“How are you?” Her eyes were kind, genuine, as she pushed back my hood to assess my various injuries. Rooted to the spot, I was helpless to stop her. She smiled. “It looks like you’re healing nicely.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I’m fine, thanks. Perfect.”

“Really?” She arched a brow in disbelief, and her kind eyes hardened as she looked to Reid, who seemed even less pleased to see her than she did him. Her lip curled. “And how are you? Still hiding behind that blue coat?”

She was very brave, taunting a Chasseur in public. Patrons tittered disapprovingly around us. Reid scowled and tightened his hold on my trembling fingers. “Let’s go, Lou.”

I flinched at the word, heart sinking miserably, but the damage was done.

“Lou?” Estelle’s entire body tensed, and she tilted her head, eyes widening slowly as she reexamined my face. “As in . . . Louise?”

“Nice to see you again!” Before she could respond, I dragged Reid toward the exit. He followed without struggle, though I could feel his unspoken questions on my neck.

We fought our way through the crowd outside the theater. When I couldn’t clear a path, he stepped in front of me. Whether it was his towering height or his royal blue coat, something about him made people step aside, tipping their hats. Our carriage waited several blocks down the queue—blocked by mingling patrons—so I pulled him in the opposite direction, rushing as far and as fast from the theater as my gown allowed.

When we finally cleared the crowd, he guided me down an empty side street.

“What was that about?”

I chuckled nervously, bouncing on the balls of my feet. We needed to keep moving. “It’s nothing really. I just—” Something shifted behind him, and my stomach plummeted as Estelle melted from the shadows.

“I can’t believe it’s you.” Her voice came out a breathless whisper, and she stared at me in awe. “I didn’t recognize you before with the bruises. You look so . . . different.”

It was true. Beyond my previous injuries, my hair was longer and lighter than when she’d known me, my skin darker and freckled from too many days in the sun.

“Do you two know each other?” Reid asked, frowning.

“Of course not,” I said hastily. “Just—just from the theater. Let’s go, Reid.” I turned toward him, and he wrapped a reassuring arm around my waist, angling himself ever so slightly in front of me.

Estelle’s eyes widened. “You can’t leave! Not now that—”

“She can,” Reid said firmly. While it was clear he had no idea what was going on, his desire to protect me seemed to override his confusion—and his intense dislike of Estelle. His hand was gentle on the small of my back as he led me away. “Good evening, mademoiselle.”

Estelle didn’t even blink. She merely flicked her wrist as if swatting an irksome fly, and the shop sign above us ripped from its hinges and smashed into the back of his skull. The sharp tang of magic swept through the alley as he crashed to his knees. He reached feebly for his Balisarda.

“No!” I gripped his coat, attempting to pull him to his feet—to shield him with my body somehow—but Estelle wrung her fingers before either of us could counter.

When the sign bludgeoned him a second time, he flew backward. His head hit the alley wall with a sickening crack, and he crumpled to the ground and fell still.

A snarl tore from my throat, and I positioned myself between the two of them, lifting my hands.

“Don’t make this difficult, Louise.” She drifted closer, a fanatical gleam in her eyes, and panic constricted my thoughts. Though gold danced in my periphery, I couldn’t focus on a pattern—couldn’t focus on anything. It was as if the world had gone silent, waiting.

Except—

Reid stirred behind me.

“I won’t go with you.” I inched backward, lifting my hands higher to draw her eyes. “Please, stop this.”

“Don’t you understand? This is an honor—”

A blue streak launched past me.

Estelle couldn’t react quickly enough, and Reid barreled into her outstretched arms. For a moment, it looked like a sick embrace. Then Reid wrenched her around so her back was to his chest—crushing her arms and hands between them—and flung an arm around her throat. I watched in horror as she struggled against him. Her face slowly purpled.

“Help—me—” She thrashed in terror, her wild eyes seeking mine. “Please—”

I didn’t move.

It was over in less than a minute. With a final shudder, Estelle’s body slumped in Reid’s arms, and his grip slackened.

“Is she . . . dead?” I whispered.

“No.” His face was white, his hands shaking, as he let Estelle fall to the ground. When he finally looked at me, I stumbled under the ferocity of his stare. “What did it want with you?”

Unable to stand that look, I tore my gaze away—away from him, away from Estelle, away from the entire nightmarish scene—and looked instead to the stars. They were dim tonight, refusing to shine for me. Accusing.

After a long moment, I forced myself to answer him. Tears glistened on my cheeks. “She wanted me dead.”

He watched me for another long moment before hauling Estelle’s limp body over his shoulder.

“What are you going to do with her?” I asked fearfully.

“It’s a witch.” He started up the street without a backward glance, ignoring the alarmed looks of passersby. “It’ll burn on earth, and then in Hell.”

Witch Killer

Lou

Reid refused to speak to me on the way back to Chasseur Tower. I struggled to keep up, each step a knife in my heart.

Witch killer witch killer witch killer.

I couldn’t look at Estelle, couldn’t process the way her head lolled against Reid’s back. The way her corn-silk hair rippled with each step.

Witch killer.

When Reid burst into the Tower, the guards hesitated for only a second, shocked, before leaping into action. I hated them. Hated that they’d prepared for this moment their entire lives. Eyes bright with anticipation, they handed Reid a metal syringe.

An injection.

My vision narrowed. Nausea rolled through my stomach.

“The Fathers have been anxious to test it on a witch.” The Chasseur nearest Reid leaned forward eagerly. “Today is their lucky day.”

Reid didn’t hesitate. He swung Estelle forward, plunging the quill into her throat with brutal force. Blood trickled onto her shoulder and stained the white of her dress.

It might as well have been my soul.

She dropped from Reid’s arms like a stone. No one bothered catching her, and she fell face-first upon the pavers. Unmoving. Her chest barely rose and fell. A second Chasseur chuckled, nudging her cheek with his boot. She still didn’t move. “Guess that answers that question. The priests will be pleased.”

The manacles came next—thicker and rusted with blood. They clapped them on her wrists and ankles before yanking her up by the hair and dragging her to the stairwell. The chains clinked on each step as she disappeared down, down, down—into the mouth of Hell.

Reid didn’t look at me as he strode after them.