Chapter Eighteen

“ARE YOU SURE about this?” Foreman Lyon said in an undertone as Michel-Leon pulled a box out of the carriage. “I’ve never heard of a medicine that works against mists. Chevalier or not, it seems foolhardy.”

“We’ve tested it multiple times,” Constantin assured him. Experiments that stretched his nerves, but Michel-Leon had not fallen prey to the lure of the mists as he had in the past.

“I have tested it on myself, Constantin, and my sister. It works.” Michel-Leon held up one of the little bundles of snuff. “But in an excess of precaution, if you go out into the mists after taking this, I’d make sure you are well tethered and you have a strong friend to pull you back if you start feeling peculiar. A sample of three people is not odds that would reassure me, but this is what we have.”

“Well, now you have an entire crew,” Foreman Lyon replied. “Maybe it works for us all, maybe it doesn’t. But it’s something more than we had before. If you have tested it on yourselves, that eases my skepticism.”

Michel-Leon frowned at the men gathered around them. “Are you sure you want to do this? Constantin told me you are willing, but I want to be certain.”

Lyon stepped forward. “I’ve lost two crews’ worth of workers in total, as well as my sister’s son. I’ll try any damned thing that helps. Work has completely halted. We can’t make any headway, which means we’re not getting paid and food is not going on the table. And if this aids you in your investigation, then I’m willing.”

“Let them,” Constantin cut in and exchanged glances with Michel-Leon. He didn’t understand the man’s hesitancy. “They want to help, and we need the help. We are tied to the château more than we want, and we need eyes in the city. The information we’ve gathered from him has already proven valuable.”

Michel-Leon’s mouth turned down in reluctance. “Well, I can hardly deny that. I don’t want to lose anyone else in the foul mists, which is why I concocted these, but don’t allow your immunity to go to your head. There are still dangerous things out in the mists from what you tell me.”

The foreman nodded and took his little bag before allowing the men lined up behind him to do the same. “You take it the same way you would snuff.” Constantin demonstrated and waited while the doses were taken. “I’ll check in with you after the next cycle.”

“Do you have any idea when the mists will be back?” a man in the back asked. “We had it plague us for two days in a row and nothing for three now. Everyone is anxious when we step foot outside our door.”

Acute frustration crossed Michel-Leon’s features. “I am attempting to track down a pattern, but so far, the answer has eluded me. The moment I do know, I will send out new broadsides so everyone is warned.”

“And I’ll come by the worksite and let you know,” Constantin added, hoping the personal interaction might ease some of their fears.

“In the meantime, we are working on more of these.” Michel-Leon held up the redesigned filtration masks. “I intend for it to be another layer of protection. My theory is that there is something in the mists that acts as a drug and luring agent. The dose I gave you should counteract that. In case that fails, this should filter the air so you do not breathe in what’s infecting people.”

“How does it work?” the foreman asked, leaning over for a closer peek. “Did Monsieur Severin help you with that?” He traced a finger over the nose and mouthpiece, then glanced up at Constantin. “It looks like your work.”

“I did,” Constantin replied, well satisfied with the results. “We tested it before the inoculations to be sure it would filter out the vapors and it did. That was the problem with the prototype. It delayed, but didn’t block it all.”

“You use it like this.” Michel-Leon slipped the mask over his head and strapped it into place to demonstrate.

“It’s the demon in the mists,” a man in the back shouted as the crowd murmured in fear, drawing back. Even Foreman Lyon took a step away. Constantin took a closer look at Michel-Leon. He could imagine how terrifying it would be to have him coming at you in the mists with the mask on. Maybe they weren’t dealing with new monsters, merely men in masks taking advantage of the situation to steal. That would be a welcome relief for them if not for their victims. One less problem to deal with.

“What do you mean?” Michel-Leon demanded. He tore off the mask, scouring the frightened, tense faces in the line.

“Your mask.” One man pushed forward, his face leeched of all color. “It reminds me of the creatures that roam the mists. The ones that I swear were taking things.”

Michel-Leon frowned and looked at Constantin. “As usual, any answers lead to more questions. The damned magicman needs to be questioned again. That is one creature who has been out in the mists and who could answer decisively what the hell is going on. Especially since it must’ve dealt with them for the children.”

