Serpent & Dove

We hastily donned our costumes in Soleil et Lune that night. Our safe haven and haunt, the theater’s attic provided an endless repository of disguises—gowns, cloaks, wigs, shoes, and even undergarments of every size, shape, and color. Tonight, Bas and I strolled in the moonlight as a young couple in love—clothed in the rich, sumptuous fabrics of aristocrats—while Coco trailed behind as an escort.

I snuggled into his sinewy arm and cast him an adoring look. “Thank you for helping us.”

“Ah, Louey, you know how I dislike that word. Help implies I’m doing you a favor.”

I smirked, rolling my eyes. “God forbid you do anything from the goodness of your heart.”

“There is no goodness in my heart.” Winking roguishly, Bas pulled me closer and leaned down to whisper in my ear. His breath was too warm against my neck. “Only gold.”

Right. I elbowed him in a seemingly innocent gesture and shifted away. After the nightmarish parade, we’d spent the greater part of the afternoon plotting our way through Tremblay’s defenses, which we’d confirmed after a quick jaunt past his townhouse. Bas’s cousin lived near Tremblay, so hopefully our presence hadn’t roused suspicion.

It’d been just as Bas described: a gated lawn with guard rotations every five minutes. He assured me additional guards would be posted inside, as well as dogs trained to kill. Though Tremblay’s staff would probably be asleep when we forced entry, they were an additional variable over which we had no control. And then there was the matter of locating the actual vault—a feat that could take days, let alone the few hours before Tremblay returned home.

Swallowing hard, I fidgeted with my wig—blond and piled high with pomade—and readjusted the velvet ribbon at my throat. Sensing my anxiety, Coco touched her hand to my back. “Don’t be nervous, Lou. You’ll be fine. The Brindelle trees will mask the magic.”

I nodded and forced a smile. “Right. I know.”

We lapsed into silence as we turned onto Tremblay’s street, and the ethereal, spindly trees of Brindelle Park glowed softly beside us. Hundreds of years ago, the trees had served as a sacred grove to my ancestors. When the Church had seized control of Belterra, however, officials had attempted to burn them to the ground—and failed spectacularly. The trees had regrown with a vengeance. Within days, they’d towered above the land once more, and settlers had been forced to build around them. Their magic still reverberated through the ground beneath my feet, ancient and unchanged.

After a moment, Coco sighed and touched my back again. Almost reluctantly. “But you do need to be careful.”

Bas whipped his head around to face her, brows furrowing. “Excuse you?”

She ignored him. “There’s something . . . waiting for you at Tremblay’s. It might be the ring, but it might be something else. I can’t see it properly.”

“What?” I lurched to a halt, spinning to face her. “What do you mean?”

She fixed me with a pained expression. “I told you. I can’t see it. It’s all hazy and unsettled, but something is definitely there.” She paused, tilting her head as she considered me—or rather, as she considered something I couldn’t see. Something warm and wet and flowing just beneath my skin. “It could be malevolent, but I don’t think whatever it is will harm you. It’s—it’s definitely powerful, though.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Because I couldn’t see it before.”

“Coco, we’ve been planning this all day—”

“I don’t make the rules, Lou,” she snapped. “All I can see is what your blood shows me.”

Despite Bas’s protests, Coco had insisted on pricking our fingers before we’d left. I hadn’t minded. As a Dame Rouge, Coco didn’t channel her magic through the land like me and the other Dames Blanches. No, her magic came from within.

It came from blood.

Bas raked an agitated hand through his hair. “Perhaps we should have recruited another blood witch to our cause. Babette might have been better suited—”

“Like hell,” Coco snarled.

“We can trust Babette as far as we can throw her,” I added.

He regarded us curiously. “Yet you trusted her with knowledge of this critical mission—”

I snorted. “Only because we paid her.”

“Plus, she owes me.” With a look of disgust, Coco rearranged her cloak against the crisp autumn breeze. “I helped her acclimate to Cesarine when she left the blood coven, but that was over a year ago. I’m not willing to test her loyalty any further.”

