Chapter Fourteen

CONSTANTIN LIFTED HIS torch higher as he peered into the gloomy entrance of the brush-shrouded cave. “Is this big enough to hold your creature?” he asked dubiously.

“The man assured me it opens up farther in, and there are several enormous caverns. Big enough for our mother,” Régine replied, ducking to go ahead of him. Over her shoulder were coils of rope. They all lugged climbing and digging equipment.

“Shouldn’t we have a plan?” Constantin appealed to Michel-Leon as the infuriating man followed his maddening sister. They were both reckless in their need for answers, and he could only pray for more caution. “What do your ancestors say about this venture?”

Michel-Leon glanced at him, his eyes bright with intensity. “They are yelling so loud I had to block them. I need to think and not be driven mad with them trying to talk over one another.” He paused and laid a reassuring hand on Constantin’s arm.

“I want a quick look to observe what we’re dealing with. I won’t make the same arrogant mistake those at Metz did. We will be cautious. If we run into any sign of mists, we will retreat immediately. We’re going to need to work on that filtering mask. We need—” He broke off with a sigh. “We have so much to do.”

Some of Constantin’s worry eased. “We’ll get to the work we need to do. I want to be sure some thought went into this.”

“I have been thinking about nothing but plans since I started on this venture. There’s no lack of plans. I lack information.” Michel-Leon gestured toward the cave opening. “I’m hoping this will give me some.”

Constantin had to be content with that. He stepped back to let Michel-Leon pass. “Lead on, chevalier.”

He ducked and followed Michel-Leon in. The narrow tunnel sloped and twisted down, though the ceiling raised once they cleared the entrance. Régine wasn’t too far ahead. She was hammering rings into the rock wall and threading a rope through the rings.

Constantin and Michel-Leon moved with care, the footing uncertain in the light of the flickering torch. “Do you have any idea of what we’re searching for?” Constantin asked in a tense whisper that hissed around the corners.

“A sign the creature came through here or signs of a nest. I’d also like a clue that would lead us to the fate of those two boys.” Michel-Leon studied everything, the walls of their serpentine tunnel, the floors, and the ceiling before moving on to follow Régine’s progress.

Constantin tried to picture what he was seeing, but it looked like a cave tunnel to him. On occasion, Michel-Leon paused, his head cocked, and Constantin wondered if he risked trying to open the channel to his ancestors. It seemed like such a part of him as Constantin’s abilities were. It was like that of another sense, as innate as hearing or smelling.

The tunnel snaked again and opened into a low hanging, wide cavern. Constantin swung the torch and saw Michel-Leon’s expression mirror his disappointment and frustration. Régine stood next to the far corner where a rockfall had rained down a jumbled pile of striated rocks.

“This is the sole exit out from this chamber,” Régine said when they caught up.

“Another dead end,” Constantin said under his breath. There was no way of telling how complete the collapse was. The walls and ceiling of the cavern were craggy, rough-hewn and appeared solid. They could probably clear the rocks away quickly, with enough volunteers to assist.

“Time is running out on us.” Michel-Leon jammed his torch into a crevice, his expression set. Somewhere in the distance water dripped. One tributary had to be close. Constantin could smell the damp in the air of fresh water and underneath it the cloying odor of old death and rot. It had to be his imagination. The boys had been gone long enough that no smell should linger.

“We’ll need help,” Constantin said as Michel-Leon clambered on top of the fall and got to work. He took the rock Michel-Leon handed him and carried it off to another corner, out of the way. As he turned back, he met Régine hauling her own burden.

“Let him release some of his frustration and energy this way,” she whispered. “Then we’ll talk to the locals for assistance.”

“What about the trap for Nightingale?” Constantin asked, his stomach sinking.

“He won’t forget about that,” Régine assured him. “It’s another piece of the puzzle and another monster to end. The magicman is unlikely to accost us during the day. It will wait for night or during one of the dark hours when the mists shroud the streets. We’ll set up shifts and cover both avenues of attack.”

