Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace #1)(41)

“Why are you here, Sabine?” Odiva asks, her curious gaze traveling over my necklace—Ailesse’s necklace—to see if it bears a new grace bone. I know why she’s here. And how. Odiva told me last night she’d be able to track her daughter with familial magic, blood of her blood, bones of her bones. Magic I don’t possess.

I open my mouth to explain about the silver owl, but then I hesitate. I can’t tell Odiva that an owl of all creatures—a bird my famille finds superstitious—guided me here of its own volition. She’ll think I’ve gone mad. “I was hunting for more graces and found one of Bastien’s accomplices in the forest. I chased her here.”

“Bastien?” Odiva arches a sleek brow.

“Ailesse’s amouré. The girl spoke his name.”

The matrone nods slowly, her black eyes drifting past me to the ravine.

“She slid into some kind of tunnel opening down there. It looked small.”

“Nothing we don’t have the strength to claw through.”

I bite my lip, delaying the last thing I must tell her: “It leads to the catacombs.”

A small furrow mars Odiva’s smooth forehead. The other Leurress exchange tense glances and step to the edge of the ravine. Odiva waited until nightfall to confront Ailesse’s captors, which means she must have been counting on the full strength of Elara’s Light. And in the catacombs, she and the elders will be cut off from it. They’ll have to rely on the reservoir inside them, in addition to their graces.

“Are you sure?” Dolssa holds her snake rib necklace to her chest as she leans forward to take a closer look down the ravine.

“Unless the girl was lying,” I reply. “She said the bones of several thousand skeletons were scattered around in there.” Pernelle winces.

Odiva is unmoving for a moment, her bloodred lips pursed in thought. “The catacombs beneath the city could reach this far. The quarries are extensive, and the victims of the great plague were countless in number.” Her eyes narrow. “Ailesse’s captors must know we receive strength from the Night Heavens. That is why they have taken her here—and why they want us to follow.”

My stomach tightens. “So it’s a trap?”

A faint smile touches her mouth. “Ailesse’s amouré is a clever boy, isn’t he? I will enjoy watching her kill him.”

I swallow the bitter tang in my mouth. I understand that Bastien has to die so Ailesse can live, but it doesn’t mean I take pleasure in it.

“Come,” Odiva commands the other Leurress. “We will show these commoners our graces are still treacherous when weakened by the dark.”

The elders raise their chins. Some lift their eyes to the starry sky above, soaking in one last measure of Elara’s Light. They descend into the ravine, one after another—Roxane, Milicent, and Dolssa.

Pernelle hesitates. A slight tremor runs through her ivory hands. At thirty-nine years old, she’s the youngest elder, and the only one to betray any fear. It’s a comfort to know I’m not alone. She watches the others as they claw the burrow hole wider with powerful strength. “Isn’t there another catacombs entrance we can use?” she asks Odiva, her honey-blond hair rippling across her face in the breeze. “One that doesn’t lead to a trap, and gives us the advantage?”

Odiva’s perfect posture doesn’t budge. “We are Ferriers, experienced in fighting the vicious dead. We have seventeen grace bones between us. What more advantage do we need? Summon your courage.” The matrone sets her finger on the fox vertebra pendant hanging around Pernelle’s neck. “This should give you fortitude, if you do not resist.”

Pernelle presses her lips together and musters a small nod. She climbs down the ravine to join the others. I follow her, but Odiva clutches my arm.

“No, Sabine. If you do not have the tenacity to kill another animal, how can you help us tonight?” Her voice isn’t cold, only concerned, but her words hurt all the same. “What you do need to do is earn another grace bone.” She sighs and gently squeezes my arm before releasing it. “Do not return to Chateau Creux until you do.”

My eyes burn hot. “But—”

She turns away and plunges into the ravine.

My legs tense. I walk three steps after her. Then stop myself. Shift back and shake my head. Grip my salamander skull. Panic builds inside me. “Please, please, please . . .” I need to be with the elders. I should be rescuing Ailesse. But my grace bone isn’t enough. I’m not enough.

I spin away and run. Tears stream from my eyes. I furiously swipe them away.

Stop crying, Sabine!

I’m not weak. I’m not a coward.

I’m tired of everyone believing I am. I’m tired of believing it myself.

I run faster. I claw past branches and kick away underbrush. I nock an arrow on my bow and scour the ground, search the trees. I burst into a copse of pine.

A fluttering noise rustles above me. A shard of moonlight shines on the bird I’ve startled. White stripes blaze across the bend of its dark wings. A nighthawk. Common. No bigger than a crow.

I don’t care.

My arrow flies. The bird falls. I thank the gods, and I curse them. I’m crying again. I can’t help it.

I’ve killed my second creature.

And now I’ll claim his every last grace.