Celine braced herself against Odette, her eyes struggling to stay open. “Thank you.” Her words were hoarse. “For everything.” She gripped her friend’s gloved hand tightly.
“You’re welcome, my brave little doe. But if you want your cockamamie plan to work—honestly, who uses such a word?—you’ll need to be more than brave. You’ll need to be ruthless. After tonight, I trust this won’t be an issue. It’s not every day one meets a girl who stabbed a demon with sewing shears. Ah, to have seen that!” Odette’s laughter was rueful, the sound chiming like bells. “Also I find it fascinating how talkative you are after bearing witness to a shocking event. Most people I know are struck silent by such things. You’re unusual at all turns, Celine Rousseau.” She grinned appreciatively.
Even through the haze of her exhaustion, Celine smiled. Her thoughts sobered in the next instant. “Why do they hate each other so much?” she murmured.
“Who hates whom, mon amie? I know nothing but love.”
“Please.” Celine nudged her elbow into Odette’s ribs. “I’m too exhausted to play these games. It’s a struggle putting one foot in front of the other.”
“Why do you think they hate each other?”
“How should I know?”
“Hazard a guess. It’s an age-old tale.”
“Because of a girl?” Celine’s eye twitched once more, her nose wiggling in response.
“Correct.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders fell.
Perhaps this was the young woman who possessed the right pedigree. Celine exhaled slowly. Such things shouldn’t matter to her. Not anymore.
They turned a corner, their steps light over the honed marble. Celine could almost swear Odette bore the whole of their shared weight, as if she possessed the strength of an Amazon.
“Was she impressive?” Celine’s voice sounded small. Tinny. Fitting for such a question.
“Very,” Odette replied, at ease despite her burden. “She sang like a lark and danced in the light of the sun.” She added in Celine’s ear, “But don’t worry, she wasn’t as beautiful as you.”
Celine snorted, then tripped over herself like she’d imbibed too much champagne. As inelegant as a swine in the mud, she crumpled to the floor.
A foul curse flew from Odette’s lips. She repeated the word in two more languages for good measure. Tugging Celine to her feet, Odette proceeded to drag her the rest of the way. They halted before an immense lift of gleaming brass, its bars fashioned of winding vines and birds of paradise, their feathers inlaid with Persian turquoise.
“You shouldn’t have,” Celine muttered. “A cage of my very own.”
Odette snickered. She gestured to the right, and an inordinately tall man with rich auburn hair secured at the nape of his neck and a frock coat of midnight blue with matching gloves stepped forward to unfetter a gleaming lock of pure silver. Though he was as lithe as a dancer, he managed to heave open the sliding door to the brass lift with barely a twinge of effort.
Once they were situated inside, Celine rested her head on Odette’s shoulder, her eyes falling shut as the lift lurched into motion under the steady direction of its lissome gatekeeper.
“The list of those allowed access here is short,” Odette said. “This lift has one destination: the top floor of the hotel. While you reside at the Dumaine, that entire space will be yours alone.”
Celine considered this, even as the weariness fell upon her like a warm woolen blanket. “And if the killer can scale the walls of the hotel?” She recalled how the demon had scuttled up the building before vanishing into the wind.
“Can he also shatter iron bars and locks of solid silver?”
“For the sake of argument, let’s assume so.”
“Then t’es foutue,” Odette swore under her breath. “As are we all.”
Celine laughed softly, her eyes still closed. “Merci, Odette.”
“Pas du tout, mon amie,” Odette replied. “We take care of our own.”
Celine’s breath caught in her throat. “Is that . . . thing one of your own?” she asked, her tone halting.
Odette said nothing until the lift began to slow. “No.”
But her hesitation suggested otherwise.
“You know what it is.” Celine’s eyes flew open. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“It isn’t my story to tell.”
“Please—”
The lift ground to a halt, and the slender gentleman in the blue velvet frock coat unlatched the door in a seamless motion, his gaze one of supreme ennui.
“No more questions,” Odette said, smoothing back Celine’s disheveled curls in a soothing gesture. Then she locked eyes with Celine, refusing to blink as if she were in a trance. “I’m going to show you to your room, and you’re going to sleep through an entire night, as if you’re adrift among the clouds.” A sad smile curved up her doll-like face. “The only dreams you’ll have will be pleasant ones, filled with islands of floating meringue and sparkling glasses of champagne.” Her voice sounded layered. Weighted. It resonated through Celine, reaching through to the marrow of her bones.
The last thing she remembered was the rumble of a brass cage.
Of the bird within flying free.
* * *
Celine woke with a start, her heart hammering in her chest. Disorientation gripped her, her vision struggling to find focus. Her eyes darted to all corners, searching for something familiar. Fighting for a semblance of footing.
She had no recollection of this place.
Then—like a wave crashing upon a shore—all the events of last night flooded through her mind. She was enshrined in the top floor suite of the finest hotel in the city. A brass lift festooned with gilded birds had borne her to this place. Before she’d taken her leave, Odette had made certain Celine was comfortable. Warm and well cared for.
Tomorrow they would begin devising a trap to catch a killer.
This last thought caused Celine to sit up at once, her breath lodged in her throat, the ache in her head throbbing dully. She looked around, her gaze moving about the space once more, this time with measured deliberation.
The cream-colored sheets beneath her fingers possessed a faint luster, their surfaces smooth, their edges trimmed with delicate gold embroidery. When she ran her hands across them, they felt like cool water to the touch. As if they’d been woven from pure spider silk. Above her hung a thick canopy of golden damask, pinned in its center by an emblem entwined with intricate filigree. Tied around each of the bed’s four mahogany posts were drapes of wine-red velvet.