Régine had her own steady wisdom Constantin hadn’t appreciated before. The division of Michel-Leon’s attention concerned him, but he understood it. The mists claimed children too. Constantin hadn’t considered it in that light before, but now he had two new names that haunted his mind. Henri and Phillipe, two boys who had gone hunting a wonder and never returned.

*

MICHEL-LEON SAT down in the comfortable chair of his study, every muscle aching. He longed for a hot bath and knew he’d have to make do with a basin of tepid water instead. The work in the cavern was proceeding with agonizing slowness, but it was proceeding. At least there was an end in sight for their work on the traps of the château. He glanced at the telegram in his hand and prayed it also would lead him in a direction.

Magicmen are corrupted fey kissed. STOP. Fey kissed have the ability to heal souls. STOP. Magicmen consume them. STOP. Sending my notes and a book in the post. STOP.

Michel-Leon pursed his lips as he reread the message. That explained a few things, like how Constantin and Gabrielle could sense Nightingale feeding, but it left so many other questions. Questions his research hadn’t been able to answer. He folded the telegram and stuck it in his journal on his cluttered desk, then closed his eyes.

“How do the fey kissed become corrupted?” Michel-Leon cast the question out and the rustling whispers rose up like a stiff wind among dry and rattling leaves.

“By feeding off souls instead of healing. Ask the watcher. He started down that path when he confronted the soul stealer.”

An icy chill brushed Michel-Leon. “Is there a way to reverse the path?”

He waited in trepidation as they murmured. A hand on his arm jerked him out of his light trance. He looked up into the curious eyes of Constantin and felt another pang. No, he couldn’t allow that to happen to him. Constantin would kill himself before he became what he hated, but Michel-Leon needed more answers. There had to be a way to stop it.

“You need something?” Michel-Leon asked, striving to keep his tone light.

“You wanted to know when the workmen finished. They just left.” Constantin gestured at the château’s walls. “Janvier is leading them out safely.”

“Excellent.” Michel-Leon rummaged around his desk and came up with his list of safe passages and traps. “I should make you a copy of this. In case I make a misstep. I’m sending Janvier back home with all the village children and whoever wants to escape the mists. At least I’ll be able to save some people.”

“I question your self-preservation instincts. You don’t know me that well.” Constantin gave him a wry smile. “Are you sure you want to give me all your secrets?”

“Nonsense. The ancestors would’ve warned me if you are dangerous to me.” Michel-Leon studied the list and tried not to dwell on the warnings he had received. Constantin would not fall prey to the corruption. He needed to know how it happened so he could give Constantin the right words of caution. He suspected Constantin would have a terrible reaction to news he had been corrupted and was in danger of becoming like the magicman. Until he had a better idea of what Constantin would do then, he’d remain silent. “I say we check the traps and make sure they’re set from the heart of the château then outward. I don’t want to have to dodge them twice.”

“Have those voices ever been wrong?” Constantin asked with a lifted brow.

“Vague? Oui. Wrong? Non. The trick is asking the right question. The wrong one will send a flood of information or warnings that do not apply to the situation at hand.”

Michel-Leon remembered the telegram and retrieved a book of spells from the bookcase. Magic didn’t give him the same satisfaction as science, but against certain creatures, it was much more effective. If the magicmen truly had fey blood, then there would be something in there they could use. He had to be careful that Constantin didn’t get caught in the same trap, especially if he had already taken the first steps down the path toward being a magicman. There had to be a way to reverse it, and he would find it. He needed to know more so they could take the proper precautions.

“Tell me again what happened when you encountered Nightingale in your quarters.”

Michel-Leon listened intently as Constantin relayed the tale. They’d gone over it, moment by moment, several times already. Constantin’s confusion over what had occurred in his room appeared genuine. Still, Michel-Leon sensed he was holding something back, either because he didn’t understand what happened himself or because Michel-Leon hadn’t completely won his trust yet. He needed to be careful here until he knew more. Give Constantin a warning, but not say something that may push him on the wrong side.

“Come with me.”

Constantin followed him, peppering him with questions as Michel-Leon led him up another flight in his hidden staircase and down a long unused corridor. “Beware the plain tiles, s’il vous plaît. I don’t want to run the risk these traps remain intact. We’ll check as we leave.”

