, I look good.”
Coco smacked him upside the head. “Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?”
He rubbed the spot ruefully. “Not really, no.”
Lou grinned.
“Enough.” I hung my bag on a lowlying limb. “We can stop here for midday meal.”
“And eat.” Lou pulled out a hunk of cheese with a moan. Deveraux had kindly supplied us with rations for the journey. Breaking off a piece, she offered it to Ansel. He didn’t accept.
“When you’re finished,” he murmured, sitting on the root beside her, “I thought maybe we could train. We skipped yesterday.” To me, he added, “It’ll only take a moment.”
Lou barked a laugh. “We don’t need his permission, Ansel.”
Beau helped himself to Lou’s cheese instead. “I hope this isn’t alluding to his not-so-valiant attempt at swordplay last night.”
“He was valiant,” Lou snapped.
“Don’t forget I was there when the men burst into our wagon, Beau,” Coco said sweetly. His eyes narrowed. “You almost pissed down your leg.”
“Stop it.” Voice low, Ansel stared determinedly at Coco’s feet. “I don’t need you to defend me.”
“That’s rich.” Beau pointed to Ansel’s arm. “You’re still bleeding. You tripped and cut yourself during the fight, didn’t you? You’re lucky the brigands disarmed you.”
“Shut your mouth, Beau, before I shut it for you.” Lou shoved to her feet, dragging Ansel up as well. She examined the cut on his arm before handing him her knife. “Of course we can train. Just ignore that bastard.”
“I don’t think I am the—”
I interrupted before he could finish. “We don’t have time for this. The Chasseurs were near last night. Ansel will be fine. He trained with us in the Tower.”
“Yes.” Lou knelt over me, tugging another blade from my bandolier. The sheath by my heart remained painfully empty. “That’s the problem.”
My lip curled of its own volition. “Excuse me?”
“It’s just that—how do I put this—” She tilted her head to consider me, puffing air from her cheeks with a crude sound. “Don’t be offended, but Chasseurs have a certain reputation for being, well . . . archaic. Gallant.”
“Gallant,” I repeated stiffly.
“Don’t get me wrong, those injections of yours were a vicious step in the right direction, but historically, your brotherhood seems to suffer from delusions of grandeur. Knight errantry and the like. Protectors of the meek and defenseless, operating under a strict code of moral conduct.”
“And that’s wrong?” Ansel asked.
“There’s no place for morality in a fight, Ansel. Not with bandits or bounty hunters. Not with witches.” Her gaze hardened. “And not with Chasseurs, either. You’re one of us now. That means you’re no longer meek or defenseless. Those men you called brothers won’t hesitate to burn you. It’s life or death—yours or theirs.”
I scoffed. “Ridiculous.”
Yes, Lou had cut down the bounty hunters with relative ease. She’d slaughtered the criminals in the smithy and defeated the witch in the Tower. But if she thought she knew better than generations of Chasseurs . . . if she thought she could teach Ansel more than the best fighters in the kingdom . . .
She knew nothing. Trickery might work against bounty hunters and common criminals, but against Chasseurs, skill and strategy were necessary. Fundamentals built upon through years of careful study and training. Patience. Strength. Discipline. For all her skill, Lou possessed none of these. And why would she? She was a witch, trained in darker arts than patience. Her time in the streets—clearly her only education in combat—had been short and furtive. She’d spent more time hiding in attics than fighting.
“Ridiculous,” I repeated.
“You seem quite confident, Chass.” She lifted my knife slowly, angling the blade to reflect the afternoon sunlight. “Perhaps we should give Ansel a demonstration.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
I stared at her. “I can’t fight you. It wouldn’t be fair.”
Her eyes flashed. “I agree. Not fair in the slightest. But I fear Ansel isn’t the only one in need of a lesson today. I would hate for either of you to walk away with the wrong impression.”
“No.” Rising, I crossed my arms and glared at her. “I won’t do it. Don’t ask me.”
“Why not? You have nothing to fear. You are the strongest of us, after all. Aren’t you?”
