Page 138 of Blood and Moonlight

Lambert hesitates, and Oudin leers at him from across Juliane’s coffin. “Tell her, Brother. Tell Catrin all about how she helped a murderer.”

He knows I’m responsible for Simon’s escape. My hairline prickles with anxiety, but Lambert shakes his head. “We allhelped him, Oudin—including you, and your assistance was never asked for.”

I’m almost dizzy with relief that Oudin was referring to helping Simon with the investigation. “But what happened?”

Lambert takes my hands in his before answering. “It appears he may have been the killer all along, Miss Catrin. After Juliane died, we found some… things which we couldn’t explain any other way.”

I gasp. “I can hardly believe that!”

“Nor I,” he says, glancing fiercely at Oudin. “I’m inclined to withhold my judgment until we find him and hear what he has to say.”

I could kiss him for that. Even having failed to get Juliane’s last thought, coming here was worth it to learn that Simon has at least one potential ally.

Their father suddenly appears at Juliane’s feet, glaring at all of us, but mostly Lambert. “The send-off is beginning,” he says. “I’m going outside. You take care of her.”

The comte turns and walks off. Voices raised in the hymn of goodbye drift in the front door as he steps outside. Lambert sighs. “Go and sing, Oudin,” he says. “I’ll close the casket.”

His brother steps back to obey, then—to my horror—bends over to retrieve the bloodstone by his feet and holds it out to me. “Don’t forget your rock, Kitten.”

I take it quickly, though my fingers can’t help touching the stone while he does, sending a jolt of wordless anger into my mind before he releases it and walks away. Lambert cranes his neck to see. “What is that?”

“Blessing stone.” I shove it in a pocket of Marguerite’s dress meant for prayer beads. “None of the sisters could come, so they prayed on this stone so I could transfer the blessing to Lady Juliane.”

Lambert blinks. “I’ve never heard of those.”

Which is not a surprise because I just made them up.

“Have you used it yet?”

“No, actually,” I say. “Your brother startled me, and I dropped it.”

Lambert nods solemnly. “I need to get the lid to her coffin. I’d be honored if you would stay with her and give that blessing while I’m gone. You were one of her only true friends.”

I flush with both excitement and embarrassment. “Thank you. I’m honored that she thought of me that highly.”

“She’s not the only one,” he says, then hurriedly leaves to get what he needs.

I’m alone with Juliane.

I quickly pull the bloodstone from my pocket with one hand and lift her stiff arm with the other. Cringing at the macabre nature of what I’m doing, I close my eyes. I expect I’ll need to concentrate to hear anything which remains in her blood, but the instant the stone is pressed between our palms, her voice comes to me as loud and furious as a hailstorm.

—my Sun my Sun I know it was you and you killed Mother and the shadows have eaten your liver and left it lusting for blood—

Her thoughts split in multiple directions like a thunderbolt across the sky, some fading into oblivion, others striking one place and moving immediately to another.

—you can’t kill me because I’ve already killed you a hundred times Simon I’ll tell him I’ll tell and Father will kill you like he killed her—

There’s no order. No rationality. No pause. It’s like trying to drink from a waterfall pouring directly on my face.

—my Sun I always knew it was you the shadows they tear at my eyes make me wise Simon Simon is the key Simon is the lock let me sleep let me weep soul to keep—

I desperately want to let go of Juliane’s hand, but I can’t. Not when no one listened to her in life.

—you think I won’t remember this but I will and I’ll tell I’ll tell my Sun my Sun I know it was you and you killed Mother—

The instant I realize her thoughts are repeating I practically fling her away. Grace and Light, was that what it was like to live inside her head? Could her madness have been caused by an inability tostopthinking?

Shuddering convulsively, I repocket the stone and rub my tingling hand on my sleeve. Juliane’s stream of thought might finally be silent, but her despair and pain still echo in my own blood. Then the hair on the back of my neck rises, and I look up to see the Comte de Montcuir glowering at me through the doorway open to the street.