“I don’t understand. You said mortal weapons won’t hurt it.” Constantin gingerly stepped around the tiles, giving them a wary look. “What is the point of traps that endanger us but won’t hurt it? How do you plan on luring it, holding it?”

“With this.” Michel-Leon waved the book in his hand. “And with your unusual abilities. The traps won’t harm it seriously, but they will cause it to expel energy to protect itself. They will enrage it and distract it from our true purpose.”

Michel-Leon opened the double doors to a once grand ballroom. Cracked and faded tiles covered the floor. Cobwebs and dust draped every surface and coated the chandelier under decades of neglect. The ceiling soared up two stories to the rooftop and a balustrade circled it a level above where musicians once played to the dancers below. They could use the balcony to observe the creature.

“Interestingly enough, the magicmen are also fey kissed, which is why you and Gabrielle can sense it.” Michel-Leon cast a sideways glance at Constantin to judge how he took the revelation. He frowned fiercely but did not appear deeply upset. Good. Michel-Leon did not want to distress him, even if the man’s very presence caused no end of disquiet to himself. He drew Michel-Leon to him. There was no other way to describe it.

“Interesting. Disturbing.” Constantin clasped his hands behind his back as he examined the room. He had pulled his golden hair into a tail, revealing his elegant profile. “Though I don’t wish to share anything with that monster, it explains how Gabrielle and I sensed its feeding when the others didn’t. If I could physically cut out our connection from my own body, I would, even if it cost me my life.”

Constantin’s words alarmed Michel-Leon. The magicman had tormented Constantin in ways that left deep scars on his psyche. He could easily picture Constantin harming himself out of desperation. Michel-Leon needed to know more. He had to find a way to fix this before he told Constantin so he’d have the problem and a solution at once. There had to be a way.

“Does this tie into your plan to get rid of the monster?” Constantin asked, cutting into his worried thoughts. “Is there a way to weaponize it?”

“There are spells that contain fey. Since it relies on the magic in its blood to exist, it’ll be vulnerable to them. We trap it far away from any hint of a child and let it starve. As it starves, it’ll weaken, then mortal weapons will harm it.”

“That is a suitably terrible fate for it.” Constantin walked about in a slow circle under the balustrade. “Where do I come in?”

“You said the glamour you used made it possible for you to hide Gabrielle and your presence from him.” Michel-Leon looked up from where he perused the book. There were many types of magic. The spells in the book and those inlaid in the stones of the château required precise incantations and certain elements. The results weren’t always consistent. Then there was blood magic, which no one with any sense utilized. The price was too terrible. There was also the soul magic of the fey kissed that went beyond the glamours of the fey. It was apparent there were two sides of an edged sword there as well.

“I have a twofold question for you.” Michel-Leon said. “One, can you hide the presence of iron, and two, can you project the essence of yourself and Gabrielle into this room? The feel of your minds and emotional beings? I don’t want to use her as bait.”

“We will not use her as bait.” Constantin’s tone left no room for an argument. It was a strange time to be amused by it, but Michel-Leon hid a smile. Constantin was a refreshing change from the others of his class. Régine treated him like a brother, and Michel-Leon wouldn’t have it any other way. Janvier spoke to Michel-Leon as he pleased, though he was painstaking about doing it only when they were alone. Constantin ignored all niceties altogether, and on the occasions when he remembered, his responses were perfunctory.

“I agree.” Michel-Leon went back to flipping through the book until he found the spell he wanted. If they reinforced it with iron, the magicman would deplete itself, fighting to escape. In the meantime, Michel-Leon would work on a backup scenario or three. The last thing he wanted was a vengeful monster on the loose. “In fact, she is going with Janvier and the others, so if you want to say goodbye, I’d do it today.”

Constantin nodded, though his eyes were dismayed. “I think I can do what you request, but I would need to spend some time with her. Is Régine still with her in her rooms?”

“It is the safest place. I’m counting on her attracting the magicman’s attention when we parade her and all the other children from the village through the streets on the way to the train station. If you project she’s still with us when we return without her, I believe the magicman won’t be able to resist coming after her. What about masking the iron?” That would be the tricky part. Constantin would be using his fey abilities on materials that were an anathema to fey.

