Chapter Twenty-One

MICHEL-LEON STUDIED the list long after Constantin left him. What a gift he’d been given. By a man who was incredible in every way. He ached with the need to tell him what was in his heart, but he didn’t know how to approach him—didn’t know what to say or how to act. He was completely clueless when it came to relationships, but perhaps Constantin was right. There was no need for him to lock himself away.

He fervently wished Janvier was there. He’d give Michel-Leon his honest opinion, though he suspected the old man would agree with Constantin on every point. Michel-Leon couldn’t talk to Régine. He loved her, but there were some things he couldn’t discuss with the woman he considered his sister.

He listened to Constantin working at his table as Michel-Leon continued his research. He had some thoughts on how they could approach the nest if they ever found it. Time was slipping away so fast. But tonight, he’d get some answers. He waited until Constantin said goodnight and acted as if he’d be a while still in his research.

Then Michel-Leon studied the names, once again marveling at Constantin’s gift until he was sure Constantin was likely asleep. He carefully tucked the list away in his journal. In the next few days, he’d have to make it a point to talk to each of the volunteers. But for now, he had a promise to Constantin he needed to fulfill.

He rose and retrieved his sword, checking the blade to ensure the engraved inscription was intact. It had been a while since he’d needed to use it, and he wanted to be sure the spell still worked. The magicman had to be vulnerable at this point, and Michel-Leon didn’t trust it wouldn’t have a last trick or two to play. He wasn’t going to allow Constantin to be hurt by it again.

Michel-Leon had one final lever to use to get the creature to speak. If that didn’t work, he was done with stringing this out. Constantin deserved closure. He stopped by their rooms on his way up. Light spilled from underneath Constantin’s door. Good. He needed the rest and didn’t need to witness what was coming. It would distress him.

He quietly shut the door, headed to Régine’s rooms, and knocked.

“Come in.” Régine sat by her dressing table, running the brush through her long red curls. Her brows lifted at the sight of Michel-Leon’s sword. “What is it?”

“I need you. Get your rifle and the bullets we’ve spelled.” Michel-Leon glanced toward the ballroom. “It’s time this is over.”

Régine’s expression firmed as she rose, and a steely light appeared in her eyes. “Where’s Constantin?”

“In his room. With any luck, by the time he recognizes something is changing with the magicman, we’ll have what we need.” He held open the door as Régine grabbed her weapon and headed out with him.

“Shouldn’t he be a part of this?” Régine asked in a hushed voice.

Michel-Leon shook his head. “Twice the creature was able to target him. I’m not going to risk a third time. Not when Poitou is this desperate.” Besides, Michel-Leon had some words for the magicman that Constantin would never allow him to utter without a fight.

They went up to the next level. The hallway was a shambles from all the traps the magicman had set off. It was past time Michel-Leon pulled the teeth of the place. Reputation alone would keep people away from the Château des Ombres. He didn’t want anyone to get hurt coming in here after he passed.

“Go up to the door of the balcony and keep guard. I’m going to offer Poitou a deal for more information. Let’s discover what we can jar loose from it. If it tries anything, shoot it.” Michel-Leon thought of Constantin with a pang. “Constantin might sense something. He is connected to the monster. If he does, try to keep him from interfering.”

“Understood. Keep yourself safe, Michie.” She squeezed his arm as he gave her a grim smile.

“You too. There is no one I trust more to have my back.” Michel-Leon could know that and still be grateful she was in a safer position. She knew the monsters and risks as well as he did, and she was as diligent in fighting them. It pained him he could not trust Constantin in this. He had no doubt of the man’s heart and soul, but he was the weak link when it came to the magicman. The thought of him being hurt pained Michel-Leon more.

“Give me ten minutes to get into place.” Régine took off without a backward glance, resolve apparent in every step.

Michel-Leon waited, gathering his arguments and offers together. This would end tonight. He opened the double doors to the magicman’s prison and heat poured over him, drying the spit in his mouth and making his skin tighten. A blazing sun pounded down on the withering monster in the center of the room. Poitou had curled into a tight ball to protect itself, and it didn’t notice it wasn’t alone any longer.

With a word and gesture, Michel-Leon banished the glamour and Nightingale moaned, a wretched and pain-racked mewl. This was torture, and it went against everything Michel-Leon believed in. He preferred a quick and clean kill if it was necessary. But there was nothing clean about a magicman, so he hardened his heart against pity. “Are you ready to talk?”

