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Chapter Text

When she was certain the door to her library was locked, Nathalie sat down in the middle of the floor, gazing at the collection of items she’d gathered for her daily ritual. A candle and a stove lighter. Charcoal discs, loose leaf incense, and a clay burner. The Rider-Waite-Smith tarot deck.

In the dim light trickling through the thick curtains that she’d drawn over the windows, she picked up the candle. A fat white thing half burned down already. Using the stove lighter, she lowered the flame to the wick, her heart quickening as it ignited.

She set the candle on the floor, admiring the warm glow that haloed it. Long shadows stretched across the floor and flickered over the walls of the library – her one sacred space in the Agreste mansion, more precious than her bedroom. The Agrestes had chosen that room for her, more than fourteen years ago. But she’d chosen this one, moving all her artefacts into it after she’d sold her flat and invested the proceeds.

Drawing her phone from her pocket, she set an alarm. There was a risk of losing track of time and being late to collect Adrien from his fencing lesson. On the screen was a diary notification, reminding her about Emilie and Gabriel’s anniversary party this evening.

As if she could forget. She’d single-handedly organised every detail, right down to the suit Adrien would wear.

Adrien.

Never had a teenager been so excited about a stuffy party where there would be just two guests his age. Chloe and Felix, the only kids his parents allowed him to spend time with.

She could not make him late.

Setting her phone aside, she leaned forward and collected the pack of charcoal discs. Removing one, she held it between her thumb and forefinger and lit it with the stove lighter. Then she placed it in the incense burner. Fire sparked, crackling and sizzling as it worked its way across the disc.

When it reached the other side, the red glow disappeared, as though the fire had burnt out. But with incense as in life, appearances could be deceiving. If she touched the disc, she’d burn her fingers.

She opened the jar of incense and sprinkled some on the disc. Golden chunks of frankincense resin and pale flakes of sandalwood, for protection and purification. The aroma drifted up in wisps of white smoke, hitting her nose and making her shoulders relax for the first time all day.

Thank goodness Gabriel was out. When she’d first started this ritual a few months ago, he’d commented on the smell. ‘It’s like a church,’ he’d said – like an accusation.

‘Is that a bad thing?’ she’d asked.

He’d scowled in response. Although he insisted he was Catholic, she couldn’t remember the last time he’d attended a service, except on special occasions.

‘It helps me keep calm,’ she’d said. ‘So I can be a good assistant to you and Emilie.’

‘You’re already a good assistant.’

To her shame, his morsels of praise still made her heart swell. ‘A better assistant, then.’

‘Hm.’ He hadn’t brought up the subject since.

If Emilie had noticed the ‘churchy’ smell, she hadn’t commented. If she managed to come out of her room these days, it was a miracle.

Nathalie sighed and focused on the candle’s flame. The incense was doing its job, making her feel heady and light. Yet a small voice murmured in her mind.

This is silly. This isn’t real magic. This is the sort of nonsense you find in new age shops.

Maybe.

But maybe not.

She drew in a long, deep breath, inhaling the aroma filling the room, before releasing the tension knotting in her shoulders. With each exhalation, that voice in her head grew a little quieter.

The fact was, humans had been working with resins and herbs since time immemorial – not just for healing but for meditation. Candles also had long been a staple of spiritual functions. As for tarot cards…. Well, they had a long history, too. While some opted to use the cards as cheap fortune telling gimmicks, the earliest decks had been designed by practising magicians, as symbolic tools for self-understanding. The psychologist Carl Jung had even used them in therapy sessions, a little like Rorschach tests. There was nothing shameful or cursed or empty about them.

Yet if her mother could see her now….

Well, she can’t. She’s dead, as is everyone else who might disapprove of me.

Nathalie let her shoulder drop a little further, and Amelie’s words from their last video call replayed in her mind.

‘You’re trying to find yourself, aren’t you,’ Amelie had said. ‘You spent years resenting your mother for what she took from you as a child. Then you resented Gabriel for what happened with the peacock. Now you’re trying to reclaim the magic on your own terms.’

Sometimes, it was frightening how well Amelie understood her.

‘You’re an Agreste,’ Gabriel often told Adren. Like that meant something.

I am the last of the Sancoeur. Maybe that meant something too.

Nathalie reached to the side, for a cup of herbal tea she’d brewed earlier. A blend of lavender and chamomile that she’d grown in pots in a small corner of the back garden that she’d claimed. Only Adrien was aware. Mainly because Adrien was the only one who went out there – on the rare occasions when his schedule released him.

What did it say about the boy that the moment he had free time, he left the house? How far would he go if he could venture beyond the gates of the estate?

As the warm liquid warmed her throat, she set the cup on the floor again and picked up her phone, opening a meditation music playlist. Browsing through the options, she selected a percussive track. A slow, plodding rhythm, almost in time with her heart. Repetitive, but with just enough going on to anchor her thoughts even as the beat carried her consciousness away.

She set the phone down, then shifted around until she was sitting in the yogic butterfly position. Resting her hands palm up on her thighs, she closed her eyes, sinking into the darkness behind her lids.

It used to take ages to fall into a trance, but all things improved with practice. Now, it seemed like only seconds before that cool familiar feeling washed through her body. She was floating, untethering from her physical form. Aware of it while not being part of it. She sensed her posture slumping, her back arching and her head drooping, while she hovered somewhere outside.

A special kind of pleasure gripped her – the joy of not being Nathalie Sancoeur. Not having a list of errands to run for Gabriel. Not having to make lesson plans for Adrien. Not worrying about Emilie.

She smiled, not with her mouth but with her inner self.

Then she made a choice to return. To wiggle her fingers and toes. To take control of her body once again.

She opened her eyes, letting the details of the room return to her. Her skin was vibrating, her chest warm with power. Still not quite connected to this world, she picked up the cards and began shuffling. A question burned in her mind.

What do I need to know right now?

She carried on shuffling, until cards fell out of her clumsy hands. Perhaps an accident. Perhaps fate. Collecting the three cards, she lay them face down in a row. Instinct niggled at her, urging her to turn the middle card around – and she listened. Not because the cards were psychic but because she’d learned to trust her intuition.

One by one, she turned the cards over. Then she stared at them, motionless with shock. It seemed her intuition had betrayed her.

Her hands itched to swipe the cards away. To slot them back in the deck and try again. But that would defeat the point. What lay before her was what she was meant to see. There was a reason for things. If she stopped believing in this, what else did she have?

Swallowing, she examined the cards more closely.

The first was Death. A skeleton riding into town on a white horse, just as the legends said. On the ground were four figures. A priest with his hands folded in prayer, terrified of the very thing he taught others not to fear. A woman swooning, her head turned away in denial. A king prostrate on the ground, his discarded crown signifying the end of a regime. A child on his knees, offering Death a garland of flowers. The skeleton smiled back at the child’s acceptance of the simplest fact of life – that it ends.

The third card was The Tower. A tall grey thing, with the top blown off by a jagged lightning bolt, knocking a huge gold crown off – the end of an order. Flames burst from the structure, and smoke billowed out, while two figures were hurled from the windows. One looked like he’d been flung out with force. The other looked like he’d leapt out by choice. Either way, there was no visible landing ground. No guarantee that they wouldn’t be welcomed by sharp, deadly rocks.

Caught in the middle of the two cards was The Sun. A child – a boy, his hair a halo of sunflowers – rode his own white horse. Like Adam in Eden, the boy was unclothed, his arms spread wide in openness and acceptance. Innocent, he grinned as brightly as the enormous sun shining overhead, while he rode away from the wall that once hemmed in him.

Just one problem. The card was upside down. The child was stuck, the wall coming down on his head and the sun sinking into the depths.

Nathalie clasped her shaking hands in her lap. This was no ordinary reading. There were seventy-eight cards in the deck. The odds of pulling three from the Major Arcana – perhaps the most significant cards in the deck – were low.

The Death card reclaimed her attention, and a name flashed through her head.

Emilie.

It was stupid. Every sincere tarot practitioner knew the cards shouldn’t be taken literally. Death simply meant change, the end of one era and the start of another. The Tower, too, was merely a symbol of transformation. If you managed to get through the difficult times suggested in these cards, the ones that followed implied balance and healing. And when you reached the end of the Major Arcana cycle, you started it anew. It was evolution, nothing more.

Yet that awful sense of dread was like a fist, squeezing her lungs.

Her arm worked on autopilot, reaching for The Sun and turning it right side up. Again, it was easy to take it too literally. To imagine the boy was Adrien. A star trying to rise, held back by death and destruction.

In fact, as she scanned the other cards again, Adrien seemed to be in all of them. The child dealing with the arrival of death. The figure leaping from the tower, trusting that somehow he would be saved.

But he wouldn’t. How could he be, in a house like this?

A memory came to her – of just yesterday, when Adrien had performed one of Chopin’s Ballades for them, on the piano. He’d been practising the infernally difficult piece for weeks, playing it to perfection each time she’d listened through his bedroom door. Yet under his father’s emotionless gaze, he’d let his fingers slip on one of the black keys, right near the end.

One mistake. One fumble, and the boy had sat trembling on the bench afterwards. Because he knew what was coming.

‘It was sloppy,’ Gabriel had said.

Adrien had opened his mouth, perhaps to defend himself – then gone still. By this point, Nathalie didn’t need to check Gabriel’s hands to know he’d touched the ring. Then, without another word, Gabriel had got to his feet and left the room.

Even now, Nathalie could still see Adrien’s face in her mind. The way his lips wobbled. The pale hue of his skin. Those green eyes blinking too much, fighting back tears he refused to cry.

She looked at the cards again. Every instinct told her this reading was about him. A star unable to shine.

This was what she needed to know.

She sank back, her mouth dry with worry. What the hell could she do for the boy? How did she fight against parents who could physically control his every behaviour?

It was pretty damn difficult to call Child Protective Services on one of the most famous and most respected fashion designers in the world. Besides, what would she tell them? That Gabriel used magic to abuse his son? As if anyone would believe her.

No, this would need a more appropriate course of action.

She glanced around the library – at her collection of artefacts hung on the walls and tucked away in cabinets. Maybe she could use one of them to curse Gabriel. There was a time when she wouldn’t have been above it. But could she really go through with it? The idea of damning him like that made her heart hurt in a way she didn’t want to explore.

Perhaps she could just smudge Adrien’s room with protective herbs.

Right. She could just imagine how Gabriel would react if he came home from some business meeting to find that she’d hung bundles of sage around the mansion.

‘Is this to make you a better assistant?’ he might say.

A small laugh bubbled out of her throat – when a dinging noise cut through her fantasy. Her alarm.

She grabbed her phone and turned off the sound, her nerves rattling as she was dragged back to the ‘real world’. She took a photograph of the cards, then packed them away and leaned forward to blow out the candle.

Collecting the incense burner, she got to her feet and carried it over to a desk that sat against the wall. There was no way to cool down the charcoal, but at least it would be out of the way, where it wouldn’t harm anyone.

Drawing in a long breath, she closed her eyes, letting the frankincense and sandalwood aroma take some of the edge off. Then she opened her eyes and walked to the door, locking it behind her as she headed for the staircase.

Whatever she was going to do about Adrien, she’d have to work it out later. It was time to collect him for the anniversary party.

Chapter Text

Nestled in the backseat of the car, Nathalie looked at her tablet, reading out the rest of Adrien’s schedule for the day. 

Beside her, Adrien stared out the window, while Placide drove in his usual silence.

Undeterred, Nathalie carried on. Adrien still had so much to do before the Agrestes’ anniversary party this evening. And so did she. Just thinking of it made the knot in her back ache.

When she finished reading the schedule, she lowered her tablet, waiting for some response. Some reaction. Maybe even some complaint.

But Adrien continued to look out the window, his gaze glued on the world rushing past outside.

‘Adrien, did you listen to a word I just said?’

Without looking at her, he repeated the whole schedule almost verbatim, in a dull monotone.

She suppressed a shudder. ‘Very good. But it’s poor manners to look away when someone’s talking to you.’

Sighing, he turned to her, the movement laboured. In his eyes was a look so familiar it hurt. A look that asked, If life is meant to be a grand adventure, why am I stuck here?

Her throat burned with all the things she couldn’t say. The fact was, she sometimes saw that look in the mirror. She’d seen it before she’d met the Agrestes, too. Back when she was running from place to place, searching for something to give her life meaning. Perhaps it was the only expression she had.

Adrien threw his head back against the seat. ‘I don’t understand, Nathalie. Why do my parents fill my schedule like this? Why can’t I go out and do the kinds of things other kids my age do?’

More replies lingered on her tongue. You’re not like other kids. You never have been. If anyone worked out what you really are…. If anyone knew about the ring….

A chill filled her chest, but she fought it back, forcing her usual stoic expression. ‘We’ve been over this, Adrien. You’re a celebrity, not just for your modelling but for your father’s work. Every time you go out, you risk being hounded by paparazzi. Your parents are trying to protect you.’

He let out a flat laugh. ‘Right. By forcing me into modelling in the first place. They know I hate it.’

They did. They’d discussed it many times. At least, Nathalie and Gabriel had. But as he’d made so, so clear, Adrien was his son, not hers.

Even if she was the one raising him.

She folded her hands on her lap. ‘You still haven’t told me how fencing went today.’

Adrien stared at her, his eyes heavy. Perhaps even disappointed. Then he looked out the window, his voice dulling again as he updated her.

He finished just as the car drove through the mansion gates. Placide parked, then stepped out, opening the door for Adrien like he was younger than he was.

Nathalie led the way to the front door, letting Adrien into the foyer and checking the time on her tablet. ‘You now have exactly an hour to practise piano and complete your Mandarin verb drills. Remember, at seven on the dot you need to wash and change into the outfit your father selected for the party.’

Adrien nodded in resignation. ‘What’s my father doing right now?’

‘He’s in a meeting. He’s been in and out of them all day. But he’ll be at the party on time.’ If he wasn’t, she might have to add murder to her To Do list.

‘And my mother?’

Nathalie opened her mouth, prepared to give him an excuse. Then she shut it. She couldn’t lie to him. She couldn’t tell him the truth, either. She couldn’t speak at all.

Adrien’s shoulders drooped with understanding. ‘She’s having another one of her migraines, isn’t she.’

‘…yes. She went to lie down so she’s bright and fresh for the party.’ She tried for a smile.

It wasn’t a success. Adrien wasn’t a little kid anymore. He was thirteen. Old enough to see that other people didn’t get ill as often as his mother did.

Perhaps accepting that he wasn’t getting any answers, Adrien started for the stairs. Nathalie followed him, studying his footsteps. They were heavy, his head low and his face hidden, along with his thoughts.

A memory came to her, from two days ago, when Adrien last asked what was happening to his mother.

‘You mustn’t concern yourself with adult matters,’ his father had said.

When Adrien had protested, Gabriel had touched his ring, giving his son a severe look. ‘You’re not going to ask about this anymore, are you, Adrien.’

‘…no, Father, I’m…I’m not.’ All the emotion had drained from Adrien’s voice, like water wrung from a towel. Then he’d slunk off just like this, like some weight dragged at his heels.

Was it possible that he knew, on some level? That he understood his existence was the reason his mother was so ill?

As if sensing her thoughts, Adrien turned around, leaning on the banister. ‘Nathalie?’ His voice was small and tentative

She stopped in place, clasping her hands together for strength. ‘Yes?’

He bit his lip, perhaps unsure about sharing what was on his mind. ‘Your mother…she died, didn’t she?’

The question took her breath away. ‘…yes. Yes, she did.’

He gave her a tight nod. ‘And was that…was it hard for you?’

She didn’t answer right away, instead glancing down towards the door to Gabriel’s office. What would he make of Adrien’s question? Or the fact that he was asking it at all?

In her periphery, Adrien continued to stare at her, not budging until he got a reply. She met his eyes again, choosing her words with care. ‘To be honest, Adrien…I was very confused. I couldn’t really process the event. Even now, I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it.’

‘…you mean, like how my mother felt when Grandma Jane died?’

Nathalie’s brow lifted. Gabriel had tried so hard to shield the boy from that. To pretend death was a freak occurrence that happened to other families, not theirs. But there had been no disguising the numb haze that had enveloped Emilie after they’d received the news last year. Or Amelie’s more open grief when she’d visited after. Grief over losing the mother Jane had never really been.

Nathalie shifted on her feet. ‘Yes. I suppose you could say it was…it was a little like that.’

Adrien continued to hold her eyes, his gaze probing, seeking some thought she might be keeping from him. Then he looked over the railing and across the foyer, like there was something there only he could see.

She took a step closer. ‘Adrien…are you okay?’

Like in the car, he didn’t answer. Didn’t move. He kept his eyes on the tiled flooring, turning something over in his head.

Just when he seemed to have transformed into a statue, he turned back to her, wearing that model’s smile he’d mastered. Like the Sun in that tarot card she’d pulled earlier.

‘I’m fine, Nathalie. I was just curious. I’d better go practise piano now. The clock is ticking, right?’ He amped up the smile wattage, then climbed up to the landing, heading down the hall to his bedroom.

Nathalie remained in place, staring after him until she heard his door shut. Then she stared a little longer.

The older Adrien grew, the more he kept to himself. He did everything his father demanded of him, but he never gave anything of himself. And with all the interview training and modelling, he’d turned into a damn good actor. Sometimes, it was like he was two people.

And Gabriel doesn’t understand either of them.

Smoothing out her expression, she went on up the stairs. Gentle piano notes drifted through Adrien’s shut door at the end of the hall, easing her nerves a little as she stopped outside Emilie’s bedroom. Not the room she once shared with Gabriel, but her own room.

The sick room.

 Giving a gentle knock, Nathalie stepped inside, then threw the door shut to give Emilie privacy. She was half-naked, attempting to put on her party dress.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Nathalie shielded her eyes with her hand.

‘It’s – it’s okay, Nathalie.’ Emilie spoke through gritted teeth, fighting with the zipper.

Nathalie lifted her hand a little. The dress wasn’t too tight. That was impossible, considering how much weight Emilie had lost over the months. But the action of trying to manoeuvre the zip appeared to be too tiring for her. She was panting with every effort, like she was doing a heavy workout.

‘Would you like some help?’ Nathalie started walking over to her.

‘For goodness’ sake, Nathalie, I’m not a child.’ Emilie snapped out the words.

Nathalie flinched, then scolded herself for it.

She doesn’t mean it. She’s ill, that’s all.

Yet the words didn’t help. When Emilie tried to put on a brave show like this…. It was almost worse than when she lay in bed all day.

Emilie let out a cry, losing balance. Nathalie hurtled over, catching her before she could hit the floor. Emilie flashed her a look of embarrassment, her pallid skin flushing a deep pink. She didn’t say thank you. That would’ve meant acknowledging what had just happened.

Nathalie helped her back onto her feet and took hold of the zip. She pulled it up Emilie’s back, noting the way the nodules of her spinal column pushed against her tired flesh.

With the zip done, Nathalie rested a hand on her friend’s shoulder, a special sort of pain stabbing at her heart at the memory of Emilie when they’d first met. Of that fresh-faced, vibrant woman coming in from the rain, everything about her inspiring desire and longing.

Emilie twisted around. ‘You’re looking at me with pity. I don’t want pity.’

Nathalie dropped her hand, stepping back. ‘I know you don’t.’

Emilie frowned at her, like perhaps there was more she wanted to say. Then her expression softened, her eyes brightening. ‘How’s our little prince?’

‘He’s well. It sounds like he was successful at fencing. As you can hear, he’s practising piano, then doing his Mandarin before he gets ready for the party.’

Emilie nodded, then coughed. It was an ugly noise accompanied by a rattle deep in her chest. The kind of thing you read about in nineteenth century novels about tragic heroines dying of consumption.

‘Are you sure you’re up for this?’ Nathalie asked.

Emilie coughed again, tapping at her chest. Perhaps without thinking, she put out a hand, leaning on Nathalie’s shoulder as she caught her breath. ‘It’s my anniversary. I can’t just not attend.’

‘You’re the person of honour. You can do what you want.’

‘And I want to attend this party.’ Her mouth bent into a smile as fake as Adrien’s. Then she made a pained noise, touching her temple as her legs buckled.

Nathalie held her steady. ‘Now that you’re dressed, why don’t you sit and I’ll let you know when it’s time to come down?’

Emilie glared at her, frustration burning in her eyes. Like Adrien’s frustration when his father used the ring. Then the fire burned away, and she nodded in acceptance, allowing Nathalie to lead her back to the bed.

‘It won’t be long,’ Nathalie said as she helped her lie down.

Emilie nodded again, closing her eyes in defeat. Less than a minute later, the sound of her breath deepened. She’d fallen asleep.

Nathalie sealed her lips together to stop a cry from escaping. Forcing back tears, she tiptoed out of the room, shutting the door quietly. Out in the hall, the lighting felt darker somehow.

How long did Emilie have left? Months? Weeks? Days?

Don’t think about it.

She dragged a hand down her face, then checked the time again. Gabriel should be out of his last meeting now.

Trudging back down the stairs, she recalled what he’d said when she’d dared to suggest that he help organise the party.

‘Oh, Nathalie. You know I’d only make a mess of it. You’re so much better at these things than I am.’

Only because he never tried.

The knot in her back throbbed again, and she did her best to rub it as she crossed the foyer. When she reached Gabriel’s office, she knocked on the door, waiting for one…two…three….

‘Enter.’

She pushed the door, letting it fall shut behind her as she walked towards the podium where Gabriel stood. He didn’t so much as look at her, all his attention on his tablet.

What had him so absorbed? Work emails? One of his designs? Porn?

