She grinned. “You mean the Bible?”

“Very funny. No—I meant the metal thing. It looked . . . sharp.”

Her grin faded. “It is sharp. It’s called a syringe. The priests use them for injections.”

“Injections?”

Coco leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms. The white of her robes nearly blended into the pale stone, giving the illusion of a floating head staring at me across Monsieur Bernard’s body. I shuddered again. This place gave me the creeps.

“That’s what they’re calling them.” Her eyes darkened. “But I’ve seen what they can do. The priests have been tampering with poison. Hemlock, specifically. They’ve been testing it on the patients to perfect the dosage. I think they’re creating a weapon to use against the witches.”

Dread crept down my spine. “But the Church thinks only flame can truly kill a witch.”

“Though they might call us demons, they know we’re mortal. We bleed like humans. Feel pain like humans. But the injections aren’t meant to kill us. They cause paralysis. The Chasseurs will just have to get close enough to inject us, and we’re as good as dead.”

A moment passed as I tried to grasp this disturbing development. I glanced down at Monsieur Bernard, a bitter taste coating my mouth. Remembered the insects crawling beneath a woman’s skin only a few doors down, the bloody tears on her cheeks. Perhaps the priests weren’t the only ones to blame.

Paralysis—or even the stake—was preferable to some fates.

“What are you doing here, Mademoiselle Perrot?” I finally asked. At least she hadn’t used her real name. The Monvoisin family had a certain . . . notoriety. “You’re supposed to be hiding with your aunt.”

She actually had the gall to pout. “I could ask you the same question. How could you not invite me to your wedding?”

A bubble of laughter escaped my lips. It sounded eerie in the stillness. Monsieur Bernard’s nail tapped against his manacle now.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

I ignored him. “Trust me, if I would’ve had any say in the guest list, you would’ve been there.”

“Maid of honor?”

“Of course.”

Slightly appeased, Coco sighed and shook her head. “Married to a Chasseur . . . When I heard the news, I didn’t believe it.” A small grin touched her lips. “You’ve got balls the size of boulders.”

I laughed louder this time. “You are so depraved, Coco—”

“And what of your husband’s balls?” She waggled her eyebrows fiendishly. “How do they compare to Bas’s?”

“What do you know about Bas’s balls?” My cheeks hurt from smiling. I knew it was wrong—what with the cursed, dying Monsieur Bernard lying next to me—but the heaviness in my chest gradually eased as Coco and I fell back into our easy banter. It felt good to see a friendly face after wading through a sea of hostile ones for two straight days—and to know she was safe. For now.

She sighed dramatically and refolded the blanket atop Monsieur Bernard. He didn’t stop clinking. “You talk in your sleep. I had to live vicariously.” Her smile faded when she looked back at me. She nodded to my bruises. “Did your husband do that?”

“Courtesy of Andre, unfortunately.”

“I wonder how Andre would fare without his balls. Perhaps I’ll pay him a little visit.”

“Don’t bother. I set the Chasseurs on him—on both of them.”

“What?” Her eyes widened in delight as I recounted the interrogation. “You fiendish little witch!” she crowed when I’d finished.

“Shhh!” I stole to the door and pressed my ear against the wood, listening for signs of movement outside. “Do you want them to catch us? Speaking of which . . .” I turned back to face her when I was sure no one hovered outside. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to rescue you, of course.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course.”

“One of the healers resigned her post to get married last week. The Fathers needed a replacement.”

I gave her a hard look. “And you know this how?”

“Easy.” She sank onto the end of the bed. Monsieur Bernard kept clinking away, though thankfully turned his disturbing stare to her now instead. “I waited for her replacement to show up early yesterday morning and convinced her I would be the better candidate.”

“What? How?”

“I asked her nicely, of course.” She fixed me with a pointed stare before rolling her eyes. “How do you think? I stole her letter of recommendation and bewitched her into forgetting her own name. The real Brie Perrot is currently vacationing in Amaris, and no one will ever know the difference.”

“Coco! What a stupid risk—”

“I’ve been trying to find a way to speak with you all day, but the priests are relentless. I’ve been in training.” She pursed her lips at the word before drawing a wrinkled piece of parchment from her robes. I didn’t recognize the spiked handwriting, but I did recognize the dark stain of blood. The sharp scent of blood magic. “I sent a letter to my aunt, and she’s agreed to protect you. You can come back with me. The coven is camped near the city, but they won’t remain there long. They’re heading north within the fortnight. We can sneak out of here before anyone knows you’re gone.”

My stomach sank. “Coco, I . . .” Sighing, I looked around the austere room for an explanation. I couldn’t tell her I didn’t trust her aunt—or anyone except for her, for that matter. Not really. “I think this might be the safest place for me right now. A Chasseur literally just took an oath to protect me.”

“I don’t like it.” She shook her head fervently and rose to her feet. “You’re playing with fire here, Lou. Sooner or later, you will get burnt.”

I grinned halfheartedly. “Let’s hope for later, then.”

She glared at me. “This isn’t funny. You’re leaving your safety—your life—up to men who’ll burn you if they discover what you are.”

My grin faded. “No, I’m not.” When she looked likely to argue, I spoke over her. “I’m not. I swear I’m not. It’s why I came up here today—why I’ll keep coming up here every day until she comes for me. Because she will come for me, Coco. I won’t be able to hide forever.”