“Leave me be with your pestering questions,” it rasped as it uncurled its long limbs with painful slowness. “I’ll not tell you anything, chevalier. Nothing! I’m not dead. None of your torments will kill me.”

“Non, I suspect not.” Michel-Leon paused outside the hidden circle. The glamour of a harmless old man the magicman had surrounded itself with had finally fallen away, showing the monster within. “You appear as if you didn’t entirely escape the flames that sought your life when you were executed after de Rais.”

The magicman was a shriveled husk, its skin blackened and burned, weeping with blood and other fluids. A livid bruise ringed its neck from where they tried to hang it first before it faced the fires. The soul magic it used to sustain itself was nearly spent, and it had reverted to how it looked before it shed its humanity. A creature too old and depleted to survive what was coming, and they both knew it.

“I have one last offer to make in exchange for information.” Michel-Leon crouched so he stared at the magicman in its burning yellowed eyes. A chill touched his heart. This here was true evil. As dangerous as the swarm was, there was no malice in it, solely hunger. A magicman’s hunger could never be satiated. Michel-Leon felt tainted just by being near it. “One last chance.”

“Bah.” The magicman spit blood at him, staining Michel-Leon’s rumpled coat. “There is nothing you may offer. Nothing that will entice me. You plan on killing me.”

“Oh, I do,” Michel-Leon said softly, the words laced with menace. “And I’ll take great relief in it, I assure you. But as much as it goes against my nature, I’m willing to give you one last sweet memory before you go. That’s how badly I need that information.”

“Constantin to play with?” The magicman went still, studying Michel-Leon with a crafty gaze. “Non, non, you won’t give him up. No deal.”

There was something about the man who Michel-Leon had come to care for that called to the magicman. He hoped it had to do with their fey-kissed blood. That was the sole lure that made sense. There was something about it that was more potent for this monster. “What about the little one who Constantin stole? She’s still a child, still innocent.”

A scuffle broke out on the balustrade, and Michel-Leon went cold. He glanced as Constantin muscled past Régine, his face pale and pinched with horror. “Non! Michel-Leon you can’t!”

The magicman cackled and Michel-Leon turned his stony gaze back on it. Bon sang, he hadn’t wanted Constantin hurt, and now he would be. Only this time, Michel-Leon was the cause.

“Stay out of it, Constantin,” Michel-Leon warned, keeping his eyes on the magicman. At this moment, it was truly dangerous. “This is the only way. We are running out of time. Summer is coming to a close. The mists are erratic and the swarm is getting closer to hatching.” He glanced up, met Constantin’s stricken gaze, silently willing him to understand. He stood on the balcony, gripping the railing like it was a lifeline. Michel-Leon hardened his heart against the pain he saw etched into Constantin’s face. Régine stood behind him, blocking the door. “I warned you when this started. One life is not worth thousands.”

“Non, you can’t! She’s in Lorraine. She wouldn’t get here in time.”

It killed Michel-Leon to know he would have to dash the desperate hope in his eyes.

“I lied,” Michel-Leon said softly, and Constantin reeled back as if struck. “I had Janvier come back with her after everyone was safe. In case we needed her.”

“And you say I’m evil.” The magicman laughed softly as Constantin dropped to his knees with an expression of horror etched deeply into his face. No sound uttered from his lips, yet Michel-Leon could feel his pain. “You’ve hurt him worse than I ever could.”

“I know.” And Michel-Leon would live with that regret, with the memory of Constantin’s anguish. “Whatever it takes. Do we have a deal?”

*

HE WOULD KILL them all for this betrayal. Constantin seethed as he spun around for the door.

Régine pointed her rifle at his head, her expression stern. “Stay right there, Constantin,” she warned.

“Treacherous, lying, monsters,” Constantin hissed, crouching low and holding out his hands.

Régine’s mouth firmed, but before she could say anything, Constantin twisted the shadows around himself. Régine cursed and lowered the rifle to poke the butt at the air, searching for him. Constantin retreated down the balustrade and walked the entire length around to slip behind her. He’d stop this. No matter what it took.

“We have a problem,” Régine called down. “He pulled his disappearing trick.”

“I’ll deal with him later,” Michel-Leon said, keeping his eyes on the magicman. “Get the child. Come back with her, but don’t come up here yet. I’ll let you know when a deal has been made.”

