The Malediction: Hidden Huntress Part 17

"One of these burns is marking the castle."

My heart skipped, my thoughts instantly going to my theory about an alliance between Marie and a.n.u.shka.

"What about the others?" I asked, coming around to look over his shoulder. "Do you recognize any of the other locations?"

His finger trailed over the surface of the map. "I'm not sure about all of them, but at least ten of these marks are in cemeteries."

I met his gaze. "She's been staying alive all these long years. Maybe this is how."

"I think we should go look," Chris said. "After everything we went through tonight, it seems stupid not go check out what the map is showing us."

Antic.i.p.ation p.r.i.c.kled my skin. "You're right."

"Go put on something warm," Chris said, his cheeks reddening with excitement. "I'll get our horses we have a lot of ground to cover tonight."

The wind blasted bits of snow and sleet against my cheeks as we trotted through the quiet streets, the gas lamps dripping melted snow into their pools of light. Those few who were out kept their heads down and hoods up their pace that of someone intent on putting a roof over their head and hands before a hearth. I could not recall a time when I'd felt the wind so frigid, the air biting gleefully at any skin that happened to be exposed. I pitied the poor folk in Pigalle who had no homes to flee to, and prayed that the cold snap would end swiftly.

My mind swirled as I tried to come up with justification for the nineteen marks on the map, but barring me having messed up the spell, there was no explanation other than that there were nineteen other lives tied to hers. Maybe nineteen victims.

Chris reined his horse in at the gates to the Montmartre cemetery. "What do you think we'll find?" he asked, dismounting.

"I have no idea." But I did know something was here; the earth was drawing me forward, leading me toward one of the spots my filthy bit of spell casting had revealed. Reins in one hand, I pushed open the iron gates and winced at the loud squeal of rusted hinges. "This way."

The Montmartre cemetery was below street level, giving the impression it was sunken into the earth. Leaving the horses tethered near the entrance, I led Chris down a set of steps and began to weave my way through the tombs, the statues gracing many of them casting eerie shadows in the light of our lantern. The narrow pathways were slick with ice, and twice I nearly fell, catching myself with the wing of an angel once, and on a marble epitaph the second. Both times I jerked my hand away, feeling as though I'd somehow desecrated the memory of those entombed within.

"Here," I said. "It's this one." My feet, of their own accord, had led us to a plain tomb that time had worn smooth. I carefully brushed the snow away from the faded etchings and held the light up to reveal a name and two dates. "Estelle Perrot," I murmured.

"Do you recognize it?" Chris asked, leaning over my shoulder.

"No," I said. "I don't. But there are two other locations in this cemetery."

Ignoring the icy cold of the wind, I let my feet take me on to a newer section of the yard. The tombs here were more ornate and the writing clearer. I stopped in front of a statue of a hooded woman sitting on the marble top, her head bent. " 'Ila Laval. Your sun set far too early,'" I read from the engraving, then reached up to brush some snow from the statue's arm. "I have no idea what this means."

"Is there really a body in there?" Chris asked, resting a hand on the top of the tomb. "Couldn't it be a false grave? A way of her changing lives without anyone the wiser."

"There's something in there," I said, not because I thought he was wrong, but because I could sense it in my bones that the tomb contained more than just empty s.p.a.ce. "But I suppose there's only one way to find out."

We both stared at the statue for a long moment, then Chris set down the lantern. Bracing his feet against the granite of the next tomb, he shoved against the lid. It didn't budge. Digging the heels of my boots into the slippery ground, I threw my weight against the slab as Chris pushed. Stone ground against stone, loud even over the wind, but the top of the tomb inched sideways, then it stuck. No amount of pushing moved it any further.

Panting hard, I retrieved the lantern and tried to angle the light into the narrow crack, but I couldn't see anything. "Hold this," I said, pa.s.sing it to Chris. Then I took a deep breath, and slowly eased my hand into the narrow gap. My pulse throbbed loud in my ears, my breath coming faster and faster as I eased my arm deeper into the tomb.

"Anything?"

I shook my head. The stone sc.r.a.ped tight against my skin, but I pressed my weight down and my arm abruptly slid in another few inches, my fingers punching through ancient fabric and into a ribcage.

