Strange and Ever After (Something Strange and Deadly #3)(15)

I pointed up. “You get back on the airship.” At that exact moment, the balloon shifted in the wind, and its shadow moved over us, blocking out the sun. “Climb the ladder, Allison, and then pull it inside once you’re on board.”

“But—”

“You will be safe there,” Joseph added. “No one can get to you that high.”

Her lips clapped shut, and I could see her trying to find a reason to protest—but before she could summon any words, Oliver’s hand shot up.

“Look.” He pointed to the end of the Old Port to where a large avenue hit the open quai.

And to where two figures strolled into the sunlight . . . followed by row upon row of shambling corpses.

My stomach curdled. I knew who it was—even from this distance. That broad-shouldered shape could only be the necromancer wearing my brother’s skin.

I launched myself toward Daniel. “Spyglass,” I shouted.

He whipped around, a pulse bullet clenched between his teeth as he reloaded his pistols. Without waiting for a response, I thrust my hand into his pocket and snatched the spyglass from within. I ignored his shocked stare and stalked down the pier, pushing the glass to my eye.

First I found Marcus. God, he looked so much like Elijah still . . . and yet so different. So large. And while the auburn hair that waved in the wind was like my brother’s, the way Marcus tugged at the black sleeves on his perfectly tailored suit was nothing like my unfashionable older brother had once been.

Then, several paces back, I found Jie.

Bile rose into my throat. She looked nothing like herself. She wore a dress—her waist pulled in unnaturally tight. Painfully tight, while the dress was a monstrosity of a gown. Gold, enormous, and with a wide, trailing skirt. And her hair—her hair. It had been piled on top of her head, a column of black with enormous orchids pinned in it at all angles.

She looked like a puppet. A doll dressed up to walk alongside a monster.

I jerked down the spyglass. “I will kill him—”

Arms lashed around my waist, holding me back. “What are you doing?” Daniel bellowed. “We need a plan!”

I pushed him off, rage boiling in my lungs and up my throat. Marcus would die—and he would die now.

But then Oliver jumped in front of me and grabbed my shoulders. His yellow eyes blazed in the sunlight. “This is what Marcus wants, El. To be seen. To make you furious and careless. We can’t give in—we must stick to our original plan and go to the Notre-Dame.”

“Go without me—”

“You will both go,” Joseph said, appearing beside me.

“I. Want. Marcus.” I shoved the glass at Joseph. “You and Daniel can go to the Notre-Dame—”

“Are you insane?” Daniel demanded as Joseph lifted the spyglass to his eye. “Joseph and I don’t know what to look for there!”

“Marcus”—I snarled the name—“has made a plaything of Jie. I will not allow him to get away with that.”

Joseph’s breath caught, and he swore as he wrenched down the spyglass. “He will pay for this. He will die for this.”

Yes. I grinned, drawing in a breath to start running again—but then Joseph turned to me. “Daniel and I will make sure Marcus pays; yet if he gets through us, then you and your demon must be waiting at the Notre-Dame, Eleanor. Whatever it is Marcus seeks, you must destroy it.”

“What about the compulsion spell?” I demanded. “You cannot break it without killing Marcus—”

“I said,” Joseph roared, his eyes bulging, “that Daniel and I will make Marcus pay. There is no time to lose, Eleanor. You go to the Notre-Dame, and you go now.”

Oliver’s fingers clamped on my bicep. “Joseph is right. If these corpses are meant to distract us, then we cannot lose sight of our original course: the crypt.”

I swallowed, groping for any excuse I could conjure to face Marcus.

But I found none, because Joseph and Oliver were right.

“Fine. I will go to the Notre-Dame.” I jerked from Oliver’s grasp, and then I lurched around to stomp toward Allison. She stood, arms over her chest and skirts flipping. Her gaze never left the thrashing waters of the harbor.

“Get on the airship,” I shouted at her, “and do not lower the ladder unless you see one of us return. Do you understand?”

She trembled, and for half a breath I feared she might argue. But then she gave a strangled cry and bolted for the dangling ladder.

I waited until she had ascended all the way into the airship, pulled up the ladder, and slammed the hatch shut. Then I angled my head up and east, toward the Notre-Dame. No matter what lay ahead, I would not leave this city without destroying what Marcus sought.

And not without rescuing Jie.

“Empress!” Daniel’s voice whipped out, and I glanced over my shoulder as he jogged to me. “Take these.” He fumbled with something in his pocket . . . and then withdrew his goggles—the lenses that allowed us to see when spirits and the Dead were near.

But I didn’t need them anymore; I had my magic, and it was far more effective. So I shook my head. “Keep them, Daniel.”

His lips pressed thin—a grave mask, not an angry one—and he lowered his hand. “Stay safe.”

“You too.” Then, with nothing more than a beckoning finger in Oliver’s direction and a final, hard nod at Joseph, I set off up the hill.