Page 36

“At this stage, further invasions seem inevitable.” Ducos fit the cigarette between her lips and lit it. “At the present time, they would likely succeed. Our imperative is to slow Scion down. To give these countries precious time to prepare, and to fortify their borders. It may give them a chance.”

A younger, more naïve Paige died in that moment. The girl who had believed the free world held the key to defeating Scion. The girl who hoped those countries had only ever been biding their time.

“An asset of extraordinary value was put at risk to save your life. It is time for you to prove that risk was justified.” Ducos blew smoke out of the corner of her mouth, away from me. “Georges Benoît Ménard, the Grand Inquisitor of France, has been avoiding contact with the government in England. Domino would like to know why.”

I nodded slowly. “He never came at New Year. Didn’t show up for Novembertide, either.”

“Despite the fact that England gave his imminent visits a great deal of publicity. Frank Weaver clearly wants to meet with him, and to display the strength of their relationship,” she said. “The question is: why is Ménard not accepting these overtures? Why avoid a fellow Scion leader?”

My mind had been so full of the revolution, I had never really questioned those absences.

“You are able to inhabit other bodies.” Ducos examined me through a haze of smoke. “A unique ability, as I understand it. There are no others like you.”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Then let us hope you are up to the task.” She never took her gaze off me. “You will infiltrate L’Hôtel Garuche—the official residence of the Grand Inquisitor of France—and extract the information we require by possessing his spouse and chief representative, Luce Ménard Frère. You will use her influence to find out what England has done to rankle him.”

Luce Ménard Frère. The woman who had smiled at the prospect of my death, told me she was glad their children would grow up in a world without me in it.

“That’s out of the question,” I said. “For one, I can’t perform long possessions. Not without life support.”

“I am aware.” Ducos tapped her cigarette over the hitherto-unused ashtray. “A ventilator will be delivered to a safe house near L’Hôtel Garuche.”

“For another, Frère will clearly become suspicious if she keeps losing hours of memory.”

“Over time, perhaps, but not if you are quick. I’m told you’re resourceful. Frère may also be reluctant to report any symptoms that smell of unnaturalness.”

“Ménard would hardly put his own spouse on the guillotine, would he?”

“Don’t underestimate his commitment to Scion.” Ducos handed me a dossier. “This is everything we know about Frère, as well as the staff of, and regular visitors to, L’Hôtel Garuche.”

“And you just want to know the reason Ménard won’t see Weaver.” I leafed through the dossier. “Why?”

“Because if there is tension between them, we can use it to sow discord within Scion. And when the time is right, we can fan the flames of that discord. To weaken internal unity.”

“And when do you want this done?”

“Ideally, in the first week of February. The sooner we have this information, the sooner we can act on it.”

Ever since I had discovered the truth behind Scion, the underworld had been my arena. I had fought to effect change from below. This was a grander stage—the world stage.

“This period of peace—if we can call it peace—is fragile. One misstep on your part could push us into all-out war,” Ducos said. “We set fires in the Domino Program, but only fires we can control. Interfere in any unauthorized manner, and there will be severe repercussions. You areonlyto extract information pertaining to Benoît Ménard and Frank Weaver. You are not to use our support, money, or equipment for any other purpose.”

“I get a salary, then.”

“Not for your first assignment.” She eyed my clothes. “I don’t believe you went to the river today. You’re covered in chalk. I suspect you found a way into the carrières.”

I elected not to answer.

“I suspect that a woman like you—a woman used to giving, not following, orders—has found her own ends to pursue in the citadel,” Ducos said. “Cease and desist, Flora Blake. Domino has given you sanctuary. Domino pays for this apartment, your food, your medicine. On top of that, you owe us a life debt. This assignment is how you pay it.” She crushed her cigarette into the ashtray. “Enjoy your last few days of convalescence. I’ll be in touch.”

With that, she picked up her briefcase and left without a backward glance.

The front door closed. I tilted into the cushions and curled up, catlike, on my side. My temples ached. Arcturus walked into the parlor and took the seat Ducos had vacated.

“And now to sleep for a thousand years.” I tucked a folded arm under my head. “Did you hear all that?”

“Yes.”