To my horror, one of the guards had already begun to stir. I had little doubt what he would tell the Chasseurs when he regained full consciousness.

Bas was already moving, slamming the safe shut and hauling the portrait back into place. “Can you get us out?” His eyes were still wide with panic—desperate. We could both hear the constables and Chasseurs surrounding the manor. All the exits would soon be blocked.

I glanced down at my hands. They were shaking, and not just because of the broken fingers. I was weak, too weak, from the exertion of the evening. How had I let myself become so inept? The risk of discovery, I reminded myself. The risk had been too great—

“Lou!” Bas grabbed my shoulders and shook me slightly. “Can you get us out?”

Tears welled in my eyes. “No,” I breathed. “I can’t.”

He blinked, chest rising and falling rapidly. The Chasseurs shouted something below, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the decision made in Bas’s eyes as we stared at one another. “Right.” He squeezed my shoulders once. “Good luck.”

Then he turned and dashed from the room.

A Man’s Name

Reid

Tremblay’s townhouse reeked of magic. It coated the lawn, clung to the prone guards Tremblay attempted to revive. A tall, middle-aged woman knelt beside him. Redheaded. Striking. Though I didn’t recognize her, my brethren’s whispers confirmed my suspicions.

Madame Labelle. Notorious courtesan, and mistress of the Bellerose.

Surely she had no business here.

“Captain Diggory.”

I turned toward the strained voice behind me. A reedy blonde stood with her hands tightly clasped, an expensive wedding band glinting on her ring finger. Frown lines marred the corners of her eyes—eyes that currently burned holes in the back of Madame Labelle’s head.

Tremblay’s wife.

“Hello, Captain Diggory.” Célie’s soft voice preceded her as she stepped around her mother. I swallowed hard. She was still clothed in mourning black, her green eyes stark in the torchlight. Swollen. Red. Tears sparkled on her cheeks. I longed to close the distance between us and wipe them away. To wipe this whole nightmarish scene—so like the night we’d found Filippa—away.

“Mademoiselle Tremblay.” I inclined my head instead, keenly aware of my brethren’s eyes. Of Jean Luc’s. “You look . . . well.”

A lie. She looked miserable. Afraid. She’d lost weight since I last saw her. Her face was drawn, pinched, as if she hadn’t slept in months. I hadn’t either.

“Thank you.” A small smile at the lie. “You do too.”

“I apologize for these circumstances, mademoiselle, but I assure you, if a witch is responsible, it will burn.”

I glanced back at Tremblay. He and Madame Labelle were bent close together, and they appeared to be in harried conversation with the guards. Frowning, I stepped closer. Madame Tremblay cleared her throat and turned her indignant eyes on me.

“I assure you, sir, you and your esteemed order are not necessary here. My husband and I are God-fearing citizens, and we do not abide witchcraft—”

Beside me, Jean Luc bowed his head. “Of course not, Madame Tremblay. We are here only as a precaution.”

“Though your guards were unconscious, madame,” I pointed out. “And your home reeks of magic.”

Jean Luc sighed and shot me an irritated look.

“It always smells like this here.” Madame Tremblay’s eyes narrowed, and her lips pressed into a thin line. Displeased. “It’s that beastly park. It poisons the entire street. If it weren’t for the view of the Doleur, we would move tomorrow.”

“My apologies, madame. All the same—”

“We understand.” Jean Luc stepped in front of me with a placating smile. “And we apologize for the alarm. Usually, robberies fall under the constabulary’s jurisdiction, but . . .” He hesitated, smile faltering. “We received an anonymous tip that a witch would be here tonight. We’ll just do a quick sweep of the premises, and you and your family may safely return to your home—”

“Captain Diggory, Chasseur Toussaint.” The voice that interrupted was warm. Smooth. Intimate. We turned as one to see Madame Labelle striding toward us. Tremblay hurried to follow, leaving the disoriented guards behind. “We’ve just spoken with the guards.” She smiled, revealing bright white teeth. They nearly glowed against her scarlet lips. “The poor dears don’t remember anything, unfortunately.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, Helene,” Madame Tremblay said through clenched teeth, “what business do you have here?”

Madame Labelle turned to her with polite disinterest. “I was passing and saw a disturbance, of course.”

“Passing? Whatever were you doing in this part of town, dear? One would expect you might have, ah, business to attend to on your own street at this hour of night.”

Madame Labelle arched a brow. “You’re quite right.” Her smile widened, and she glanced at Tremblay before returning his wife’s icy stare. “I do have business to attend to.”

Célie stiffened, bowing her head, and Tremblay hastened to intervene before his wife could respond. “You are, of course, welcome to question my staff yourselves, good sirs.”

“Don’t worry, Monsieur Tremblay. We will.” Glaring at him for Célie’s sake, I raised my voice to the constabulary and Chasseurs. “Spread out and form a perimeter. Block all exits. Constables, partner yourselves with a Chasseur. If this is a witch, do not allow it to catch you defenseless.”

“It isn’t a witch,” Madame Tremblay insisted, glancing around anxiously. Lights in neighboring townhouses began to flicker on. Already a handful of people had appeared by the broken gate. Some wore nightclothes. Others wore finery similar to the Tremblays’. All wore familiar, wary expressions. “It’s just a thief. That’s all—”

She stopped abruptly, her eyes flicking toward the townhouse. I followed her gaze to an upstairs window. A curtain moved, and two faces peered out.

One of them was familiar, despite the wig. Blue-green eyes—vivid even at a distance—widened in panic. The curtain snapped shut.

Satisfaction spread through my chest, and I allowed a grin. Let justice roll on like a river, and righteousness like a never-failing stream.