“You won’t get any argument from me.” Constantin had observed the decay in Nightingale’s face and body. Some men might enjoy the slow ending and delight in their adversary’s downfall and torment. He wanted it over and Nightingale behind them. He didn’t trust the monster for a moment. Every second it remained alive was a second it could use to retaliate and get free.

“They wore constructs like this?” Michel-Leon turned to the crowd and lifted the mask.

“Non!” The man who had screamed in fear pushed forward this time, his face a study of terror. He coughed, a wet tearing sound, and his lips were stained with the blood of consumption. “It weren’t no mask. I was out there. I was taken by the mists.” He shuddered and rocked. “Those monsters took me from the others, made me go back from the music.”

“Aren’t we all crazy?” Michel-Leon muttered under his breath in the irritated tone Constantin recognized. He was responding to the ancestors. Knowing that eased much of the uncertainty of being around him. Michel-Leon was saner and more stable than many.

“He was taken, my lord,” Foreman Lyon confirmed. “Two weeks past. He was on guard duty. Too weak at the time for labor, but he could keep an eye out for us. We found him the next day wandering the ruins and crying to himself. This is the most coherent he’s been since then.”

That was the clearest confirmation Constantin had that it related the missing items to the mists. Like he’d theorized. He just wished he knew what it meant.

Michel-Leon caught the man by the shoulders. “I was denied the music too and made to go back.”

The man’s eyes focused on him with startling intensity. “Let me go back. I’ll be worthy.”

A wild light entered Michel-Leon’s eyes, and it made Constantin uneasy. He still had not talked to him any further about what it was like out there. Now he wondered if that had been a mistake. “Do you know the way? Can you show me?”

“Michel-Leon, is that wise?” Constantin cautioned, laying his hand on Michel-Leon’s arm.

“I had not been out in the mists long enough to get a proper sense of direction, but this man had been out in it for hours.” Michel-Leon met Constantin’s concerned gaze. Constantin recognized it was the first time they’d really looked at each other in weeks, and it struck him how much he’d missed it. “What choice do we have? I’d follow a madman if it took me where I needed.”

A bewildered expression crossed the man’s face. “You don’t know either? I can’t find it. The trail is gone.”

Bitter disappointment filled Michel-Leon’s gaze. “Je suis désolé, I do not, but maybe we can help each other find the way. Tell me about the monsters who turned you aside. You said they weren’t wearing a mask, but they looked like this?” He held up the mask again, and the man shuddered.

“Their eyes were covered, black and shiny and big and their mouths gaped like gasping fish. They made sounds, horrible hissing noises.” The man covered his ears as he rocked. “They lined us all up in the ruins. Most of them they took away with the stolen stuff, but they said I wasn’t worthy. They hit me on the head, and I went to sleep.”

“Before they caught you and lined you up, where were you headed?” Constantin asked gently. “Across the river? Away from Paris to the southeast?”

“I…I don’t think so. I don’t know. Everywhere there were mists. But I didn’t hear the river.” The man covered his ears. “Just the hissing. No words. And the call to the music. It was everything.”

Constantin worried his lip. Their brief forays out into the mists had shown how impossible it was to find any landmark that would help with their bearings. It had forced him to use one of his gadgets to lead them home again. “You’d know better than I,” he said to Michel-Leon. “When you were caught out there, did you have the presence of mind to know where you were going other than the music?”

Michel-Leon sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Non, the call overwhelmed everything.”

“We found him not far from the site.” Foreman Lyon faltered when Michel-Leon met his gaze. “If that’s any help, my lord.”

“Any piece of information is another clue in the puzzle, even if I don’t know how they go together.” Michel-Leon sighed and let the man go. “Merci for coming all this way. We will check in with you after the next cycle. S’il vous plaît, exercise caution.”

Foreman Lyon pulled Constantin aside, his gaze grave. “Is there any hope? I looked into what happened at Metz as you told me to. The details were sketchy, but I heard enough. That’s what we face, isn’t it? A swarm of demons?”

“I believe if they were demons, the chevaliers would’ve found a way to find them, but there’s always hope.” Constantin grimaced. Michel-Leon was influencing his outlook. “I’d gather my belongings for an evacuation if I were you. It never hurts to be prepared for the worst-case scenario.”