“I can’t say without practice. I’ve never attempted it on a nonliving thing.” Constantin appeared more intrigued than daunted. “I’ll also work on that and have an update for you tonight. Do you need me to help with the traps?”

“Non, what you’re doing is more important.” Michel-Leon closed the book. “I’ll walk you to Gabrielle’s rooms.”

“No need.” Constantin tapped his temple. “I have an excellent memory for dangerous things. I kept a close eye on everything you did.”

“If you’re sure.” Michel-Leon watched Constantin go and the way he neatly sidestepped the traps. Janvier had the same knack. Michel-Leon was the only one in danger of being killed by his own house. He shook his head and went back to studying the spell. They may not have much time, and he wanted everything in place.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Janvier appeared in the double doors. “I wanted to see this room of yours to check if my memory is correct. The doors are solid enough. I don’t care how strong the creature is. It would take a considerable amount of effort and time to break them down and the hinges are on the wrong side. Do you think it would be able to jump and climb up to the balcony? What if it discovers the secret entrance there?”

Michel-Leon shook his head even as he eyed the possibility. “It’s too high, I believe, but even if it could, all the doors are reinforced and I will trap each one. I also plan on sealing it within a circle at the center of the room if I can.” He pointed toward an unusual pattern on the ballroom floor. “Fey ward. If I find the right spell to activate it the creature won’t be able to leave that space. The trick will be getting it to cross the line. I’m having Severin figure that part out.”

Janvier regarded him for a long moment and entered the room, shutting the doors behind him. “May I speak frankly?”

Michel-Leon grinned at him. “I have never known you to resist. Why start now?”

Michel-Leon’s teasing had no effect on Janvier’s grave expression. “I have worried about you since the moment you first drew breath. Over the years, my concerns varied, but lately I’ve been struck with an increased anxiety you will live out your life alone and deny yourself the chance for love. My Marcelle, rest her soul, was my truest friend and ally until her passing.”

Michel-Leon gave Janvier a regretful look. “Then I am doomed to disappoint you yet again, mon ami. You know the vow I’ve taken. I’ll not pass this curse along to any child of mine.”

“There need be no children. Michel-Leon, I am aware of your attraction to Monsieur Severin. Just as I was aware of your dalliance with Lennox, though I never breathed a word to anyone. If Severin returns the feelings, act on them. My impression of him is that he’s loyal, and he cares deeper than he’s willing to admit. About a great many things.”

Michel-Leon’s cheeks heated to an uncomfortable degree. “I do not know what you are talking about,” he said stiffly.

“I am not your father,” Janvier replied gently. “I don’t care that he’s a vagabond with no home. Nor do I care that you both are men. I’ve witnessed you engage in conversations with him for hours, and it’s not always about the problems you both face. I care that you both share an interest in things outside of hunting monsters. You can work side by side with him in your lab and you both are content. He’s a man who would plunge into known danger to rescue you and call you out for risking yourself later. You need that. As I believe he needs someone who gives him a sense of home, a reason to return. You can do that for him. So don’t dismiss the idea.”

“I have Régine for companionship.” Michel-Leon wanted to look anywhere but at Janvier’s expression. He hadn’t grasped his old friend saw so much. “She gives me all the balance I need.”

“Michel-Leon, you can fool yourself, but not me,” Janvier’s firm tone made him wince. “Régine is a wonderful woman, fearless and intelligent and determined to go her own way. But she is as obsessed as you with her monster hunting. You love each other as siblings. Monsieur Severin is different. Dwell on that while I am away. Humor an old man.”

Michel-Leon laid his hand on Janvier’s bony shoulder. “I’ll miss you and your frank talk. You are more a father to me than he ever was.”

Janvier smiled at him, a rare smile that lit up his wintery eyes. “I’ll miss you as well, rapscallion. But I’ll rest easier, knowing both Régine and Monsieur Severin are at your side.”

