Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace #1)(66)

She needs her bones, as well as the flute. I spring for the pouch, but it’s already gone. Jules slips it over her own neck. Her chin quivers. “I’m doing this for you, Bastien.”

“Doing what?” I frown.

Ailesse cries out. She’s thrashing on the ground. The dead man is on top of her. My chest tightens. I race over and grab blindly at the man. I manage to shove him off, but a moment later he jabs me roughly in the gut. I double over, coughing.

Jules backs away, her hand on her brother’s arm. “Marcel and I will figure out how to break the soul-bond.” She bites her lip and glances at the flute in her hand. “I’m sorry, but he said we might need this.”

I gape at her. “Jules . . .”

“This is the only way to save you. You’re too smitten with her, Bastien.” Her brow furrows. “We’ll find you when it’s done.”

I throw a desperate look at Marcel, but he only lowers his eyes.

They both run away.

I struggle to my feet. “Wait!”

Someone barrels into me from the other direction. Invisible. Another of the dead. I grapple with it—him, her, I can’t tell—and slice my knife across its arms. It shrieks and lets go.

“Leave both of them alone!” Jules shouts at our attackers. Several yards away, she waves the flute as she races off with Marcel. “It’s me you want!” Footsteps pound after her. A spike of adrenaline hits my veins. Not again. She shouts over her shoulder, “Go, Bastien! Take her and run for the catacombs!”

Ailesse stops moving. Her eyelids flutter and close. She lies lifeless on the ground.

Merde.

I bolt over and fall to my knees, gathering her up in my arms. Her head flops against my neck, and her breath warms my skin. I release a shaky exhale. She’s alive, but she has a large lump on the back of her head. The dead man must have bashed it on the ground.

I stand and heft her up with me. Cradling her close, I run as fast as possible—painstakingly slow—but at least no more eerie cries come from the forest. For the moment, the dead are gone.

I rush after Jules and Marcel, but quickly lose their trail. I don’t stop. And I don’t run for the ravine catacombs entrance. My friends won’t be there, and I won’t take Ailesse where Jules can find her. If Jules does find a way to break the soul-bond, she’ll come after Ailesse.

I square my jaw, inhale deeply, and take the path that forks to Dovré.

What are you doing, Bastien? This is the girl you wanted to kill.

I don’t know what I want anymore, but it’s not harming Ailesse—not in any way.

The city is still dark by the time I stumble in past the walls. My muscles burn, but I’m driven onward with almost manic energy. Ailesse is still limp in my arms, but she’s becoming coherent. She mumbles, “Chazoure . . . can’t see it.” The word has something to do with the ghosts we fought tonight. I still haven’t processed all the surreal events.

I race through alley after alley. Every rustle and whisper makes me jump. I keep tensing for an invisible enemy to attack. I have to get Ailesse well out of sight.

In one of the poorer districts, the crumbling spires of Chapelle du Pauvre struggle to reach the sky. The church for the poor is in a state of near ruin and hardly used anymore. I adjust my grip on Ailesse and hurry inside. In one of the alcoves behind the altar, I yank a moth-eaten rug off the floor. Beneath it is a hatch. I flop it open on its hinges. I set Ailesse on her feet, my hand on her waist to support her, and guide her down a rickety ladder.

“What’s going on?” Her legs wobble. It’s like her body didn’t feel the toll of all her fighting tonight until she lost her graces. “Is Jules down here? I need the flute. My mother . . .” She clutches her head and staggers to stay standing.

We reach the cellar, and I help her sit on a crate. “Jules ran off with the flute and your bones,” I reply, and my jaw muscle hardens. “Marcel is with her.”

Ailesse gasps. “But the dead—”

“We’ll figure out what to do about them later.”

“I can’t hide down here while innocent people are in danger.” She makes a break for the ladder. I grab her and pull her back. She tries to fight me, but her strength is spent. I push her down on the crate again.

“You’re hurt, Ailesse—and you don’t have your graces anymore. For tonight, we rest. I promise to look for Jules tomorrow. In the meantime, I’m sure the other Bone Criers are doing something about the dead. It doesn’t all fall on you. Can’t they pen the dead in somewhere?”

She sits back. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She buries her head in her hands. “This has never happened before. At least not in my lifetime.”

I try to think of something comforting to say, but my mind runs blank. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before either.

I feel around in the dark for the tinderbox I’ve stashed down here. I finally find it at the back of a dusty shelf and light a lantern. The candle inside has already melted to a stub. I’ll have to get more soon, along with other supplies. I can’t remember how much I’ve stored in my hideout. I spent so much time here as a child, back before I met Jules and Marcel. This is the one place I never told them about, and here I am, about to show a girl I’ve only known for a couple weeks. A girl I’m desperate to keep alive.