She stopped less than a metre in front of him, studying her employer while she waited for him to acknowledge her. Like Emilie, he’d changed with time. It wasn’t just that he was in his mid-forties now. His posture had grown more rigid, his face harder and more angular. And a world-weary scowl had taken permanent hold of his mouth.

When he showed no sign of speaking to her, she cleared her throat.

He sighed. Maybe he’d hoped that if he ignored her long enough, she’d go away. ‘Nathalie. Have our guests arrived?’

‘Not yet, sir.’

‘Then why are you disturbing me?’

She clasped her hands together, keeping her chin up to maintain an image of confidence. ‘I wanted to speak to you about Emilie. I’m unsure about her attending this party.’

At last, he looked up, his eyes puzzled. ‘Why? What’s wrong?’

What’s wrong? ‘Nothing more than the ordinary.’

‘Does she want to rest?’

‘Actually, no. But you know what she’s like.’

His forehead creased, and that scowl deepened. ‘I suppose I do. But whatever Emilie wants, she should have.’

Yes, because that’s worked out so well, so far. ‘Sir. I worry –’

‘She’ll be fine, Nathalie. I won’t let anything happen to her.’ He said this like he thought he could control her lifespan.

Compassion made Nathalie step closer, lowering her voice.

‘Gabriel.’ His name hung between them, a word she rarely spoke these days. ‘Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but…I just came from Emilie’s room and…I think perhaps it’s time we accept that she might not be with us much longer.’

He winced, his eyes hard with denial. But denial wouldn’t keep death at bay. Every minute spent holed away in here was another minute lost with his wife.

And his son.

With strained motions, he set the tablet on the podium, speaking slowly. ‘I appreciate your concern, but Emilie is going to be fine. I will not leave my son orphaned the way I was. I’m going to find a solution to this problem. And when I do, I’ll fix everything. We’ll be a happy family again, Nathalie. You’ll see.’

He shot her a look of such blind hope that her heart burned.

Oh, Gabriel. When have you ever been a happy family?

Oblivious to her thoughts – oblivious to everything – he gave her one of his rare smiles. The kind that hinted at the man he used to be. ‘I suppose I should start getting ready. Don’t want to turn up late or dishevelled for my own anniversary party. God knows what my brother-in-law would make of that. You should get ready, too. Do something nice with your hair. Oh, and wear that dress I made for you.’

His gaze lingered on her, rendering her speechless. It was the gaze of a man who missed his wife. A man who had needs that hadn’t been attended to in a long, long time.

Then he jolted, like he’d just become aware of himself, and he looked down at the podium. He handed her his tablet, his face businesslike again. ‘Do me a favour and figure out what’s going wrong with my email app, would you? It doesn’t seem to be syncing.’

‘...certainly, sir.’ She took it, following him as he headed out of the room.

In the foyer, he turned to her, staring at her. ‘I’ll…see you at the party.’ Then he whirled around and climbed the stairs to his room, maybe too fast.

Her heart pounded, his hungry gaze still in her mind. How long had it been?

Not nearly as long as it had been for her.

She swallowed hard, fighting to remember what she was supposed to be doing.

Emails. Figure out his emails.

With shaky fingers, she woke up his tablet. He’d hidden all the tabs, so all that showed was the wallpaper. A too-perfect family photograph that had taken about half an hour to get ‘right’.

Tapping at the screen, she brought up his active apps. Emails. His drawing software. And an e-reader.

She frowned at the tablet, an idea gnawing at her.

No.

No, she shouldn’t. Whatever he was looking at was his business, not hers. She was his employee, nothing more.

But her fingers didn’t seem to care, already tapping on the e-reader like they had a life of their own. The screen filled with one of the pages discussing the black cat miraculous.

A chill stole through her. So, this was the ‘solution’ he’d come up with. This was how he intended to ‘fix everything’.

She glanced again up the stairs – after a man who wore obsession like it was the latest fashion trend. If she’d known the grimoire would consume him like this, she never would’ve given him her French translation.

Yeah, right, Nathalie. Like you had a choice.

Her hands clenched around the tablet. Why didn’t he listen? Even if they could find the ladybug and cat miraculous, there would surely be consequences. Hadn’t he learned that? Why couldn’t he see that when Emilie was gone, he wouldn’t be alone?

The thought made her gasp.

It was a cruel thought.

An evil thought.

A thought she needed to put out of her head right now.

Yet even as she swiped the grimoire away and brought up his email app, the thought lingered with her. And when she went upstairs to dress for the party, it stayed with her as she admired herself in the mirror, sheathed in a dress made just for her.

Chapter Text

Nathalie gripped her glass tight as she stood on one side of the living room, listening to Colt drone on about business. His voice was strained, interrupted by wet coughs, yet he carried on speaking, perhaps to spite his unnamed illness.

‘…bitching about resource. These idiots have no comprehension of overheads. I keep – I keep telling them….’

Beside him, Amelie wore an expression of practised interest, while Emilie’s gaze kept drifting across the room, to her husband. Tall and elegant, Gabriel held a drink in one hand, nodding at all the right moments as Audrey Bourgeois yapped away. No doubt the subject matter was about as dry as Colt’s company problems, yet her silent husband’s eyes were dopey with reverence.

‘…don’t understand they should be lucky they even have jobs,’ Colt snapped. ‘In this economy....'

Suppressing a yawn, Nathalie glanced the other way, at the kids gathered in the far corner of the room. Adrien, Felix and Chloe, huddled together like they wanted to get as much distance as possible from their questionable parents.

Like her mother, Chloe kept flipping her hair over her shoulder, her screechy voice carrying over the adult conversation. ‘Like I would be caught dead wearing anything from a high street shop. What was she thinking? Adrien, what was she thinking?’

Adrien’s eyes flew wide, and he stammered out some reply, too quiet for Nathalie to hear. His eagerness to please made her toes curl.

Beside him, Felix leaned against the wall, his arms crossed in boredom. There was something so adult about him, despite his age. It wasn’t just the pressed trousers or the crisp waistcoat. There was a look in his eyes like he knew more than most. Like he’d lived through more than he should have by this time.

‘…you think, Nathalie?’

She jolted, her attention jerking back to her conversation circle. Amelie’s eyes were pleading, like she’d just asked something important and hoped Nathalie would give the right response.

Nathalie took a sip of her drink to buy herself time. ‘I…confess, my attention wandered. You know what it’s like, organising a party. You can never really relax.’ She forced a small smile, her shoulders relaxing when Amelie smiled back.

‘I understand,’ she said. ‘But you have nothing to worry about, Nathalie. The party is beautiful.’

‘Yes.’ Emilie nodded weakly. ‘Thank you for all your hard work, Nathalie. You’ve definitely earned the right to enjoy yourself.’

Nathalie gave them both a small bow of thanks. Colt coughed again, bringing out a handkerchief and wiping beads of sweat from his paling brow.

Emilie stared at him, the exhaustion lines on her face appearing to deepen. Then she returned her attention to Nathalie. ‘Amelie was just explaining that Felix will be graduating university this year. Isn’t that incredible? Only thirteen years old!’

Graduating university…. Incredible wasn’t the word for it. No wonder he looked so bored at these gatherings.

Colt snorted. ‘It’s not boredom. It’s arrogance.’

Nathalie’s face flamed. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Amelie frowned – thankfully, not at her. ‘Colt. We’ve been over this.’

‘Yeah, we have, and I’m right, damn it. The boy is cocky as hell. Just because he’s some genius, he thinks he’s better than everyone.’

‘He doesn’t think he’s better than everyone. He just doesn’t fit in, that’s all.’ Amelie’s voice was tight, like she’d had to defend their son too many times. ‘Nathalie, you must relate to this to some degree.’

Nathalie froze. As much as she adored Amelie, the last thing she wanted was to be dragged into one of her marital disputes.

She took another sip of her drink, choosing her words with care. ‘I…suppose I can. When I was Felix’s age, I found it very hard to fit in with the other kids in my school. I always felt…outside. Different. I expect my confusion may have been misconstrued as ego.’

The words sounded hollow to her own ears. The fact was, she really had believed she was better than many of her peers. Even now, she didn’t think her assessment was wrong.

Emilie tilted her head in interest. ‘Outside in what way?’

‘Well. I avoided most school events, for a start. I struggled to understand the social cues. I didn’t fall prey to the hormonal fluxes everyone else went through. And if I did get stuck at some social gathering, such as our graduation ceremony, I kept to the walls. It’s not that I was opposed to interacting with my classmates. I just…had nothing in common with them. I had no idea what to say.’

Not much had changed since growing up and regaining her heart.

Amelie sighed, her gaze on her son. ‘I confess I’m rather worried about Felix going to university. I know he’s attended boarding school almost his whole life, but…this feels different. There was always an age gap at those schools, but this time…he’ll be surrounded by adults.’

Colt shot her a derisive look. ‘You say that like he’s some normal child – but he’s not. He’s never been like the kids his age.’

‘That doesn’t mean he doesn’t need protection.’

‘Protection!’ He let out a flat laugh. ‘Amelie, people should be protected from him. The boy’s a goddamned weirdo. You’re the only one who can’t see it.’ He broke off in heavy coughing, karma for his accusations.

Emilie stared at him again, her cheeks pink with blood.

But Amelie only shook her head, like she’d lived with his illness so long that it no longer meant anything. ‘He’s not a weirdo, Colt. And he’s not dangerous. For god’s sake, if you just took the time to get to know him, maybe you’d see….’

When her husband ignored her, she turned to Nathalie. ‘He’s so passionate and – and dedicated. He excels at everything that takes his interest – like magic!’

Nathalie’s heartbeat quickened. ‘Magic?’

‘Oh, stage magic. Card tricks, mainly. They’re really quite charming. I’ll have him show you. Felix!’ She waved at him, and the room fell silent as everyone looked over.

Felix lifted his head, curiosity creasing his forehead.

‘Come over here and show Nathalie and Emilie one of your card tricks!’

He tensed like an animal expecting to be shot. When his mother gave him an encouraging wave, he glanced at his companions, suspicion in his green eyes.

Adrien beamed at him. Now that they were older, they looked even more like twins.

Chloe’s face had coloured with indignation at losing the spotlight.

Slowly, Felix peeled himself off the wall and started across the floor. Adrien followed in interest, and Chloe hurried after, perhaps not wanting to be left behind. On the other side of the room, Gabriel led Audrey and Andre over, everyone forming a circle.

Felix clasped his hands behind his back, glancing at Colt without meeting his eyes. ‘Father, are…you okay with this? I’m given to understand you’re not fond of prestidigitation.’

Colt rolled his eyes, maybe at Felix’s wording. ‘As usual, what I think doesn’t matter. Apparently, your mother thinks your little tricks might interest everyone.’ His voice was dense with derision, and he coughed again.

No one said a word, the ‘party’ atmosphere draining from the room like air from a balloon.

Felix didn’t move, his gaze fixed on some point past his father’s ear. ‘I wouldn’t want to do anything to disturb you, Father.’

Colt huffed out a humourless laugh. ‘You know damn well your very presence disturbs me. Just show them the fucking card trick before I change my mind.’

Felix flinched, his eyes flashing with fear. For a heartbeat, he looked like the child he really was. Then he smoothed out his face and turned to the others, a little adult once again.

Nathalie held her breath.

Oh, Felix. Don’t do this. Don’t play into his hands.

The boy didn’t hear her, instead pulling a pack of cards from his pocket. He cast his gaze over his audience, turning to Nathalie and handing her the deck. ‘If you would be so kind, please shuffle the cards.’

She accepted the deck, doing as instructed, before passing it back.

With perfect poise, he gave a small head bow. ‘Now, I’m going to turn over the top card. This will be your card. Please everyone get a good look at it and keep it in your heads.’

He lifted the card, holding it up so they could all see the King of Hearts, his sword appearing to stab him in the skull. Even Colt gave it a sideways glance.

‘Now, I’m going to place the card in the middle of the deck and shuffle again.’ Felix’s hands moved with the natural grace he’d possessed since he was an infant, the action mesmerising. Whatever trick he was pulling, it was impossible to catch.

When he’d finished shuffling, he held up the deck. ‘Nathalie, I’m going to rifle down the side of the pack. Please tell me when you would like me to stop.’

She nodded, waiting as he ran his thumb down the side of the cards, the sound soothing. ‘Stop.’

He stopped, cutting the deck there and turning over the top card. The King of Hearts.

There were astonished gasps. Even Nathalie’s mouth fell open.

‘Fantastic!’ Adrien clapped his hands.

‘Yes, that’s quite the trick you have there!’ Andre said, also clapping. The others joined him – everyone but Colt and Chloe.

Felix coloured, giving a small, wordless bow, while his mother was radiant with pride.

Chloe rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, please. So he guessed your card. So what?’

Straightening again, Felix turned a bland look on her. ‘I do apologise if I’ve bored you, Chloe. I would never expect you to take an interest in anything that causes you such confusion.’

Chloe blinked at him like she was trying to work out if that was an insult. Neither of her parents jumped in to defend her.

Colt growled like an irritable animal. ‘For fuck’s sake, Felix. Everything you do causes confusion. You’re a fucking aberration, and you have an ego the size of the Eiffel Tower.’

The cold words made everyone freeze. Nathalie’s nerves bristled, her insides twisting with second-hand mortification. Even Chloe’s eyes were large, like she was unsure how things had spiralled like this.

Felix had paled, his hands clenched around the deck of cards. ‘I do not suffer from ego, Father.’

‘Oh, I suppose you know best about this, too, do you.’ Colt took a deep drink from his glass.

‘In this instance, yes. You don’t know my thoughts.’ Felix spoke softly, his eyes pinned on his father, like he was using all his will not to look away like a frightened cat.

Colt glared at his son like he hoped to burn him alive. Yet behind the inexplicable rage, there was fear, intensifying as he spluttered into another ugly coughing fit.

Felix took a small step forward, reaching for him. ‘Are you alright, Father?’

‘As if you care.’ Colt pushed his hand away.

Felix shrank back again.

Amelie pursed her lips, her eyes shining with the beginnings of tears – and embarrassment. ‘Colt –’

‘Don’t you start defending him again, Amelie. He’s insolent – and it’s because of you. You coddle him.’

Amelie opened her mouth again, to say god only knew what. Then she closed it, taking in the way everyone was watching their broken family. Perhaps to reassure himself, or perhaps to prove something, Gabriel stepped closer to Emilie and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

‘Colt.’ Amelie touched his shoulder. ‘Perhaps we could change the subject. It is a party, after all.’

‘So we’ll just disregard Felix’s monstrous behaviour yet again.’

‘That’s not what I’m saying. I simply mean –’

‘No, Amelie, I will not have you undermine me like this.’ He gripped her wrist, making her wince.

Felix stepped forward again, his skin flushed with anger. ‘Father, she’s not trying to –’

‘Jesus, for once in your life, would you stay out of it, Felix!’ Colt dropped Amelie’s wrist, touching his ring instead. He gave it a hard twist, just as he broke into a coughing fit.

At the same moment, Felix went rigid, his teeth gritted like words wanted to come out but they couldn’t. His eyes twitched with rebellion, knowledge glistening in those green irises.

A shiver raced down Nathalie’s spine.

He knows.

He knows what his father just did.

Did Adrien?

Her gaze flew to him, taking in his agonised silence. He was just as motionless as his cousin.

Sickness rose up her throat. If she hadn’t told anyone how to use the peacock, Felix wouldn’t be going through this.

Because Felix wouldn’t exist.

Gabriel cleared his throat. ‘Felix, that was…quite an impressive trick. I’m sure we’re all wondering what else you have up your sleeve.’

Felix continued to stare at his father, perhaps unable to help it. Then he exhaled heavily, like he’d just been released, and he turned towards his uncle. ‘…thank you, Uncle.’ His voice was quieter than before, his confidence shaken.

Colt was wrong about him. Just wrong. Felix was a genius – the genius his father made him to be – and that kind of gift required a sacrifice. The boy lacked all emotional and social intelligence.

Just like me at that age.

Just like a lot of people in this room.

Gabriel cast an appraising eye over the others. Then he hugged his wife to his side, addressing his guests. ‘Well. Now that we’ve had a little entertainment…I wanted to thank you all for joining us today for this celebration.’

Perhaps grateful for the change of subject, Audrey and Andre lifted their glasses.

Gabriel nodded in thanks, then carried on speaking, his words flowing like champagne. ‘Today, as you know, Emilie and I have been married eighteen years. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday that I met her. Other times, I can’t believe it’s only been eighteen years. It feels like I’ve known her all my life.’

There was a chorus of ‘aw’, and people smiled as though the previous awkwardness had never happened. Whatever else could be said about Gabriel, he knew how to work an audience.

With a tenderness that could almost be felt, Gabriel looked deep into his wife’s eyes. ‘Emilie – I love you. I was so lost before we met. Then, you walked into my life and…the fact is, you remade the whole world for me.’

‘Oh, Gabi.’ She smiled up at him, a single tear running down her cheek.

He grinned back, pressing a brief kiss to her mouth before lifting his glass and turning to their audience again. ‘To my darling Emilie.’

They all lifted their glasses too. ‘To Emilie!’

Flushing, she clinked her glass with Gabriel’s. But as she touched the glass to her lips, a strange look invaded her face. Her eyes rolled up in her head and her limbs went like jelly, her glass smashing on the floor.

With a shocked cry, Gabriel caught her, alarm reshaping his face.

Adrien hurried over, his shoes crunching on the glass. ‘Maman – Maman!’

Gabriel waved their son aside and backed out of the circle, lifting Emilie into his arms. ‘Adrien, please. Move aside. Your mother just had a fainting spell. She’s overwhelmed by all the excitement, that’s all.’

‘But Father –’

‘I said step aside!’ He touched his ring, and Adrien doubled backwards, stumbling into Chloe.

Felix’s sharp gaze shot to Gabriel’s hand, and that shiver flurried down Nathalie’s spine again.

Gabriel started walking, forcing everyone to make way for him as he carried his wife in his arms. Colt stared at them like he was watching his own body being carried.

‘Nathalie.’ Adrien tugged at her sleeve, his voice shaky.

She bit her lip, one inner voice urging her to lie to him, the other begging her to tell him the truth. To tell him his mother didn’t have long for this world. To tell him there was no cure for the curse that had taken Emilie.

‘Wait here.’ She started across the room.

‘But my mother –’

‘Will be fine, I’m sure. I’ll just – I’ll go see if your parents need any assistance and find someone to clean up that mess. Everyone, please just…just carry on with the party.’

The others exchanged uncertain looks. Chloe took Adrien’s hand, and he squeezed it for support.

Unable to stand it, Nathalie carried on out of the room, closing it and almost running across the foyer. As she hurried up the staircase to the sickroom, a prayer repeated in her mind.

Please, please – please don’t let me have lied to Adrien.

Chapter Text

Nathalie bolted from the living room, her heart a hard, pulsing lump in her throat. As she rushed across the foyer, she nearly collided with one of the staff.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, her voice sounding distant to her own ears. ‘There’s – there’s been an accident.’

Emilie.

‘A – a glass. It shattered.’

Emilie. Emilie.

The serving woman gave a firm nod, as silent as Placide – as silent as the party Nathalie had left behind. Then she headed for the living room to clean up the mess.

Nathalie carried on across the foyer, almost slipping on the steps as she hurtled up the stairs.

Emilie. Emilie. Emilie.

The memory kept replaying in her mind. Of Emilie standing beside Gabriel, glittering like the star that she was. The glint in her eyes as she clinked her champagne glass with Gabriel’s. The film-perfect way she’d fallen unconscious in her husband’s arms.

Nathalie’s stomach lurched, and she gripped the banister at the top of the stairs, forcing down a wave of nausea. Then she hurried down the hallway, stopping outside Emilie’s sickroom.

When she reached for the door handle, she froze, unable to turn the thing. Unable to go in and face reality. This just – this couldn’t be happening! She had to – had to call a doctor, or a – a sorcerer, maybe. Had to find someone who could help them – who could save Emilie.

But who?

Maybe if she still had her magic….

If you had that, you wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.

The thought came in her mother’s voice, hard and critical.

Her eyes stung, but she squeezed the emotion back. There was no time for regrets or self-pity. She needed to be strong for the Agrestes.

For Adrien.

The thought of him made her stand taller, and she opened the door before she could lose her nerve.

Inside, still dressed in his expensive suit, Gabriel was tucking Emilie into the large bed. He pulled the heavy jacquard covers up to her chin, then patted down the blanket like she was a child recovering from a fever.

Emilie made no effort to help or push him away.

Nathalie closed the door softly, hardly making a noise. Her heart now thundered in her ears, her pulse beating in time with her steps as she approached the bed. Gabriel didn’t look at her, all his attention on his silent wife.

Standing on the opposite side of the bed from him, Nathalie stared down at Emilie. Her golden hair splayed out on the pillow like one of those halos you saw in old paintings of the Virgin Mary. Her skin was so pale, it was like she’d been drained by a vampire. And when her eyes fluttered open, their brightness had dimmed.

She parted her lips, just a little, licking them like she needed moisture. Nathalie reached for the jug of water they kept on her bedside and poured a glass for her. She held it to Emilie’s mouth, while Gabriel helped her sit up to drink.

Emilie coughed on the water, some of it dribbling down her chin. All of her former elegance was gone. She swallowed so hard, it was audible. Then she wiped at her face in a weak attempt to regain her dignity. ‘I – I –’

‘Shhh,’ said Gabriel. ‘Don’t try to speak.’

‘No, Gabriel, I – I don’t want Adrien to see me like this. I don’t want him to see me die.’

He blanched, almost paler than she was. Then he shook his head, like that might change things. ‘You’re not going to die, Emilie.’

‘I am. Maybe tonight, or maybe next week. Either way, I – I don’t want to do it here. Please, Gabriel. Take me somewhere.’ She clutched at his sleeve.

