Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace, #1)(10)

I sit on the rafter, one knee drawn to my chest while the other leg dangles. Across the beam, Jules pulls herself to her feet. Her chest heaves above her bodice. She’s been lacing it tighter for two months, ever since I put an end to kissing her. “What now?” She rests one hand on her hip, but her legs shake. “Are you going to make me walk over to you?”

When I don’t answer, she bargains, “How about you meet me halfway?”

“Hmm.” I drum my fingers on my chin. “Nah.”

She scoffs and flashes her coin at me. “I was going to share this, but now I think I’ll keep it for myself. Maybe buy a silk dress.”

“Because that comes in handy for a thief.” I can’t imagine Jules in a gown. She’s the only girl in Dovré that dresses the way she does, and if any boy gives her grief about it, she blackens his eye.

If he goes a step further and calls her “Julienne,” he’ll walk away doubled over with his hands between his legs. “Come over here.” I beckon with a lazy hand. “The ground is just fifteen feet below. If you fell, what’s the worst that could happen? A cracked skull? Broken neck? A nice chat up here is worth it, don’t you think?”

“I hate you.”

I grin and lean back against the post. “No, you don’t.” Everything between us feels right again.

I’m goading her, annoying her, just like old times . . . before I made the mistake of kissing her. Jules and her brother, Marcel, are like family to me. I was wrong to mess with that.

Her braid falls in front of her shoulder as she eyes the ground. “So, is this officially a dare?”

“Sure.”

“What do I get if I make it across?”

“You mean if you live?” I shrug. “I’ll let you keep your coin.”

“It’s mine, anyway.”

“Prove it.”

She takes another glance at the ground and purses her trembling lips. In a knife fight, Jules would best me any day. But everyone has a weakness. She inhales a long breath and shakes out her hands. Her hazel eyes take on the gleam of the Jules I know best. The Jules who will follow me anywhere. She and Marcel will be with me in nine days. Together, we’ll find vengeance. My friends lost their father, too.

I never knew Théo Garnier. I was twelve years old and ready to pickpocket an apothecary when I first heard his name and learned of his fate. I overheard the apothecary speak of a strange illness he’d failed to cure three years earlier. He’d never come across anything so unnatural as the mysterious bone disease. It was the last tragedy Théo was destined to suffer after being abandoned by his wife and then his lover.

Suspicious that a Bone Crier might be involved, I spent the next month tracking what became of Théo’s two children. According to the apothecary, there was no family to take them in. I finally found Jules and Marcel in another district of Dovré, scavenging the streets like me to survive. We pieced together the puzzle of our fathers’ deaths and realized we had a common enemy. Together, we pledged to make the Bone Criers pay for what they took from us.

Jules stows the coin between her teeth and spreads her arms wide. She takes her first step.

My smile fades as I study her technique. “Look ahead, not downward. Focus on the distance in front of you. Find a target there and stay locked on it.” She exhales and does as I say. “Good, now keep your pacing even.”

I didn’t dare Jules just for fun. I’m helping her. If she can rise above her fear of heights, she’ll be unstoppable. She’ll scale the rooftops of Dovré. She’ll leap from one to the next with the ease of an alley cat. The perfect thief.

She’s halfway across the beam, her face flushed with victory. Then her brows twitch, her confidence cracks. She’s only halfway across.

“Steady, Jules. Don’t think. Relax.”

She holds her breath. Veins pop at her temples. Her eyes lower.

Merde.

She pinwheels sideways. I lunge, but she falls too fast.

I dive for her arm, and the beam smacks my chest. Our hands scramble to connect. Her weight yanks me, but I anchor myself to the beam. She flails and releases a tight-lipped cry.

“I’ve got you, Jules!”

She grabs my wrist with her other hand. By some miracle, the coin is still in her mouth.

“The anvil’s right below you,” I warn. “I’m going to pull you back up, all right?”

She nods with a whimper.

I squeeze the beam with my thighs and lift her slowly, hand over hand. She finally makes it upright, and we straddle the beam, face-to-face and panting. Her arms fling around my neck. She’s trembling all over. I hold her tighter, cursing myself for daring her in the first place. If I lose anyone else . . . I close my eyes.

“Well done.” I fight for breath. “That was beautiful.”

She bursts with manic laughter. “If you tell Marcel about this, I’ll kill you.” Her words slur around the coin in her mouth.

“Fair enough.”

She draws back to see my face. Our noses are almost touching. She juts up her chin slightly.

She’s inviting me to take the coin. I peel one hand from her waist and pluck it from her teeth.

She licks her lips. “Well?”

I give it a little bite of my own. “It’s real,” I say with a sheepish grin.