People were pouring into the streets. The crowd surrounding the makeshift radio station was almost a wall, blocking their path.

Ash’s feathers bristled as he ushered Kara behind him. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but if they came at her, more blood would flow.

“Mr. Angel Sir!” a voice called out. Samuel, the night man, pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “Is it true, Mr. Angel? Is there life in the wasteland?”

Ash blinked in surprise. This was not the bloodthirsty crowd he’d assumed. The waiting faces were open and expectant. He hadn’t seen this auspicious a reaction since the king was first overthrown.

“Yes,” he said, slowly glancing behind him. Kara squeezed his hand, slipping away to blend into the crowd.

“Can we start planting crops there?” a woman on the left asked. Ash thought he recognized her as one of the field workers.

“Er… It’s a little soon for that. The land is only now starting to show signs of life,” he said, trying to keep an eye on Kara’s retreating form. “The important thing at this moment is to find Mazarin. If you find him, bring him to me.”

“When will the curse end?” someone else called out. A hush fell over the crowd.

“As I said earlier, it could be tomorrow, or it could be a year from now,” he said. “I don’t know. But until we do, the well-being of our city rests in our hands. We must all do our part…so why don’t we go to work now?” He held up a hand before they interrupted again. “Now that our announcement system is finally running, I promise to keep you informed of any developments.”

After he answered a few more questions, the bulk of the stragglers departed. He looked around for Kara, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“I’m sorry ‘bout your friend.” Samuel was still there, holding his cap in front of him. “I thought I might help you carry him for burial—I borrowed a clean vegetable cart. Not one of mine.”

Ash blinked rapidly. “I hadn’t thought of that. Thank you,” he admitted. Burials weren’t something he’d really had to take care of. Even after the war with the demon king and all the disasters when a new Firehorse rose—Marcus had always handled those details for him.

“I should go get his mother.”

Samuel waved that away, pointing his cart in the direction of the Place de Grève. “It’s all right. My boy Thomas went to fetch her.”

“Does he know where she lives?”

“Someone will tell him. Everyone knew Marcus. We all liked him.”

Ash nodded. He followed the cart with an odd detachment, relieved someone else was taking the lead on this.

When they arrived at Place de Grève, the bodies of Titouan and Klein were laying on top of a makeshift pyre.

Kara had taken charge. They had already torn down the scaffold holding the guillotine. The weapon itself was lying on its side, being hacked to pieces by a man under her direction.

A faded blue sheet had been laid over Marcus’ body. From the shape of the mound underneath, the head had been returned to the body. Kara hurried up to him. She glanced at Samuel, but despite the night man’s presence, she took his hand in an open display of affection.

“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.”