A shriek forced itself from my lips, and I tried to jerk back, but I was stuck. Chris grabbed me around the waist and heaved me up, but the fabric of my dress bunched and caught. I tried to pull my fingers from the skeleton, but my wrist wouldn't bend enough, and the body shifted and moved with my jerky motions. "Get me out!"

He lifted me clear off the ground and pulled. Fabric tore and pain lanced through my arm, but then we were both tumbling back into the snow.

"What was it?" he demanded, eyes on the gap as though he expected a creature to rise up through it.

"A body." My voice was shaking, and I rubbed my sore arm with my other hand.

Chris's eyes shifted to me, and he was quiet for a long moment before saying, "City living has changed you."

I flushed at his sarcasm, climbing to my feet.

"Write the names and dates down," Chris said, going to the far side of the tomb to push the lid back into place. "Maybe once we find them all, we'll see a pattern."

I nodded uncertainly as I scribbled the names and dates on the back of the map with a pencil. "Let's go find the rest."

As the night progressed, we found tombs or graves matching all but two of the markings. One lay far to the south of the city, and the other was the location within the castle walls.

It was nearing the stroke of midnight when we pulled our horses up outside the Regent's castle. Or at least as near to the castle as we could get. The Indre River roared its way down to the ocean, the bridge leading over it to the island gated, and the walls on the far side guarded by men, marked by the glowing braziers they used to keep themselves warm.

I'd gained entrance so easily yesterday, but tonight the castle's fortifications did their duty. "She has to be here," I said through chattering teeth. "Every other location has been a corpse it has to be her."

"It's not proof," Chris said, shaking the map in my face. "There's the mark located outside the city that we need to investigate, and besides, for all we know, there could be another corpse hidden somewhere in the castle."

The snow spun and danced on the wind, the tiny white flakes mesmerizing. She was in there. I knew it.

"Cecile!" Chris shouted my name. Disorientation made me dizzy, and I shook my head, trying to clear it.

"Get away from the gate!" someone shouted. I looked up and saw a soldier in one of the guard posts pointing at us. Though I had no memory of moving, I was now most of the way across the bridge, the guards in plain sight. Fleur shied toward the edge of the bridge, and I clung to her frozen mane, afraid if I lost my seat I'd topple into the icy waters below.

Then Chris was next to me, hands reaching for the reins of my spooked horse.

"Sorry," he shouted. "She's drunk. I'll take her home. We don't want any trouble."

"Get away from the gates or I'll have you both thrown in the stocks for the night." He and one of his fellows started toward us.

"Stars and heavens," I swore, s.n.a.t.c.hing up the frozen reins and digging my heels in. This was the last thing I needed. "Come on," I shouted at Chris over the wind, and together we cantered through the city, our horses' hooves sliding on the slick cobbles. When we reached my mother's street, I pulled my horse to a stop. Her ears were pinned, and she sidled uneasily beneath me, snorting out puffs of mist.

"What happened to you? You looked as though you were in a trance."

I tucked one numb hand into the pocket of my dress, trying to warm my fingers enough to use them. "I'm not sure. I was so certain she was within the walls, and then..." I broke off. "The promise took hold of me."

Sliding out of the saddle, I handed Chris the reins. "Are you certain you're all right to be alone?" he asked. "What if it happens again?"

"I'll be fine," I said quickly, wishing I felt half as confident as I sounded. "I need to get back before my mother realizes I'm gone."

Wrapping my cloak tightly around me, I started walking down the street.

"Cecile!"

I turned back.

"Be careful. If she was willing to kill all those women, then..." I knew what he'd left unsaid. What's to stop her from killing you?

What was stopping her from killing me?

I nodded, and broke into a quick trot down the road to my home as Chris went off in the opposite direction. These dead women, whoever they were, had some connection with a.n.u.shka. And if I wasn't missing the mark, I bet it had something to do with how she was achieving immortality. If I could only figure out the connection between them all.

Despite my exhaustion, I broke into a run. It wasn't just the cold driving me along I sensed someone was watching me. My skin p.r.i.c.kled, my eyes searching the street ahead and behind, but the darkness and the thick snow made it hard for me to see more than a few yards in any direction. Letting go of my cloak, I fumbled in my pocket for the small knife I kept, clutching it tight.

It was no small amount of relief when I reached home. Fumbling for the key, I had to try three times to get it in the lock, my hands were shaking so badly. I kept waiting for someone to come up and grab me, right when I thought I was safe. When the door finally swung open, I staggered in and slammed it hard behind me.