Bas nodded to them pleasantly, plastering on a smile and speaking through his teeth. “I suggest we postpone this conversation. I don’t fancy being roasted on a spit tonight.”

“You wouldn’t roast,” I muttered as we resumed our stroll. “You’re not a witch.”

“No,” he conceded, nodding thoughtfully, “though it would be useful. I’ve always thought it unfair you females get to have all the fun.”

Coco kicked a stray pebble at his back. “Because persecution is a real treat.”

He turned to scowl at her, sucking on the tip of his forefinger, where her pinprick was still barely visible. “Always the victim, aren’t you, darling?”

I elbowed him again. Harder this time. “Shut up, Bas.”

When he opened his mouth to argue, Coco gave him a feline smile. “Careful. I still have your blood in my system.”

He looked at her in outrage. “Only because you forced it from me!”

She shrugged, completely unabashed. “I needed to see if anything interesting would happen to you tonight.”

“Well?” Bas glared at her expectantly. “Will there?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Unbelievable! Pray tell, what was the point of allowing you to suck my blood if you weren’t planning on sharing—”

“I’ve already told you.” She rolled her eyes, feigning boredom and examining a scar on her wrist. “I only see snippets, and the future is always shifting. Divination isn’t really my forte. Now, my aunt, she can see thousands of possibilities with just a taste—”

“Fascinating. You can’t imagine how much I enjoy these cozy little chats, but I’d rather not learn the specifics of divining the future from blood. I’m sure you understand.”

“You were the one who said it would be useful to be a witch,” I pointed out.

“I was being chivalrous!”

“Oh, please.” Coco snorted and kicked another pebble at him, grinning when it hit him squarely in the chest. “You’re the least chivalrous person I know.”

He glared between us, trying and failing to quell our laughter. “So this is my reward for helping you. Perhaps I should return to my cousin’s, after all.”

“Oh, shut it, Bas.” I pinched his arm, and he turned his baleful look on me. I stuck my tongue out at him. “You agreed to help us, and it’s not like you aren’t pocketing your share. Besides, she just had a drop. It’ll be out of her system soon.”

“It’d better be.”

In response, Coco flicked a finger, and Bas cursed and jolted as if his pants had caught fire. “That isn’t funny.”

I laughed anyway.

Too soon, Tremblay’s townhouse loomed before us. Built of pretty pale stone, it loomed over even its richly crafted neighbors, though it gave the distinct impression of opulence gone to seed. Green crept steadily up the foundation, and the wind whipped dead leaves across the gated lawn. Brown hydrangeas and roses dotted the flowerbeds—beside an outrageously exotic orange tree. The spoils of his black-market trade.

I wondered if Filippa had liked oranges.

“You have the sedative?” Bas whispered to Coco. She sidled up beside us and nodded, extricating a packet from her cloak. “Good. Are you ready, Lou?”

I ignored him and grabbed Coco’s arm. “You’re sure it won’t kill the dogs?”

Bas growled impatiently, but Coco silenced him with another flick of her finger. She nodded once more before touching a sharp fingernail to her forearm. “A drop of my blood in the powder for each dog. It’s just dried lavender,” she added, lifting the packet. “It’ll make them sleep.”

I released her arm, nodding. “Right. Let’s go.”

Raising the hood of my cloak, I stole silently to the wrought-iron fence lining the property. Though I couldn’t hear their footsteps, I knew the others crept after me, keeping close to the shadows of the hedgerow.

The lock on the gate was simple and strong, crafted from the same iron as the fence. I took a deep breath. I could do this. It’d been two years, but surely, surely, I could break one simple lock. As I examined it, a shimmering gold cord drifted up from the ground and wrapped around it. The cord pulsed for only a second before snaking around my forefinger as well, linking us. I sighed in relief—then took a deep breath to steel my nerves. As if sensing my hesitation, two more cords appeared and floated to where Coco and Bas waited, disappearing into each of their chests. I scowled at the fiendish little things.

