I looked around wildly. There was a heavy, dusty tarp crumpled near one of the houses that hemmed us in. I tossed it over Mathias, yelling at him to move. I tried to push at his unfamiliar bulk. He managed to roll, a slow, sluggish movement. When I pulled the tarp away, I was so relieved to see the fire extinguished that the other details didn’t stand out right away. The air smelled ripe, that acid smell of smoke and seared skin that had followed me since I was six years old and running—running—
I breathed tightly. The skin of his arm was raw and red, wet-looking, the clothing fused to his flesh in patches. But his chest rose and fell, a rough rhythm of breath. He was alive. For now, he was alive.
Fiona’s eyes moved past me, her face suddenly softening. The manic shine snapped away, making her seem younger and more uncertain. Even before I turned around, I knew that he’d be there. Bellanger stood back near the corner of a nearby building. He was smiling.
I stood still, breathing hard.
Fiona moved to Bellanger. She held out her hand, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out that bottle. Neat, perfunctory, he tipped loose a capsule, crimson as a drop of blood, and again placed it in the center of her palm. She brought her hand to her mouth and shut her eyes. Just like they had in the chapel, the first time I’d seen them together.
Those bright red capsules. I watched as a serenity fell over Fiona, like she was just climbing into bed for a long sleep. “What are you giving her?” I asked. “What are those?”
“Fiona’s powers can take a lot out of her. We’ve found that this medication can settle her nerves.” He slipped the bottle back into its hiding place.
“But she’s pregnant.” I swallowed against the sourness in my throat. “You have to be careful about contraindications. Those pills aren’t—”
“Don’t you think I’m careful with my own daughter?” He took a step toward me. Just a step. But something in his face made me step back. A clumsy, primal retreat that I instantly regretted. My heart pounded in my chest. This raw anger wasn’t exactly a shock to me anymore, but it hurt to see it in his face, directed at me. I’d loved Bellanger once.
Over his shoulder, Fiona watched us, her face expressionless.
* * *
When I returned to our room, Cate rushed for me, grabbed me gently around the waist. I hadn’t felt faint until she touched me like that, and then abruptly my knees slipped and I realized I was shaky. “Jesus, what did Fiona say?” Cate asked, close in my ear. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“We might be in over our heads,” I said, leaning into her. “I couldn’t get through to her. Fiona was so little when she came here. A baby. Bellanger has done everything he can to keep control over her. And if he’d treat her this way, I have no idea what he’s done to my mother.”
When Cate and Isabelle were both silent, I pulled back to look at them. Their expressions held a strange determination, grim and excited at once: Isabelle’s eyes were shining, while Cate’s forehead was creased with worry. I knew that face. She didn’t want to tell me something, her reluctance as bright as a beacon. “What?” I asked, urgent.
“Listen, Josie,” Cate said. “Isabelle’s figured out where your mother is.”
A hard jolt of hope pulled me upright and out of Cate’s arms. I wondered if the hope would ever stop feeling this fresh, so new it was painful.
“We were passing the little chapel,” Isabelle said. “The guard was taking me back after I spoke with Bellanger. We passed by the place with the altar and the candles. I saw someone walking out of it with a tray of food. Half-eaten food.”
My heart clenched. “Okay, that could be something. But we don’t know—”
“There’s more,” Isabelle said, and I fell silent. “I heard your voice. It confused me because I thought maybe you’d escaped and followed me. But when I looked around I didn’t see you anywhere. It must’ve been her. Your mother.”
My voice, conjured out of my mother’s throat in the middle of this strange and lonely place. “What did she say?” I asked.
Isabelle hesitated. “She said, ‘Please.’ Just that one word. ‘Please.’”
The chapel. I’d stood only a few feet away from my mother and not even known she was there. Maybe she’d caught a trace of my voice when I spoke. Maybe she’d called out to me and I hadn’t heard her. Hidden in plain sight. Please.
I looked at Cate and Isabelle, these faces I’d come to love so much, reminding myself what we were capable of. Being here and hiding our true selves had started to wear me down, but now I was reminded of all that power brimming under our surfaces. “All right,” I said. “Let’s get my mother the hell out of here. It’s time.”