His gaze dropped to her hand, his mouth hanging open as he processed her request. Then he pried himself free, his voice hoarse. ‘No one is calling anyone. I’ve already told you, I’m going to fix this, Emilie.’

‘Gabriel –’

‘No! I’m so close. I’ve been studying and analysing the grimoire night and day and – we can undo this. All we need is to find the cat and the ladybug miraculous. Then I can –’

‘Gabi, enough! Please.’

He flinched at the sudden strength of Emilie’s voice. In the silence, Nathalie stared between the two of them, remembering the grimoire open on his tablet earlier today.

Open to the page about the black cat miraculous.

Oh my god, Gabriel. What are you planning?

Emilie’s fists clenched on top of the duvet. ‘Gabriel, we’ve been over this. We have no idea where those other miraculous are. And even if you managed to find them and make the wish –’

‘I know, I know. Magic for magic, like you keep reminding me.’

‘I keep telling you because you won’t listen. You don’t get something for nothing, Gabriel. There is always a price to pay.’

‘We don’t know that, Emilie. Not for sure. All of this is – it’s an experiment. Nothing is certain.’

‘That’s exactly my point!’ Emilie let out a noise of irritation, and she turned to Nathalie. ‘Nathalie, help me, please. Tell him it’s not worth the risk.’

Nathalie blinked at her, any response trapped in her throat. On the other side of the bed, Gabriel was now watching her too, no doubt expecting her to say something that would support his view.

Expecting her to agree with his plan.

Her stomach twisted, words and broken phrases echoing in her mind.

Cat and ladybug.

Magic for magic.

A price….

She clasped her hands together, forcing the words out of her mouth. ‘I…I believe Emilie may be right. If you wish for her health to be restored, someone else will lose theirs instead.’

He stared at her, motionless like she’d frozen him with her answer. When he replied, his words were hoarse with desperation. ‘Whatever price there is, I’m – I’m willing to pay it.’

‘Y-you don’t mean that,’ Emilie croaked out.

‘I do! If I have to remake the whole world, I will! If I have to die for you, I will! I won’t LOSE YOU, EMILIE!’

He roared out his declaration, so loud that Nathalie felt it vibrating in her blood. His chest heaved, his eyes flaring wide with shock at himself.

Then he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, almost slamming the door behind him.

Nathalie jolted. Everyone downstairs must have heard that. Adrien must have heard that. What the fuck was Gabriel thinking?

He’s not.

He’s not thinking at all.

She turned back to Emilie, who was staring at the door, her face ashen. Somehow, this only made Nathalie’s blood run hotter. For fuck’s sake! Gabriel might only have days left with his wife. Hours, maybe! And where was he? Off looking for magical cures, while his wife…and his son….

A scream was working its way up her throat, but she shoved it down, forcing her usual stoic expression. ‘Emilie…he’s just upset, that’s all. He’s scared. He’ll calm down and then he’ll come back and –’

The door flew open again, and Nathalie whirled around, expecting to see a remorseful Gabriel. But it was Amelie, her eyes rimmed with tears.

‘Emilie. Oh my god, Emilie.’ Amelie started towards the bed.

Her sister put up a hand. ‘Please, don’t – don’t come any closer.’

Amelie froze in place, a tear slipping down her cheek. ‘What do you….’

‘I’m sorry, I just – I’m feeling a little worn out right now and…. To be honest, I’d like a word alone with Nathalie.’

Her twin lingered halfway across the floor, her mouth open in confusion. She glanced at Nathalie, before looking at her sister again. ‘O-okay, but – are you alright? I mean, you – you just fainted….’

‘I’ll be fine, Amelie. Really. I just have some things I’d like to speak to Nathalie about, that’s all.’ Emilie forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Again, Amelie looked across at Nathalie, no doubt reading her own bewilderment in her eyes. Then she exhaled with defeat. ‘Fine. But please – call me if there’s anything you need.’

Emilie nodded softly. ‘I will Amelie. And – I love you.’

Her sister’s lip wobbled, like she’d heard the goodbye in those words. ‘I love you, too, Emilie.’ Her mouth remained open, like there was more she wanted to say.

Then she turned for the door instead.

When she was gone, Emilie sighed like the exchange had drained her. Then her attention returned to Nathalie. ‘My phone.’

‘…what?’

‘My phone. Please. It’s in the drawer.’ She pointed a weak arm at the bedside table.

With shaky hands, Nathalie opened the drawer and pulled out the phone. ‘Did you want to ring the doctor?’

Emilie shook her head. ‘No, I…. I made videos for you. Just in case….’

Just in case.

The words were like a vacuum, sucking away all the air in Nathalie’s chest.

‘Don’t talk like that, Emilie. You’re just – you’re tired. It’s been a busy day. I knew it would be too much excitement for you.’

Emilie caught her by the wrist, her grasp stronger than expected. ‘Please don’t patronise me, Nathalie. Gabriel can get away with his drama, but not you.’

Nathalie stared down at her. At this woman who’d been her friend for more than fourteen years. A woman who’d transformed her life in ways she still couldn’t make sense of. A woman she’d always wanted to be.

‘We’ve never lied to each other, have we, Nathalie?’

‘N-no, Emilie. Not – not that I’m aware of.’

‘Then you know.’ Emilie relaxed her grip. ‘You know I don’t have long left.’

Nathalie swallowed, then shook her head, answering in a whisper. ‘You…I don’t think you do, no.’

Emilie gave her a small smile, then pushed the phone into her hand. With that small task accomplished, her head fell back against the large headboard. ‘As long as we’re being honest…I know you’re in love with my husband. Even now that he’s…changed…you still love him, don’t you.’

It didn’t sound like a question.

Pocketing the phone, Nathalie sank down on the edge of the bed, feeling more seen than she ever had. ‘I…I do.’

Emilie nodded without a trace of anger. ‘It can’t have been easy living here, knowing he would never be yours. But maybe, when I’m gone….’

Nathalie gasped, her body trembling. ‘What – what are you saying?’

Emilie looked down at her lap, her breath laboured but her words determined. ‘He’s prideful, Nathalie, so he’ll never admit this…but he’s one of these men who can’t be without a woman. He’ll need someone when I’m gone. I’d rather it be you than some stranger.’

Nathalie’s mouth hung open. ‘Emilie….’ Her words weren’t making sense.

Emilie managed another of those strange smiles. ‘Please. Please just…make him happy. And make Adrien happy. He adores you, you know.’

Nathalie blinked at her, understanding kicking in so hard, it hurt. ‘I would never leave Adrien. He’s the only reason I’ve stayed all these years.’

‘I know.’ Emilie reached for her hand, cupping it in hers. ‘Don’t let Gabriel fuck this up. Don’t let him waste the time he has with our son chasing after some – some fantasy about me. Make him love you so much that he never wants to bring me back.’

Nathalie stared down at their hands. At Emilie’s long, slender fingers made for playing piano. Then back at her face, her eyes so green and beautiful even when her health had faded beyond recovery. ‘I’m not – I’m not sure I can.’

For some reason, Emilie looked sad about this. Sad at the prospect of her not seducing her husband.

Emilie lifted herself from the headboard, leaning forward a little so she could touch Nathalie’s face. Her fingertips brushed her cheek, and her words came out quiet. ‘I’ve always been a little jealous of you, you know.’

‘You – you have?’

Emilie’s expression was patient. ‘You saw the way Gabriel listened to you earlier. He respects you. What you share with him is…. It’s something I’ll never have.’

There was no drama in how she said this. It was a simple statement, as if it should’ve been obvious.

‘No, Emilie, that’s not true. He’s – he’s my boss. All he does is order me around.’

‘Oh, Nathalie. If you really think that’s all he does….’ Emilie shook her head, the motion weak with exhaustion. ‘It doesn’t matter. When I’m gone….’

Nathalie gaped at her, her face on fire. ‘Emilie –’

Whatever she meant to say was cut off by Emilie thrusting herself forward, enough to press a hard kiss on her mouth. Nathalie froze in place, unable to respond or even push her away.

So many times, she’d imagined this. So many times, the thought had kept her awake at night, even following her into her dreams. But in those dreams, Emilie’s lips were warm and soft. Now, they were cold, like she was already dead.

Bile rose in her throat as an absurd thought flashed through her mind. That whatever was killing Emilie might pass to her through this kiss. Might take her next, like a careless lover moving from one woman to another.

Nathalie fought back a squirm, and Emilie drew back. Her thin lips stretched into a slow smile, and she exhaled heavily, as if relieved.

Then her eyes shut, and she sank back against the headboard, her body limp again.

‘Emilie?’ Nathalie gave her a slight shake – but there was no response. Her breath was slow and silent.

Emilie.

Emilie. Emilie. Emilie.

Nathalie got to her feet, her blood chilling. Turning, she ran for the door. She flung it open, letting out a cry when she ran into someone in the hallway.

‘Adrien.’ She touched her chest, trying to steady her breath. ‘You surprised me.’

‘Is my mother okay?’ Adrien’s voice was strained, his face splotchy with emotion.

Emilie’s words echoed in her head. ‘Please don’t patronise me, Nathalie.’

But this was Adrien.

‘She’s…she’s sleeping,’ Nathalie said. ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine in the morning, Adrien. You should go back and enjoy the party.’

Adrien scanned her face, his eyes so like his mother’s. They widened, seeing through her lies, and he pushed past her. Before she could stop him, he’d opened the door and was running into the sickroom. ‘Maman! Maman!’

The desperation in his voice made Nathalie’s heart crack.

She opened her mouth to call after them, when footsteps pounded up the stairs.

Gabriel stopped at the landing, one hand on the banister. ‘What’s wrong? Why is Adrien in there? She needs to rest.’

The statement made Nathalie’s jaw drop. ‘Rest? Gabriel, are you – we need to ring the doctor.’

His expression hardened, and he stepped closer to her, standing at his full height. ‘No, Nathalie. Absolutely not.’

‘For fuck’s sake, Gabriel! You heard what Emilie said! She doesn’t want to be here! She wants us to take her somewhere, so she can –’

He clapped a hand over her mouth, stopping her before she could finish that sentence. Yet the words hung between them anyway.

Die in peace.

The truth of it had weight, pressing on Nathalie’s head until her temples throbbed.

Emilie is going to die.

Maybe tonight. Maybe next week. Either way….

Emilie is going to die.

Gabriel winced, like he’d heard her thoughts. Then he slowly removed his hand. He held her eyes – then went to the door, closing it on Adrien. Even then, Nathalie could hear the muffled sound of crying.

He stalked back over to Nathalie, speaking in a low voice. ‘We are not calling for outside help. Doctors couldn’t do anything for her before, and they can’t help her now. And I will not let anyone take her away. Once they have her, they’ll….’

His words trailed off, and his mouth hung open, his eyes large like he’d almost said something he shouldn’t.

She stepped closer to him, suspicion emboldening her again. ‘They’ll what? What will they do, Gabriel?’

He didn’t answer.

With a huff of frustration, she dug into her pocket, her fingers brushing Emilie’s phone. Shuddering, she moved to the other pocket, finding her own phone. If he wouldn’t ring the doctor, she would.

But as she took the phone out, Gabriel snatched it from her hand. She put up her hand, meaning to swipe it back, but he stepped out of reach.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I just…. I can’t let you call anyone.’

Can’t let you….

‘Gabriel. Emilie didn’t want Adrien to see her like this.’ She bit out the reminder, her chest rising and falling with anger.

His jaw set, some conclusion filling his eyes. ‘You’re right. She didn’t.’

Oh, thank god. He hadn’t completely lost his mind. He could be reasoned with, after all.

Her shoulders dropped with relief, and she held her hand out for the phone.

He ignored it, turning instead and opening the sickroom door. ‘Adrien,’ he barked. ‘Go to your room.’

Nathalie’s jaw dropped. That was not what she’d had in mind!

She joined him in the doorway, peering into the room. Adrien was standing beside his mother’s bed, his face pale.

‘What?’ he snapped back. ‘I’m not going anywhere!’

Gabriel scowled. ‘Do not disobey me, Adrien.’

‘But she’s my mother! I have a right to –’

‘GO TO YOUR ROOM!’ This time, the command was accompanied by a twist of the ring.

Nathalie’s breath caught, ice filling her veins. Somehow, no use of the ring had ever felt as awful.

As he tried to defy the order, Adrien’s face strained like Felix’s had at the party. Then his body deflated, and his arms and head dropped, all the fight going out of him. ‘Yes, Father.’

His voice was dull and his steps like lead as he walked to the doorway. When he passed Nathalie and Gabriel, it was like he didn’t notice they were there. Was he inside somewhere, feeling everything and unable to get it out?

Fresh horror made Nathalie’s bones chill.

With an angry grunt, Gabriel went into the room. He sat on the edge of the bed, clutching one of his wife’s hands in his. ‘Oh, my Emilie. It’s okay, it’s okay. I won’t let you die. I’m going – I’m going to save you. I won’t let Nathalie or anyone else take you away.’

Emilie didn’t reply. Didn’t move. Maybe…didn’t breathe.

Nathalie’s knees buckled, and she gripped the doorframe before she could fall. Emilie’s phone seemed to burn in her pocket. A reminder. A message.

I could use it. I could ring someone.

I don’t have to listen to Gabriel.

Yet, for reasons even she couldn’t explain, she didn’t take the phone out – and Emilie’s wish came to her again.

‘Make him happy.’

‘And make Adrien happy.’

Nathalie stared at Emilie in the bed, answering her in her mind.

I’m so sorry, my friend – but you’re wrong.

Gabriel wouldn’t listen to her. No matter how much she wished for it, they didn’t share anything.

And they never would.

Chapter Text

Nathalie hovered somewhere in the dark space behind her eyelids. Some psychic self rallied, fighting against wakefulness. But that pull back to consciousness was too strong, dragging her into the outer world.

She seemed to have fallen asleep in a chair, leaving a stiffness in her neck. Shifting in place, she rubbed at it in slow circles. With each rotation of her fingers, emotions slid back into her heart. Anger. Frustration. A helplessness that burrowed deep into her bones.

Because Emilie had – she’d –

Adrenaline forced open her eyes. Almost drugged with tiredness, she tried to stand, then slumped back down. Her heart thumped hard in her chest.

When her eyes had adjusted to the glow of the lamplight in the room, her gaze flew to the bed she sat beside. She went still, watching. Then she released a breath of relief. Even from here, she could see the faint rise and fall of Emilie’s chest. She was alive, she was alive.

For now.

A chill stole down her spine, as hazes of memory floated in front of her eyes. Gabriel touching his ring as he ordered Adrien out of the room. Adrien slumping away like a robot. Gabriel’s feverish vows to keep Emilie alive….

Now, he lay on the bed beside her. While she was tucked under the covers, he lay on top of them, one of his hands wrapped around hers. His eyes were wide open, their blue almost glittering as they focused on Nathalie.

She tensed like an animal in a snare.

Gabriel flashed her one of those disarming smiles, like when she’d first met him in that flood in India. Then he turned his head on the pillow, gazing at his wife with the kind of naked adoration that made Nathalie feel like she should leave the room.

‘Isn’t she beautiful when she sleeps, Nathalie?’ He whispered the words, his voice thick with worship.

Emilie was beautiful, her golden hair gathering around her head like a halo. The lines of exhaustion had smoothed out, and her face had regained some of the colour she lost when she pushed herself each day for her family.

Studying her like this, Nathalie’s lips tingled with memory – of Emilie leaning in and pressing her cold mouth to hers. A shudder raced through her body. It hit her toes, forcing her to her feet. ‘I – I’m going to stretch my legs.’

Gabriel didn’t reply, all his focus on his wife. He gazed at Emilie like a devotee at the foot of some stone idol.

‘Make him love you,’ Emilie had said. ‘Make him love you so much that he never wants to bring me back.’

Emilie’s wishes were as preposterous as Gabriel’s.

Nathalie’s stomach lurched, and she turned for the door. Forcing herself not to run, she left the room, almost tripping over someone in the hallway. Adrien lay curled up on the floor, using one of his arms for a pillow. It seemed Gabriel’s commands had a time limit.

He made a noise, stirring on the floor like he sensed her watching. When he lifted his head, his curls were a mess, hanging in his eyes. Her eyes watered at the pathetic sight. For god’s sake, he hadn’t even thought to bring out bedding.

Adrien squinted at her in confusion, maybe forgetting where he was or how he’d got there. ‘Nathalie?’

She knelt beside him, keeping her voice low. ‘You need to go to bed, Adrien.’

He stared at her. Then he stared at the door, sitting bolt upright. ‘No. I have to stay. What if she….’

‘Adrien. Your room is only down the hall. Sleeping out here won’t make a difference.’

‘Yes, it will!’ His fists tightened in his lap. ‘If I’m in my room, you won’t wake me if – I won’t be able to –’

‘Adrien.’ She covered one of his hands with hers, feeling the tremors in his body. A volcano building up to an eruption. ‘…I understand. But this – this isn’t what your mother would want.’

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she winced at her phrasing. Like Emilie had already gone from the world.

Maybe Adrien heard it too, because his eyes welled before he blinked it back. ‘Are you giving me an order?’ The question was like a stone, hurled at her to see if she’d break.

She shook her head. ‘No, Adrien. I’m asking you. Please. Go to your room and get some proper rest.’

He held her eyes, perhaps searching them for duplicity. Then his head dropped like he no longer had the energy to hold it up, and he gave her a reluctant nod.

Before she could lose the upper hand, she helped him to his feet. Putting an arm around his shoulder, she guided him back to his room. The clock on his bedside table read three in the morning. No wonder she was so exhausted.

Although he was no longer a little boy, she helped him into bed, tucking him in like she used to. Then she leaned over, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. ‘Goodnight, Adrien.’

He rolled onto his side, yawning as his eyes fell shut. ‘Goodnight, Maman.’

Her hand froze in place.

Maman.

She yanked her hand away, stumbling back from the bed. Her heart in her mouth, she staggered out of Adrien’s room, closing the door without a sound. She leaned back on it, shutting her eyes as she tried to catch her breath.

‘Make Adrien happy,’ Emilie had said.

‘I don’t want Adrien to see me like this.’

‘Take me somewhere.’

Again, Emilie’s phone burned in Nathalie’s pocket. She could – she should call someone. A doctor. A hospice. Someone.

Gabriel’s angry face filled her mind, replying in her head. ‘I will not let anyone take her away. Once they have her, they’ll….’

What? What was he so afraid they would do?

Frustration opened her eyes, giving her a clear view of Emilie’s door. The thought of going back in there made her chest tighten. She needed air.

She hurried past the sickroom, hurtling down the stairs and almost flinging herself out the back door. As soon as she was out in the garden, it hit her that she was still wearing her party dress – a fitted thing without sleeves to protect her against the night chill. But she couldn’t bring herself to go back in the mansion.

Gulping down oxygen, she moved deeper into the garden. With each step, the motion-detection lights came on, lighting her path. 

The pressure at the back of her eyes had grown unbearable, and she let her tears spill. Out here, there were no expectations. No posturing. No ‘yes, sir’. There was only her and her despair.

Emilie. She was going to die. She was going to die. In a matter of weeks, or maybe just days, she would be gone. Not just tucked up out of sight, but gone. Then Gabriel – and Adrien –

A ragged sob ripped out of her, her cheeks sticky with tears. She dropped to her knees on the cold grass, falling forward and watering the lawn with her grief. A dim image hovered at the back of her mind – of weeds growing from her misery, creeping over the garden and devouring the mansion.

Emilie –

Gabriel – 

Adrien –

None of this would be happening if she hadn’t met the Agrestes – if she’d just been taken by the underworld. She should be the one dying. Not Emilie.

She gripped her fist to her chest, a mantra of guilt echoing in her mind.

I did this.

I gave them the peacock miraculous.

I DID THIS.

Her chest burned, her heart pulsing so hard it felt like her ribcage might split open – when a hand landed on her shoulder.

Jolting, she looked up, forcing back a scream. She dug her fingers deep into the soil, her stomach rising up her throat as she met Emilie’s eyes.

Then understanding sank in. Not Emilie. Amelie.

Of course. God, I’m so –

She pulled herself up, wiping hastily at her eyes. Her heart still hadn’t calmed down, the blood singing in her ears like banshee wails. ‘I’m – I’m sorry, I was just –’

Amelie squeezed her shoulder. Then she released her and sat on the grass beside her. ‘You don’t have to explain yourself, Nathalie.’

‘I – I know. It’s just – this must be so much harder for you and….’

Amelie held her eyes, stopping all speech.

Looking away, Nathalie touched her hand to her chest. She let out a long, shaky breath and stared across the garden. The trees cast eerie shadows over the ground, like spirits trying to push their way through from another world.

‘What time is it?’ Amelie asked. Her voice was soft and quiet, like she feared being heard even though they were nowhere near any windows.

Nathalie turned back to her, her voice still unsteady. ‘Past three.’

Amelie nodded, her expression dull with exhaustion. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know how I’m meant to go back to London today. What if I leave and….’

Emilie dies.

No matter how hard Gabriel insisted it wouldn’t happen, it would.

Emilie was going to die.

Nathalie hugged her knees to her chest, her voice strangled. ‘This is all my fault. I knew the peacock was broken. I – I shouldn’t have let anyone use it.’

She clenched her hands, the tears threatening to fall again as she waited for Amelie’s judgment. Hoped for it.

Amelie was silent and motionless.

A cold breeze blew through the garden, making Nathalie shiver right down to her bones. But she didn’t move. She hardly even breathed.

Amelie pursed her lips, like she was unsure she wanted to say whatever hovered on her tongue. ‘Colt believes this would’ve happened even if the miraculous wasn’t broken.’

