Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace, #1)(86)

I throw the stone. It hits something solid and bounces off. Ailesse’s knife doesn’t stop thrashing. I’ve done nothing to slow down the Chained man. Merde. I don’t want us to die down here.

“Ailesse!” Jules says. She pulls something off from around her neck—the coin pouch with Ailesse’s grace bones. “Catch!” She tosses it.

Ailesse’s eyes follow the flying pouch. She jumps and grabs its leather strings. She quickly drops my father’s knife and kicks it across the floor to me. By the time I pick it up, the pouch is around her neck. Her jaw muscle flexes, her shoulders square, and her gaze focuses just to her left.

She sees the Chained man.

With a great burst of speed, she turns around and charges straight for the corner of the quarry the Chained man has been backing her into. She leaps and springs off one corner wall and pushes off the next. She zigzags upward, catching handholds and footholds. When she reaches the high ceiling, she shoves off the wall and slingshots the other way. Her body twists to face the quarry.

Toward the space where the Chained man must be.

She throws a vicious punch with all her momentum. The Chained must be hurtling backward from the strike.

Ailesse lands on her feet and bolts for a target several feet in front of her. She jumps and pounces on something in midair. Her legs grip it like a vise. Her elbow wraps around what should be the Chained man’s neck. She squeezes so hard her body trembles.

I launch toward her. “Will he pass out?”

“No.” She grunts. “But he can feel the suffering.”

“Good.” I plunge my knife into his invisible chest and twist the blade. I feel him spasm and buckle to the ground. Ailesse drops with him, and her hold breaks. He yanks out the knife and casts it a few yards away. He shoves me to the ground. I roll back a couple feet.

“Don’t let him go!” Ailesse fumbles to right herself.

“Where is he?” I swing around.

“He’s right—” Ailesse points. Frowns. Turns in every direction. A strand of hair catches at the edge of her mouth. She scales the chunk of limestone and stands on top for a better view. She glances around for the chains or whatever it is she sees.

Someone taps the back of my shoulder. I startle and turn, but it’s only Jules.

“Bastien . . .” she says on a faint breath.

Her face is alarmingly pale. Her sleeve is drenched in blood.

My pulse trips. I reach for her.

Her head droops, and she doubles over.

No, no, no.





39

Ailesse

I HOP DOWN FROM THE limestone and hurry over to Bastien and Jules. “We need to leave. We’ll be safer once we’re deeper in the catacombs.”

Bastien has Jules’s head in his lap. He rattles her. She won’t open her eyes, but at least she’s breathing.

“Bastien, please.” I grab his arm.

He takes in my pensive expression. “Is the Chained man still here?”

“He disappeared.” I shiver. “We have to go before he comes back.”

He swallows and nods. “Right.”

He starts to heft up Jules. I try to help him, but he angles away. “I’ve got her,” he says, and leads the way as we rush out of the quarry. He doesn’t take the tunnel toward his hideout under Chapelle du Pauvre.

“Where are we going?” I ask, holding the lantern near him so he can see into the darkness.

“Our old catacombs chamber.” He climbs over some fallen debris. “I’m betting that’s where Marcel is.”

Our journey lengthens through the branching tunnels, and Bastien starts panting.

“I can carry Jules,” I offer again. “I have my graces back.”

“No.” He lowers his brows. “Please, Ailesse, let me do this. It’s my fault . . .” He shakes his head, and his eyes fill with pain as he looks at her.

We finally arrive at our old chamber. Bastien kicks open the door by the wall of skulls.

Marcel’s sitting at the overturned cart table with a pile of open books. He glances up, and his face brightens. “Bastien! Ailesse!” Then he sees his sister and blanches. “What happened?”

“A Chained man attacked her.” Bastien barges inside. “Sliced her arm and nearly choked her to death.”

I grab a blanket and spread it on the ground. Bastien lays Jules on it and applies pressure to her bleeding arm.

Marcel stares at us, aghast. “He choked her with chains?”

“No. He was a dead man,” Bastien says. He looks at me, and I quickly explain how the gods mark evil souls.

“Is Jules going to be all right?” Marcel asks.

“Yes.” The edge to Bastien’s voice is so sharp it dares either one of us to disagree. “Bring me some water.”

I’m immediately on my feet. I step toward the bucket by the shelves, but Marcel is closer. I move out of his way as he rushes it back to Bastien. Both boys are hovering over Jules now. Bastien splashes a little water on her face. “Come on, Jules.” He slaps her cheeks twice, and I wince. “Come on!” His voice breaks. “You’re tougher than this. You’re not allowed to die on me.”

My eyes blur with threatening tears as he desperately tries to wake her. This is what it would feel like if I lost Sabine.