Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace, #1)(64)
I turn around, but the other Chained are already gone. I race up the last steps and squeeze through the narrow gap between the boulders. Once I’m through, my mouth falls open. The bluff is lit up with chazoure. Twenty or more of the dead are up here. Mostly Chained. Some are fighting among each other, as well as a few Unchained. The rest retreat from the cliff.
Hope surges through me until I see Ailesse in the distance. Her auburn hair billows as she runs directly away from me, across the plateau. The souls aren’t leaving her—half are following her, and she’s chasing the rest.
I start to call her name, but my throat runs dry. My sharp vision focuses. The Chained around her separate just enough for me to see that she’s with someone—Bastien. And they’re holding hands.
My feet trip. A rush of dizziness seizes me. I don’t understand. Ailesse escaped Bastien to come here and bring back the bone flute.
Didn’t she?
She’s running with him, not being dragged behind. It almost looks like she’s leading him.
Of course she is. She’s the only one who can see the dead. And if the dead kill Bastien, she’ll die, too. She’s only fleeing with him because it’s her better chance to survive the Chained. Though that doesn’t explain why she’s pursuing some of them.
It doesn’t matter. She still needs help.
She still needs me.
I race after her, then shriek as another soul lashes my arm. He’s using his dangling chain as a whip. The blow knocks my staff away.
I clutch my arm and stagger backward. The man comes for me again. He swings his chains above his head. I have no weapon to block him.
His chains slash downward. I drop, wrapping my hands over my head to protect myself.
Nothing hits me. I look up and gasp. Odiva is here. The skirt of her dress drips with seawater. Her raven hair ripples like black fire. The man’s chains are caught around the end of her staff. With incredible strength, she throws him far off the cliff.
I’m awestruck as she pulls me to my feet. “Are you all right?” she asks.
I nod, dazed, and release a shuddering breath. “But Ailesse . . . Bastien has her again.”
Odiva winces, just a slight flare of her nostrils, and looks across the plateau. The moment she notices them, she stiffens and curls her hands. Her darkening glare makes my blood run cold.
Pernelle dashes over to us. “Did you see her, Matrone? Ailesse is alive!”
Finally, I’m vindicated for never doubting.
Odiva averts her eyes. “Yes, she must have survived her fall in the pit.”
“Her amouré survived, too.” Pernelle steps forward. “I thought you said he died with her.”
Odiva lifts a single black brow. “I am as shocked as you are.”
Pernelle shoots another frantic look at Ailesse. “We need to go after her at once, or the boy might take her back to the catacombs.”
“Or before the Chained reach her first,” I say, flinching as another rush of souls streaks by.
Odiva’s mouth forms a determined line. “Call the others, Pernelle. Some are fast enough to outrun the dead. Tell them to stop fighting and to race after my daughter. Retrieving the bone flute is our priority now.”
“And saving Ailesse,” I add.
Odiva takes a tense breath and briefly meets my gaze. “Of course.”
“What about the boy?” Pernelle asks.
“Capture him, but do not kill him. Ailesse must be the one to do that.”
My fingers wrap around the hilt of Ailesse’s ritual knife at my belt.
Pernelle bows to Odiva and runs off to do her bidding.
I lunge to chase after Ailesse, but Odiva grasps my arm. Her hand is alarmingly rigid. “Wait.”
“But she’s getting away.” I struggle against her hold.
“I am commanding you to stay back, Sabine.”
My cheeks burn. “Why?” Why isn’t she running after Ailesse straightaway? Odiva is faster and stronger than any of us.
When the matrone doesn’t answer, I turn to her. Her unblinking gaze is riveted on something to the north. On the far horizon, at the very last stretch of my graced vision, I spy a silhouetted animal.
Maybe a wolf.
“It is a sign, Sabine,” Odiva says in a hush of great reverence.
What is she talking about? Why are we stalling when Ailesse needs us? “A sign from whom?”
“A god.” Odiva clutches her bird skull and ruby necklace, and the hair on my arms rises. “He’s accepted my sacrifices,” she murmurs, like she’s forgotten I’m even here with her. “He’s giving me one more chance to bring back . . .” Her voice goes hoarse with emotion, and she shakes her head.
“But I must do this his way.”
“Do what?” I ask. My stomach folds as my matrone’s face hardens into a mask of cool resolve.
The last time I saw this same expression was when she claimed Ailesse was dead.
I frown and take a closer look at the animal on the horizon. Its tail and legs are a little shorter than a common wolf’s. It also has a longer torso and a narrower, more pointed muzzle. “Is that—?”
“Tyrus’s gift to us.” A slow smile spreads on Odiva’s gravely beautiful face. “That’s his golden jackal.”
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