*

CONSTANTIN PAUSED, A hand lifted to knock when the commotion of a scuffle, and Gabrielle’s muffled cries made his blood freeze. He wrenched the door open to the rooms she shared with the Widow Bardin. The two of them were rolling around on the floor. Gabrielle’s hand fisted in the widow’s hair, and she was trying to shout behind the hand clamped over her mouth.

“What is going on here?” Constantin demanded, putting his hand on his dagger as he glared at Bardin. Gabrielle didn’t appear frightened, and that was the only thing that kept him from hauling her away. “Explain yourself.”

Bardin blew a lock of hair out of her eyes and shot Constantin a narrow-eyed glare. “Don’t you know to knock before entering a woman’s chambers? Ouch!” She snatched her hand away from Gabrielle’s mouth and gave the girl an approving smile. “Très bon. Biting is always acceptable in a situation such as this.”

Gabrielle wormed her way out of the widow’s arms. She was a mess. Her hair had come loose of its pins and stood out in a halo around her face. Her dress had tangled around her legs and ripped. She stood up, dragging her hair back from her face. “Can’t I have trousers like you? Skirts are hard to fight in.”

“Don’t I know it.” The widow Bardin pushed herself up and shoved impatiently at her own hair. “But it’s good to learn how to defend yourself in skirts since we are so often shoved into them, whether we want them or not.”

“Je suis désolé. I heard the struggle and I was worried.” Constantin held out his arms as Gabrielle raced to him with a bright smile. “You should’ve told me you were teaching her such skills. I would’ve allowed it.”

“I wasn’t sure.” Bardin sat back in a chair, crossing her long legs at the ankle. “My parents were adamantly against the notion, and I had to learn from Michie on the side. He’s always indulged me. And it helped him too. He prefers studying to training. It used to make the old baron livid.”

“Salut, ma petite chouette. You act like I didn’t have breakfast with you this morning.” Constantin said as he hoisted Gabrielle up for a hug. He turned his attention back to the widow. This glimpse into Michel-Leon’s past intrigued him. “What was that like for him? Growing up as a chevalier?”

Bardin’s expression turned stony. “You’ll have to ask Michie. I don’t gossip about him.”

“Did you hear we’re leaving?” Gabrielle cut in, oblivious to the tension. She wiggled to be let down and ran to the bed where her toy cat was curled up. “On a train. I’ve never met anyone who’s been on a train. Everybody’s going. At least all the children from the village are and some adults. But not madame though; she’s staying with her brother.” She glanced toward Bardin, who gave him a mocking smile. “You’re coming with me, right?”

“Gabrielle, I have to stay here.” Constantin crouched by her as her expression fell. “The hungry man is going to be hunting us, and I need to help the chevalier fight it.”

“But what if you get hurt?” Gabrielle’s hands twisted in her skirts. “He is so mad at you. I can feel it. He wants to kill you.”

“The baron won’t allow that to happen. He has a plan.” An insane plan in Constantin’s estimation, but insane plans paid off at times. “I’m sure Widow Bardin will watch over me as well, and it’s not as if I don’t have experience in surviving it.”

“I promise to guard your guardian,” Bardin said, her voice warm with affection. “And when the hungry man is gone and the mystery here is solved, you can return if you wish, or you may find you like the Inn of the Mountain. It’s a good place for children to grow up.”

“Non.” Gabrielle shook her head decisively. “Not unless Constantin goes to live there too.”

Bardin shrugged a slim shoulder, her eyes narrowed on Constantin’s face in a weighing manner. “If the baron wishes it, he’ll extend the invitation.”

Constantin didn’t know what to make of that or what she thought of the idea. Better to retreat. He held out his hand to Gabrielle. “Come, let’s go for a walk down to the kitchen and beg a treat off cook. I have an experiment I want to run with you.”

“May I, madame?” Gabrielle asked, and at Bardin’s nod, she tucked her cat in the crook of her arm and took Constantin’s hand.

Madame Belanger was more than happy to give them each a slice of quiche and an apple dumpling. She had plied food on Constantin since they first met and couldn’t resist a motherless child no matter their race or station. Gabrielle carried their food wrapped in a napkin, and Constantin carried her past the traps up to the baron’s workshop.