‘…what do you mean?’

‘Just that. When I left him in the guest room earlier, he was raving about it being his turn next. Because Felix was made with magic. Colt says he’s – he’s a monster.’

Nathalie flinched at the word, recalling what Colt had said at the party.

‘You’re a fucking aberration.’

‘He’s insolent.’

‘So we’ll just disregard Felix’s monstrous behaviour yet again.’

Beside her, Amelie held her hands tight in her lap, biting out her words. ‘He hates him, Nathalie. Felix is literally everything Colt wanted in a son, yet he tears him down at every turn.’

Amelie reached for the grass, tearing at it as she spoke. ‘When he made Felix, he wanted him to be the smartest. The most sophisticated. A child he could win with. Then Felix turned out to be smarter than his father – and he has a bigger heart.’

‘So Colt is…jealous?’ It was a stretch to believe.

‘It’s more than that.’ Amelie shook her head in bitterness. ‘Felix may have been made with magic, but…he’s a real, living being, Nathalie. Colt might be able to use that ring to control our son’s behaviour, but he can’t control his mind or his feelings – and Colt despises him for that.’

Nathalie stared at her, breathless as she processed the implications of Amelie’s admission. The use of the rings had always been one of those forbidden subjects they never discussed. But now that Amelie had brought them up….

‘Why do you let him do it, Amelie?’

Amelie went still. ‘Do what?’

‘Hurt your son. How can you stand by and allow it? How can you – how can you let him hurt you?’

The hard look on Amelie’s face told her she’d crossed a line. Her grip on the grass tightened, and she looked away, addressing the garden in a ghostly voice. ‘There are a lot of things we put up with for the men in our lives, aren’t there.’

Nathalie flinched, her stomach tight at the memory of Gabriel ordering Adrien to his room earlier.

She pressed her nails hard against the pads of her fingers. ‘Amelie –’

‘Nathalie?’ Gabriel’s voice cut across the garden. ‘Nathalie!’

She exchanged a look with Amelie, both of them scrambling onto their feet.

Following the illuminated path, Gabriel stumbled into the garden, halting when he saw them. He stared at them with harried eyes, his skin bloodless. ‘Nathalie, I – I need you.’

The words made her gasp. ‘What for?’

He dashed over to them, biting his lip as he glanced at Amelie, then back at Nathalie. For the first time since she’d met him, he looked nervous. Scared. ‘I can’t – I can’t talk about it here. Just – please – come with me.’

Amelie stepped forward. ‘Is my sister alright?’

‘She’s fine. Please, just – I only want to talk to Nathalie.’

‘But if Emilie is –’

‘I said she’s FINE!’ He roared out the word, making Nathalie’s heart jump like a child’s at the sound of thunder.

Amelie paled. Another woman might have fought back. Might have put him in his place. But she remained silent, motionless at his rage.

His face softened. ‘I’m – I’m sorry, Amelie. I’m just – I’m under a lot of strain. I promise I won’t allow anything to happen to your sister. I just – I need to talk to Nathalie.’ His eyes flew back to her. Maybe it was just the light out here, but their blue looked unsettled and wild.

Nathalie swallowed. ‘If Emilie’s okay, then what….’

‘I told you, I can’t talk about it out here. It’s private.’ He stepped closer, taking her hands before she could process what was happening. ‘Nathalie, please.’

His skin was warm against hers, the desperation in his voice making her quiver. With jerky movements, she glanced at Amelie. ‘I’m sorry, Amelie, I….’

Amelie shook her head, a wall rising between them again. ‘It’s fine. Please, just – tell me when Emilie wakes up.’

‘Of – of course.’ Every syllable felt like betrayal.

Gabriel pressed her hand, reclaiming her attention. ‘Thank you.’ With a hint of a smile, he tugged on her, dragging her back up the garden path.

She threw a look over her shoulder, at Amelie being swallowed by the shadows of the trees. Then she hurried to keep up with Gabriel as he ran up the stairs to Emilie’s room.

Chapter Text

As Nathalie hurried up the stairs after Gabriel, dread pooled her stomach. When he’d run into the garden calling her name, he’d – she’d never seen him like that before. Shaky. Pale. Terrified. And as much as he’d insisted Emilie was alright, he’d given no other explanation for the state he was in.

And he was leading Nathalie straight to the sickroom.

He flung the door open, racing into the room and back to his wife’s bedside, where he’d been all evening. Nathalie went in after him, closing the door softly so they didn’t wake Adrien down the hall after she’d so recently tucked him into bed.

Shut in here with Gabriel and his unconscious wife, Nathalie’s heart fluttered – and not in a pleasant way. It was more like the prelude to an attack.

Gabriel clasped Emilie’s hand tight in his, pressing it and rubbing it like he hoped to inspire movement. But she didn’t stir.

Oh god. Was Emilie…. Had she already….

With uneven steps, Nathalie forced herself to approach the bed. Her stomach clenched, and a voice in her head screamed that she was going the wrong way. She ought to be running out of the room, down the stairs and out of the mansion. Or at least into the garden, to Amelie – her friend she’d abandoned to the cold and the darkness outside.

Reaching the bed, she held her hands together as she examined Emilie. Gabriel must have changed her at some point. Gone was the party frock, replaced with one of her best suits. A silk number in pale pink that brought out the almost consumptive flush in her cheeks. The kind of thing you might dress a corpse in, for a funeral.

Hinging forward, Nathalie inched her head down, lowering her ear to Emilie’s chest. At first, there was silence. Then she heard it – her heartbeat, faint and infrequent.

For now.

Nathalie lifted her head, a hard lump in her throat. ‘Gabriel, we need to ring the paramedics. I know you don’t want to, but they can take her somewhere. They’ll put her on life support and….’

She trailed off as he shook his head.

Gabriel gazed down at his wife, tucked up in that grand bed like a princess, oblivious to their presence. ‘If they take her…she’ll die.’

She would. Life support would only delay the inevitable. Even so…. ‘It’s what she wanted, Gabriel. Whatever we do, we have to accept the fact that she’s –’

‘No.’ He didn’t shout it, but the syllable was still sharp enough to cut. ‘I told you before, Nathalie. I won’t allow her to die.’

Allow. Like death was some magical being he could control the way he controlled his son.

Nathalie rubbed her tired eyes. ‘Then what do you plan to do, Gabriel? 

‘…we need to preserve her while we can.’

Her heart tumbled again. ‘What?’

‘If she dies – if her body decays – healing her will require a bigger sacrifice. Isn’t that what you keep telling me? Magic for magic, yes, Nathalie?’ 

She blinked at him, his words spinning in her head. Preserve. Heal. Magic. ‘Gabriel, what are you….’

He tore his gaze from his wife, meeting Nathalie’s eyes so suddenly that she flinched. When he spoke, his voice was low. ‘I’ve already made arrangements.’

Everything inside went cold. ‘What…kind of arrangements?’

‘You’ll see soon enough. I just – I need you, Nathalie.’ His eyes were pleading, his declaration making parts of her body warm even while her blood felt like ice.

‘Make him love you,’ Emilie had said. ‘Make him love you, make him love you, make him love you….’

Nathalie gave him a hollow nod. ‘What…what do you need from me?’

He smiled in relief, a smile that was just for her. Maybe it was possible, after all. Maybe it was possible to make him care for her. The kind that suggested he’d never had a doubt that she’d cave.

Then he reached for Emilie, digging his arms under her body and lifting her from the bed. Her arm hung limp, and her head lolled to the side before he caught it, pressing it to his chest.

What the hell was he doing? ‘You shouldn’t move her like that,’ Nathalie said. ‘She’s too weak.’

‘I already told you, Nathalie. I won’t let anything more happen to her.’

When he started for the door, Nathalie hurried after him. ‘Where are you taking her?’

‘Like I said – you’ll see.’

‘Gabriel. The Bourgeois may have gone home, but need I remind you that the Fathoms are still here with us? Or that your son is just down the hall?’

‘I’m very aware, Nathalie.’ He shot her a look, his forehead creased in irritation. ‘We’re wasting time, here. Emilie’s time. Please go outside and make sure no one’s watching.’

Her nerves buzzing, she opened the door, looking both ways. ‘I don’t see anyone.’

‘Good. Keep in front and cover me until we get into my office.’

‘Your office? Gabriel –’

‘Just cover me.’ His tone was a mix of impatient and beseeching.

She bit her lip, then went out into the hall, continuing to look in all directions as he stalked behind.

Forget Gabriel. What was she doing? Emilie’s persistent silence as her hard-headed husband carried her across the house could only mean one thing. She’d slipped into some kind of coma. Whatever they were about to do here, Emilie might well die in the process.

She was going to die no matter what they did. But at least they could let her go with dignity. Not – not this!

If only Amelie would come back in from the garden now. Or Colt would wake up and wander into the foyer. But no one came to stop them. Whatever was about to happen, the universe had no plans to intervene.

When they reached his office, Gabriel pushed through the doors and carried Emilie across the room. He stopped in front of the oversized painting of her, hanging on the back wall. The one that hid the safe where he’d locked away the miraculous all those years ago.

He turned to Nathalie. ‘I need you to carry her for me.’

Nathalie’s lips parted in bewilderment, but she held out her arms, taking Emilie from him. A year ago, this would’ve been impossible. But now, Emilie was so light, the task was no harder than carrying Adrien as a child. Her breath was almost non-existent, her chest hardly moving.

What if she dies in my arms?

Gabriel had returned his attention to the painting. Nathalie tensed, waiting for him to pull the painting back and reveal the hidden safe. Instead, he brushed his fingers against the painting – then pushed it.

Nathalie let out a cry as the floor dropped beneath them. Gabriel steadied her, his hand warm on her arm and a strange smile on his face.

Swallowing, she looked away. They were in some kind of glass tube – a lift. As it carried them down below the office, a room came into view, maybe the size of the whole ground floor of the mansion.

Her jaw dropped as the details popped into place, still hanging open when the lift came to a halt. The door opened and she stared out at the long, central runway that lay ahead of them. Smaller runways branched off to the sides, all of it built over a greenish pool of underground water. Part of the sewage system, no doubt, though it seemed to have been treated to smell clean and fragrant.

At the other end of the runway was a huge glass window embossed with a butterfly motif, letting in light from God knew where. It overlooked a large round platform, thick with trees whose roots reached into the water. Yews, if she wasn’t mistaken. The tree of choice for any old churchyard. An ancient symbol of death and regeneration.

In fact, as she looked around, the whole damn room was drenched in symbolism. The layout appeared to have been designed to mimic the Kabbalistic Tree of Life. Where they stood in the lift marked the position of Malkuth, the material world. The platform at the other end held the elusive position of Da’at – spiritual unity – illuminated by the divine light of Kether, streaming in through that uncanny window.

Her gaze returned to Gabriel, her voice breathy with shock. ‘How did I not know you had a basement?’

‘I only had it built this year.’

He…. ‘How?’

‘With the help of a new business associate. Tomoe Tsurugi of Tsurugi Industries.’

Tomoe Tsurugi.

She’d seen the name in Gabriel’s diary many times over the last year, but she’d never been invited to those meetings. ‘They’re private,’ he’d said. Like his appointments with Andre and Audrey.

Had all those meetings been about this? All that time when Nathalie had dimly imagined they shared…something…had he been going to another woman with his secrets? With his grief? With his mad dreams?

Because they were mad. As calm as Gabriel sounded, there was no doubt that he’d lost his mind.

Still, he was meant to turn to her. Even his own wife had said so. Did Emilie know about Tomoe?

A question spilled from her lips before she could stop it. ‘What does Tomoe get out of it?’

‘It doesn’t matter what she wants. It’s a small price to pay to have Emilie alive and well again.’

Price. Tomoe certainly didn’t need money. ‘Are you having an affair?’

His smile dropped, along with his hand. ‘Don’t be so stupid, Nathalie. You know there’s only one woman for me.’

The statement felt like a slap.

He stepped out of the lift, leading the way down the runway.

She followed him, like she always did. ‘How did you build this place? How did you get the machinery into the sewers? How did no one hear?’

‘The whole basement is soundproofed. The walls and ceiling are several metres thick, built in the fashion of a high-security underground facility. In fact, that’s what all the workers believe this place is. They signed non-disclosure agreements under the threat of severe penalties.’

Nathalie shuddered right down to her toes.

It wasn’t just the engineering that was so staggering. ‘Gabriel, yew trees take centuries to grow to that size. Did you transplant them from somewhere else?’

He nodded. ‘It was quite an undertaking.’

‘But – but why? Why the hell did you need whole yew trees down here?’

‘Because – that’s what all hallowed churchyards have.’

‘Hallowed church –’ Her words stalled in her throat as his meaning took shape in her mind.

Oh god.

Oh god, no. He didn’t intend to –

He stopped walking, forcing her to stop too, now standing on the round platform. Taking centre stage was some kind of metallic tube. He pressed a button on the side, and the front panel slid away, revealing what looked like a glass coffin.

‘It’s a stasis chamber,’ Gabriel explained. ‘It will preserve Emilie’s body while we search for the ladybug and black cat miraculous.’

Nathalie stared at him. Then at the coffin. Then at him again. Was this really the same man who’d rescued her from that flood in India so many years ago? When he’d caught her and hauled her into his little boat, had this madness danced in his eyes even then?

‘Gabriel, this is….’ There was no way to finish that sentence.

He stepped closer to her, his brown hair, messier than she could remember seeing it. His clothes were wrinkled, too, and…somehow, it made him even more beautiful. ‘I know how this looks, Nathalie, but…I promise I’m perfectly sane. I have a plan, and right now I…I need to know you’re still with me.’

That lump in her throat hardened, making it difficult to speak. ‘You know full well that I could never walk away from you,’ she whispered.

His mouth curved again as he held her eyes. The air between them felt charged with energy, like the fizz before a storm. When he held out his arms, her body readied itself to be clasped against his.

Then she remembered. Emilie.

Gabriel collected her back in his arms, holding her close to his heart. Lowering his head, he pressed a lingering kiss on her lips – like a prince hoping to awaken Sleeping Beauty.

But Emilie didn’t wake up.

Nathalie hugged herself. ‘Gabriel…you heard Emilie earlier. She doesn’t want to be preserved. She wants –’

‘She wasn’t in her right mind, Nathalie. When she returns, she’ll be grateful. She’ll be so happy to be back.’

‘And how will you explain it to everyone else?’

‘Don’t worry. My wish will cover that.’

If he ever made it. They had no idea where those other miraculous were. And in the meantime…. ‘But what about today? When Adrien and the Fathoms wake up, how will you explain Emilie’s disappearance? Even if you tell them she died, they’ll want to say their goodbyes. And you’re Catholic, Gabriel. How do you have a wake with no body?’

He stroked a lock of hair out of Emilie’s face. ‘We’re going to use the peacock.’

His words knocked the wind out of her. ‘W-what?’

‘As you said – we need a body, so we’ll have to make one.’

She stared at him, taking in his use of the word we. ‘Gabriel. You cannot be serious!’

But he was. It was clear in the hard blue eyes he turned on her.

She touched her throbbing forehead in disbelief. ‘So, this is it. This is your grand plan.. You’re going to use the peacock to make a corpse and keep your real wife in a high-tech coffin in a secret basement, to buy you time while you chase after two lost miraculous. And you’re going to allow everyone you know to grieve over a fake body, in the meantime.’

When he didn’t answer, she let out a frustrated groan. ‘Gabriel, are you hearing yourself? If you’re willing to go this far, why not – why not just make a new Emilie?’

His expression froze her where she stood – and she understood. He didn’t want some copy. He wanted Emilie. And he was prepared to do anything it took to get her.

Nathalie let out a long breath, softening her voice. ‘Gabriel. The peacock miraculous is broken. It will kill you.’

‘So be it. One way or another, I will be with Emilie again.’ He stared at her with the kind of adoration that was difficult to witness.

Then he reached for the coffin, pressing another button on the side. The glass lid slid open. Bending forward, he lowered Emilie into her new bed, arranging her limbs like a doll. Even near death, she was beautiful.

With one last kiss, he straightened and pressed the buttons to seal the coffin. In the space of seconds, the lid shut, hiding Emilie away.

Somehow, it felt like murder. Like they’d killed her and disposed of the body. Like a crime.

Was it a crime?

She clenched her hands into tight fists. This – none of this could be real. Any second now, Nathalie would wake up in her bed and wonder what the fuck this dream suggested about her damaged psyche.

Gabriel stared at the closed coffin. At the tomb he’d forced on his wife against her will. Then he clasped his hands behind his back and started down the runway without bothering to check that Nathalie was following.

She all but ran after him, not wanting to be left down here with the body.

Chapter Text

Nathalie stood rigid beside Gabriel in the secret lift. He pressed a button, and they started to rise – leaving Emilie in the basement.

The basement Gabriel had somehow installed right beneath their feet without any of them knowing.

When they emerged in his office, the last hour or so already seemed like some mad hallucination. Outside, the sun had come up, its rays fighting through the heavy curtains.

But they’d really done that. They’d really put Emilie in some high-tech coffin, and they’d really left her down there.

Now, they had to deal with the aftermath.

She fought down a shudder. The others would surely be awake soon. Adrien. The Fathoms. Even silent Placide. All of them would demand to know what had happened to Emilie. And she was expected to lie to them. Gabriel expected her to tell them Emilie had died.

But first, they had to produce a body.

An act that would land the conjurer in a coffin of their own.

She stood, numb, as Gabriel started for the enormous painting of Emilie hanging on the back wall. He popped it open, revealing the safe, and she called to him.

‘Gabriel.’

He stilled…then turned to her, waiting for her to speak. Something told her he already knew what she would say.

‘Gabriel…I’ll use the peacock.’

His mouth dropped open in apparent shock. He played his part well. ‘Nathalie –’

‘I’m the one who found the miraculous. I’m the one who translated the grimoire. If we’re really going to do this…it should be me.’

As soon as she voiced her decision, her blood thrummed with eagerness. This was more than just a matter of responsibility. It had been years since she’d wielded real magic.

‘Nathalie.’ Gabriel stepped a little closer, standing just out of arms’ reach. ‘You’re not to blame for what happened. I should’ve used the peacock to make Adrien. It should be me.’

‘No. Adrien needs his father. He can’t lose both his parents.’ They were brave words, at odds with her erratic heartbeat or that voice screaming in her head, What the hell are you doing?

Gabriel pursed his lips in a show of consideration. ‘If you’re sure….’

So, he wasn’t going to try any harder to talk her out of it. Maybe he’d hoped for this all along. Maybe it was part of his plan.

She shook her head. At him. At herself. At this whole situation. ‘Just give me the fucking peacock, Gabriel.’

He had the grace to wince. Then he walked back to the painting, revealing the hidden safe and opening it. Reaching inside, he retrieved the peacock brooch and rejoined Nathalie, placing the miraculous in her waiting hand.

A spark of electricity shocked through her veins – and a hideous thought flashed through her head.

Once I do this, Gabriel will owe me. It will kill me, but….

I’ll own him.

She tried to quash the idea – to force it out of her mind. But it had already taken root, germinating and reaching for the light.

Forcing an expression of neutrality, she shut her hand around the brooch. Then she walked out of the office, leaving him to follow her for a change.

They tiptoed back into Emilie’s bedroom. Inside, Gabriel closed the door, while Nathalie approached the bed. The empty bed.

A chill stole over her. Emilie had been knocking on death’s door – hard – but she’d still had time. Time at least to say her goodbyes. To go on her terms. But they’d taken that from her. They’d taken everything from her.

Fighting back a shiver, Nathalie looked down at the peacock brooch in her hand. When she looked up again, Gabriel was watching her from the other side of the bed, waiting for her to carry out her part in this morbid farce.

Her chest tightened, and she glanced at the door. The truth was clogging her throat, demanding to break free – to be screamed across the mansion, letting everyone know what had happened. What was happening.

But if she betrayed Gabriel, he’d find some way to cover it up and make her look like the dangerous one.

And he’d never let her near Adrien again. 

Her eyes stung at the thought. Slowly, she pinned the brooch to her rumpled shirt.

Duusu burst into the room, whirling around in dizzying circles before hovering in front of her. ‘Nathalie! It’s been a long time. At least – I think it has. Time moves differently for us kwamis. How are the children doing? Were they boys? I had a feeling they’d be boys. How’s Emilie? Or –’

‘Quiet.’ Gabriel snapped out the word in a low voice.

Duusu’s mouth slammed shut, and she stared at him with large eyes. When she turned back to Nathalie, all her joy and eagerness was gone. ‘Nathalie, what’s…what’s happening?’

Jesus. Where the hell did she start? And why the fuck was it her job to explain? ‘There’s…there’s been a side effect.’

‘…of what?’

‘Of using your power. It seems that the crack in the miraculous has…transferred to its holders.’

Duusu blinked at her – then gasped with understanding. ‘You mean….’

Nathalie nodded, her eyes welling as they darted to the empty bed again.

‘Oh, Gabriel….’ Duusu gazed at him with wet compassion.

For a moment – just a moment – Gabriel’s face threatened to crumple. His mouth wavered, his grief rising to the surface. But he forced it down, his hands balling into fists at his sides. ‘This isn’t the end. As soon as I get the ladybug and black cat miraculous, I’ll make the wish and Emilie will be restored.’

Duusu’s eyes widened. ‘The wish? As in –’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Tthe wish demands an exchange. If you wish for Emilie to come back from the dead, someone else will have to –’

‘She’s not DEAD!’ Gabriel roared.

Duusu leapt back, giving Nathalie a long look. A look that asked if she understood what this man had planned.

Nathalie looked away, shame burning her cheeks.

Gabriel’s shoulders dropped, his expression softening. Maybe he’d just realised Adrien had probably heard him down the hall. ‘We can discuss this later. Right now, we…we need to do something about the body.’

