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  A pained growl issues from across the room. Mathieu is coming around, which brings our attention back to what has just happened and around to the very real danger we are now in.

  It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots—even though he wasn’t in the greenhouse with us earlier, if Mathieu’s a mole, there’s little doubt that every word from Nutesh’s lips has been delivered into the ears of Lucian Dagan Dmitri and Aveline Darrow.

  They’re going to find us, and they’re going to kill us.

  Mathieu is removed from the medical suite, though his deafening threats necessitate use of a cloth gag. Thierry seemed to take a strange pleasure in tying it around his head. Perhaps knowing time was running short, Mathieu made his move, though if his plan was to collect the three books and skedaddle out of Dodge, it was a terrific failure. Did he really think he’d make it out of this compound with little more than a handgun as protection?

  No. No one could be that dumb. No one with military training.

  Which means there is a bigger plan in action. Mathieu is merely the distraction.

  Nutesh calls Hélène into the operating suite; she agrees to sit with Baby, monitor his vitals, and change his ice packs for the next hour. Without saying a word, Nutesh nods at Lucas, now returned from depositing Mathieu downstairs. In his hand, Lucas holds a menacing, club-shaped wand. As soon as he turns the switch on the wand’s black handle, the device beeps. Lucas begins scanning the room, moving slowly and carefully around every cart, cabinet, and fixture.

  He’s scanning for bugs.

  I’ve stepped into a Jason Bourne film.

  Baby’s discarded, cut clothing is heaped on a cart near his bed. While Nutesh is busy with Lucas, Henry talks to his mother, and Montague and Hélène replace cold packs around Baby’s body, I quietly move to the pile of shredded cloth.

  His cell phone is in one of these pockets. He’s never without it.

  And I need it.

  I find it and tuck it into my pocket, covering the bulge with the bulk of the Irish sweater I’m grateful to have on, even if it’s too warm for inside.

  I’ll have to sneak in later to get Baby’s thumbprint and then reprogram the phone to recognize mine.

  If Mathieu has put word out to people who want us dead, I have to put word out to my own people that I am doing everything I can to stay alive.

  9

  THIERRY’S MEN SCOUR THE COMPOUND FOR ANY EVIDENCE OF INTRUSION, electronic or otherwise. Everyone is tight-lipped about the results of their search; however, even Nutesh seems a bit tenser than usual as the afternoon progresses. If they found something, I’m guessing it wasn’t good.

  While I’m curious about what will become of Mathieu, his betrayal likely has a direct connection to what’s happening to Baby. It’s a good idea to keep him away from me in my emotional, electrically charged state.

  Alone in the medical suite with my talisman, I try not to look at the monitors. I don’t want to see the evidence that he’s slipping away from me. Instead, I’ll do what I can to anchor him to my side, even if he’s a million miles away. His soulful brown eyes are closed, his body covered by one of Hélène’s beautiful quilts, motionless save the up-and-down of his barrel chest under the influence of the machine helping him breathe.

  In the brief interim that we’re alone, I pull his hand free and unlock his phone with his thick thumbprint—careful to shield what I’m doing with my body, as I’m sure Nutesh has cameras in here. I then quickly adjust the security settings so the phone will respond to me. I don’t know what GPS-blocking technology he has installed, but for safety, I’ll turn the phone off before hiding it in my backpack tonight. I’m also going to need to find his charger.

  Before powering down, though, checking over my shoulder and listening for footsteps outside the suite, I hunch over to hide the phone between my body and Baby’s bed and start a new text:

  Vi, it’s Gen. I’m safe. Please don’t listen to

  the news. It’s all BS. I’ll explain everything

  as soon as I can. PLEASE watch over the elephants

  and lion. Everything Mara told you

  was a lie. STAY SAFE.

  My heart races—this is a ridiculous risk, but I cannot let Violet believe the terrible things Lucian is saying in the press conferences. And I need her to take care of Gertrude, Houdini, and Othello. She and Ash are my family; I know they’ll do what’s right to protect our beasts.