“Is this where you make your magic animals?” Gabrielle asked as she looked over the table and then went to explore Michel-Leon’s row of experiments. “What’s this part?”

“That is where the baron tests what’s in the mists. He’s searching for a way to make us immune to them.” Constantin pointed out the beakers with drops of liquid and the microscope.

Gabrielle stared at Constantin with wide eyes. “He can do that?”

“If anyone can, it will be him. I have a great respect for his intelligence and tenacity.” Constantin crouched down to look at Gabrielle eye to eye. “He has a plan to trick and trap the hungry man, but he needs our help.”

Gabrielle swallowed hard and then lifted her chin. “What do we need to do?”

Gabrielle’s bravery always astounded Constantin. “Well, you know how I hide us in the shadows?” She bit her lip and nodded. “It’s called a glamour. I’ve learned a few things from the baron. The glamour is like a shield that hides the sense of our soul from others. It’s something that people like you and me can do because we’re fey kissed. Like it’s how only you and me can sense the monster and hide ourselves from it. I want to try out another glamour. I want to make an image of you that not only appears like you but feels like you to the hungry man’s senses. So, in a way, I would make a mirror image of your soul to trick it.”

Her brow furrowed in thought. “How do we do that?”

Constantin thought about how he twisted the shadows around himself, which made him remember the situation he’d been in the last time he used it. Somehow, he’d caught ahold of Nightingale’s essence and pulled at it. He fingered the puckered scar along his cheek. It was still red and raw, though it had closed completely. “You might sense something from me, but don’t be frightened. I won’t hurt you.”

“I know you won’t,” Gabrielle declared, burrowing close to him.

Constantin closed his eyes and held out his hand, searching for the sense of her. He fumbled around until he comprehended it wasn’t that different from how he attached the sense of a person to his little devices to search. He had the instinct. Now he needed the technique. He opened his eyes and looked into hers and then she was there to his groping senses, like a wounded bird who feared so deeply but trusted at the same time. It brought tears to his eyes. He could sense the areas Nightingale carved out, and he suspected he had similar marks on his own soul scabbed over and thickly scarred.

She called to him with a siren’s song, awakening a thread of hunger, and an overwhelming need to fix. She gasped as he expanded his senses more, enveloping her. “Non,” she whimpered, shrinking back.

The fear turned to terror in a flash, and the call to heal increased tenfold along with the hunger. Constantin ignored the latter and found the light opposite the shadows. He filled her with it, easing the old wounds until they shrank to scars and disappeared altogether. Constantin fell to his knees as the sense of her vanished.

What the hell had he done? Covered in shame, he forced himself to meet Gabrielle’s gaze. He’d scared her and that fear had called to him, stirring a terrifying hunger. What was wrong with him?

She stared at him, her eyes wide with wonder. “It doesn’t hurt any longer,” she whispered.

Tears welled in her eyes, and Gabrielle threw her arms around him, crying in relief and joy. “It doesn’t hurt!”

Constantin’s eyes stung as he sensed every bright emotion. There was no fear in her any longer, not for him. There was only love.

“Je suis désolé. I’m sorry I scared you, ma petite chouette.” Constantin pressed a kiss to her hair.

“I don’t care.” She beamed at him through her tears. “It’s all better.”

She broke away from him to dance around the lab, her curls and skirts flying. Constantin watched her as he went over what happened. There was a link between them now, a bright silver thread, and he sensed another thread, one dark and evil that connected Gabrielle to the magicman. He narrowed his eyes in concentration and severed it, feeling the echo and recoil from Nightingale before it disappeared. It would be coming. It was a matter of time before the monster stormed the château. The bait they laid on the way to the station would be the final lure.

With the sense of Gabrielle still singing, Constantin projected another image of her. One that danced and twirled in a mirror image of Gabrielle and cast onto it the same emotions. Nightingale could shatter it if it concentrated, but Constantin was confident he could hold it long enough to lure the monster into their trap.

“What’s that?” Gabrielle asked, coming to a halt as she stared at her image, which still danced. She clutched the cat to her and retreated toward Constantin.