Duusu’s brows furrowed in confusion. ‘Body? Nathalie, what does he….’

Nathalie didn’t have the will to explain. ‘Duusu…spread my feathers.’

Duusu’s eyes grew large, her yelp swallowed as she was whisked into a whirl of blue light. It whipped around Nathalie’s body, making her tingle right down to her toes.

Magic.

Energy sizzled through her veins – something that had once been such a part of her that she’d taken it for granted until it was gone. Now, it was back. She was back.

Despite the circumstances, she smiled – then staggered, almost falling to the floor as pain speared through her head. Her vision darkened and the room pulsed in and out.

‘Nathalie?’ Gabriel’s voice sounded like it was coming through a wall. Whatever concern he harboured, he made no move to help her as she gripped the sides of her head.

So, this was how Emilie and Colt had felt when they’d used the peacock. This was how it felt to begin dying.

Slowly, the pain faded, and her vision started to clear. She drew in a long breath, letting it out slowly as she tried to calm her erratic heart.

‘Nathalie….’ Gabriel’s eyes scanned her up and down in a way they never had before. For once, there was no sense of sizing up what he could do with her. How he could use her. For once, he was truly seeing her.

She crossed the room, standing before Emilie’s full-length mirror and studying her transformation. Her normal clothes had been replaced with a deep blue floor-length dress, slit up the front to reveal her blue-stockinged legs. Her skin and hair were blue too, her eyes a vivid magenta, peeking out of a small gauzy veil. In her hand was a peacock feather fan.

Her heart stuttered. It wasn’t just that she looked different. Her stance was different, too. More…powerful. When she smiled at the mirror, her reflection smiled back, sending a message with her eyes.

Why did you wait so long to let me out?

Gabriel joined her, staring at her in the mirror. There was a flicker of something in his eyes. Something that might have been desire. Or simply surprise. Or maybe even fear.

There was a stray hairpin on the nearby vanity. Collecting it, she drew a single feather out of the fan, balancing it on her open palm. Locking her eyes on Gabriel’s, she leaned forward, blowing gently on the feather. He swallowed – hard – as the feather drifted into the hairpin.

She slid the pin into her hair and shut the fan, tucking it in at her side. ‘Go to the bed.’

‘W-what?’ Gabriel’s voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t had water in days. 

‘You wanted a body, didn’t you?’

He continued to stare at her. Then he jolted back to life, turning towards the bed. There was a person-sized lump under the duvet, now. 

The desire drained from his face, along with the blood. It seemed reality was finally hitting him.

Nathalie returned to the bed, and he followed, standing at her side this time. Tucked under the duvet lay a perfect facsimile of Emilie Agreste. Only, this Emilie gave off no warmth. There was no suggestion that she might wake soon. There was no…anything.

Gabriel reached out a shaky arm. Lifting the body’s wrist, he pressed his fingers to it, maybe checking for a pulse. Then he dropped the arm, backing away. ‘She’s cold.’

‘Of course she is. She’s a corpse. That’s what you wanted.’

Gabriel flinched, jerking his gaze away and focusing on Nathalie. ‘How…how are you feeling?’

‘You mean, am I in danger of becoming a corpse too?’ Her voice was too calm, seeming to come from someone else.

Somehow, Gabriel went even paler, and he looked down at the body again. ‘I guess now we…we tell the others.’

‘Yes. Now we start lying to them all.’

Gabriel didn’t answer. There was nothing to say.

A knock on the door made them both jump.

‘Duusu, hold my feathers.’ In another whip of blue light, Nathalie de-transformed, ripping off the brooch and stuffing it in her shirt just as Adrien opened the door.

He stared at them both, conclusions forming in his wet eyes. Then he flew across the floor, grabbing the body’s hand. ‘Maman – Maman! Maman, wake up!’ His voice was shrill and tearful and so young.

Guilt and dizziness made Nathalie stagger backward. Gabriel swept in, making a clumsy effort to hold her, but she shrugged him off, indicating his son. That was where his attention should be right now.

He froze, a plea in his eyes. Don’t make me face this.

She glared at him.

He drew back like a chastised child, then turned to Adrien, whose sobs had grown louder.

She clasped her hands together, digging her fingernails into the skin.

Why had she agreed to this? Even if Emilie’s death was inevitable – even if this would’ve happened anyway – that wasn’t even his mother. Maybe it shouldn’t make a difference, but it did. God, it did, it did, it did.

Gabriel pressed his lips together, maybe trying to think of something parental to say to his son. Then he straightened, squaring his shoulders the way he always did when he wanted to look authoritative. ‘Adrien. Get a hold of yourself.’

Adrien’s shoulders seized, the sound of his sobs replaced by a silence that was even worse.

Slowly, he rose to his full height, his eyes blazing with more anger than Nathalie imagined him capable of expressing. ‘How can you say that? She’s dead! My mother is dead! Don’t you care?’

Gabriel’s face flushed with inordinate anger. ‘Of course I care! But this sort of display isn’t befitting an Agreste. Think of how you look, Adrien.’

Jesus, Gabriel, what are you….

Adrien’s fists clenched. ‘I don’t care about appearances, Father. My mother is – is –’

His words cut off as Gabriel touched his wedding ring, his voice low and menacing. ‘I said get – control – of yourself.’

Adrien went rigid, his face contorting like he was fighting it. But no reply escaped the cage of his mouth.

Paralysed, Nathalie watched in mute horror. This wasn’t happening. It – it couldn’t be.

Gabriel released the ring, exhaling like it had cost him energy. ‘I’m not trying to be harsh, Adrien. You just…you can’t lament like this. Your mother wouldn’t want it.’

Nathalie almost spat. As if he’d given a single thought to what Emilie wanted.

Adrien stared at Gabriel, his eyes red and his cheeks wet. ‘Y-yes, Father. I’m sorry, Father.’

The unwarranted apology made Nathalie’s breath stall in her chest. She had to – had to say something. ‘Adrien, your father is just….’

Selfish. Heartless. Insane.

‘Grieving. I…I’m going to ring the paramedics to take…the body.’

Adrien winced – then slowly dropped to the floor. His back hunched, his face hidden.

Gabriel opened his mouth, like he meant to say something to his son – but Nathalie stopped him with a look. Gesturing at the door, she walked to it, waiting for Gabriel to join her outside in the hallway.

She closed the door, whisper-shouting at him. ‘How could you, Gabriel? How could you speak to him like that?’

‘I – I don’t know! I panicked! I just couldn’t bear….’ His face crumpled, grief making him look older than he was. Maybe she hadn’t just been making up excuses for him, in there.

She rubbed her throbbing temples. ‘Are you having second thoughts?’

‘Does it matter? It’s too late, now.’

It was.

For both of us.

She almost hit him, unable to keep her voice from rising. ‘Why the fuck did I let you talk me into this? Why did I let you talk me into any of it? Why did I even go with you to Tibet, Gabriel? Why?’

His mouth hung open. ‘I – I’m sorry, Nathalie. I can’t change the past.’

‘No. You can’t. Not unless you plan on wishing none of the last fourteen years ever happened.’

‘…would you want that?’

The image of Adrien flashed through her mind. The idea of him not being in the world made her blood run cold.

‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Of course I don’t. You know I’m stuck with you, Gabriel. You know this.’

He held her eyes, maybe processing the bitterness in her voice. Then he stepped closer, taking one of her hands confusing tenderness. ‘When I find the missing miraculous…I’ll fix this. But I can’t do it without you, Nathalie. I need you.’

Her heart spasmed, his words echoing in her ears.

I need you.

Never had she dreamt she’d hear him speak them under such circumstances.

She pulled her hand away. ‘We need to tell the others.’

‘Thank you, Nathalie. I promise I’ll make this up to you. I promise.’ He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on her cheek. Before she could process what had just happened, he released her, already heading down the stairs.

She remained where she was, grabbing the landing railing to steady herself as a second wave of dizziness washed over her.

Then she followed Gabriel downstairs, still feeling his lips on her cheek – and hating herself for wanting more.

Chapter Text

Like she was moving in a dream – a nightmare – Nathalie followed Gabriel down the stairs, to the dining room. There, he paused, staring at the door like it might grow claws and attack him.

At last, he took the handle, staring at that too. Then he looked sideways at Nathalie, a plea in his eyes.

Open the door for me.

A strange feeling washed over her, like she’d crossed a threshold into a new world without noticing. At some point in the night, she’d stopped being simply Gabriel’s Personal Assistant. They were a team, now.

All she had to do to maintain that status was walk in that room and lie to his – their – houseguests.

Her heart thumped in her throat. But it was too late to walk out. Not without admitting the truth to Adrien.

Adrien.

A vision flashed through her mind, of him falling to the floor in silent grief, his tears suppressed by a twist of that damned ring. That was the team she’d joined. That was the team she was stuck with.

Forcing back a scream, she stepped forward, pushing Gabriel’s hand away. She grabbed the handle and opened the door, entering the dining room with Gabriel close at her heels.

At the table, Amelie, Colt and Felix looked up from their silent breakfasts. Morning light streamed in through the windows, illuminating everyone’s faces. Judging by the dark circles under their eyes, no one had slept. Colt coughed violently, the sound scraping down Nathalie’s spine.

Felix leaned partway out of his seat, as if preparing to get up and run somewhere. ‘M-my aunt – I heard Adrien in the night and he – it sounded like he was crying.’ His voice wavered, betraying the emotion his father never let him express.

Seated beside him, Amelie’s eyes were large with expectation, like she was waiting for her cue to cry. Colt was quiet, a man listening out for his own death sentence.

Nathalie glanced at Gabriel. After all, hiding Emilie in that high-tech coffin, then making that – that thing upstairs was all his idea. He should be the one to tell them Emilie was dead.

When he remained mute, anger made her skin burn.

Seriously? He’d made that fucked up basement without even telling her. Yes, she was part of this now, but only for Adrien. Everything else was Gabriel. Yet he was leaving her to clean up his mess – as usual.

What a fucking coward.

She winced at her own thought, another voice speaking up in her mind.

He’s distraught. He’s not thinking straight. If you just help him through this….

Already, she felt herself softening. The truth was, anyone with Gabriel’s money and power might have been tempted to do what he had. If given the chance to use magic to bring back a loved one…who wouldn’t consider it? Who wouldn’t try?

Later, he’d see. He’d reflect and understand just what he’d done. Until then….

She took a deep breath, letting the lie pour from her mouth. ‘Emilie passed in the night.’

Amelie gasped, her eyes watering as she threw her hand over her mouth. A spoon fell to the floor in the process, but no one reacted to it. All the blood drained from Colt’s face, two words seeming to float in his eyes.

I’m next.

Felix had gone still as a statue, one hand gripping the edge of the dining table. ‘Adrien…. Does he know?’

Nathalie gave a jerky nod. ‘Y-yes. He’s upstairs with…the body.’ She couldn’t bring herself to say Emilie. The corpse lying in that bed was not Emilie, no matter what it looked like.

Felix stared at her, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. Then he pulled himself onto his feet, bolting across the room and out the door. It fell shut behind him, followed by the sound of feet pounding up the staircase, presumably to check on his cousin. Thank God someone would be with him. Someone who would listen and allow him to grieve.

Nathalie looked again at Gabriel. His eyes were on the floor, his expression hollow. Maybe the reality of the situation was starting to sink in. Or maybe he’d fallen so deep into the labyrinth of his own mind that it would take a miracle to bring him back.

Colt stammered out words. ‘Sh-she’s really…?’

Nathalie could only nod.

Amelie clambered to her feet. ‘I want to see her.’

Again, Nathalie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The truth hammered at the back of her teeth, trying to find a way out.

Despite Amelie’s announcement, she didn’t move. Instead, she stood there, holding Nathalie’s eyes – transmitting a message.

Don’t make me do this alone.

Swallowing hard, Nathalie said, ‘I’ll – I’ll go with you.’

Amelie’s eyes shone with gratitude Nathalie didn’t deserve. Because that wasn’t Amelie’s sister up there. That was –

A monster.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed the tears back, then looked again at Amelie. They reached for each other at the same time. Amelie’s hand was warm and human and real, a tether to this world. Only now that Nathalie was holding it did it hit her how close she’d been to falling, to tumbling to the floor without a care who watched her break.

Still, Gabriel stared at his feet, perhaps unaware of what was happening around him.

Without a backward glance at the men they’d tied themselves to, Nathalie and Amelie left the dining room. Nathalie’s heart raced, guilt choking her so hard she was seeing stars. Amelie trusted her. Emilie had trusted her – and look where it had got her.

She shoved the thought out of her head, focusing on the rhythm of her shoes clicking on the cold tiled floor.

When they hit the staircase, Amelie paused, gripping the banister and staring up at their destination. Then she carried on walking, taking Nathalie with her. Together, they made their slow ascent up the stairs. Together, they opened Emilie’s door.

Together, they entered the death room.

In the time since Nathalie had last seen him, Adrien had pulled a chair over to the side of the bed. He leaned forward on the duvet, clasping what he believed to be his mother’s hand. Tears streaked his face, though he made no noise. It seemed Gabriel’s earlier command had lost some of its strength.

Nathalie gripped her chest, a sharp pain almost taking her breath away as Adrien’s question echoed in her head – from yesterday, before the party.

‘Your mother,’ he’d said. ‘She died, didn’t she? Was that…was it hard for you?’

In fact, she’d felt nothing at the time. Without her heart, she hadn’t been capable of much emotion, other than a dull ache that…hadn’t made much sense, at the time. Now, watching Adrien in his grief, fresh guilt swirled in her stomach. This – this was how one reacted to the loss of a loved one.

Or maybe – maybe her numbness hadn’t been so strange, after all. Because standing beside Adrien, Felix stared down at the senti-corpse in mute immobility. Despite his concern for his cousin, now that he was here, he didn’t seem to know what to do.

How would he react when it was his father’s turn to die? Because there was no question that it would happen soon.

Just as there was no question that Nathalie had sealed her own death warrant the moment she’d made that body. If Colt and Emilie were anything to go by, she only had another thirteen, fourteen years. Would Gabriel go to any trouble to bring her back?

The warmth of Amelie’s hand slid away. Absorbed in her own heartache, Amelie walked to the other side of the bed, facing the boys. Shaking, she reached for the body, hesitating before taking its other hand. She flinched. Maybe the corpse was cold. Then she sealed her hands around it, stroking the lifeless fingers.

‘Oh, Emilie….’ Tears flowed from her emerald eyes. ‘You always were the explorer. I guess this world just wasn’t enough for you.’

The simple words made Nathalie’s heart seize again, her vision darkening. Her lungs were constricting, the air thinning like she was standing on a mountaintop. The lies were stinging her eyes and tugging on her hair and scratching at her skin.

These people – she loved them – and she couldn’t meet their eyes. When she used the peacock, she hadn’t just made that thing. Another being had formed inside. A Nathalie-shaped lump of self-loathing and disgust.

No matter how many times she told herself she’d done all this for Adrien, there was no escaping the truth. She’d done it for Gabriel – for a man. If this was what it meant to have a heart….

Nausea made her almost double over, and she stumbled backwards, hardly in control of her own feet.

Amelie looked up at her, her worried expression making that sick feeling worse. ‘Nathalie? What…?’

Nathalie wetted her lips, opening her mouth to speak – then stalling as the boys’ gazes drifted her way. With all those eyes trained on her, she turned on her heel and hurried from the room.

In the hallway, she fell back against the wall, fighting for breath. How had she got herself into this? How?

Was this why her mother had deadened her emotions all those years ago? Had she been protecting her? If so….

I’m sorry, Mother. Oh my god, I’m sorry.

She heard footsteps approaching, and she ran from them, down the hall and to her bedroom. Inside, she locked the door, as if that would keep out the monsters within the mansion.

Too late. I’m in here.

A shrill titter escaped her lips, her head light with dizziness. Holding the wall, she felt her way over to the bed, where she dropped onto it before she could fall. Maybe it was the guilt. Maybe the ‘excitement’. Or maybe….

Maybe it was the peacock.

Swallowing hard, she shuffled under the bedding, drawing it over her head. In the darkness, it was too easy to believe she was in a coffin herself. Maybe in some hidden basement, far, far beneath their feet.

Something poked at her side, and she dug at it, identifying it by touch. Emilie’s phone, forgotten in the chaos.

‘I made videos for you,’ Emilie had said. ‘Just in case….’

Just in case this happened. Or something like it.

Suffocating under the blanket, Nathalie tossed it aside, sitting up and gulping down air. Everything in her body felt heavy, like she was sinking into the bed.

Morning light flooded her room, in defiance of the mood in the mansion.

Where was Gabriel now? What was he doing? Still standing in the dining room, with only Colt for company?

Or maybe he’d retreated to his basement.

Shivering, her gaze fell on the phone again, her godforsaken stupid fucking heart pounding as she stared at the dark screen. The device weighed in her hand, demanding her attention. For the second time today, she had that feeling, like she was crossing some boundary and stepping into another world.

Before she could deliberate further, she swiped the phone awake, a tear falling as a photo of Adrien filled the screen. A picture Nathalie had taken, in fact, when she’d accompanied him on a recent visit to the Louvre. He was standing under a tall, nineteenth-century statue of Jeanne d’Arc. His head was tilted, one hand cupped around his ear as if listening for voices, in affectionate mimicry of her pose.

Nathalie’s fingers traced the shape of his face. Adrien. The child Emilie had given her life for. The living memory of a woman who’d liked the idea of motherhood more than the act itself.

The lockscreen needed a password. It had to be something easy to guess, if Emilie intended her to look through the phone. Maybe something as simple as….

Adrien’s birthday.

The main screen unlocked, and her finger hovered over the app icons. She tapped the ‘gallery’ icon, emitting a pained noise as she stared at the series of twenty-three video thumbnails that faced her. Every image was of Emilie – the real Emilie, sitting up in bed, with the duvet gathered at her waist.

Nathalie’s fingers seemed to move by themselves, selecting the oldest of the videos. She didn’t really want to see it – but she had to. She owed her friend this much, at least.

With dread pooling in her gut, she tapped the thumbnail. Emilie’s face filled the screen. Her skin was sallow, her golden hair a tangled mess, and her eyes dull.

‘If you’re watching these,’ she said, ‘…I suppose I’ve died.’

She paused there, looking down at her lap, maybe processing her own statement. When she looked up again, her eyes were glossy with emotion. Yet her mouth bent into a brief smile.

‘Don't be sad, Nathalie. You know that I agreed to it. Gabriel never forced me to do anything.’

Her eyes seemed to see right through the screen, knowing what Nathalie was thinking. Maybe when she’d recorded this, she’d known Nathalie would find herself making her own agreements with Gabriel.

Her smile faded, and she shook her head at some private idea. When she spoke again, her voice was hoarse and pleading. ‘He should never try to bring me back, Nathalie. No one should have their life stolen from them because of the mistake we made.’

Nathalie shuddered, an idea taking her. When had Emilie recorded this? How long had Gabriel had this plan to make the wish? How long had it taken to build that basement?

Emilie released a heavy breath, lifting her chin and locking eyes with Nathalie again. ‘You must continue to be happy – even though I'm no longer here. As long as there's love…it’s possible.’

Love. Was that what filled all the cold space in the mansion?

‘Adrien will be well-surrounded. He’ll have you, Nathalie. And he'll have his father…if Gabriel agrees to give up on his madness. And on me.’

Oh, Emilie. 

‘Adrien will have all the love he needs to be happy. All I want is for Adrien to be free.’

Her mouth curved into that lovely smile again, but her eyes were so, so sad.

Then the video ended.

Nathalie stared at her friend’s image frozen on the screen, trying to imagine Emilie’s state of mind when she’d recorded these videos. Had she really believed they would make a difference? Was she so deluded that she believed Nathalie could….

‘I’m sorry, Emilie. I – I don’t know how to make Gabriel give up.’ Her tears fell harder, that ache in her heart worse than ever.

Emilie stared back at her from the screen, her voice in Nathalie’s head.

You’ll figure it out, Nathalie. I trust you.

Wiping harshly at her eyes, she put the phone to sleep, then tucked it in a drawer next to the bed.

She forced herself onto her feet. Maybe – maybe there was a way. After all, no matter how determined Gabriel was, they had no idea where the ladybug and black cat miraculous was. In all likelihood, this wish would never be made. Sooner or later, he would have to accept this. And then….

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her own phone. There – there had to be some way to steer Gabriel back to the shores of sanity. Yes, he’d lost his wife, but –

He still has me.

And Adrien.

Come hell or high water, she would make him pay his son the attention he deserved. She would make good on her vow to Emilie.

But right now….

It was time to ring the paramedics to remove a body.

Chapter Text

As the morning stretched on, Nathalie stood waiting in the foyer with the others. With Gabriel and Adrien. With Amelie, Felix and Colt. With the ever-silent Placide. On the tiled floor, their shadows seemed to grow longer by the second, through the slivers of sunlight that made it into the room.

A sound drew everyone’s attention – a door upstairs. The door. A moment later, Nathalie could see the paramedics on the upper landing, carrying the body out of the sick room, on a gurney. With great care, they started down the stairs.

The procession seemed to take a lifetime. With every step they took, the urge grew, to tell them that wasn’t a real person under that sheet. It never had been. Every fucking part of this was a farce.

Emilie hadn’t been allowed to die. She lay in a glass coffin below their feet, like a princess in a fairy tale. They hadn’t even given her a choice. Now, her future – in this world or another – lay in the hands of her heroic prince.

Gabriel.

Nathalie fought back a shudder. It was hard to say what was more abhorrent, his plan or the fact that she’d gone along with it.