“Understood.”

A part of Constantin hadn’t believed in their treachery, but when Régine disappeared through the door, he wanted to howl in pain and rage. He would carry them all to hell first before he let them harm another child. And how many more children will die if Michel-Leon doesn’t stop the swarm?

Constantin’s steps faltered, and he almost stumbled. No one should have to make that choice. It couldn’t have been an easy choice for him to make. But the deception burned. Knowing Michel-Leon had lied. That he’d held Gabrielle aside to use her for leverage. He wasn’t the man Constantin thought he knew. The man he loved.

Constantin clambered over the balustrade and swung down to the floor, banishing the glamour as he went. He fell hard, pain shooting up his legs. Nightingale cackled, and Constantin sensed it trying to reach for him as he recoiled from that evil mental stroke. “Your agony is so sweet, little Constantin. Will the chevalier leave you to watch as I take back what you stole from me? I hope so.”

“Non!” Constantin fought off the attack as hunger called to him to grab what remained of Nightingale and consume it. Michel-Leon spun around to face him, and the resolve on his face hurt Constantin anew. “I won’t let you take her! Damn the consequences. We’ll find another way.”

He swung at Michel-Leon, and he dodged. All traces of the scholar disappeared as Constantin faced the chevalier. He caught Constantin’s arm and before he could blink, Michel-Leon was behind him, his arm around Constantin’s throat in a viselike grip. Then they were tumbling to the floor, Michel-Leon’s legs wrapped around him so Constantin couldn’t struggle.

Constantin fought, trying to pry his arm loose, trying to find leverage. Though the pressure was uncomfortable, it didn’t cut off his air as Constantin expected it to.

“Trust me, s’il te plaît, mon cher.” Michel-Leon breathed in his ear. Stunned, Constantin slowed his struggles as he assessed everything he knew of Michel-Leon and Régine.

He did trust Michel-Leon, a completely novel experience for him. He was so used to being betrayed, having to guard his back, to search for the other angle. But his thoughts kept going back to the sorrow in Michel-Leon’s eyes when he heard of the magicman’s crimes. His flinty determination to protect as many as he could. The way he took each death as a personal failure.

Constantin slowed his struggles more, projecting helplessness along with the rage that had consumed him. Nightingale still lurked, trying to break through and feed off his emotions. Michel-Leon relaxed fractionally. “Time to go to sleep,” he said, his voice intent.

His thoughts spinning, playing on that implied command, Constantin went limp. He remained careful to block Nightingale out, so he appeared unconscious. He wasn’t sure what game Michel-Leon was playing, but he was willing to let it spin out for the time being. Michel-Leon held him a moment longer and then released him, easing Constantin to the floor.

“He’ll be out for a while, so it’s just you and me. Do we have a deal or not?” Michel-Leon asked.

Silence stretched out, and Constantin forced his breathing to remain slow and even and disciplined his emotions, exerting his will to calm and his thoughts to still. After an interminable wait, he sensed Nightingale probe him again, but it was weak, so weak. Constantin didn’t think it could even latch on and feed unless it was in contact with its victim.

Constantin bit back a surge of muddled emotion as Nightingale withdrew.

“We have a deal,” it rasped. “Fetch the child.”

“I am no fool,” Michel-Leon responded. “I want the information first. The child will be within the château momentarily, but I’ll not have her brought up yet. You may start by telling me where the swarm’s nest is. I suspect you know.”

Nightingale laughed sardonically. “I am no more a fool than you. You are worse than foolish, so sure of your knowledge, so sure of your reasoning. All the swarms are in caves, so you’ve been concentrating your searches there. I’ve been observing. Fool. Fool. Fool. The swarm is not outside the city.”

“I’ve gathered that much, though it makes no sense,” Michel-Leon said, his voice urgent. “Then where, if you know so much? Where would that mother be able to hide and lay her nest? She is not a small creature.”

“It is underneath it.” The magicman began laughing again, and there was an edge to it that chilled Constantin as if any vestiges of humanity had finally snapped. The mocking jeer crawled along his nerves. “No more will I say. Not until I have the child. Then you may ask any question you wish.”

“Very well,” Michel-Leon said, and Constantin tensed, prepared to fight him if necessary. “Constantin, does it tell the truth?”

