‘If you thought there was that much of a risk of getting caught, you wouldn’t be going.’ Olympe folded her arms. ‘More importantly: you need me.’
‘Why?’
‘Well…’ Olympe faltered. ‘Well, because none of you know what the experiments on me looked like. So you need me to tell you if what you find has anything to do with me. And – and also because I can protect you.’ She held up a bare hand. ‘This is a better weapon than anything you have. They locked me up because of it. It must mean I’m powerful.’
Camille took a deep breath. ‘I promised I would keep you safe. That wouldn’t be keeping you safe.’
‘Why do you think you can make decisions for me? You’re keeping me in the dark, all of you. You have conversations about me when I’m not here and make decisions about my future. Don’t think I haven’t heard you talking when you think I’m asleep.’
‘We’re not keeping anything from you. This is our work, we make plans.’
‘That’s what I mean!’ Blue sparks danced up her arms and the smell of ozone filled the room. Camille felt the low hum in the air between her teeth and in the curling ends of her hair. ‘This is my life, not a strategy for you to plan. If you think going to this abbey is going to help get information that could buy my freedom then I am coming with you to see for myself.’ Her anger seemed to shock her and she stopped, taking a few shaky breaths as the charge building around her body began to fade. ‘I’m not saying I think you lie. I just can’t let my life be in someone else’s hands again. Please.’
Camille pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to steady the hitch in her breath. She didn’t have time to argue about this, or deal with Ada and James. And she didn’t need a doctor either. Her lungs were bad, but they were always bad. Her dunk in the river hadn’t done any lasting damage. She had everything under control.
‘Fine. For what it’s worth, I think you’re right. We will need you to help us work out if what he’s doing there is connected to you.’
‘Thank you.’
The morning was fraught with preparations – and keeping James out of the preparations. Camille sent him on a series of errands to get bread and salt and candle stubs and news-sheets, which Al immediately snatched before disappearing with a mumbled excuse Camille hadn’t caught. Ada sat Olympe by the window to paint over her swirling, stormy skin with make-up lifted from the theatre. Guil was studying a map of the abbey, measuring distances and making notes.
She finished her coffee and went back to sharpening her knives. ‘Ada, where’s your crossbow?’
‘Not here. Still stashed at the Saints-Innocents safe house after the Nemours job, I think.’
‘Fine. We’ll make do.’
She checked her store of powder and shot.
Their three days were down to two. The plan untested. The future unfolded in her mind like a map, all the landmarks in dark ink with passages and intersections drawn between them. She traced the paths to the same location, every wrong turn on the way. If she could just wrap herself around every possibility and plan for each, then maybe she could keep them safe.
James caught her in a moment of quiet as she went from the parlour to the bedroom. He was wearing a shirt borrowed from Guil, the sleeves rolled up and his waistcoat unbuttoned. He seemed to fit in so easily.
He laid a hand on her arm, thumb rubbing soft circles against her skin.
‘Are you sure I can’t help?’
‘I don’t need help.’
He smiled, a dimple showing in one cheek. ‘Oh, don’t try lying to me. I know that look too well. You’re worried.’
‘I’m not. I have everything under control. Just – stay here, okay?’
‘I’ll do whatever helps you. If you want me out of this I know you’ll have your reasons, but…’ He trailed off. ‘Don’t you trust me?’
She slipped her arm from his grip.
What could she say?
Yes, of course I do, you’re the only person I have left from my old life.
No, never, I don’t trust anyone.
He must have seen her hesitation, because he stepped closer and cupped her cheek in his hand, before lowering his lips to hers. With a jerk, she moved back so suddenly she nearly tripped into the void of the stairwell.
A blush of humiliation stained his cheeks.
‘James,’ she said quietly, ‘things have changed. It’s been months.’