Her gaze flickered to him. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back, a stance that suggested he had things to hide. Except, he’d stood like that for years. Had he always been hiding things? Madness, perhaps? A psychotic disorder?

Had he even hidden it? Or had she simply refused to see what had lain in plain sight all along? What did that say about her?

She returned her attention to the pair of paramedics. When they made it to the bottom, they exhaled, letting the gurney rest in the foyer.

Turning his back to it, one of them approached. ‘Mr Agreste.’

Gabriel snapped to attention, his eyes wide, as if shocked that anyone might want to speak to him. ‘Yes?’

‘May we ask you a few more questions?’

‘Of course.’

If the paramedic had heard the waver in Gabriel’s voice, he didn’t comment, probably chalking it up to grief.

Was that all it was? Would anyone in his position – with access to magical powers and enough money to afford technology advanced enough to inspire the wrath of gods – have done what Gabriel had?

She glanced at the others in the room – the marks falling for this ghastly lie. Placide was by the door, awaiting instructions. Amelie was hugging Felix to her side, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Felix’s expression was numb, his gaze fixed on the body under the sheet.

Standing slightly apart from him, Adrien’s face was swollen from tears that no longer fell. Maybe they just couldn’t anymore.

The answer came, loud and clear in her mind.

No. She couldn’t imagine any of them doing what Gabriel had. Colt, however….

Almost as soon as she looked at him, he coughed, not even covering his mouth despite standing right next to Amelie. As the sound bounced around the cold room, it seemed to have a voice, speaking words – intended for her, the last user of the peacock.

‘You’re next, you’re next, you’re next….’

The paramedic glanced at him, saying a few final words to Gabriel before stepping away. Rejoining his colleague, they began wheeling the body to the front door.

Then it was like someone had sped up a film – or maybe Nathalie had jumped through time – because suddenly Placide was shutting the door behind them. Phase one was over.

The body was gone.

Gabriel turned, meeting Nathalie’s eyes – sending her a silent message.

We got away with it.

Sickness rose in her throat.

Her gaze flew to the door, seeking people who were no longer there. Who were carting a magically fabricated corpse to the morgue. It didn’t seem possible. Those were medical professionals. How had they not spotted some imperfection, some anomaly that proved the body wasn’t Emilie?

Why is no one locking us away?

Maybe Gabriel was pleased, proud of another job well done. But her wrists itched, eager for handcuffs, for law. For something to reassure her that there was order in the world, and that it wasn’t dictated by him.

Springing back to life, Adrien started across the room, barrelling between them and hurrying up the stairs.

Gabriel followed him with his eyes. ‘Adrien –’

Nathalie put up a hand, stopping him. ‘I’ll talk to him.’ After all, she’d promised Emilie she’d look after him. Even if no one had asked, she would’ve done this. That was why Emilie had entrusted her with the task.

Gabriel gave her a solemn nod, maybe relieved that he didn’t have to deal with it himself. Classic Agreste parenting.

Fighting back revulsion, she went upstairs, each sweet step taking her further away from him. Yet, even as she put him behind her, she saw him in her head. She heard him in there, doling out warnings and threats.

If you tell him our secret….

Shuddering, she quickened her pace, hitting the landing before she was ready. Averting her eyes, she hurried past the sick room – the death room – desperate to get beyond it. She might never be able to walk past it again. Maybe they should have the whole room burned. Or the whole mansion.

Stopping outside Adrien’s door, she closed her eyes, trying to push out her anger. He didn’t need her rage. He needed her love, her care, her support – all the things he may never get from his father.

Opening her eyes again, she forced her hand to move, to make a fist and knock on the door.

She waited, counting the seconds in her head.

When she reached thirty, concern overcame nerves and she peeked inside. Adrien was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His arms were folded on his chest, almost like a corpse.

With quiet, cautious steps, Nathalie went in, closing the door softly. Even when she approached the bed, Adrien didn’t look up. He didn’t so much as blink to register her presence.

God, what should she do?

With no better ideas, she sat on the edge of the bed, folding her hands in her lap and looking at her feet. Now that she was here, she didn’t know what to say. Maybe he didn’t want her. Maybe he didn’t want anyone.

But maybe that didn’t matter – because he needed someone.

‘Do you mind me being here with you?’ she asked, keeping her voice quiet.

He didn’t reply.

At least that wasn’t a no.

She shuffled a little more onto the bed, forcing words out. ‘I’m so sorry about your mother, Adrien. I can’t begin to understand what you might be feeling. I’m just – I’m sorry.’

For lying.

For putting you through this.

For not telling you sooner about what was happening to her.

Only –

If they’d told him, would it have helped? Or would he imagine he was somehow to blame? After all, Emilie had died to give him life. It wasn’t his fault. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But it was only natural that he might –

‘Nathalie?’ Adrien’s voice startled her.

‘Yes?’

‘Why weren’t you close to your mother?’

The question made her flinch.

But at least he was talking – even if he wasn’t looking at her.

She fidgeted with her fingers, running one of them along the edges of her nails, feeling their sharpness. It had been a long time since she’d talked so much about her mother. And the last person she would’ve expected to have this conversation with was Adrien. But if this was what he needed….

‘I wasn’t just not close to her,’ she said. ‘I hated her.’

She paused there, waiting for Adrien to react.

But he just lay there, silent – waiting for her to go on.

She blew out a slow breath. ‘I loved her, too. But she didn’t love me. I don’t even think she liked me. Whatever I did to attract her attention, she was always more interested in other things. If she happened to notice me, it was because I’d done something to disappoint her. Then one day, she decided to bring me into her…business, I guess you could say. I was stupid enough to imagine it was some form of approval. But the truth was, she just wanted to control me – to mould me into an ideal. She had zero interest in discovering who I already was.’

As she spoke, she heard herself, and her fists tightened in her lap, atavistic anger burning in her veins. Not just at her mother but at Gabriel. He was doing the same fucking thing to Adrien.

And when Adrien finally turned to look at her, it was clear in his eyes that he was thinking the same thing.

‘Is that why you felt so…confused when she died?’ he asked.

She gave a tight nod. ‘It hurt. In fact, it hurts more today than it did when it happened. Back then, I – I suppose you could say she didn’t let me feel anything about her death.’

The brilliance faded from his irises. ‘You mean like my father often doesn’t let me feel things.’

His statement struck her square in the chest. She gasped, rasping out a question. ‘What – what do you mean?’

A faraway look came into his eyes, like he was remembering something. ‘It’s hard to explain. Maybe it’s even crazy.’

‘Try me.’

He met her eyes again, perhaps checking that her expression matched the seriousness of her voice. ‘It’s just – sometimes he says things to me and – it’s like his orders have power. Like, he’ll shout at me to go to my room, and I just have to do it. If I resist, there’s almost this pain or – or that feeling when you try not to sneeze or yawn. I just – I can’t help giving in.’

The statement heaved with futility.

Guilt needled at her, the usual excuses coming out like a bad script. ‘He just wants what’s best for you. When he tells you to do things, he – he means to help you.’

‘Like when he told me not to cry?’

The memory was cold and sharp. ‘That’s not quite what he –’

‘It is.’ He looked at the ceiling again. ‘He doesn’t want me to feel anything, Nathalie. Ever.’

As if in rebellion, her heart throbbed. ‘Adrien. Your father’s just –’

‘Grieving? In shock?’ He turned slowly back to her, his gaze so intense, it was like he was daring her to carry on speaking.

‘Yes. He loved – loves – your mother. And love makes us say stupid things. It makes us do stupid things.’ Like help someone hide their ailing wife’s body in an underground shrine.

‘I don’t need you to make excuses for him,’ Adrien said. ‘My mother did enough of that.’

The sudden bitterness in his voice made her jolt. ‘Your mother made excuses for him?’

‘All the time. The same way Aunt Amelie makes excuses for Uncle Colt when he hurts her and Felix.’

Her eyes rounded, the irony taking her breath away. Gabriel was so intent on sheltering Adrien, on protecting him from the dangers of the world. But they were all in here, in the mansion – in his family.

Looking at Adrien now, all the sweetness and light he’d possessed as an infant had been darkened with an understanding of people that was beyond his years.

Like me at that age.

Before she could think about what she was doing, she moved a little closer. An invitation. ‘What if…what if I said this is your safe space? That you can say whatever you want here. You can even cry, if you want. I won’t tell your father. It’ll be just between the two of us.’

On the bed, Adrien stilled. When he looked back at her, she held her breath, waiting for him to tell her to mind her own business. But his expression had softened, his chin wavering.

With jerky movements, he pulled himself up so he was sitting, hugging his knees. ‘I knew she was ill,’ he said, almost a whisper. ‘She’d been ill so long. All the headaches and dizzy spells…. The doctors…. But I always thought she’d get better. You know?’

His eyes were wet – and beseeching. Like he was hoping she’d tell him all of this was a nightmare, a hallucination, a cruel joke. His mother wasn’t really dead. That wasn’t really her body he’d seen wheeled off to the morgue.

The worst part was that it wasn’t.

For the second time, truths hung on her tongue, demanding to be spoken. To be screamed.

It wouldn’t be enough just to tell him. She’d have to take him down to the basement and show him. When he finally accepted what he was seeing, he’d be angry. No, it would be worse than that. But in time, he might find a way to trust her again – if she told him right now, before this went on any longer.

Remember, Gabriel said in her head. Remember the guilt you’d be heaping onto his shoulders.

She bit down on her tongue, holding back the secret.

Adrien’s hands tightened around his knees. ‘I loved her so much,’ he said, tears starting down his cheeks. ‘I still do.’

‘I know. I do too.’

‘It just doesn’t seem real. How can she be gone? Yesterday, we – we were having a party! We were standing around, watching Felix do magic tricks, and listening to Chloe show off. My mother was talking, and laughing, and drinking champagne. How can so much change in one day, Nathalie? How?’

She had no answer for that – or for anything else he might ask.

With the peacock, she’d wielded the power to bring life into the world – and she’d used it to bring death instead. For the body they’d taken away. And maybe for herself.

Even if they recovered the ladybug and cat miraculous – even if she had every miraculous in her hands – it wouldn’t be enough to fix this. They could recreate the world a thousand times, and she’d still remember the aching feeling of sitting here, powerless as she watched Adrien cry.

Perhaps sensing her uselessness, Adrien dropped his head into his knees. His sobs grew louder, his shoulders heaving with grief. When he started tilting to one side, she caught him, pulling him into her arms and holding him like she used to when he was a small boy.

He leaned into her, gasping as he cried into her shirt. He gripped her arm, like a kitten who’d misjudged a jump and was clinging to anything he could, so he didn’t fall. Like someone who trusted her to take care of him – who had no idea she was the cause of his suffering.

She held him tighter, her eyes also watering, and her heart thumping with emotions that were difficult to define. He cried harder, and she rocked him. She smoothed down his hair, getting her fingers lost in his curls.

Adrien. Adrien….

No, she wouldn’t tell him the truth. She couldn’t. It would break him. He might recover from grief, but he’d never recover from the knowledge that he was the reason his mother had died.

And Nathalie had promised Emilie she’d look after him. She’d vowed to protect him.

Even if that meant protecting him from things she’d done to him.

Chapter Text

In the days that followed, Nathalie got little sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the body again. She saw Gabriel, speaking with the paramedics as if everything were in order. She saw Adrien sobbing in her arms, turning to her for guidance, with no idea what part she’d played in his suffering.

Now, on the eve of the funeral, she lay in her bed, exhaustion making her shake. Amelie, Colt and Felix had remained in the mansion, to participate in the arrangements, but no one was really speaking to each other. Gabriel hadn’t helped matters, holing himself away in his office. And, as if proving he truly was related to his father, Adrien had holed himself in his room. Whatever she did or said to try to draw him out – whatever Felix or Amelie did – Adrien wouldn’t talk. Wouldn’t come out. Wouldn’t even look at anyone.

She pressed her eyes shut, gripping the duvet tight.

I caused this.

The words kept spinning in her head.

I caused this, I caused this, I caused this….

Finally, they followed her into unconsciousness, the darkness taking her before she noticed it was happening.

In her dream, she was climbing into the glass lift again. As if her body had a will of its own, her hands pressed the right spots on the painting of Emilie. Then the floor was dropping beneath her, and she was descending into the basement, the secret space beneath the mansion.

At the bottom, the door slid open without a sound. A faint voice spoke in her mind – turn back – but again her body moved on its own, her feet stepping out onto the long runway that cut over the water.

Butterflies flitted around her, white and pure and strange in the gloom.

Hugging herself, she carried on, until she stood on the broad platform where the yew trees grew. The ancient tree of death and renewal, found in churchyards all over Europe.

Feeling colder than she ever had in her life, she stepped closer, towards the centrepiece of the platform – the ungodly coffin, supplied by a tech company rather than an undertaker. The steel and glass gleamed in the unfathomable rays of light slicing through the darkness.

Another butterfly flew past, the rhythm of its wings matching the fluttering of her heart. With a heavy sigh, she reached for the coffin, running her fingers down the side.

‘Emilie….’ She murmured the word, almost a prayer, maybe even a spell.

Then Emilie’s eyes shot open.

Motionless, Nathalie stared back at her, locked in place by her gaze.

Was it all a mistake? Maybe even a morbid practical joke? Had Emilie not been on the verge of death, after all?

God, if Gabriel had –

The glass covering slid open, stopping all thoughts. There was a soft hiss as the oxygen poured into the coffin. Then Emilie sat straight up in one fluid motion, like one of those supernatural killers in an old horror film.

Still, Nathalie did not move, even though a voice in her head screamed at her to run. She remained in place, one hand on the side of the coffin and her face only a foot from Emilie’s. Her throat was sealing – she couldn’t even scream for help. Who would help her, anyway? Gabriel?

A butterfly darted past, close to her face, making her flinch.

Emilie’s painted mouth curved into a perfect smile. ‘Do you know how butterflies are made?’

An answer slipped out. ‘The caterpillar dies.’

‘Not quite.’ Still smiling, Emilie glanced around. As if they’d been called, butterflies swarmed her, landing on her and sheathing her. In the time it took to blink, her body and face had become a quivering mass of beating wings.

Her voice came through the fluttering, as if the insects were speaking. ‘The caterpillar digests itself, even its brain. Then, it remakes itself from what remains. It remakes its whole world – just like Gabriel wants to do.’

Nathalie forced out another reply, though her throat was tight. ‘I’ll try to stop him.’

‘Of course you will. After all, you wouldn’t want me coming back. Not when you finally have your wish.’

Before Nathalie could respond, Emilie was lifting herself – rising out of the coffin. Nathalie stumbled backwards, watching as the butterflies flew away, revealing Emilie’s naked body.

It was healthy, young, as it would’ve been when they’d first met in India. The skin looked soft and yielding, the colour pink with vitality. The breasts were firm and round.

She climbed out, every movement elegant as she approached Nathalie. A tantalising goddess. A reminder of unlived experiences. ‘You’re finally alone with my husband, Nathalie Sancoeur – and my son. After all these years, you have my family.

Nathalie shook her head, slowly walking backwards. ‘No. No! I – I never really wanted it. Not like –’

‘Please don’t lie to me, Nathalie. I know what kinds of fantasies run through your mind. I’ve always known.’

She walked forwards, all that flesh almost glowing, like she radiated her own light. ‘I remember how you used to fawn over Gabriel. How you’d flush over him. The way you’d stare at him. Even now, when you tell yourself you hate him, you still want him.’

Nathalie’s heart thundered, her skin burning as she continued moving backwards – away. ‘That’s not true.’

‘It is.’ Emilie’s eyes were heavy with pity. ‘Poor, poor Nathalie. You knew you could never have him. Not as long as I was in the picture. But it doesn’t hurt to imagine, does it.’

‘I – I don’t know what you –’

‘I think you do. When you lie in that big, lonely bed of yours, exploring your own body, I’d bet the whole Graham de Vanily fortune that you think of him.’ A wicked grin spread across her face. ‘Or maybe you think of me.’

With those words, she seemed to leap forward – and Nathalie leapt back, letting out a small yelp as her back slammed against something hard.

The lift.

She whirled around, banging on the door. But it wouldn’t open. There was no obvious button, nothing to push to let her inside. She was trapped.

A hand gripped her shoulder, turning her around again. Emilie was right there, so close that Nathalie could feel her breath on her face. Breath that shouldn’t be possible because she was – Emilie was dead.

No. That was a fake, a facsimile, a voice reminded her, making her mind throb with confusion.

Dead or not, Emilie trailed a finger down Nathalie’s cheek, her touch somehow cold and warm at once. Revulsion warred with desire. An incomparable heat was blossoming inside, every nerve and muscle aching for more – more.

And Emilie seemed to know it. With a knowing smile, she dragged her finger lower, teasing the top of Nathalie’s shirt. She dipped just below the collar, touching the spot between Nathalie’s breasts.

Nathalie made a noise, the kind no past lover had ever drawn from her throat. Her need was wild and hot and greedy. ‘Emilie,’ she managed, before speech became impossible.

Grinning, Emilie cupped the back of Nathalie’s head, giving no room to move away. Then she leaned in, pressing her lips to hers. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was hard and passionate, the kind that would leave bruises. The kind Nathalie had dreamed about for years.

Her legs weakened, and she fell against Emilie, opening her mouth and body and soul to her.

But as the kiss deepened, a foul taste filled her mouth, making her stomach lurch even as her body stirred with longing.

Gagging, she tried to pull back. But Emilie’s grip was strong. With no other choice, Nathalie pressed her hands on Emilie’s chest, pushing her away. When she could see her again, she threw her hand over her mouth, to stop the sickness from coming out.

All of Emilie’s youthful beauty was gone – had been gone for years. The skin was rotting, peeling off the naked bones. The eyes had shrivelled and dried up in their sockets. The hair was mottled, with clumps falling from the deteriorating scalp.

‘Don’t you want me?’ the creature asked.

Bile filled Nathalie’s throat, and she turned again, for the lift – but it was gone. Somehow, they were on the platform again, she was falling.

Falling into the coffin.

Steel walls rose around her. But instead of a lid, Gabriel lay on top of her, thrusting in and out of her body. His skin was slick with sweat and his eyes glazed with blank desire.

Emilie stood to the side, her rotting face appearing in flashes between Gabriel’s movements. She peered down at Nathalie. ‘You wanted to be like me, didn’t you?’

She leaned down a little closer, her words like ice.

‘Just. Like. Me.’

An answer flashed through Nathalie’s head – no! – but she couldn’t get the syllable out. She could do nothing but lie there while Gabriel worked at her body. Just like when she’d kissed Emilie, disgust warred with desire, both pulling at her so hard it felt like something was physically ripping inside.

At last, he made a strained noise, his face contorting as if in pain. Then he pulled out, not even looking at her as he climbed out of the coffin.

Still unable to make herself move, she remained where she was.

Waiting.

Breathless, Gabriel stood back, – but that feeling of weight on her body didn’t shift. Now, a small baby lay on her stomach, one hand grasping her breast. When she looked into his eyes, they were green. A green only Adrien and Felix shared.

Then he opened his mouth, revealing small, razor-sharp teeth, better suited to a cat than a human. Never breaking eye contact, he lowered his mouth to her breast, the teeth sinking into her flesh as he drank.

Immobilised, she felt not just milk or blood but her life force draining from her body. With every suckle, she grew weaker and he grew heavier, holding her in place.

Behind him, Gabriel and Emilie shared a private look. A message seemed to be exchanged. With another of those knowing smiles, Emilie reached for the coffin – and pressed something.

The lid slid shut.

Not just the glass cover, but the actual lid, sealing Nathalie in darkness with the monster.

Her scream finally came, so loud that it burned her throat.

When it died down, she heard footsteps walking away, leaving her behind.

‘Let me out!’ she shrieked as the baby continued to drink. ‘Please! I’m not dead! I’M NOT DEAD! DON’T – DON’T LEAVE ME DOWN HERE!’

With every shriek, she pounded on the sides of the coffin. She pounded so hard that her fists were raw and bleeding, the ferrous smell filling the small, airless chamber.

Then – there was light, and she shot awake, gasping for breath.

Pressing her hand to her chest, she stared around her room. Not a coffin, not the basement, but her room. It was morning, and she – she was safe. She was safe.

But Emilie….

Panic started closing her throat again.

Without thought, she jumped from the bed. Before she knew what she was doing, she was running out of her room and down the stairs, feet pounding until she reached Gabriel’s office.

Just like in her dream – nightmare – she stood in the right spot on the floor. She touched the pressure points on the painting, unsure she was really awake when the floor dropped out beneath her. Then she was shooting down into the basement, as if she did this every day. As if it were normal to have a secret fucking lair built beneath your house.

When she hit the bottom, she wasn’t even surprised to see a figure at the other end of the runway.

Gabriel.

Of course he was here. Maybe she’d even known it, deep down, before she’d left her room. Maybe Emilie had come to him in his dreams, too, calling them both down to see her.

To keep her company.

With ice in her veins, she walked down the runway, catching more details as she approached. He was dressed in expensive night clothes of his own design – just like she was. Her dress was made of thin silk that clung to her figure, the skirt ending above her knees and the shoulder straps hardly there.

Yet even in this state of undress, he didn’t so much as glance at her when she stood beside him on the platform. All his attention was on the coffin – on Emilie, her eyes closed as she lay beneath that glass barrier. She wasn’t in some morgue. She was here. She….

‘She isn’t really dead,’ Nathalie said.

Gabriel bit his lip. ‘No,’ he finally said.

Yet, in just a few hours, they’d be attending her funeral. They’d be lowering some other corpse into the ground under her headstone, a lie committed to marble, made to last as long as the pyramids.

