Page 69

The Butcher of Strasbourg

FEBRUARY 2, 2060

I woke on my side, wearing a loose nightshirt that smelled of dust and pepper. A throb above my temple kept time with my heart. Sunlight gleamed onto my face through a tall window.

The room was in a state of neglect, its grandeur long since faded. There was a free-standing wardrobe, a coffee table, and the daybed I was lying on. A heavy mantle covered me to the waist. I found the lump on my head, fingers barely surfacing from the cuffs of too-long sleeves.

“Arcturus?”

A figure moved to my left. It took human shape, and a warm hand touched my upper arm.

“Paige. Are you all right?”

Every breath hurt. The light made a smear of him, but now I remembered his voice.

“David,” I croaked.

“Sorry to disappoint, but yes.” A cut flecked his nose where I had punched him, and he sported two black eyes. “I take it this means you’ve accepted my deal.”

Little by little, I remembered where I was, and why. What I had done.

“How long have I been out?” I said.

“All night and half the day. They kept you under for a while, to make sure you didn’t, er, act up.” His brow pinched. “You were coughing a lot.”

“Even dangerous fugitives get colds.” I pushed my weight onto my elbow. “What time is it?”

“Almost one.” When I let out a small groan, he got up. “Let me shut the curtains. You must have the mother of all headaches.”

The Vigile had hit me like he had wanted to take a good look at my brain. While David went to the windows, I thought as fast as one could after being clobbered with a steel baton.

Someone from Mannequin would have long since returned to the apartment and found it empty. They would have gone straight to Rue Gît-le-Cœur, only to find Arcturus alone. The thought of him sealed my throat. He had sensed my pain and dread before I fell unconscious. He knew I was in danger again.

Just not that I had chosen it.

David returned to his seat. “So,” I said, “is this my cell?”

“Mine is on the other side of the attic. We’re kept out of sight of the officials.” He blew out a breath. “You’re lucky. Luce wanted you hung by your wrists.”

“Yes, what a constant gift it is to be me.” Gingerly, I touched my temple. “You didn’t tell me your Vigiles would knock me senseless.”

“They didn’t want to take chances with a preternatural fugitive. And they’re notmyVigiles.”

“But they listen to your tip-offs.”

“For reasons I will explain.” His voice softened. “I promise you’re safe, Paige.”

“Right, of course. No safer place.”

Whatever sedative they had given me had worn off. I could use my gift. The knowledge gave me the confidence to look him in the eye.

“Go on, then,” I said. “Explain.”

“Let me get you a hot drink before I start. You were soaked when they brought you in.”

“I’m fine.”

A lie. I had a deep-rooted chill.