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I recalled Félix’s dirt-stained hands from the priory today and the mud smeared on Dr. Peterson’s white coat. Had Félix discovered Dr. Peterson here at the graveside? I did not want to believe Félix was a killer, but it was clear he wanted to hide my mother’s survival. Was that a truth he’d kill to protect?

Curiosity and inertia led me to wrap my fingers around the lid. Everything went back to my mother. But what exactly had Dr. Peterson found? I drew in a fortifying breath before lifting the lid off the rough-hewn wood, pricking my fingers in the process. I ran my light over the exposed casket, revealing a great deal of dirt inside to weigh it down.

I fell back heavily on my rump, staring at the grave. Someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to fake her death. I blew out a heavy breath trying to make sense of it all. My head swam. Djhan. Félix. Father Étienne. Mother. Manon. It was Father Étienne who supposedly buried her, for the old priest had been away.

“You came … I worried you wouldn’t find the message.”

Startled from my thoughts, I whipped my head around, still on half frozen grass, to see Sister Agathe approaching from the direction of the powerhouse. And she wasn’t alone. Nor was she dressed as a nun. She wore a plain gray dress and beside her stood Violet Devereaux. The latter’s once impertinent expression was now a mixture of relief and worry as she watched me.

My nerves settled at once. Violet didn’t mean me harm. I was far more profitable to her alive than dead. I scrambled to my feet, dusting my hands on my jacket. “What do you want with me?”

Violet took a step forward, her chin held defiantly high. “I wish you would stop interfering and keep your head down for a few moments longer. That’s what I want—but you simply cannot do that, can you?” The bitterness in her voice stung as she placed her hands on her hips, looking from me to something over my shoulder. “We are so close to ending this now, but you keep sticking your nose into things.”

“What do you mean? I’m trying to help if you would trust me. Just speak plainly.” Oh, why hadn’t I tried harder to wake up Ruan? I’d walked squarely into a trap.

Agathe twisted her hands together, unable to look me in the eye. “I am sorry … so sorry … But this is the only way. You cannot keep looking for them. It will ruin everything.”

Had I misread the clues altogether? Added two and two and come up with seven? It certainly looked that way. I reached into my pocket for my revolver and took a step backward, onto a fallen branch. My ankle rolled and I lost my balance. Neither Violet nor the girl moved to catch me. They simply watched as a pair of unfamiliar hands grabbed ahold of me.

“Forgive me … Miss Vaughn. It’s better this way.”

Something sweet-smelling and soft came over my mouth and nose, the scent reminding me of the little poppet Agathe had left here. The hand pressed harder as I struggled against the man. For it was most certainly a man. A fellow of about my own size. Slender enough I could feel his bones through his clothing.

“Breathe. It’ll be easier if you breathe—” His voice was low, honeyed as I clawed at the skin at his wrists, trying to get his hand off my mouth. My nail snapping in the leather band of his wristwatch. The sweetly chemical scent stuck to my tongue. Slowing my body. Slowing my mind. I managed to twist away enough to see his face. I stared up into the duplicitous eyes of an angel. Father Étienne’s eyes. He whispered low and gently against my ear. “I am sorry … But there’s no other way to protect them.”

I almost believed he was penitent for killing me. For that was most certainly what was going to happen. I was slipping. Weakening against the warm strength of his body. How had I been such a fool?

“Careful. Don’t drop her.” I think it was Violet who said that.

“To the caves?” Sister Agathe’s voice this time.

The words blending into a foreign tongue. Distant. Unwieldy as they sat heavily on my tongue. I could not make the shapes of their words.

“No. No. The hospital. Take her to the hospital. Keep her there.” A man. “They won’t find her until it’s finished…” Fearful. Hasty, until the sounds disappeared altogether, giving way to nothing but water. Water and death.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWOWhat Are You…?

I woke in the dark. Hands scrambling over the cold tile beneath me, trying to make sense of where I was. My one finger throbbed where the nail had snapped off in Father Étienne’s watchband. The bastard. I’d been kidnapped by a priest! Of all the absurdities in this world. Their words blurred in my mind. Until it’s finished. Finished what?

My body remained sluggish, caught beneath the thin gauze of a burial shroud. Sweat beaded upon my brow as my hands found the edge of the fabric in the darkness. Too coarse for a shroud—that was good, I supposed. Did they think me dead? Or had I been left here for a reason? Violet, Sister Agathe, and the patients must be in league with one another, that much was evident, but I was not their enemy.

A faint breeze came in from an open window. I drew in deep breaths of the cold night air, desperate to remove that cloying scent of what must have been chloroform from my lungs. I rolled over onto my hands and knees. My coat was gone. And my shoes, leaving me only in my trousers and a cotton blouse. The cold tile sapped the warmth from me.

I recalled this place. I’d been here in that peculiar dream after I’d been poisoned. My mother brought me here. I could still feel her hand in mine as she led me along through the darkness. The scent was the same. Cold and sterile with a faint prick of astringent that stung my nostrils.

I had to get out of here and to the gendarmerie. I had to get help.

A hint of foreign electricity rose in the air around me, growing stronger by the second. The room crackled with the stuff. I scrambled to my feet, feeling the empty walls for a light switch. For anything. “Ruan?”

There was no answer. Only the soft intake of breath from nearby. I wasn’t alone.

“Félix?” My voice echoed off the hard walls, but my silent companion made no response. A shuffle of fabric in the dark. The hair on the back of my neck rose as I turned toward the sound. Bitter fear inched its way up my throat. My unseen visitor was watching me.

“I know you’re there.” I sidled along the wall, desperate for the light.

“What are you?” a small voice said at last. The sound freezing me in my tracks. A child’s voice.

“Manon?” It had to be her. My mind raced. Had I been kidnapped and locked away with the missing child?