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Lou.Despite the horrendous circumstances, I can’t help butexhale in relief. If Lou is here, everything must be fine—or at least, it will be soon. She and Jean Luc often work together in matters of defense; they won’t allow Babette’s fate to befall anyone else. With both the witches and the huntsmen searching for the cold man, I have no doubt he’ll be apprehended soon.

As if in response, a muted thud echoes from the council room—perhaps Jean Luc’s fist against the table? “The body wasdrained of blood, Lou. How else do you explain it? How else do you explainanyof these bodies?”

The words puncture my relief.

“Her name is Babette.” Low and strained, a new voice joins the others, and I creep steadily closer, frowning now. Clearly, Lou answered Jean Luc’s summons, but Coco? Did he summon her too? “Babette,” she repeats, more emphatic now. “Babette Trousset. Stop referring to her asthe body.”

I press a careful ear against the door, ignoring the tendril of unease that unfurls in my chest.Of course she’s here, I mentally chide myself.Babette was a blood witch, and Coco is La Princesse Rouge. Of course Jean Luc would contact her.

“Trousset?” he asks sharply, and the sound of rustling paper fills the room. “We identified her as BabetteDubuisson, formerly a courtesan at Madame Helene Labelle’s establishment”—more shuffling—“the Bellerose.”

Coco’s response cuts even sharper. “Babette wasn’t the first witch to adopt a pseudonym, and she certainly won’t be the last. Your brotherhood ensured that.”

“Apologies,” Jean Luc mutters, except he doesn’t sound apologetic at all. “But you have to admit how this looks. This is thefifthbody we’ve found, and—”

“Again withthe bodies,” Lou snaps.

“Theyarebodies,” he argues, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Babette might’ve been a witch, but she’s now a key player in a murder investigation.”

“I think it’s time to call this what it is, Jean,” another voice says, quieter and deeper than the others. My chest constricts at the sound of it—not in anticipation this time, but with alarm. Because Reid Diggory should not be in this council room. After the Battle of Cesarine, he made it clear that he had no intention of returning to Chasseur Tower in an official capacity.

Until now.

I press closer to the door as he continues.

“Four of the five victims have been of magical origin—with one human outlier—and all have been found with puncture wounds on their throats and no blood in their bodies. All separate events. All in the last three months.” He pauses, and even beyond the door, the silence in the room thickens with apprehension. Though I don’t possess the criminal knowledge of Jean Luc or Reid, I know what this means. We all know what this means.

“We’re dealing with a serial killer,” Reid confirms.

I might forget how to breathe.

“It isn’t a blood witch,” Coco says stubbornly.

“Do you have any proof of that?” Jean Luc asks, his voice grim. “It looks like blood magic to me.”

“Dame Rouges don’t murder their own.”

“They might to divert suspicion after murdering a human, a Dame Blanche, a loup garou, and a melusine.”

“We can’t prove it’s a serial killer.” Another voice—this onepainfullyfamiliar—joins the fray, and the sheer humiliation of itall pierces my chest like a knife. Frederic is here.Frederichas been invited into this room with every person I hold dear, and I have not. Worse still—Jean Luc must have invited him, which means he told Frederic of his secrets and not me. “Serial killers target victims of a similar profile. There’s nothing similar between these victims. They aren’t even the same species.”

Despite the sickening twist of my stomach, I force myself to inhale. To exhale. This is bigger than me, bigger than my own hurt feelings and my friends’ bad faith. People havedied. And furthermore, Jean Luc—he’s—he’s just doing what he thinks is best. They all are. “Whoever this is might not kill for the thrill,” Coco says. “They might kill for a different reason.”

“We’re missing something,” Reid agrees.

“Where is Célie?” Lou asks abruptly.

My heart lurches into my throat at the sound of my name, and I recoil slightly, as if Lou might sense me here, lurking in the corridor to eavesdrop. Perhaps she can. Sheisa witch. When Jean Luc answers her, however—his tone low and reluctant, no,unwilling—I can’t help but press closer once more, listening like my life depends on it. “I told you before,” he mutters. “This doesn’t concern Célie.”

A beat of silence. Then—

Lou snorts in disbelief. “Like hell it doesn’t. Célie is the one whofoundBabette, isn’t she?”

“Yes, but—”

“She’s still a Chasseur?”

“The most intelligent one, clearly,” Coco adds under her breath.