Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace #1)(33)

“What is that?” Jules asks.

“No idea.” The scratching intensifies, the chirping grows louder. There’s more than one creature out there in the tunnel. And they really want in. What if Ailesse’s mother is with them?

Impossible. She couldn’t have tracked us that fast.

I crouch and tentatively push at the false door. I’ve spent enough time in the gutters and alleys of Dovré not to flinch at rodents, but that doesn’t mean I want my finger bitten.

The door cracks open. The muffled chirps amplify to a chorus of screeching. A fuzzy brown head with a squat face pops in through the gap. The lamplight reflects off its beady black eyes. Another head burrows in.

“Bats.” I grimace.

“Bats don’t roost in the catacombs,” Marcel says.

With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I turn to Ailesse. She’s staring at the creatures fighting to get in, her eyes bright with hope. This is Bone Crier magic, though I don’t understand it.

I reach to yank the door shut, but the first bat squirms inside. It unfurls the velvety membranes of its wings. Huge for a bat. Twice the normal wingspan.

“A giant noctule.” Marcel gasps in awe. “But they’re tree-dwellers, so they shouldn’t be . . .” His words trail off. His face pales as the bat bares its fangs at me. “I don’t think it likes you.”

Jules draws a sharp breath. “Bastien, watch out!”

The creature shrieks and flies at my face. I scramble back and try to beat it away. More flapping wings swarm around me. Other bats have pushed inside.

“What do we do?” Marcel shouts. He’s on his feet, using his book as a weapon, but there are too many. At least ten. No, fifteen.

“Shut the door!” Jules cries. She fights a bat tangled in her hair.

I swat at the creatures clawing my arms and push at the door. But the force is too strong on the other side. How many are out there?

A terrible image flashes to mind. Jules’s knife. On the ground near Ailesse. Jules never got a chance to get it back.

I let go of the door and spin around. Through the storm of black wings, I see Ailesse. The ropes at her wrists are already cut away. Now she’s sawing the ones at her ankles.

I plow forward with my arms up to protect my face. The swarm thickens. “Jules!” My voice sounds faint under the deafening screeches.

The lamps in our chamber start to extinguish from the rushing wings. I’m halfway across the room. Ailesse sees me coming. The bats aren’t harassing her. She works harder, frantically trying to cut herself free.

More lamps snuff out. I shove against the tide of wings, shrieks, and claws.

Ailesse has almost severed the rope, but she can’t finish. I’m within reach. She swipes out with the knife, but the bats throw off her aim. I scramble to grip her forearm before she can attack again. I bash her hand on the slab—once, twice, and she loses the knife. I give it a hard kick, and it skids across the ground into the chaos.

She thrashes and pounds me with her fists. I crawl on top of her and wrestle to pin her down. I can’t find another length of rope to tie her wrists back together again.

“Bastien!” I crane my neck at Jules’s muffled shout. Through the choking black, I see dim flashes of her. She has an arm around her brother. They’re pressing toward the door. “Hurry!” she calls. “We have to get out of here!”

“You can’t escape this.” Ailesse’s soft but savage laughter heats my ear. Her words are only loud enough for me. “My mother has found you.”

I break into a cold sweat. I’m not ready for the queen. I haven’t made a plan.

Only one lamp burns now, the one nearest to us. In the last snatches of light, Ailesse’s pupils are large and fathomless pits. Hell is inside them, the dark Underworld she worships, the endless night where Tyrus reigns.

No. My breath catches. We’re not in Hell yet. This night isn’t endless.

“Don’t go!” I shout to Jules and Marcel. “The bats will follow you. This is the queen’s magic. It will fade when dawn comes. We just have to ride it out.”

It’s only a hunch, but it’s the best hope we have. Jules is right—the queen won’t come here tonight. And if her strength is truly weaker in the catacombs, then her magic will be weaker, too. By morning, the bats will leave. At the very least, they’ll be defeatable.

Jules and Marcel do as I say. I catch a glimpse of them crouching against the far wall by the door. Jules bends over Marcel, shielding him from the worst of the onslaught. “Don’t let Ailesse escape, Bastien!” she cries.

I’d die first.

The bats scratch my back and screech in my ears. The last lamp extinguishes. Ailesse’s body flinches beneath me as we’re thrown into complete darkness. I have a strong grip on her arms now, and her hips are wedged between my knees. I can’t hold her in this awkward position until dawn. Painstakingly, I wrestle her onto her stomach. She’s strong, but thankfully not as strong as she was on the bridge.

I sprawl on top of her to anchor her to the slab. Her ankles are still bound together, so I press most of my weight onto her upper body. I fold my arms around her waist to lock her arms at her sides. She wriggles and elbows and bucks beneath me. I press my head into the crook of her neck and struggle to keep her down. I hate being this close to her, my bare chest against her back, and the wet fabric of her dress the only barrier between us. “If you were wise, you’d stop fighting and save what little strength you have left,” I say, using all my willpower not to strangle her in the dark. “You know you can’t outmatch me.”