I stared out the window from the back seat, while Mina stared straight ahead from behind the steering wheel.
It was the worst possible time to bring up what had happened the previous night, but it seemed pertinent, so I did.
“You went to Paris?” Mina’s shriek pierced my ears.
Gen winced, then admitted to everything. Seeing Gordon in Paris… The car breaking down… Fighting off the shifters who’d attacked us…
Yes, it was pretty clear which sister was the impulsive one. But the strength of their bond was just as obvious, along with something else. Gen meant what she’d said about principles. She certainly stuck to them, at least for thebig things, as she’d put it.
A woman after my own heart.
I gulped, because that wasn’t the only way she’d been worming her way into that off-limits space.
When we reached the driveway to the château, I had Mina drop me off. Gen obviously needed space, and I would go crazyif I sat around waiting for Bene, Marius, and Henrik. Instead, I checked the area for any trace of the previous night’s intruders, as I had that morning.
God, what a day. A long and perilous one.
An hour of searching in tiger form brought no new insights, and I eventually headed back to the château in human form. I didn’t mind cold, dark nights, but something in me yearned for the comfort of a crackling fire and the company of others.
Or rather, the company of one person in particular.
I paused at the pavilions, reliving the previous night’s attack and marveling at what Gen had done. I even reached gingerly through one of the entryways. Nothing happened.
Hoo. Hoo,an owl hooted.
I trudged on, then stopped. The lights were on in the central part of the château, but something flickered to my right, and I detoured to the chapel, a separate building a few hundred yards away from the west wing.
Time had turned the beautiful structure into a near-wreck with gaps in the roof and birds nesting in the beams. We’d put in just enough work to tidy and stabilize the structure, so the pews were clean, and you could walk right in. But I paused at the threshold, peering inside.
A dozen candles flickered at the altar, casting a soft glow over a lone figure seated in the front pew. Gen?
I stepped forward, scuffing through leaves carried in by autumn winds. Slate slabs lined the floor, and carved columns rose on both sides of the aisle. The darkness and candlelight heightened the timeless feel of the place, and I imagined my steps carrying me back through the centuries.
But I wasn’t. It was a cold November night in Auberre, less than twenty-four hours after a young woman’s murder.
Hence the candles, I realized.
I walked past Gen, found an unlit candle, and held the wick over one of its neighbors. When it flickered to life, I found a spot for it and watched it quietly for a while.
My throat went all thick, and I rounded one hand into a fist.
Whoever had killed Claudette and whoever had threatened Gen had a very limited time to live. Because I was coming after them, and soon.
Not the most appropriate mind-set for inside a church, maybe, but that’s how I felt.
“Mind if I join you?” I asked Gen, my voice raw and hushed.
She nodded quietly, and I took a seat beside her. Together, we gazed at the candles.
“It’s so sad,” she whispered, her cheeks glistening in the dim light.
I hated seeing her like that, but boy, did the tears illuminate those amazing blue eyes.
“The worst is, people will remember Claudette as the girl who lived dangerously,” she continued. “Like she brought this upon herself or something.”
I focused on a single candle, watching the flames twist and twirl.
“What will you remember?” I asked quietly.
