Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace, #1)(65)

Bastien

AILESSE’S WARM HAND PRESSES TIGHTER against mine as we race into the forest, past the edge of the plateau. “How many of the dead are still behind us?” I ask. I hear their pounding feet, growls, and vicious cries coming closer.

A strand of her auburn hair whips across her face as she glances backward. “At least twenty.

All of them are Chained. I don’t know what happened to the others.”

“Chained?” I pant for breath as we keep running. Ailesse isn’t winded at all.

She shakes her head. “I’ll explain later.” We weave around a large tree.

“Psst!” Marcel waves both arms at us. He’s behind a rocky knoll to our right.

I look at Ailesse. She casts another quick glance around us and nods. “Hurry, before they see us.”

We bolt for the knoll. On its other side is an overhang with a shallow cavity of earth beneath.

Marcel ducks into it, and we tumble in next. Jules is down here, too. I end up wedged between her and Ailesse.

The horde of the dead grows louder. Ailesse holds a finger to her lips. We wait in tense silence as they rush past us. Female voices soon follow, shouting as they chase after them. Another long moment passes, and then Ailesse gives a reassuring nod.

Marcel heaves a sigh. “Well, that was exciting.”

“Too exciting,” Jules says.

“You saved us back there,” I tell Jules, jostling her with my shoulder. “Don’t get me wrong; I hated it. Promise me you’ll never do something like that again. I thought those dead were going to run both of you through. But it took a lot of spine. It was very Jules.”

It’s dim under the knoll, but I catch the corners of her mouth lift. “You’d do the same for me . . . wouldn’t you?” Her voice wavers with uncertainty.

I snort. “Do you even have to ask?”

It takes her a moment to reply. “You can let go of Ailesse’s hand now.”

Ailesse and I glance at each other. Our hands break apart at the same time. Mine is suddenly cold.

“Where’s the flute, Jules?” Ailesse asks.

“It’s . . . safe,” she replies.

My gut twists. Something is wrong. I see it in the desperate but determined look on Jules’s face. “What are you doing?”

She swallows. “What you can’t do, Bastien.”

“Jules . . .” Ailesse’s voice trembles dangerously. “That flute is the only real weapon my mother has against the dead. Give—it—to—me. ”

“I will.” Jules takes a steeling breath. “Once you give me all your grace bones.”

“What?” Ailesse’s leg muscles tense up against mine. “You can’t be serious. The dead will attack Dovré next if they’re not stopped. Give me the flute. Now.”

“No.”

In a flash, Ailesse pulls into a crouch and lunges for Jules.

Jules anticipates her and jumps out of the hollow. Ailesse bounds after her. Marcel and I share a wide-eyed glance and scramble to intervene.

Ailesse is already on top of Jules, pinning her down. “Where did you hide it?” She shakes her, but Jules stubbornly mashes her lips together. Ailesse turns furious eyes on Marcel. “Tell me where it is!”

He freezes, halfway out of the hollow. “I . . . promised not to.”

Ailesse’s lip curls. She springs off Jules and pounces for Marcel. I jump between them, and Ailesse knocks into me instead. We both topple to the ground. She jerks up to her knees, and I pull up and grab her shoulders. “Wait!” I’m well aware she has the strength to break free anytime she wishes. “We can talk this through.”

“We don’t have time!”

“Then give me your bones.” Jules sits up, forest mulch in her braid.

Ailesse’s eyes narrow. “That’s like asking me to cut out my heart.”

“I understand.” Jules spares me a pained glance. “But it’s the only way to protect Bastien from you.”

I stare incredulously at my friend. “Ailesse could have left me in the middle of those invisible monsters back there. She just rescued me!”

“So she can kill you on her own terms—on a bridge or with a special knife or whatever ritual she requires.”

“She does need a special knife,” Marcel concedes, brushing dirt off his clothes.

Ailesse flinches and glances westward. “One of the dead is nearby.” She shifts protectively in front of me.

I can’t see or hear anything unusual, but I believe her. “Jules, give her back the damn flute.”

“And then what?” Jules hisses. “Do you really think Ailesse will willingly surrender?”

“I don’t know!” I whisper. “Everything is different now. We can’t be rash about a new plan.”

“Our plan has always been revenge.”

A fierce cry of rage splits the air, maybe fifty yards away. Ailesse freezes. “He’s seen us.”

Merde.

Ailesse rushes to Jules. “Please. I’ll take the flute and run far away from here. The soul will follow me, and Bastien will be safe.” Her brow twitches. “All of you will be.”

“For now, anyway.” Jules holds out an open hand. “The flute for your bones,” she tells Ailesse.