Perhaps sharing her thoughts, Gabriel turned to her – then stared at her a little too long. His gaze travelled to her neckline, lower than anything she’d ever worn in front of him. But he’d designed the dress. He must’ve had a reason.

‘Make him love you,’ Emilie had said. ‘Make him love you so much that he never wants to bring me back.’

Despite what he’d done – despite her dream – despite everything – her breasts were hardening, impossible to hide under that flimsy material.

His lips parted, and he forced his gaze back up to her eyes, his expression tortured. For fuck’s sake, his wife’s body was right there with them. But you didn’t have to be a genius to work out that Emilie had been in no shape for a reciprocal relationship for a long, long time. And now that she was gone….

He cleared his throat. ‘We should get ready and go.’ The words came out strangled.

She nodded, her body burning the way it had in her dream. In a way, Gabriel was no different from Emilie’s talking corpse – a monster she shouldn’t want, and yet she did. She did.

And now, maybe – just maybe – she could have him.

Dream Emilie’s words echoed in her head.

‘You wanted to be like me, didn’t you?’

Her blood ran cold.

She shuddered with relief when Gabriel sealed the coffin. Oblivious, his mouth bent into the semblance of a smile, and he turned, leading the way back down the runway.

They went up together, the two of them, side by side. That was how things would be, from now on. She wasn’t some innocent bystander to the crime. Whatever happened next, they were in this together.

In his office, they carried on, into the foyer and up the stairs. On the landing, they paused, holding each other’s eyes. Not moving. Not saying a word.

Then they parted, heading for their respective bedrooms. Only when she’d locked the door did she dare to breathe normally again.

Hurrying into her ensuite bathroom, she stripped off her nightdress and got in the shower. She’d accumulated a ridiculous number of soaps and scrubs over the years, and now she used them all. She scoured her skin with a sponge, trying to remove the residue of her own awful thoughts. Then she smothered herself in one soap after another, in an effort to mask the stench of her guilt. The room filled with the scent of sandalwood, cloves, cinnamon. Mint, lavender, citrus. It was unfocused, a melange of aromas as mixed up as her mind.

She stayed in the shower so long that her skin wrinkled up, forcing her out. Wrapped in a towel, she stood in front of the mirror, unsure who would face her. But it was the same woman she always saw.

Reaching for the mirror, she touched her face the way Emilie had touched her in the dream – half expecting her skin to fall off, to slough away and reveal another face underneath. An evil face. The face of someone who’d just got her heart’s deepest wish.

No.

I didn’t wish for this.

Thinking it didn’t seem enough, so she said it aloud.

‘I didn’t wish for this.’

Somehow, it rang false. She could hear someone laughing at her. Maybe Emilie down in the basement.

Swallowing hard, she backed away from the mirror, turning her back to herself.

Then she returned to her room, looking for the right thing to wear to a funeral for the wife of the man she loved.

Chapter Text

Two hours later, Nathalie stood in the room she’d hired for the wake – a simple space at the funeral parlour, with wooden flooring, soft lighting, and a large, gold cross on one wall. To think, little more than a week ago, she’d been running herself ragged planning Gabriel and Emilie’s anniversary party. Now, she’d just organised her first Agreste funeral.

The venue was smaller than she’d imagined when she’d made the booking, but that was okay. Gabriel had insisted this be a small affair, held away from the mansion – the scene of the crime. After all, that wasn’t really Emilie’s body lying in the almost comically expensive open-lid coffin positioned at the head of the room. A sleek white box with so much gloss it was almost a light source of its own. An ephemeral status piece that would soon rot in the earth like everything else.

Clasping her hands together, Nathalie glanced around at the other attendees. Andre, Audrey and Chloe. Amelie, in soft tears, beside a stunned-looking Felix. Colt, his harsh coughs echoing around the almost silent room.

Adrien, standing beside the coffin, one hand on the rim as he gazed down at what he thought was his mother’s remains.

Guilt flopped in Nathalie’s stomach like a dying fish. She should be over there with him, offering whatever laughable comfort she could. Or with Amelie, maybe. But she couldn’t make herself move. Couldn’t bring herself to look them all in the eyes after what she’d done.

Some metres away, Gabriel was speaking in hushed whispers with a Japanese woman Nathalie had never met before today. Tomoe Tsurugi. The mysterious business partner and technology tycoon who’d supplied him with the stasis coffin and the mechanisms for his secret basement. The person he’d confided in and shared all his plans with, without ever telling Emilie or Nathalie.

The only other person here who knew this event for what it was – a sham.

Jealousy stabbed Nathalie’s heart, even after all Gabriel had done. Even when she knew it was wrong – no, insane – to love him.

A voice in her mind urged her to look away. Instead, she watched Gabriel and Tomoe more closely, studying their body language. To her idiotic relief, they didn’t stand too close. They didn’t look at each other, either. In fact, Tomoe appeared to be blind, her eyes shielded by dark shades and her face not quite looking at Gabriel. She leaned on a stylish walking stick, her figure trim and straight. Everything about her spoke of power and confidence.

What the hell did she get out of this arrangement? It couldn’t just be about money. From what Nathalie had gleaned, each of them was as rich as the other. There had to be more to their relationship. Why else would Gabriel trust Tomoe with his secrets? Why invite her to this wake? 

And why the fuck was she worrying about this stuff at a time like this?

She let out a slow, shaky breath, forcing herself to move. To cross the room. To do what she should be doing. With soft steps, she approached Adrien, careful not to startle him as she joined him in looking at the body.

The sight took her breath away, even though she’d made the thing. It really did look just like Emilie, especially in that outfit – a pale pink suit made of silk, with black edging. Her arms had been crossed over her chest, and a hint of a smile played on her lips. Like she’d been happy to die. Or maybe simply determined to look her best, even in death. Like the real Emilie.

‘It’s so hard to believe that’s her,’ Adrien said quietly. ‘It doesn’t – it doesn’t feel like her.’

Nathalie bit down on the end of her tongue, stopping the confession that was climbing up her throat. There was no way to tell Adrien the truth now. Not when they’d already gone this far – when they were actually holding a wake for the senti-corpse. Every day that passed, the lie became more impossible to reveal.

Thank God, the door opened, drawing everyone’s attention. In walked the priest, a tall man with white hair and a white beard, offsetting his olive skin. He wore a white cassock, a long purple stole draped around his neck and dripping down almost to the floor.

Nathalie put an arm around Adrien, drawing him away from the coffin as the priest made his way to a small table set up beside it. Taking up his position, he surveyed them all, mess that they were. They all stared back, watching him and waiting. Waiting for him to say something that might make this event less obscene.

He started with greetings – commiserations – small words of kindness. Then he handed out small booklets around the room, before reading out passages from the Bible. Psalm 23. Thessalonians. Isaiah. Ecclesiastes.

At last, he turned his attention to Gabriel. ‘Monsieur Agreste, would you like to lead us all in the prayers of intercession?’

Nathalie stifled a bark of morbid laughter.

As expected, he played his part well, head bowed by grief as he crossed the room. Now standing beside the priest, he faced his audience and put his palms together like the good Catholic he never was. ‘Please. If everyone could gather around the coffin.’

Wordless, they gathered in a semicircle as instructed.

‘Adrien.’ Gabriel glanced his way. ‘There’s a candle on that table. Perhaps you’d like to light it.’

It didn’t sound like an invitation. More like a command. Even here, there were expectations, every move part of a grand performance – a fact Adrien didn’t seem to grasp, because he remained still, his gaze frozen on the coffin.

Nathalie nudged him gently with her shoulder. He jolted, flashing her a frightened look. The look of a child who’d glimpsed the world of adults – the world of grief and work and difficult decisions – but didn’t yet understand that one day it would be his world too.

‘The candle,’ she whispered, gesturing to it on the table.

He stared at her. Then he looked at the table, the cogs clicking into place in his mind. With shaky steps, he joined his father, who handed him the candle and lighter. Adrien’s hands were trembling so hard, it took him five tries to get the flame going. When it was finally lit, he stared at it in its brass tray, the fire growing and shrinking under his nervous breaths.

With that small task accomplished, he looked to his father for further instruction – or maybe approval. Gabriel merely nodded, then opened the booklet he held, an indication that everyone else should do the same. Inside were the lines they were meant to say, hammering in the feeling that all of this was a performance.

Almost without thought, Nathalie joined the others in recitation. ‘In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.’ Words she’d heard a thousand times before, yet she’d never had any reason to say them herself – until now.

With a small nod of acknowledgment, Gabriel threw himself into his part. ‘We gather as family and friends who loved Emilie in this life. Now that she has left us, we come into the Lord’s presence to remember and give thanks for the good the Lord has done in her and through her, and for the richness that we have received. We also ask the Lord’s forgiveness for all her faults and sins and entrust her soul to the tender mercy of God.’

Every word out of his mouth made Nathalie cringe harder. She’d never been especially religious. But if God was real, what the hell must He think of this farce? They weren’t offering up a soul today. Emilie’s spirit was trapped in her body, buried in the basement – perhaps forever.

An all-knowing God would know this. He’d know Emilie hadn’t died. He’d know they were lying to everyone. He’d know this wake was meaningless. And if the Bible was anything to go by, God had a history of punishing those who gave empty offerings.

Gabriel carried on, his lines punctuated by the sound of Colt coughing. ‘We comfort ourselves by listening to a short reading from the Word of God. This comes from the Prophet Isaiah. But now, thus says the Lord who created you, Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by your name, and you are mine. When you pass through the water, I will be with you. In the river, you shall not drown. When you walk through fire, you shall not be burned. The flames shall not consume you. For I am the Lord your God, your Saviour. The Word of the Lord.’

‘Thanks be to God,’ everyone intoned.

There was another pause, this one longer than before – for silent reflection, the script said. The Bourgeois had huddled so close together, an observer might have been forgiven for imagining they liked each other. Amelie had pulled Felix to her side, silent tears streaking her cheeks. Colt stood apart from them, his skin pale with exhaustion.

Tomoe kept even more distance, like she knew she didn’t really belong here. Maybe it was paranoia, but she seemed to be watching Adrien, even though that was impossible. She was blind. Yet there was no question that her seemingly sightless gaze was pinned on him as he held that candle, staring into the flame like he hoped it could provide an explanation for what his life had become.

And Gabriel….

Gabriel, what the hell are we doing here?

The priest cleared his throat, indicating that it was time to move onto the next phase. In a smooth voice, he prayed with them. ‘Lord, we are grieving now for someone we loved and cherished. The experience of death and bereavement can stir up in us feelings of fear for the future, or a lack of confidence. Please – renew our confidence that you are always with us no matter what trials face us now or in the future. We ask this through Christ our Lord.’

‘Amen,’ everyone said, looking at Gabriel.

At a gesture from the priest, he spoke again. ‘Lord, we have loved Emilie in this life and will sorely miss her. Out of that love, we pray that you take her to yourself, forgive her sins and give her eternal joy with you. Lord, hear us.’

‘Lord, graciously hear us.’

‘As we grieve, we know that at this very time others are grieving great losses too. Teach us to be sensitive to the sufferings and pains of others. Help us to take strength from the community of our brothers and sisters in the faith. Lord, hear us.’

‘Lord, graciously hear us.’

‘We pray for those others, whom we may not know, whom Emilie touched during her life. May we all be united one day in the joy of Heaven. Lord, hear us.’

‘Lord, graciously hear us.’

‘We pray for anyone whom Emilie offended during her life. We pray that you will heal their hurt. Lead us all to harmony and peace. Lord, hear us.’

‘Lord, graciously hear us.’

‘We pray for the whole people of God. Give us all the grace, in our own neighbourhood and throughout the world to be a light of truth, justice and love. Lord, hear us.’

‘Lord, graciously hear us.’

Gabriel paused there, perhaps allowing time for a response – for some sign that God had, indeed, heard their pleas.

In Nathalie’s limited experience with wakes, other attendees should’ve been invited to read out some of those prayers. Yet, no one questioned Gabriel monopolising the event. If the fashion industry ever went south for him, he had a good career ahead as a cult leader.

Then he said, ‘Let us now pray together in the words that Jesus taught us.’

In that same unified voice, they said, ‘Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.’

For the second time, Nathalie almost laughed.

It’s too late for these prayers, Gabriel. It’s all too fucking late.

Oblivious to the evil right there in the room, the priest gave them all a small, sad smile. ‘I now invite you all to sprinkle the remains of our beloved Emilie with holy water.’ He gestured to the table again, where, beside the discarded lighter, sat a small bowl of water.

Dutifully, everyone queued up. At the front, Gabriel turned to Adrien. ‘Why don’t you have the first honours?’

When Adrien stared up at him in confusion, Gabriel stepped aside, leaving him at the head of the queue with Nathalie.

Now even more on display, Adrien remained motionless – frozen. He stared at the table, at the water, like he didn’t know what to do with it. Standing beside him, Nathalie could almost hear his heart thumping in his chest. Yet he didn’t cry. Not now. He’d already cried so much over the last week that maybe he just couldn’t do it anymore.

Taking pity on him, the priest gently took the candle from him, setting it down and giving him the water instead. Then he gestured at the coffin, a reminder of what Adrien was expected to do. His choreography.

Perhaps moving on autopilot, Adrien stepped closer to the coffin, raising his arm above it. With a few elegant movements of his wrist, he sprinkled water on the body, then staggered backwards.

Nathalie caught him, steadying him and taking the bowl from him. The priest took him from her, guiding him to the side of the room while she approached the coffin.

Standing in front of it again, she understood Adrien’s hesitation, maybe better than he did. What were they purifying, here? No soul had ever inhabited the body that lay in that box. It was only a shell. A cadaver created by a human, a Dr Frankenstein who’d dared to believe she could do what some claimed was God’s domain.

What would happen if she threw the water on herself instead? Would she be cleansed of her sins? Or would there be nothing left of her once the evil was washed away? Would she melt like witches were meant to?

A hand landed on her shoulder, startling her – not so much with its weight but with its affection. Turning her head, she locked eyes with Gabriel, reading the confusion in his face. A sign that perhaps some humanity remained in him, after all.

Then, for some reason, she coughed.

His mouth dropped open, alarm flashing across his handsome face. For the first time since they’d carried Emilie down to the basement, he truly looked afraid.

But this wasn’t the time to discuss it. Maybe no time was.

She shook herself out of his grasp, returning her attention to the corpse and sprinkling water over it. Not just because she had to, but because maybe she had it all wrong. Maybe there was some kind of spirit in that body. Maybe they were all messing with things they couldn’t begin to understand.

When she was done, she handed the bowl to Gabriel without a word. Then she walked to the side of the room.

Immediately, Adrien threw his arms around her, burying his head in her chest. Her heart ached – cracked – and she held him in return, threading her fingers through his soft hair. After days of remaining stoic, the grief now burst from her throat, erupting in short, rough sobs.

Maybe it was just the crying – or maybe the stress was making her ill. Whatever the reason, she coughed again, so hard that Adrien pulled back, staring up at her in plain fear.

She forced a smile. Reassurance that there was nothing to be concerned about. But when she drew him close again, a cold thought flashed through her head.

When her turn finally came, would Gabriel hold a service like this for her, too?

Chapter Text

On the drive back from the funeral, Nathalie sat in the backseat with Adrien, while Gabriel was up front next to Placide. Today, everyone was as silent as their driver.

Nathalie stared out the window. Her chest felt hollowed out, her mind replaying the ugly details of the day’s farce. The sound of people’s tears. The stunned looks on everyone’s faces as they’d piled out to the graveyard after the wake. The way Amelie had steered Felix away later, like she was desperate to get on the train and leave France.

And who could blame her? The funeral had been disgusting, an ostentatious display of wealth that made it difficult to express any real grief. Maybe it was because it was all a lie, but Gabriel had spent a fortune on the event, choosing possibly the most expensive casket ever designed. A stainless-steel monstrosity stained a soft pink, with a rich, high-gloss finish. Lined in quilted white, it had sculpted, stainless-steel mechanisms, reinforced swing bar handles, and a velvet tufted head panel to keep your favourite corpse comfortable.

Now, it lived in a custom-built mausoleum, an enormous, white marble structure gated off from public access. Characterful lanterns hung on either side, and a large steel cross stood on the roof – a mockery. Everything about it felt like a dark comedy. While the real Emilie lay preserved in the mansion basement, defying the laws of nature, everything they’d done today defied the laws of the Divine.

If there was a God – if there was a Heaven and a Hell – they were definitely going to Hell for this. But there was no turning back now. Not without admitting what they’d done. Or digging up one corpse to replace it with another.

The car pulled up in the front of the mansion, and Placide switched off the engine. Still silent, Nathalie, Gabriel and Adrien climbed out of the car and trudged to the front steps.

As she stepped into the foyer, she was struck by how quickly Gabriel’s plans had come together. Not just the senti-corpse, but the coffin – the tomb. He must have organised everything months in advance. What was he planning now?

Adrien tucked his hands in his pockets, avoiding everyone’s eyes. ‘I’m going to my room. I…I need to be alone.’ Without waiting for a reply, he turned for the stairs, hiking up quickly.

Nathalie stared after him until he disappeared from view.

Beside her, Gabriel loosened his tie and started for the living room. ‘I need a drink. You can join me, if you like.’ The wording was casual, but there was a tremor in his voice. He needed her.

Well? So what?

The questions were loud in her head, urging her to ignore him. To go the other way and leave him to face his own karma while she dealt with hers. But her feet were already moving, taking her into the living room.

She closed the door, watching as he opened a bottle of red wine, an expensive variety from an expensive year. Without asking, he poured two glasses of the stuff. Two very large glasses.

He held one out for her, looking more human than he had all day. His skin was lined with exhaustion and his eyes were red. Proof that the day’s experience had affected him after all.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked as she joined him.

She accepted the glass, holding it tight in her hands. ‘I have a headache.’

He nodded like this wasn’t a surprise. ‘I have a theory.’

‘About…?’

‘What might happen if you…release a sentibeing from existence.’

The words stopped her cold.

Perhaps reading the shock in her face, he hurried on. ‘What I mean is, perhaps Colt and Emilie’s… symptoms… are not simply the result of using a broken miraculous. Perhaps they’ve been burdened by sustaining Adrien and Felix in the world. As you’re fond of reminding me – magic for magic. Yes?’

‘Yes.’ She shifted on her feet, seeing where he was going with this.

‘Well. We have no need for the corpse anymore. You can let it go. Perhaps it will help.’ There was hope in his voice, and apology in his eyes.

It wasn’t enough. It didn’t even approach that. Still, maybe there was something to his theory. Something worth exploring later.

Alone.

She cleared her throat. ‘So – that was Tomoe today.’

He tensed, maybe hearing the edge in her voice.

‘Does she know what we did?’

He nodded slowly. ‘After everything she’s done for me, I couldn’t keep her in the dark. She had a right to know.’

Perhaps.

But perhaps not.

Nathalie forced her expression to remain neutral. ‘What did you give her in return for her help with that contraption downstairs?’ She took a long sip of wine, bracing herself for his confession. An admission that, all that time when his wife had been laid up in bed, he’d been having a lurid affair with the technology tycoon.

‘I let her use the peacock.’

She almost spat out her drink, her heartbeat erratic with surprise. ‘You what?’

‘Tomoe wanted a child, but she didn’t want to deal with the complications of a father.’

The complications of…. ‘Jesus, Gabriel. Haven’t you people heard of adoption?’

His mouth twitched like she’d just made a joke.

‘How long ago was this?’ she asked. ‘She didn’t look pregnant today.’

‘It was nearly a year ago. But she didn’t want a baby. She wanted a child. Her daughter came into the world a teenager, the perfect age to become friends with Adrien. He won’t have to be alone anymore.’

Nathalie’s eyes widened. It was hard to know where to begin. ‘You let her make a teenager? Just, overnight, out of nowhere, she suddenly had a grown daughter?’

He shrugged, like people did this kind of thing all the time. ‘Tomoe has always been a very private person. The media know very little about her personal life. It was easy to fabricate a story for her daughter.’

‘Okay, but –’ She let out a breath, trying to keep her voice calm. The room was starting to spin around her. ‘Gabriel, this… all of this is wrong. We can’t just keep making children whenever we feel like it – or corpses.’

He looked at her levelly. ‘What will you do, Nathalie? Do you plan to tell someone?’

Bitterness lined her throat. ‘You know I can’t do that, Gabriel.’

‘Because it would implicate you too?’

She almost laughed. ‘I don’t care about myself. But I won’t do anything further to hurt Adrien.’

The words sounded empty even to her. What good was such a vow when it was already too late? When they’d already taken away his mother and forced him to live through her funeral?

Gabriel’s tone grew soft – appealing. ‘Nathalie…now that his mother’s… gone …Adrien is going to need you more than ever. I need you.’

Her body warmed, her stomach flipflopping even while she cursed herself for it. Without warning, her nightmare flashed through her head. Memories of lying in that fucked-up coffin with Gabriel on top of her, and Emilie leaning in to impart a final message.

‘You wanted to be like me, didn’t you?’

She shuddered, shoving the imagery out of her mind. ‘What the hell happened to us, Gabriel? How did we get from thunderstorms in India to – this?’

His mouth curved into a slow smile. ‘We certainly have been through a lot, haven’t we, Nathalie.’

That was one way of putting it. Though, she wasn’t sure she would’ve said it with quite the same note of nostalgia she detected in his voice.

He stepped closer. ‘I still remember the moment I met you.’

‘You…you do?’

‘Oh yes.’ He stared just past her, like he could see it all playing out there, on the wall. ‘When I first saw you during that flood, you had this – this look on your face. Like you didn’t expect to encounter another human being again. Then, somehow, out of all the people in the world, it was me who found you.’

The statement gave her chills.