Constantin sat up and stared at Nightingale. This was the monster that plagued his memories and nightmares. He didn’t know if he’d ever be free of it, even after it was dead. Nightingale narrowed its eyes at Constantin and hissed. There was fear there in that inhuman gaze and consternation. Constantin drilled that memory into his mind as well. A magicman could know fear.

“I believe so.” He glanced at Michel-Leon as he stood up. “Is it enough?” Mon Dieu, let it be enough. He couldn’t take any more.

“It will have to be.” Michel-Leon drew his sword as Nightingale struggled to its knees, panting, its rage almost palpable.

“We had a deal, Chevalier!”

“I lied.” Michel-Leon said and glanced at Constantin. The care he saw in those eyes almost brought him to his knees. Michel-Leon held out the sword. “Do you want to be the one to execute it?”

Constantin stared at Nightingale again, remembering all the times he’d dreamed of this moment. Now that it was here, he no longer longed for revenge. He just wanted it over. He wanted to know Nightingale wouldn’t harm anyone again.

“I don’t care. You or me, just do it. You do it,” Constantin said, ashamed of his doubt, that he’d thought for one minute Michel-Leon would deliberately harm someone he’d sworn to protect, that he wasn’t as committed to taking down the magicman as he’d said.

“Ainsi soit-il.” Michel-Leon faced the magicman. “Etienne Poitou Corrilaut, you have haunted the children of France for centuries. You’ve stolen their innocence and well-being. You’ve tortured and killed untold numbers and twisted others to aid you. For those crimes and many more we do not know about, I, Michel-Leon Parisee, Baron de Dagonville and Chevalier de Rouen, do sentence you to death. May God have mercy on what’s left of your soul.”

Nightingale scuttled back until it hit the invisible barrier as Michel-Leon crossed the line into its prison. With a bestial cry, the magicman launched itself at him in a blur of motion and latched onto Michel-Leon.

“Non!” Constantin sensed the magicman trying to feed off Michel-Leon as he struggled to get the creature off him with his arms pinned to his sides. He couldn’t let that happen. He crossed the barrier to face his nightmare.

“Michie!” Régine came through the double doors, her rifle raised, and Constantin flung up a hand.

“Wait, we can’t hurt Nightingale without hurting Michel-Leon too.” But there was one way. Constantin grabbed the creature, sensed its rush of fear as its lips peeled back in a horrible grimace. “Let go of him, or I’ll suck out what’s left of your miserable existence.” He longed to do it anyway. The desire welled up, the hunger stronger this time, but Constantin gritted his teeth and ignored it. He’d promised Michel-Leon he wouldn’t do it again, and he’d keep that promise unless it was necessary.

“Constantin, don’t.” There was a terrible fear in Michel-Leon’s eyes, and he wrenched himself free of Nightingale. “You can’t.”

Constantin kept his tight grip on Nightingale as it fought him like a feral thing, even though it was nothing but bone and skin and sinew. “Don’t you believe it deserves that end? Bah, I’m done with you.” Constantin threw Nightingale away from him. He felt fouled by handling it.

Nightingale leapt at them with a snarl, and terror slammed back into Constantin’s throat. Michel-Leon’s blade flashed, piercing it through, and it collapsed into a heap, clutching its chest, as blackened blood oozed out. “You believe you won.” It turned hate-filled eyes on Constantin. “You’re like me.”

Its body began crumbling in on itself, starting with its feet.

“I am nothing like you!” Constantin spat.

Nightingale’s lips curved in a terrible, mad grin as its legs turned to ashes. “Oh, oui, you are.”

“Shut up, Poitou,” Michel-Leon ordered, and the grin widened as its collapse quickened. Régine came up beside him, her gaze horrified.

“One day you’ll understand,” it whispered, sinking down, its gaze fixated on Constantin in a way that shook him to his core. “When you feed off innocents too, you’ll remember me.”

“I would never.” Constantin staggered back, sickened, and horrified at the thought. “I would never do what you do.”

“You’ll seeeeee…”

Constantin wrenched the sword from Michel-Leon’s grasp and struck off the monster’s head from its crumbling body. It rolled away, the terrible grin remaining until that too turned to dust. Constantin sank to his knees, unable to pull his eyes away from the desiccated remains.

It was over. It was finally over. Emotion heaved up, choking him. Constantin buried his face in his hands as sobs shook him. Years of pent-up anger and grief racked his body. Arms came around him, and Constantin leaned into Michel-Leon’s embrace.