  And I’ll deal with the fallout later when Baby wakes up and realizes his phone is gone. I look forward to that punishment, in fact—because it means he’s made it through this.

  The door whooshes open. I shove the phone into my front pocket and again cover it with my bulky sweater.

  Montague pulls up one of the white leather-and-chrome chairs and sits beside me, taking my hand in his.

  “Don’t worry,” he says as I try to pull away. “I know what these hands can do.” He smiles. I slide one hand free and run a finger over the scarring the lion’s claws left behind. “I healed. I survived, because of you.”

  I nod. He’s right.

  “You were so brave, even as a little girl. Always ready to help those who needed it most.”

  “Except now. I can’t save him. How can I leave while he’s so sick? What if he dies when I’m gone?”

  “What choice do we have?” he asks. “You can save him, though.” Montague kisses the back of my hand before returning it to me.

  “How? My attempts at healing are useless on whatever Aveline has done to him.”

  Montague nods. “Nutesh said they are using a very dark magic. To save him, that magic must be undone at the source.”

  At the source. In Babylon.

  “I have to tell all of you—Aveline’s gifts? Her hands? Where mine can heal, hers can take a person apart. She is very, very dangerous. Together, she and Dagan are . . .” Lethal. I can’t say the word out loud. “I can’t go, Montague. I cannot leave here without Baby. He’s my talisman. He’s the only thing that keeps the Etemmu from destroying me. They used the Etemmu to murder Delia—you know that, right?” While I’m so grateful to have had a reprieve from the demon’s terror while safe inside the compound, I’m vibrating with fear over what’s going to happen once we leave.

  Montague’s head bobs once as he looks down at the floor. “Your mother was so beautiful and kind.”

  “She was . . . and they took her from me.” My clenched knuckles bleed of color and I wipe away an angry tear.

  “But this is about more than revenge, Geneviève. If you don’t go, if you don’t fight this evil, Baby will not survive, and Dagan will chase you and Henry until he has the books. This will never be over for you. You said yourself that you wish to be rid of this curse, that you wish for a normal life. There is only one way to do that.”

  “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” I whisper, leaning forward to rest my forehead on Baby’s burning-hot wrist. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Come back to me, Horatio. Come back to me.”

  Sobs rack through me as Montague rubs my back. When a hand brushes my neck, glove-free, the exchange of energy tells me it’s Henry. He takes Montague’s place, standing over me as he wraps an arm around my shaking shoulders, hugging me to him. He holds on, bending with me when I howl my fear, sadness, and frustration into Baby’s quilt.

  Montague leaves quietly, allowing us a few moments with Baby. Henry offers tissue and whispers that everything will be okay, that we will do what’s necessary to save everyone we love.

  I straighten and fold myself against him.

  “Come. Hélène has set up food for us in your room,” he finally says.

  I wipe my nose and eyes and kiss Baby’s forehead, whispering a promise I’ll come sit with him before we leave. I then let Henry lead me out of the medical suite and down the hall toward our rooms.

  Inside mine, Hélène has performed her own magic—in the sitting area near a roaring fireplace, the wooden square coffee table is covered in food, wine,
and a cluster of stout, white candles, their lit wicks dancing shadows against the bookshelves.

  “She thought it might be nice for us to have some quiet time before . . .”

  “Before the end?” I finish.

  Henry clicks the door closed. “It’s not the end of anything, Gen. Not when we have each other to get through it.” He clasps his pinkie finger around mine and pulls me to one of the two facing love seats and then sits opposite.

  “This seems awfully romantic for a grandmother to prepare,” I say, picking up a ripe strawberry from a bowl of vibrant fruit.

  “She’s a rather modern grandmother, I think,” he says. “I may have made a special request. Or two.”

  “Maybe she sees this mission could kill us, so why not enjoy a few precious last moments?”

  “Ahh, there’s my cynical Genevieve. I was worried I’d lost her,” Henry says.

  I toss the strawberry stem onto the plate. “I can’t do this without Baby. What if the Etemmu comes for me again?”