“That is what Nightingale is going to chase while you get away to safety.” Constantin waved the image away with a sense of immense satisfaction. Now he had to figure out a way to mask the physical elements of Michel-Leon’s spell. He had ideas. He needed to test them and tweak.

“Excuse me, monsieur.” Janvier gave him a wintry smile when Constantin met his eyes. “The baron sent me to tell you we’re almost ready to leave for the train. Régine has the belongings for young mademoiselle already packed.”

Gabrielle threw her arms around him and clung. “I don’t want to leave. Can’t I stay with you?”

“Non, Gabrielle.” Constantin hugged her back. “I wish you could. When this is over, I’ll send for you or come get you myself.”

“Then I can stay with you? Forever?”

Constantin looked down into her hopeful eyes. What did he know about raising children? He’d been a loner always. “Maybe you will have found a better home and wouldn’t want to be with me anymore.”

She shook her head vehemently and hugged him harder. “Non, I want you. S’il vous plaît, Constantin.”

“If that is truly what you want,” Constantin said gruffly and picked her up to navigate the hidden stairs. “How did the baron survive his childhood growing up in this house?” It was another reason to be grateful that Gabrielle was leaving, no matter how much he’d miss her. The thought of her lost or wandering here gave him chills.

“He had me,” Janvier replied. “I have always taken care of him the way you take care of young mademoiselle. I don’t like going off and leaving him alone. No matter his insistence. Not when the situation is this dangerous. You will keep an eye on him, won’t you?”

“We’ll watch over each other.” Constantin shot the man a curious look. “I’m sure the widow has taken that duty on as well and has done so for years.”

Janvier didn’t respond until they reached the bottom of the stairs and emerged into the hallway. “Michel-Leon told me what you did for him while you were in Paris together.”

Constantin shrugged and set Gabrielle down. “I did what I had to do. I need his help.” He brushed his hand over Gabrielle’s loosened hair. “Gabrielle and all the children need his help.” He met the grim look in Janvier’s eyes. “And though I’m loath to admit there are needs that supersede ours, all of Paris needs his help. I gave my word. I’ll not abandon him. We are becoming friends.” Maybe more. Constantin couldn’t stop the wistful thought.

Janvier clasped his shoulder in a grip surprisingly strong for a man that old. “That is why I trust him with you. My biggest fear is dying and leaving Michel-Leon alone. I will depart with a clearer conscience.”

Janvier left Constantin speechless until he joined Michel-Leon on the front step. They oversaw the trunks loaded and that Janvier and Gabrielle were safely nestled inside the carriage.

“Were you able to do it?” Michel-Leon asked, searching his face. There was a look of relief in his eyes as he signaled for their horses to be brought around. “There is something different about you, something healed.”

“Masking and projecting Gabrielle was easy. The other is going to require more refining, but I think I can do it.” It couldn’t be much different from infusing his toys with magic.

Michel-Leon gave him a wolfish smile. “Then let’s ride out for the first part of our plan. Nightingale will notice the progression of so many children together, especially with Gabrielle in the center. It wouldn’t dare attack us, not in broad daylight and with no preparation. The villagers accompanying us will also be a deterrent, and Hadrien is armed.”

Constantin clambered onto his own horse as he caught onto Michel-Leon’s plan. “That will put the monster in a state of extreme anxiety. So, I suspect on the trip back you want me to project the sense of her in the carriage alone? It’ll believe I want her to remain with me?”

Michel-Leon hesitated and nudged the horse into a walk as the carriage set out. “Magicmen are notoriously jealous. They don’t easily let go of what’s theirs. It’ll view you as a rival flaunting your win. I expect to have it knocking down the main doors soon. All is in readiness there except for masking the spell and iron. It may not be needed if we enrage it enough. I hid it under a massive carpet. But I like layers of security.”

Constantin shook his head with an admiring smile as they joined the other villagers. “You are a wily bastard, Parisee. I never would’ve taken you for a trickster.” His gaze roamed over the road and the men surrounding the cart with the village children. This was a crazy plan, but it might work.