age and size but blond?”
“Unfortunately, you’re the only one today. Perhaps I should start setting snares.”
He released my hand, and I stood tall but not quite tall enough to look him in the eye.
“My best friend is gone. We were on the coach together—it was just us and another girl and her chaper-one and a gentleman. Headed to Paris.”
He put a hand on the small crossbow on his belt but refused to look away. “Who wore the pumpkin-colored dress?”
“The chaperone. An old nursemaid.”
Vale exhaled and jerked his head toward the smoking coach. “There is a blood-stained scrap of orange fabric caught on an arrow. Two men are dead and burned. I see no sign of your friend or the other girl.” His hand landed on the puffed shoulder of my gown, and I took a deep breath to meet it. “I’m sorry. We try to catch the slavers before they swoop in, but they’re fast.”
“Slavers?”
“We call them slavers, although we don’t honestly know what happens to their victims once they abscond to the catacombs under Paris. They mostly take young girls, although they’ll sometimes take an older womanor a young man. We believe they take girls off the streets, too. And from the cabarets. We try to track them, but . . .” He shook his head. “They simply disappear. Like smoke.”
I couldn’t breathe, and my back felt more boneless than usual. “Do you never find them? The girls?”
“Not once they’re underground.” His eyes went skittery, and I knew he was lying.
“What about my friend?”
He squeezed my shoulder and gave me the warm but useless smile someone might give a child at a funeral. “I know I’m a complete failure, but the rest of our band are sharp as hell and twice as fast, I promise you. There is still time.”
I nodded once and walked to his giant black-and-white-spotted bludmare where she stomped around a picket driven deep into the earth. She tossed her muzzle at me, and I shoved the metal cap away, sending bloody froth flying.
Vale blanched. “Please, Demi. You will want to—”
“Hang on to your waist really tightly? Yeah, I know. Let’s go.”
He allowed himself a smirk. “Look, bébé . I beg you. Just wait until the rest of the band returns. We’ll take you to our camp, and the women can feed you and help you wash up. We’re brigands, but we are honorable, and we can get you home safely in a wagon with far less bouncing and biting.” He winked. “Not that I would mind you bumping against me.”
“You’re wasting time, Vale.”
“And you waste your breath. Nice girls don’t ride into Paris bareback on a brigand’s hellbitch.”
With a snort, I stepped out of the mare’s reach, took adeep breath, and bent over backward into a C. From the backbend, I walked my hands between my feet, curling under until my forearms were on the ground beneath my skirt. Putting my boots on my own shoulders, I felt the frothy layers of the dress fall down around me, giving him a fine look at the slim-fitting trousers I favored for just such an occasion.
“I’m not that nice. And I’m not just a girl.” I grinned, showing fangs.
To his credit, he didn’t freak out. Just put his head to the side like a crow watching a jewel glint in the sun. For the first time, his tone went serious, quiet. “Now, that I did not expect. Tell me, Demi. What is it that you want?”
“Right now?” I did a front walkover and turned to face him with a swirl of skirts. “I want you to take me to Paris and help me find my best friend.”
“Say we find her. Say we don’t. What’s your endgame, béb é ?”
I windmilled my arms, loosening up. I was a little sore after the crash, not to mention the previous hours I’d spent crammed between Cherie’s shoulder and the wooden wall of the carriage. Just to see what he would do, and to stretch out further, I slowly lifted one leg until it was right beside my ear, perfectly pointed straight up.
“I want to find Cherie and then go to Mortmartre
“Unfortunately, you’re the only one today. Perhaps I should start setting snares.”
He released my hand, and I stood tall but not quite tall enough to look him in the eye.
“My best friend is gone. We were on the coach together—it was just us and another girl and her chaper-one and a gentleman. Headed to Paris.”
He put a hand on the small crossbow on his belt but refused to look away. “Who wore the pumpkin-colored dress?”
“The chaperone. An old nursemaid.”
Vale exhaled and jerked his head toward the smoking coach. “There is a blood-stained scrap of orange fabric caught on an arrow. Two men are dead and burned. I see no sign of your friend or the other girl.” His hand landed on the puffed shoulder of my gown, and I took a deep breath to meet it. “I’m sorry. We try to catch the slavers before they swoop in, but they’re fast.”
“Slavers?”
“We call them slavers, although we don’t honestly know what happens to their victims once they abscond to the catacombs under Paris. They mostly take young girls, although they’ll sometimes take an older womanor a young man. We believe they take girls off the streets, too. And from the cabarets. We try to track them, but . . .” He shook his head. “They simply disappear. Like smoke.”
I couldn’t breathe, and my back felt more boneless than usual. “Do you never find them? The girls?”
“Not once they’re underground.” His eyes went skittery, and I knew he was lying.
“What about my friend?”
He squeezed my shoulder and gave me the warm but useless smile someone might give a child at a funeral. “I know I’m a complete failure, but the rest of our band are sharp as hell and twice as fast, I promise you. There is still time.”
I nodded once and walked to his giant black-and-white-spotted bludmare where she stomped around a picket driven deep into the earth. She tossed her muzzle at me, and I shoved the metal cap away, sending bloody froth flying.
Vale blanched. “Please, Demi. You will want to—”
“Hang on to your waist really tightly? Yeah, I know. Let’s go.”
He allowed himself a smirk. “Look, bébé . I beg you. Just wait until the rest of the band returns. We’ll take you to our camp, and the women can feed you and help you wash up. We’re brigands, but we are honorable, and we can get you home safely in a wagon with far less bouncing and biting.” He winked. “Not that I would mind you bumping against me.”
“You’re wasting time, Vale.”
“And you waste your breath. Nice girls don’t ride into Paris bareback on a brigand’s hellbitch.”
With a snort, I stepped out of the mare’s reach, took adeep breath, and bent over backward into a C. From the backbend, I walked my hands between my feet, curling under until my forearms were on the ground beneath my skirt. Putting my boots on my own shoulders, I felt the frothy layers of the dress fall down around me, giving him a fine look at the slim-fitting trousers I favored for just such an occasion.
“I’m not that nice. And I’m not just a girl.” I grinned, showing fangs.
To his credit, he didn’t freak out. Just put his head to the side like a crow watching a jewel glint in the sun. For the first time, his tone went serious, quiet. “Now, that I did not expect. Tell me, Demi. What is it that you want?”
“Right now?” I did a front walkover and turned to face him with a swirl of skirts. “I want you to take me to Paris and help me find my best friend.”
“Say we find her. Say we don’t. What’s your endgame, béb é ?”
I windmilled my arms, loosening up. I was a little sore after the crash, not to mention the previous hours I’d spent crammed between Cherie’s shoulder and the wooden wall of the carriage. Just to see what he would do, and to stretch out further, I slowly lifted one leg until it was right beside my ear, perfectly pointed straight up.
“I want to find Cherie and then go to Mortmartre
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