  “Then we’ll handle it the best we can. My mother’s presence can’t be for nothing—if seeing her is my newest gift, then surely it must be useful. Maybe she can help us.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I asked my grandfather to make me your talisman. To repeat whatever ritual he performed with Baby that made him your mother’s protector, and now yours. He said it isn’t possible because I’m an heir too.”

  “Thank you . . . for asking. Seriously.”

  Henry pours wine for us. We are in France, after all. “And I’m sorry you had to learn about Xavier like that—in front of all of us. That couldn’t have been easy.”

  I accept a glass and take a drink. I’m not used to wine—it makes me shudder. “I don’t get it, though. How could he be my dad? Why wouldn’t Delia mention him?” I run my finger along the glass’s rim. “Then again, Delia didn’t mention a lot of things.”

  “And we can’t ask Baby. At least not right now.”

  I nod, sipping to wash away the lump in my throat. Baby . . .

  “If Nutesh trusts Xavier, then we must too. My grandfather wouldn’t steer us wrong. He has everything to lose, just like we do.”

  “And isn’t that what makes a story so compelling? When everyone has everything to lose?”

  When Henry looks at me, firelight dances in his blue-green eyes, and even with the loss of his deliciously mussed curls, he’s still that handsome kid all the girls want to impress. I stand and turn away, pulling the heavy sweater over my head—and tucking Baby’s phone into its folds so Henry doesn’t see it.

  I then move across to his couch and slide next to him, hardly a breath between us. His eyes linger on my hair—he reaches up to pull at a short dark coil.

  “Beautiful.” He kisses me, hard, his ungloved hand cupping the back of my head, the other gripping my shoulder. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close, kissing him back with all the fear and worry and trepidation and longing we share. We should be talking about mission objectives and meeting Xavier and how the hell we’re going to pull this off, but instead images of our prior encounter at the shitty motel back in SeaTac flow from his head into mine—him kissing me, what he really wanted to do that night, his hands on me, my hands on him, the heat between us when I zapped him—

  We chuckle against one another’s mouths. “It was really hot until you electrocuted me,” he whispers.

  I push him back a few inches. “Um, Alicia . . . she’s not in here, right? Because that would be creepy.”

  “She’s not here,” he says, his lips brushing mine, his bisected eyebrow lifting. “And yes, that would be really creepy.” He presses his lips to mine again, pausing only to pull me onto his lap so I’m straddling him, my hands on his lightly bristled face, in the fuzz of his tightly trimmed hair, on his neck.

  He pulls me as close as two people can be while fully clothed, and while our bodies and mouths are pressed together, I send my own images into his head, of us first meeting, of us with the elephants, of our first kiss . . .

  Shirts are untucked and skin is explored, and while the burn beneath my sternum steadily increases, I’m able to control it. Well, mostly.

  “You’re like kissing static electricity,” Henry says into my ear as he kisses my neck. “And do stop thinking such impure thoughts. I’m afraid of my grip on my self-control, and in my grandparents’ house, no less.” His eyes bore into mine, his chronically ink-stained left thumb caressing my cheekbone.

  “You’re the one who plied me with wine and a romantic meal.”

  “A romantic meal we have yet to eat.” He kisses me again, biting at my lower lip. With my hands on his neck, searching his collarbone, I come across a new addition to his ensemble.

  A necklace. With a key.

  “From Hélène,” he says, allowing the La Vérité key to dangle over his fingers. “She said we all get one, in the tradition your mother started.”

  I reach down and kiss the key.

  “Did you notice earlier, with Mathieu in the medical suite—I watched his key go from old silver to pitch black.” I dig into my pocket and pull it out. “I took it—it’s silver again.”

  “Honestly, Genevieve, I didn’t notice much about Mathieu except his pistol pushed against the back of my skull.”

  “Right. Sorry,” I say, tucking Mathieu’s key away again. “Are you all right? After that, I mean.”

  “It wasn’t the highlight of the trip so far,” he says, his bravado slipping a little. “I’m just glad it stopped where it did.”

  I push my forehead against his and kiss him. “Me too,” I say against his lips. “Henry . . . what if we don’t survive this?”