You can’t get something for nothing, you know, a loathsome voice at the back of my head whispered. A break for a break. Your bone for the lock . . . or perhaps your relationship. Nature demands balance.

Nature could piss off.

“Is something wrong?” Bas edged forward cautiously, his eyes darting between me and the gate, but he couldn’t see the golden cords as I did. The patterns existed solely within my mind. I turned to look at him, an insult already rising to my tongue.

You worthless coward. Of course I couldn’t love you.

You’ve already fallen in love with yourself.

And you’re terrible in bed.

With each word, the cord between him and the lock pulsed brighter. But—no. I moved before I could reconsider, twisting my forefinger sharply. Pain lanced through my hand. Through clenched teeth, I watched as the cords vanished, returning to the land in a whirl of golden dust. Savage satisfaction stole through me as the lock clicked open in response.

I’d done it.

The first phase of my job was complete.

I didn’t pause to celebrate. Instead, I hastily swung the gate open—careful to avoid my forefinger, which now stuck out at an odd angle—and stepped aside. Coco streaked past me toward the front door, Bas following closely behind.

Earlier, we’d determined that Tremblay employed six guards to patrol the house. Three would be posted inside, but Bas would see to them. He had quite a skill with knives. I shuddered and crept onto the lawn. My outdoor targets would suffer a much kinder fate. Hopefully.

Not even a moment had passed before the first guard rounded the townhouse. I didn’t bother hiding, instead throwing my hood back and welcoming his gaze. He spotted the open gate first and immediately reached for his sword. Suspicion and panic warred on his face as he scanned the yard for something amiss—and spotted me. Sending up a silent prayer, I smiled.

“Hello.” A dozen voices spoke within my own, and the word came out strange and lovely, amplified by the lingering presence of my ancestors. Their ashes, long absorbed by the land until they were the land—and the air and the trees and the water—thrummed beneath me. Through me. My eyes shone brighter than usual. My skin glowed lustrous in the moonlight.

A dreamlike expression crossed the man’s face as he looked at me, and the hand on his sword relaxed. I beckoned him closer. He obliged, walking toward me as if in a trance. Only a few steps away, he paused, still staring at me.

“Will you wait with me?” I asked in the same strange voice. He nodded. His lips parted slightly, and I felt his pulse quicken under my gaze. Singing to me. Sustaining me. We continued staring at one another until the second guard appeared. I flicked my gaze toward him and repeated the whole delicious process. By the time the third guard came around, my skin glowed brighter than the moon.

“You’ve been so kind.” I extended my hands to them in supplication. They watched me greedily. “I’m so sorry for what I’m about to do.”

I closed my eyes, concentrating, and gold exploded behind my eyelids in an infinite, intricate web. I caught one strand and followed it to a memory of Bas’s face—to his scar, to the passionate evening we’d spent together. A trade. I clenched my hands into fists, and the memory vanished as the world tilted behind my eyelids. The guards fell to the ground, unconscious.

Disoriented, I opened my eyes slowly. The web dissipated. My stomach rolled, and I vomited into the hedge of roses.

I probably would’ve stayed there all night—sweating and puking at the onslaught of my repressed magic—had I not heard the soft whine of Tremblay’s dogs. Coco must’ve found them. Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I mentally shook myself and crept toward the front door. Tonight was not the night for squeamishness.

Silence cloaked the inside of the townhouse. Wherever Bas and Coco had gone, I couldn’t hear them. Creeping farther into the foyer, I took stock of my surroundings: the dark walls, the fine furniture, the countless trinkets. Large rugs in tawdry patterns covered mahogany floors, and crystal bowls, tasseled pillows, and velvet poufs littered every surface. All very boring, in my opinion. Cluttered. I longed to rip the heavy curtains from their rods and let in the silver light of the moon.

“Lou.” Bas’s hiss emanated from the stairwell, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Coco’s warning reared to life with terrifying clarity. There’s something waiting for you at Tremblay’s. “Quit daydreaming, and get up here.”