“We have nowhere to go.” Foreman Lyon’s hand fell away.

“There’s a village near the château. They’ll take you in. So when I say go, take your family and go.” Constantin eyed the cloudless sky. “Paris will need help rebuilding if this goes badly.”

“If the snuff works, what about inoculations for my family? I fear for them every time they leave our rooms.” Foreman Lyon gestured to the rest of the dispersing group. “Most of them have loved ones who rely on them.”

“The chevalier is working to make more.” Constantin carefully stowed away the filtering mask. “And I’m making more of these. We have some business at the château, but I’ll check on you in a few days and let you know where we stand.”

Michel-Leon waited until they left and then climbed onto the carriage bench and took up the reins. Once Constantin settled next to him, they set out. “This all fits. I just cannot put the puzzle together. The creatures this man talks of sound like nothing the ancestors have ever encountered. They either must be something new or something ancient that hasn’t surfaced in a millennium.”

Constantin drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Based on what we have so far, I’d hazard it’s something new, and it’s linked to the aberrations that have you in such a tizzy. Or it’s a crime of opportunity. If we could make a mask that filters out the mists, why couldn’t someone else?”

“If it’s a crime of opportunity, why not take items of real value?” Michel-Leon navigated the congestion of people and wheeled vehicles with competent ease. Once again, Constantin was struck by how different he was from others of his class. He was used to doing for himself. That was something Constantin understood. “I wish I could disregard him as a madman, but the other men agree there were strange-looking creatures out in the mists.”

“Some of the children described the same. How much longer until we’re done with Nightingale? I want that over with. As you have said, we have other more important things to concentrate on. If it were gone, we could go back to the townhouse and conduct more conclusive experiments and search the mists ourselves or delve deeper into those caves. Even using the compasses to explore the open passages heading toward Paris hasn’t helped us make much headway.” Constantin pounded his fist into his palm. “There has to be a way to push it further along.”

Michel-Leon glanced at Constantin. “That creature holds on for spite, but it can’t hold out much longer. There is something it is using to hang on, and I need to figure out what it is. Are you sure it is no longer tied to you?”

“I thought I severed it when I healed Gabrielle, but after it tricked me with the glamour, I investigated again.” It still made Constantin’s skin crawl. “Some links were back, weak but there. I might always be susceptible to it because I was with it for years. I don’t know. I’m keeping an eye on it.”

“What do you mean, healed?” Michel-Leon asked in a strangely neutral voice. “Can you do it for yourself?”

“When I was working with her to test if I could do the reflection you requested, I sensed the wounds on her soul.” Constantin frowned as he tried to put into words what he’d done. “Her pain called out to me. I had to respond. But I don’t know if I can do it for myself.”

“It would be worth exploring.” Michel-Leon urged the horses to a faster walk as they left the city. “I read that fey kissed had the ability. I’m glad you could do it for her. I hope you could do the same for yourself. You’ve carried those wounds around long enough.”

Constantin studied his profile. He wished he could get a read on the man. He sensed Michel-Leon had wounds of his own. “Do you think it can be hurt with mortal weapons yet?” Constantin asked.

“I know you’re impatient. I am too. But we have a chance here to get answers out of it. Nightingale knows something about these mists.” He growled in aggrieved frustration. “We have scoured the cave system and have found no evidence of the nest. This inoculation has to work if Nightingale won’t bend. We’ll be able to track infected people once we’re out in the mists with them.”

He paused and gave Constantin a self-deprecating smile. “If it works. We don’t need the creature.”

“Let me talk to Nightingale again,” Constantin urged. “We share a history. Maybe that will give me the opening to get something out of it.”

“Your shared history is what concerns me.” Michel-Leon started to reach out to trace the puckered scar on Constantin’s cheek, but jerked his hand back as his cheeks flamed red. He turned his attention back to driving. “I don’t want it to have the opportunity to hurt you again.”

“That won’t happen until it’s dead and burned to ash.” Constantin bit back his disappointment and concentrated on the countryside. “I’m going to talk to it when we return. Guard my back if you want, but I’m going.”