Camille’s face was stony. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘What’s your alternative? We’ve tried your plan, and nobody was having any of it. What do you think you’re going to achieve? Is she really worth all this?’
‘What’s worth anything any more?’ Camille held her hands out to the dying flames. ‘Other than trying to do the right thing.’
‘We don’t always need to risk our lives for it to be a good day’s work.’
Guil was deep in thought. ‘This is not a job. This is a principle.’
Al slapped his paper down on the table. ‘God save us from the philosopher and his principles.’
Camille looked up at Ada, meeting her eye for the first time since they’d got back to the Au Petit Suisse. ‘What do you think?’
Ada felt her cheeks flush. Cam’s slate grey eyes fixed on hers still had the power to make her stomach flip.
‘I think … if Olympe doesn’t want to go to either of them, then we should do everything we can to help her do what she wants. It’s her choice.’
Al snorted, but didn’t fight any further.
Guil began to pack away the weapons. ‘Which leaves us with the question: how do we help her?’
‘If we were clever, we’d have started running the moment we found out we’d kidnapped a devil instead of girl,’ said Al.
‘Where would you have us go?’ replied Ada. ‘You said yourself there’s nowhere safe to run to.’
To her surprise Al went as white as a sheet and abruptly got up to pour himself a drink.
Camille prodded the embers angrily with a poker. ‘I’m not abandoning my home and the life we’ve built just because some old men think they can threaten us.’
‘But they can threaten us,’ replied Guil. ‘Indeed, I believe their threat is rather serious.’
‘They underestimate me if they think we’re easy marks.’
Al took a long pull on his glass of brandy. ‘So we don’t run. We don’t hand the girl over. What’s left?’
A determined light came into Camille’s eyes. ‘We fight.’
Before Camille could continue, they were interrupted by a commotion at the door. Ada startled, and as one the battalion braced for action. Camille reached for a weapon and across the room Guil did the same.
The door swung open. A tall young man in sopping wet travelling clothes stood on the threshold. His hair was dark with rainwater, plastering it to his forehead, framing his defined features and sharp cheekbones.
Camille lowered her weapon, face pale with shock.
The man turned to her with a blazing smile.
‘Cam! Thank goodness, someone let me in downstairs, and I’ve been knocking on all the wrong doors.’
Camille went perfectly and utterly still.
Ada’s face crumpled in confusion. ‘What’s going on?’
Camille, as white as chalk, took a few hesitant steps backwards.
‘My name’s James Harford.’ He proffered a hand to Ada. ‘I’m Cam’s fiancé.’
PART THREE
And the Devils were Unchained