“I’m technically night dreaming.” Ignoring the chill down my spine, I half sprinted to join him.

To my surprise—and delight—Bas had found a lever on the frame of a large portrait in Tremblay’s study: a young woman with piercing green eyes and pitch-black hair. I touched her face apologetically. “Filippa. How predictable.”

“Yes.” Bas flicked the lever, and the portrait swung outward, revealing the vault behind. “Idiocy is oft mistaken for sentimentality. This is the first place I looked.” He gestured to the lock. “Can you pick it?”

I sighed, glancing down at my broken finger. “Can’t you pick it instead?”

“Just do it,” he said impatiently, “and quickly. The guards could wake up any moment.”

Right. I shot the golden cord spreading between myself and the lock a nasty look before going to work. It appeared quicker this time, as if waiting for me. Though I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, a small groan still escaped as I snapped a second finger. The lock clicked, and Bas swung the vault open.

Inside, Tremblay had stacked a slew of tedious items. Pushing aside his seal, legal documents, letters, and stock, Bas eyed the pile of jewelry beyond them hungrily. Rubies and garnets, mostly, though I spied a particularly attractive diamond necklace. The entire box glittered with the golden couronnes lining its walls.

I swept it all aside impatiently, heedless of Bas’s protests. If Tremblay had been lying, if he didn’t have the ring—

At the back of the vault lay a small leather album. I tore it open—vaguely recognizing sketches of girls who had to be Filippa and her sister—before a gold ring tumbled out from between the pages. It landed on the carpet without a sound, unremarkable in every way except the flickering, nearly indiscernible pulse that tugged at my chest.

Breath catching in my throat, I crouched to pick it up. It was warm in my palm. Real. Tears pricked at my eyes, threatening to spill over. Now she’d never find me. I was . . . safe. Or as safe as I’d ever be.On my finger, the ring would dispel enchantments. In my mouth, it would render me invisible. I didn’t know why—a quirk of the magic, perhaps, or of Angelica herself—but I also didn’t care. I’d break my teeth on the metal if it kept me hidden.

“Did you find it?” Bas stuffed the last of the jewelry and couronnes into his bag and looked at the ring expectantly. “Not much to look at, is it?”

Three sharp raps echoed from downstairs. A warning. Bas’s eyes narrowed, and he crept to the window to peer out at the lawn. I slipped the ring onto my finger while his back was turned. It seemed to emit a soft sigh at the contact.

“Shit!” Bas turned, eyes wild, and all thoughts of the ring fled my mind. “We have company.”

I ran to the window. The constabulary swarmed across the lawn toward the manor, but that wasn’t what made genuine fear stab at my stomach. No, it was the blue coats that accompanied them.

Chasseurs.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Why were they here?

Tremblay, his wife, and his daughter huddled next to the guards I’d left unconscious. I cursed myself for not hiding them somewhere. A clumsy mistake, but I’d been disoriented from the magic. Out of practice.

To my horror, one of the guards had already begun to stir. I had little doubt what he would tell the Chasseurs when he regained full consciousness.

Bas was already moving, slamming the safe shut and hauling the portrait back into place. “Can you get us out?” His eyes were still wide with panic—desperate. We could both hear the constables and Chasseurs surrounding the manor. All the exits would soon be blocked.

I glanced down at my hands. They were shaking, and not just because of the broken fingers. I was weak, too weak, from the exertion of the evening. How had I let myself become so inept? The risk of discovery, I reminded myself. The risk had been too great—

“Lou!” Bas grabbed my shoulders and shook me slightly. “Can you get us out?”

Tears welled in my eyes. “No,” I breathed. “I can’t.”

He blinked, chest rising and falling rapidly. The Chasseurs shouted something below, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the decision made in Bas’s eyes as we stared at one another. “Right.” He squeezed my shoulders once. “Good luck.”

Then he turned and dashed from the room.