"Where have you been?"

My heart froze in my chest. Slowly, I turned around to face my mother. "What are you doing home so early?" I asked weakly.

"Answer my question," she barked.

I stared at the floor, my mind racing. I had said I was staying home all evening, but even if I hadn't, I had no good reason to be out past midnight in a blizzard. "Frederic," I started to say, but she interrupted.

"Your brother is on duty at the palace. I saw him myself, so don't even try to say otherwise." She loomed over me. "And you certainly weren't out with your fellows in the company, no!" she scoffed. "No, that would be far too out of character for me to believe. Your lies are what is in character."

I stepped back as she flung her hands up. "For weeks you've been sneaking off, never telling me the truth about where you go. You deceitful, ungrateful little..."

"What do you care?" I shouted. "You've never cared before where I went, so why now? What difference does it make if I'm out with Christophe instead of with Julian?"

Her face darkened, blue eyes narrowing. "So that's it then?" She made a face. "I smell the horses on you now. A little roll in the hay with the stable boy?" Her face twisted and she spun away from me. "You're going to ruin your life, Cecile. What was the point of you ever leaving Goshawk's Hollow if you let a farmer get you with child?"

I flushed a dark red. Did I let what she was thinking stand? It was better than her finding out I was practicing blood magic in her kitchen and roaming the many city cemeteries in the dark of night, wasn't it? Better than her finding out that I was trying to release legions of mythological creatures who were currently cursed to their underground city. "What's wrong with Chris?" I demanded, pushing my way past her and into the great room.

"He's a farmer. He hasn't got any money."

I rounded on her. "Father was a farmer."

"Exactly," she snapped. "And look how well that worked out for me. Being forced to choose between my family and my career. I'm warning you, darling, don't go down the same path. Choose someone who won't force you to make sacrifices."

I stared coldly at her. I knew all this, of course, but hearing it out of her mouth was still astonishing. "Like the Marquis?" I said. "If rich is what counts, mother, you chose well."

Her eyes narrowed. "The Marquis is my patron, girl. He pays for all this, supports the company, keeps us in favor with the Regent. And in exchange, all he asks is that I entertain him and his friends."

"Of course, Mother," I said. "Everyone knows that all he's interested in is your..." I drew the pause out, "... voice."

She slapped me so hard that I staggered backwards. "You know nothing," she shrieked, then lunged at me.

I shoved her backwards. "Leave me alone!" I was angry too angry and the dark power of death still flickered inside of me, adding weight to my words.

She stumbled backwards, her eyes glazing over. "It's my life," I said, clenching my fist. "Not yours."

s.n.a.t.c.hing up my skirts, I bolted upstairs to my room. Flinging the door open, I was confronted with a wall of cold air. The window was open, snow blowing in and dusting the carpets with white. Hurrying over, I slammed the gla.s.s shut. Then I stopped in my tracks, goose b.u.mps rising up on my flesh. I hadn't left the window open before I left. Slowly, I turned around.

A single candle burned on my desk, and on the mirror above it written in smears of red were three words: Tick, tock, Princess.

Twenty-Two.

Tristan

The sounds of a mob growing began to permeate the walls of the palace not long after curfew broke at shift change, though from the sounds of things, none of the day crew had gone down into the mines. It was a sure sign of their fury that they'd dare risk not meeting quotas. Despite knowing this would happen, having this much anger directed at me still made me uneasy. I'd been wrong to think that being ignored was the most horrible sort of punishment. This was far worse.

Someone hammered on the door to my rooms, and I jumped, for a moment thinking that the mob had somehow breached the palace gates and was even now coming for my head. "Come in."

The door opened, and Guillaume stepped through, a smile plastered across his face. I hadn't seen him since Cecile left Trollus, and I would have preferred to keep it that way. "His Majesty has ordered your presence in the throne room. Now."

I followed him out into the corridor, where I found six more guards waiting. "This isn't necessary," I said. "I'll go voluntarily."

"Excellent," Guillaume replied. "But we're still going with you. Not to make sure you go, but to make sure you get there alive."

I blinked. "I hardly need protection."

"His Majesty thinks otherwise. There are half-bloods aplenty within the palace, and all are seeking your blood."

"As you like."