She stepped closer, her chest brushing my stomach, and stroked a finger down my cheek. Her skin flickered, and her voice deepened. Multiplied. Just like it had in the pub. Blood pounded in my ears. Without my Balisarda, I could feel the pull of her magic beneath my skin. Already, my muscles began to relax, my blood to cool. A pleasant numbness crept down my spine.
“You’re curious.” Her voice was a purr as she circled me, her breath warm against my neck. Ansel, Beau, and Coco watched with wide eyes. “Admit it. You want to know what it feels like. You want to see it—this part of me. This part of you. It scares you, but you’re curious. So, so curious.” Her tongue flicked out, licking the shell of my ear. Heat spiked through my belly. “Don’t you trust me?”
She was right. I did want to see. I wanted to know. This emptiness on her face was foreign and strange, yet I—
No. I shook my head fiercely. I didn’t want to see it at all. Only yesterday, I’d watched her nearly kill herself with magic. She shouldn’t do this. We shouldn’t do this. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t Lou. It wasn’t—
Surrender.
Those strange, unfamiliar voices brushed against my innermost thoughts once more, caressing me. Coaxing me. “Of course I trust you.”
“Prove it.” She reached up to run her fingers through my hair. I shuddered at the touch. At the intrusion in my head. “Do as I say.”
Surrender.
“I—that’s enough. What are you doing?” I tore her hand away and stumbled backward. Knocked my bag from the tree. No one moved to retrieve it. “Stop it!”
But her skin only shone brighter as she reached for me—her eyes full of longing—and suddenly, I wasn’t sure I wanted her to stop at all.
Surrender. Touch her.
“Reid.” She extended her arms to me in supplication, and I felt myself step forward, felt myself bury my face in her hair. But she smelled wrong. All wrong. Like smoke and fur and—and something else. Something sharp. It pierced through the haze in my mind. “Embrace me, Reid. Embrace this. You don’t have to be afraid. Let me show you how powerful you can be. Let me show you how weak you are.”
Too sharp. Sickly sweet. Burning.
My hands came down on her shoulders, and I forced her back a step, tearing my gaze away. “Stop it. Now.” Unwilling to risk her eyes again, I stared instead at her throat. At her scar. Slowly, her skin dimmed beneath my hands. “This isn’t you.”
She snorted at that, and her skin flickered out abruptly. She shoved away from me. “Quit telling me who I am.” When I hazarded a glance at her, she glared back, lips pursed and brows drawn. One hand on her narrow hip. Expectant. “So? Are we doing this or not?”
“Lou . . . ,” Ansel warned.
My entire body trembled. “That’s twice you’ve used magic to control me,” I said quietly. “Never do it again. Do you understand? Never.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“You’re out of control.”
A wicked grin curved her lips. Jezebel incarnate. “So punish me. I prefer chains and a whip, but a sword will do.”
Unbelievable. She was—she—
I sucked in a harsh breath. “You really want to do this?”
Her grin widened, feral, and in that instant, I no longer recognized her. She was no longer Lou, but a true white lady. Beautiful, cold, and strange. “I really do.”
You met only a few months ago. How well can you really know her? Madame Labelle’s words tormented me. Louder and louder they grew. Louise has started her descent. I know the signs. I’ve seen it happen before. You cannot stop it, and you cannot slow it down.
“If I agree to this,” I said slowly, “I have a condition.”
“I’m listening.”
“If I win, no more magic. I’m serious, Lou. You stop using it. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to smell it. I don’t want to think about it until all this is over.”
“And if I win?” She trailed a finger across my chest. The unnatural luster returned to her skin. The unfamiliar gleam in her eye. “What then, darling?”
“I learn to use it. I let you teach me.”
Her skin guttered abruptly, and her smile slipped. “Deal.”
Throat tight, I nodded and stepped back. Finally, we could end this—this madness between us. This tension. This impasse. I would disable her quickly, efficiently. Despite her taunting, I didn’t wish to harm her. I never wished to harm her. I just wanted to protect her. From Morgane. From Auguste.
From herself.
And now I finally could.
Drawing a second knife, I rolled my shoulders back. Stretched my neck. Flexed my wrist.