“You aren’t?” I cocked my head at him. “Are you sure?”
He nodded and leaned forward on his elbows. “I’m sure. For all Reid’s faults, he has good reason for hiding his weapons from you. You’re a criminal.”
“Right. Of course. It’s just—I thought it might be beneficial to both of us.”
Ansel touched my arm. “Lou—”
“I’m listening.” Jean Luc’s eyes gleamed with amusement now. “You want a knife. What’s in it for me?”
I shrugged away from Ansel’s hand and returned his smile. “It’s simple. Giving me a knife would annoy the hell out of my husband.”
He laughed then. Tossed his head back and slapped the table, scattering his papers. “Oh, you really are a clever little witch, aren’t you?”
I stiffened, my smile slipping infinitesimally, before chuckling a second too late. Ansel didn’t seem to notice, but Jean Luc, with his sharp eyes, stopped laughing abruptly. He tilted his head to consider me, like a hound scenting a rabbit’s trail. Damn it. I forced a smile before turning to leave. “I’ve wasted enough of your time, Chasseur Toussaint. If you’ll excuse me, I need to find my elusive husband.”
“Reid isn’t here.” Jean Luc still watched me with unnerving focus. “He left earlier with the Archbishop. A lutin infestation was reported outside the city.” Mistaking my frown for concern, he added, “He’ll be back in a few hours. Lutins are hardly dangerous, but the constabulary aren’t equipped to handle the supernatural.”
I pictured the small hobgoblins I’d played with as a child. “They aren’t dangerous at all.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them. “I mean . . . what will he do to them?”
Jean Luc arched a brow. “He’ll exterminate them, of course.”
“Why?” I ignored Ansel’s insistent tugs on my arm, heat rising to my face. I knew I should stop talking. I recognized the spark in Jean Luc’s eyes for what it was—an inkling. An instinct. An idea that might soon turn into something more if I didn’t keep my mouth shut. “They’re harmless.”
“They’re nuisances to farmers, and they’re unnatural. It’s our job to eliminate them.”
“I thought it was your job to protect the innocent?”
“And lutins are innocent?”
“They’re harmless,” I repeated.
“They shouldn’t exist. They were born from reanimated clay and witchcraft.”
“Wasn’t Adam sculpted from the earth?”
He tilted his head slowly, considering me. “Yes . . . by the hand of God. Are you suggesting witches possess the same authority?”
I hesitated, finally realizing what I was saying—and where I was. Jean Luc and Ansel both stared at me, waiting for my response. “Of course not.” I forced myself to meet Jean Luc’s curious gaze, blood roaring in my ears. “That’s not what I was saying at all.”
“Good.” His smile was small and unsettling as Ansel dragged me to the door. “Then we’re in agreement.”
Ansel kept shooting me anxious glances as we walked to the infirmary, but I ignored him. When he finally opened his mouth to question me, I did what I did best—deflected.
“I think Mademoiselle Perrot will be here this morning.”
He brightened visibly. “Will she?”
I smiled and nudged his arm with my shoulder. He didn’t tense this time. “There’s a good chance.”
“And—and will she let me visit the patients with you today?”
“Less of a chance.”
He sulked the rest of the way up the stairs. I couldn’t help but chuckle.
The familiar, soothing scent of magic greeted us as we stepped into the infirmary.
Come play come play come play
But I was hardly there to play. A fact Coco substantiated when she met us at the door. “Hello, Ansel,” she said breezily, looping her arm through mine and steering me to Monsieur Bernard’s room.
“Hello, Mademoiselle Perr—”
“Goodbye, Ansel.” She shut the door in his besotted face.
I frowned at her. “He likes you, you know. You should be nicer to him.”
She threw herself into the iron chair. “That’s why I’m not encouraging him. That poor boy is far too good for me.”
“Maybe you should let him decide that.”
“Hmm . . .” She examined a particularly nasty scar on her wrist before tugging her sleeve back down. “Maybe I should.”