  “We will. We will,” Henry says, kissing the tip of my nose, his hands on my shoulders. “And when it’s over, I promise to kiss you like this every day until we’re old and withered.”

  “Promise?”

  “Cross my heart and hope to—”

  “Don’t say it.” One more lingering kiss, and then I lean back, pluck a strawberry from the bowl, and feed it to Henry. “We should eat.” I pull back slightly. “We’re going to need our strength so we can save the world.”

  10

  WHEN HENRY AND I DELIVER OUR TRAY OF EMPTIED PLATES TO THE KITCHEN, Hélène offers more hugs and squeezes, some quiet words of advice, followed by the instruction that we retire for a few hours of rest. We’re to leave the compound at 0300, “under cover of a moonless sky,” she says. Five hours from now.

  The travel clothing Nutesh mentioned earlier hangs in my closet. I change into one set—black cargo pants and black turtleneck—rather than pajamas, so I can spend every remaining moment with Baby. Maybe my presence will help him find his way back, since Nutesh is out of medical, or magical, options to bring him around. More than anything, I want to crawl under the duvet of this amazing bed, to hide away in this incredible estate for the rest of my life, wrapped in Henry’s arms, safe and secure from whatever awaits us outside the compound walls.

  But I live in the real world, and for me, for Henry, right now, the real world isn’t made of dreams or fantasies. It’s made of danger and deceit and a fortitude I don’t think I have.

  Once Henry is tucked away in his own room, I grab Baby’s phone and turn it back on, nervous about what I might find. While I desperately want to make contact with Violet—with home—I’m scared what she might say, or worse, that someone else intercepted the message.

  Gen! OMG! WHERE R U? Everyone here is

  freaking out! Lucian said Baby kidnapped you

  guys and you stole some crazy expensive art?

  Can I call you? Plz text me back ASAP.

  I smile and release the breath trapped in my chest.

  Can’t talk much. PLEASE tell Cece and Ted

  I’m OK. We’re with Baby. We’re safe.

  I pause—we’re not safe. But how much do I tell her? She can’t possibly wrap her head around any of this. No reasonable person could.

  I’ll explain as soon as I
can. Don’t tell anyone

  else. Could be very dangerous. Please,

  Vi. I love you & miss you so much.

  I love you too. I’m so worried. The circus is

  shutting down. Everything is falling apart.

  Police everywhere. They think you’re in danger

  & it’s Baby’s fault?

  All lies, Vi. I SWEAR. One day soon I’ll

  explain.

  OK. I miss you. When R U coming home?

  Dunno yet. Please take care of the elephants

  for me. Promise? Keep them safe. Tell Dr. P

  & Ted to watch them closely. Mara Dunn

  is not who she says she is & she might hurt

  them.

  Mara left—an aunt in Quebec died so she

  had to leave? She seemed very sad when she

  went. Gert & the baby miss you so much. And

  Othello won’t stop pacing—he roars at everyone

  who walks by him.

  I choke on a sob.

  Please give them a kiss & hug for me. Be

  careful, Vi. Love you.

  Love you too, sister. Come home. We’re all so

  worried.

  GTG. I’ll check in as soon as I can.

  XOXOXOXOX

  I turn off the phone. I’ve lingered too long, and now I listen, frozen in the doorway of my bathroom, straining to hear the plod of boots in the hall to tell me I’ve compromised the whole mission with my selfishness.

  The faucet drips.

  Water rushes through a pipe in the wall from an adjacent bathroom.

  An owl hoots outside the window.

  No human bursts into my room.

  Relief washes over me in a cold sweat. I hide the phone up my sleeve, just in case, and move to the closet where my new backpack awaits. As I unzip, the familiar shiver runs through me—the AVRAKEDAVRA is tucked in its pouch, ready for its final journey.

  I grab my mom’s hand-painted playing cards from my nightstand—the one thing I managed to bring with me from home, a little piece of Delia that tells the story of our people—and then I bury the cards and Baby’s phone in the mess of supplies in the pack’s bottom half. I pull my second set of travel clothes from their hangers. Once rolled and stuffed into the bag, the phone is totally concealed.