Hotel Magnifique(93)

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My hands shook as I walked beside Frigga while she pushed the laundry cart into the ravaged lobby. Suitcases were flung about, clothes spilled, chairs broken. A few guests still rushed out the door, while a small group huddled under the remains of the red piano. Near them, weightless feathers from inside a room pillow curled up an entire wall, while flecks of blood spotted the white marble.

Sido’s hand clamped down on my shoulder. “Been looking for you. We know you turned Issig into a bird. Now where is he?”

Someone must have found what was left of Des Rêves and put it together.

I nudged my chin at the cage on top of the cart. Luckily, Frigga had known where canvas was kept. We’d wrapped a length around the bars, hiding the bird inside.

Sido rattled it with his free hand. “Doesn’t weigh much.”

“What do you expect? It’s a bird. Now where’s the ma?tre?”

“Everyone’s inside waiting for you to show up.” He motioned to the salon. My stomach did a little flip at everyone. “You’ll stay here,” he said to Frigga.

Her hands tightened on the cart handle. She met my eyes and a look passed between us. Sido grunted and shoved me forward.

Salon d’Amusements was in worse shambles than the lobby. Chairs were broken. Tables upended. Tea sandwiches and smashed porcelain littered the floor. Violet flames reflected off crystals in the chandeliers, flinging purple light everywhere.

Sido carried the cage toward the center of the salon, pulling me along.

As we moved, I kept my eyes peeled for the infinite ledger. Across the sea of upturned tables, three suminaires sat around a booth.

Both Béatrice and Hellas remained deadly calm. They were gagged, hands bound. Yrsa sat opposite them, her surgeon’s kit opened next to her teacup, Bel’s porcelain finger resting beside it. The alchemist touched the porcelain with a pinkie. It rolled to the table’s edge. I held my breath when she caught it in her palm then glanced behind me with a smirk.

I whirled.

Bel sat on a barstool. He caught my eyes and blinked.

All the warmth left me.

His mannerisms were still there: how he cocked his head, the way his lips pursed, even that damned piece of hair that fell across his brow. Except his face appeared as blank as a shop mannequin. He was still him but not. Missing. Alastair risked doing that to him because he’d helped me.

I glared at Yrsa. “Give me his finger.”

“Don’t think so.” She placed the porcelain next to that terrible little cup.

“There you are!” Alastair shouted and the chandeliers shuddered. He stepped out from the door that led behind the stage, a row of suminaires trailing at his heel. Every single one clutched artéfacts, their eyes trained on me.

I searched Alastair’s hands. He held the inkwell in his fist, the infinite ledger tucked beneath his arm.

“Take Issig to the deep freeze,” Alastair ordered Sido. “Chain the cage up.” Sido nodded and took a few steps before Alastair stopped him. “Wait.” In a sudden movement, Alastair ripped the canvas from the cage.

The cage wasn’t Issig’s, but an old, rusted one with a missing door I’d found on the supply shelf. It now contained a bird the color of molten gold.

“Where’s Issig?” When I didn’t answer, Alastair kicked a table. “He belongs to me.”

“You’re wrong. He’s not yours.” I turned to Bel, to the booth where Béatrice and Hellas sat. Alastair might be the one controlling the contracts, but I had people who loved me, people who I trusted to help.

I whistled.

Earlier, I’d given instructions for this moment. Zosa flew out of the cage, flapping her wings at Alastair. His hands darted up to cover his face and he dropped the cage and the ledger. I took a step in his direction.

“Grab the girls!” Alastair shouted to the suminaires. At once, they started toward us.

I turned. Frigga was already rolling the laundry cart into the salon. In one swoop, she ripped the canvas sheeting off the top and touched her manacle to the cart’s handle. Using her magic, she’d manipulated metal and fashioned the entire bottom of the cart into a cage. Twenty-two dull birds—all the birds left inside the aviary—flew straight for the row of suminaires, for Sido, while Zosa darted around Alastair, pecking at his ears.

I was almost to the ledger. I pushed chairs out of the way. But before I could grab it, someone got there first.

“Bring it to me,” Alastair ordered.

Bel blinked and turned the ledger over in his hand. His dark eyes fixed on me, like he could somehow see past the haze of enchanted ink.

“The ledger. Now!” Alastair roared.

“Bel,” I begged. “Please. Give it to me.”

Bel’s eyebrows drew together, but he didn’t step toward me. My eyes burned when he handed the ledger to Alastair.

He didn’t give me the ledger.

“Jani, hurry!” Frigga shouted.

I didn’t know what to do, but somehow I had enough left in me to race to the cart, numb. I felt numb. I blinked back useless tears. Without the ledger, Issig didn’t matter. Frigga pulled his cage up. My head shook. “I—I didn’t get the ledger.”

“What do you mean?” Her face fell. “But your sister—”