He shook his head, his smile growing. ‘You were so young… yet you seemed older than me. Wiser. The instant I looked in your eyes, I sensed there was much you could teach me. But I’ve always felt like there are things I could teach you, in return. Like maybe we were…made to find each other.’ His gaze slid slowly back to her.

She stared back, her heart thumping in her throat. In all the years she’d known him, he’d never talked to her like this.

He lowered his voice. ‘Emilie saw it too. She was often jealous of you.’

A month ago, she would’ve laughed at this. Now, she recalled what Emilie had said to her, shortly before she’d become unresponsive.

‘What you share with him is…. It’s something I’ll never have.’

She took another hard sip of wine. ‘She had nothing to be jealous of. I work for you, that’s all.’

He smiled, a patronising look in his blue eyes. A look that said, If that’s what you’d like to imagine….

‘Nonetheless,’ he said, ‘Emilie and I used to argue about it. Sometimes, when you weren’t around, she accused me of finding you more interesting. Of having more in common with you and feeling more at ease with you. Of paying you more attention.’

Her head reeled. ‘What did you tell her?’

‘That she was being paranoid. Dramatic. But she…. Well, she had quite the temper, although she was good at hiding it.’

Something else Nathalie just couldn’t imagine.

He stepped closer again, now within touching distance. She could hear his breath, heavier and faster than it should be. As fast and heavy as her own.

A voice spoke in her mind.

Step back. Move away.

But her feet remained planted on the floor, her eyes locked on his.

His smile returned. ‘When we first met…. Who would’ve thought that one day it would be just you and me here.’ He sounded wistful, maybe marvelling at the direction fate had taken them both.

Her heart thundered louder, the world seeming to split into layers – reality heaped upon reality. Perhaps she’d imagined everything with the miraculous. Perhaps she was still in India, caught in that angry river with no promise of salvation.

Gently, Gabriel took the glass from her hand, setting it on the table along with his own. He seemed to move in slow motion, his gestures like something off TV, something that wasn’t real.

Now with no props to hold, their hands were empty, in need of filling – of something to touch. Maybe that was why he reached for her, trailing a fingertip down the side of her face.

A sound escaped her lips – her trembling, traitorous lips. This – all of this was wrong. Gabriel was insane. After everything he’d done so far, there was no telling what more he was capable of.

Yet, her body was already weakening, her stomach a knot of need. And when his mouth finally closed over hers, she didn’t push him away.

She melted against him, feeding on his heat. For some reason, she’d imagined he might be cold, but he wasn’t. He was so warm. Not a monster or a god but a man, his tongue touching hers as he deepened the kiss.

Years ago, there had been other kisses in her life. Other tangles of limbs in strange, foreign sheets. Moments shared but not repeated, with people who’d merely satisfied an immediate need. None of it had felt like this. None of it had involved her heart.

Matching his hunger, she shoved her fingers through his silky hair, the way she’d wanted to do every day since they’d met. His touch grew rougher, forcing at the sleeves of her jacket. She withdrew her arms, allowing him to slide it off her shoulders and onto the floor. Then his fingers were at the buttons of her tailored shirt, undoing them with the expertise of their designer. Like a gift, he unwrapped her, shuffling it over her shoulders and revealing her black lace bra.

Staring openly at her chest, he tugged at his tie, unwinding it and hauling it off his neck. He tossed it aside, along with his jacket. When he started to unbutton his shirt, she stopped him, eagerly doing the job for him.

He emitted an animalistic noise, cupping her from behind and unfastening her bra. The cool air hit her breasts as they fell free. They felt hard, in need of attention. But she focused on her task, fanning her hands across his chest and sliding off his shirt. She’d barely finished the job before he was leaning in again, almost digging his teeth into her neck.

She winced, unable to hold back the noise of pain, mingled with a strange kind of pleasure. He made no apology – but he moved on, bending a little as he trailed his mouth down to her chest, finding her breasts. With a noise of ecstasy, she held his head there, keeping his mouth where she wanted it.

Grunting with passion, he pulled free and grabbed her by the hands. He dragged her towards the wall, where he flicked off the light switch. It wasn’t late, but the windows were heavily curtained, casting the room in near darkness. She could only just make out his shape – the movement of his body as he removed the rest of his mourning suit.

‘Take off your clothes,’ he ordered.

She did, her body desperate to be undressed, every scrap of fabric like walls closing her in. As soon as she was naked, he was on her, his skin warm as he pulled her down to the floor. His mouth found hers again, kissing her harder than before. When he drew back, it was only to turn her head sideways, kissing the side of her face. Finding her ear.

‘Emilie,’ he murmured.

Nathalie went still beneath him, her body numb even as he made his way back to that special place on her neck. He kissed and kissed and kissed her – but it was all for her. With every soft touch, every cup of her breast, every noise he made, she could hear him saying her name again.

Emilie, Emilie, Emilie….

Her eyes stung, her stomach twisting with revulsion, for him and for herself. A voice in her head screamed at her to push him away. To shove him off and make damn sure he knew what an ass he really was.

Yet, as he ran his lips down her body, now kissing her stomach – now moving lower – her nerves sprang back to life, the world exploding with colour.

She closed her eyes, unable to push him away. ‘Gabi,’ she whispered, the way Emilie probably had.

He groaned, his tongue working harder, and her body arched against his mouth.

Maybe one day, it would be her name on his lips. For now –

She’d take what he had to give.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Nathalie woke up alone in her bed. Everything felt raw and sore – and the memories slotted into place.

That monstrous farce of a funeral.

The senti-corpse being lowered into the ground.

Gabriel….

Shivering, she put her fingertips to her lips, still feeling the heat of his kisses. Then she touched her face…her neck…remembering his mouth there, too. Never in her life had anyone embraced her with so much passion. So much hunger. It was like he’d been starving and only she could satiate him.

Yet as she closed her eyes, another memory hit her like a fist – his gruff voice murmuring into her ear.

‘Emilie.’

Not just once but over and over again.

There was a reason he’d switched off the lights. A reason he’d kept his eyes closed. A reason he’d carried out such an act on the living room floor rather than in a bed. All the time, he’d been imagining another woman.

A woman who lay in a secret coffin beneath the floorboards they’d fucked on.

Sickness made her roll onto her side, hugging herself the way Gabriel hadn’t. There’d been no cuddling afterwards. There hadn’t even been conversation. He’d simply put on his clothes and left the room, leaving her to dress alone.

For fuck’s sake, what have you gotten yourself into?

The question came in her mother’s voice, a sound she’d almost forgotten. She answered in a young girl’s voice – the adolescent she’d left behind.

I don’t know. I just don’t know.

Self-disgust crawled through her stomach, coiling it tight, and she flung away the covers. Almost falling out of the bed, she staggered into the ensuite, stripping off her nightclothes. Avoiding her reflection in the mirror, she stepped into the shower, scrubbing and scrubbing until she felt like she’d removed the residue of Gabriel’s touch. Cleaning herself and erasing all traces of his presence on her body.

Wrapped in a towel, she dared to look in the mirror. Somehow, in the space of just twenty-four hours, she didn’t look the same. She looked older somehow. She looked….

Like my mother.

The realisation made her suck in a breath, and she turned away, heading back into her bedroom. She needed – she needed to get dressed. To put on her costume for the day. To find Nathalie again.

But looking through her wardrobe, it hit her again – all her clothes were made by Gabriel. No matter how hard she searched, she couldn’t find anything left that preceded his influence on her life. At what point had she decided this was okay? How had she allowed it to happen?

With no other choice, she pulled out one of the suits and slipped it on. Just the feel of the fabric on her skin was like letting him touch her again.

Despite everything, her heart pounded with renewed longing. After so long fantasising about him, the reality hadn’t quenched her thirst. They’d only stoked a fire that had been smouldering too long. Heat burned between her legs, along with a special kind of ache she couldn’t name – chased by a double dose of self-disgust.

Swallowing it down, she brushed out her hair, reaching for something to hold it back. Her hand went around something, her heart skipping when she saw what it was.

The hairpin.

Such a small, insignificant thing. An innocuous object that held the body’s amok. The feather that tethered the corpse to this world.

Sliding the pin into her hair, she hurried out of her room and down the hall, to her library. She needed a distraction. Something to take her mind off the images that came to her every time she blinked.

Locked inside the library, she leaned back against the door, a new memory hitting her – of something Gabriel had said last night. It was shortly before they’d….

‘I have a theory,’ he’d said. ‘We have no need for the corpse anymore. You can let it go. Perhaps it will help.’

Every word had been euphemism, an underwhelming acknowledgment of what was happening to her. But the more she thought on it, the more hope dug its claws into her hateful heart.

She rushed to her desk and opened the drawer, pulling out a small box. Inside, the peacock brooch lay nestled in a bed of velvet. It had taken some wheedling to get Gabriel to allow her to keep it. But now that she’d used it – now that she’d possibly sacrificed her life for his plans – he was in no position to argue.

Stroking the brooch, she gently lifted it out, hesitating before pinning it to her shirt. Duusu flew out in a dizzying circle.

‘Whoo!’ she cried, shaking herself out. ‘Ooh, Nathalie, it’s you!’ The kwami sounded pleased.

‘Did you expect someone else?’

She glanced around, like she worried someone might be listening in. Then she flew in close, lowering her voice. ‘I thought maybe he had decided to have a try.’

There was no need to ask who he was.

So. Even magical creatures had their doubts about Gabriel.

‘Nathalie? Is everything okay?’ Duusu sounded concerned. Really concerned, in a way no one had expressed for Nathalie in a long, long time.

‘I’m fine,’ Nathalie lied. ‘I just – I need to try something.’

‘Something that involves me?’

Nathalie nodded tightly.

‘But you’ve seen what channelling the power of the peacock does. Please don’t hurt yourself more.’

‘That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid. And if I don’t succeed….’ It would only speed up what was already in play.

The kwami looked about to comment, but Nathalie cut her off.

‘Duusu…spread my feathers.’

This time, the magic didn’t take her by surprise. She was ready for it – even welcomed it as it washed through her, clearing away Gabriel’s touch the way nothing else could.

Transformed, she glanced down at herself. At the dress she now wore. Not something Gabriel had designed but a costume that was entirely hers. A reflection of who she was inside.

She smiled – then threw out her arms for balance as a wave of dizziness struck. Fear made her heart pound, but she forced it down, focusing on her task.

Reaching for her hair, her fingers brushed it until she touched the hairpin. She pulled it out, and her hair fell loose against her face. Then she stared at the object in her palm, imagining what Gabriel would say if he were here.

Well? What are you waiting for?

There were a thousand ways she could’ve answered that. At the top of the list was – what if this fails? What then?

Well – then it failed. She wouldn’t be any worse off than she was now.

Shaking away her pessimism, she leaned in towards the hairpin, speaking to it softly – testing the words she’d read in the grimoire. ‘I release you from existence.’

She didn’t allow herself to expect anything to happen. When she felt a rush of energy surge through her body, she gasped, staggering and nearly falling to the floor. Then she steadied herself, her eyes round with amazement.

The magic was working. She felt…heavier somehow. Like something had been returned to her that she hadn’t realised she was missing.

It should’ve relieved her, but all she felt was cold, as an idea wormed into her head. In the last week, she’d made a human body. Now, she’d removed it from the world. But Emilie and Colt and Tomoe Tsurugi had made whole, living children. They, too, could be released with a few magic words.

She held the power to kill Adrien.

Her stomach lurched, and she ripped off the brooch, not even bothering with the de-transformation spell. She put the brooch away, her breath hard and fast.

How – how had she even managed to think such a thing? What kind of person was she if she could….

Breathing hard, she fumbled around the desk, pulling out her tarot cards and candles. Then she switched off the overhead lights and sat on the floor.

With shaky hands, she arranged the candles in a semicircle, lighting them one by one. They cast strange shadows on the walls that seemed to take on the shapes of people. The longer she looked, the shadows embraced each other, their flickering bodies entwining in ways that made her skin flush just to watch.

Looking away, she pulled her phone from her pocket and brought up the usual meditation music playlists. Today, she went for one that promised soothing harps played over rain falling in a forest.

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing. But unwanted imagery kept crawling back into focus. She must have listened to a whole fucking monsoon before she finally started to drift into that nowhere space, where her blood cooled and she started to lift out of her body.

Feeling around on the floor, she retrieved her tarot deck, shuffling and concentrating on the feeling of the cards sliding against each other.

Another feeling crept in – the memory of Gabriel’s body sliding against hers.

The cards – the CARDS.

She scrunched up her eyes, using all her energy to stay in the moment and not go back there. A question bloomed in her mind.

What do I need to know right now?

She continued to shuffle, until three cards fell out, making a soft sound on the floor. Her eyes snapped open. When she laid the cards in a row, her insides chilled.

First was The Lovers, drawn upside down. Naked, Adam and Eve stood side by side, a mountain rising between them. Behind Eve was a tree, coiled by a serpent. Behind Adam was another tree, studded with flowers. Adam stared at Eve, but she was looking up at an angel presiding over them, backdropped by a radiant sun. All of it was arranged in a perfect mimicry of the Kabbalistic Tree of Life.

Drawn in reverse, it spoke of a failure to communicate. A failure to express oneself. A failure to connect on any meaningful level. Two people trapped in a harsh landscape, prisoners rather than free in the garden.

The third card was this card’s partner – The Devil. Arranged in almost the same way, Adam’s tail was on fire, and the pair of them were chained to a box. A square. A representation of the material world. Perched atop the box was not, in fact, the devil but Baphomet, the ‘perfect man’. A balancing act of human intellect and animal instinct. One arm was raised up towards the divine, while the other pointed down towards the material world. His fingers were splayed in what looked like the Vulcan symbol of greeting, but it was actually an ancient Hebrew symbol inviting God to peer between the fingers.

In summary, Adam and Eve had chained themselves to the box – to their troubles. They had the power to free themselves, to turn and face the demons that held them there. Yet they remained where they were, imagining they were trapped. It was an image of obsession and fixation.

Between these two cards was the 3 of Swords, often referred to as ‘sorrow’ or ‘grief’. It bore the simple image of a blood-red love heart stabbed through by three swords.

Put together, everything about this reading spelled two words – a mistake.

A knock at the door made her jump, pulling her out of the meditation space. She released a long breath before answering, making her tone as neutral as possible. ‘Yes?’

‘It’s me,’ Gabriel said. His voice was casual, without a hint at what they’d shared last night.

‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.

‘N-no. I just…. Could we talk for a moment? Face to face?’

Her insides roiled harder, and the room swayed, like she was on a boat during a storm. ‘Okay. Just a moment.’

Hardly able to think, she turned off the music and swept up the cards, shoving them back into their box. Then she blew out the candles and got to her feet, her heart racing with a combination of terror and – yes – excitement.

Putting everything away, she smoothed out her clothes and went to the door. She unlocked it and opened it just enough to see him. The instant their eyes locked, she saw it in his face. He was remembering last night. He was remembering what she looked like under the suit – what she felt like under his hands – what she sounded like under his ministrations.

Maybe he’d been thinking about it all morning. He’d only avoided her because he wasn’t sure how to speak to her. But now, he was ready. He’d decided it was time to establish what their relationship had become. When he opened his mouth, the words were almost visible on his tongue.

Then he closed it.

By the time he opened it again, her nerves were on fire. ‘Nathalie….’

‘Yes?’

‘I wanted to check if you….’

…were okay.

…enjoyed last night.

‘…remembered you’re meant to pick up my dry cleaning today.’

Her stomach plummeted, all the excitement draining from her body. It was a struggle to make her voice work. ‘Your…your dry cleaning?’

‘Y-yes. There’s a suit I need, and I believe it’s there. You may recall I was planning on wearing it for my lunch appointment with Tomoe. Not to mention I….’

He droned on, but she didn’t hear another word he said.

Shock froze her in place. Was – was this really happening? After what they’d shared, was he really standing here, treating her like his fucking PA? God, she’d – she’d let him touch her. She’d let him inside. She’d even let her call him by another woman’s name. And now….

She choked back a sob before it could escape. Her eyes were watering, in danger of spilling in front of him. There was no way she would let him see that. She just – she had to pull it together. Remain stoic. Channel the old Nathalie.

Clasping her hands tight, she stared at him, trying to focus on his words.

‘…needs to get back into his normal routine. It’s the only way forward. Please ensure he does double piano practice today to make up for yesterday, in addition to his other lessons.’

She blinked at him, suddenly realising what he was saying. ‘You mean Adrien?’

He frowned. ‘Who else?’

Of course. Just…. ‘Doesn’t he get time off to mourn?’

‘He’s had time enough for that. The boy has a weak enough constitution as it is. He needs to move forward – like an Agreste.’

Never had a father sounded so cold.

His frown deepened. ‘You look like you have other ideas.’

She did. ‘Gabriel, I really think –’

‘That’s another thing. While you work for me, I would appreciate it if you would remember to call me sir.’

She flinched like she’d been slapped. Rage curled her fists – yet the usual excuses ran through her head. This was guilt. It had to be. He felt like he’d betrayed Emilie. He didn’t really mean any of this.

Still, her reply came through gritted teeth. ‘Yes, sir. I’ll just clean up here and…pick up your dry cleaning.’

She started to close the door, when he stopped it with his hand. Maybe he’d just heard himself. Maybe he’d comment on last night after all.

‘Nathalie…how are you feeling? You know. Are you…weak?’

‘Weak?’

‘From using the peacock?’

Oh. ‘I’m fine. I took up your suggestion and…released the body.’

His lips parted. ‘And that worked?’

‘It seemed to… sir.’

He had the grace to colour with embarrassment, before giving her a curt nod, businesslike once more. ‘Good. Well, then. I need to prepare for my meeting.’ With another brief nod, he walked away.

Each of his footsteps fell in time with her aching heart.

So, this was how it would be from now on. They just wouldn’t discuss anything.

Of course they wouldn’t. None of the adults in the whole fucking family ever talked about anything they ought to. Why had she imagined anything would change?

Burning inside, she continued to stare into the hallway, at the space Gabriel had occupied. Then she shook out her anger. She had to remember she wasn’t the only victim in this household. Someone else was suffering more.

Partly thanks to her.

With a deep shudder, she exited the room and started down the hall to talk to Adrien – a boy as trapped by Gabriel as she was. A boy who hated his father as much as he loved him.

A boy who, right now, she could passionately relate to.

Chapter Text

Suppressing a yawn, Nathalie sat at the enormous dining table, listening to Adrien read the poem they were analysing today. ‘The Cats’ by Charles Baudelaire.

‘Both ardent lovers and austere scholars,’ Adrien intoned without emotion. ‘Love in their mature years….’

The yawn was in danger of sneaking out. It wasn’t just that she was having trouble sleeping. It was Adrien’s voice while he read. Every word came out dull and quiet – the way it had yesterday. And the day before. And….

No matter what she did to try to jazz up these homeschooling sessions, it had no effect. Nearly half a year had passed since his mother’s death and still Adrien attended these lessons like he was attending a funeral.

He read on.

‘Friends of learning and sensual pleasure,

They seek the silence and the horror of darkness….’

Although his gaze was on his poetry book, his eyes looked glazed, like he was seeing something else. He was reading but his mind was elsewhere, his brain somehow split in two directions. She knew the feeling.

‘When they dream, they assume the noble attitudes

Of the mighty sphinxes stretched out in solitude,

Who seem to fall into a sleep of endless dreams….’

He carried on in the same monotone, until he hit the end of the poem. Then he sat in silence, staring at the book, like he wasn’t even aware that his lips had stopped moving.

In the next seat over, Nathalie studied him, noting the circles under his eyes. The creases in his otherwise youthful skin. The way he slumped at the table. It was like he’d grown at least five years since his mother’s…departure from his life.

She frowned hard, thinking back to the last time she’d tried to talk to Gabriel about what was happening to his son.

‘He’s depressed,’ she’d said.

Gabriel had rolled his eyes. ‘You’re being dramatic – as usual.’

Dramatic. The adjective of choice anytime he wanted to shut the conversation down.

‘I’m serious,’ she’d said. ‘We need to do something for him.’

Maybe he’d heard the urgency in her voice, because he’d finally looked her full in the eyes. His were heavy with his own grief. At last, he’d said, ‘Fine. I’ll arrange for him to do more photo sessions. It will give him more to do – to take his mind off things.’

Her eyes had rounded, a dozen snarky replies hovering on her tongue.

Then she’d left it – because there was no point. Now, she couldn’t even bring herself to be angry at him about it. He wasn’t trying to be cold. He simply didn’t understand. Whatever the cause, he lacked the emotional capacity to give what she needed.

What they both needed.

She blinked at her slip-up, then pushed the idea to the back of her mind, the way she always did. All that mattered right now was Adrien’s lesson. Whether he was taught by her or in a school, he needed his qualifications. Someday, they’d be his ticket out of this poor excuse for a home.

‘So,’ she said. ‘What are your initial thoughts on the poem?’

Adrien didn’t move. It seemed maybe he hadn’t heard her. Then he angled his head, slowly meeting her eyes. ‘What?’

‘The poem. What do you think it’s about?’

‘Oh. I….’ He turned back to the book, his eyes scanning the page as if reading the lines for the first time. ‘Cats?’

She sighed. ‘Adrien.’

‘Sorry.’ He ducked his head, as if ashamed. Rubbing his temples, he looked and looked at the book, as if trying to will the meaning into his mind. Finally, he shook his head. ‘I give up. What’s it about?’

This wasn’t how the lesson was supposed to go. He was meant to look at the poem line by line and tease out the underlying meaning – in pieces, if necessary. But today, she lacked the energy to put him through this.

‘The cats are actually a stand-in for women,’ she said.

He arched an eyebrow. ‘Women?’

‘Yes.

He looked back at the poem, maybe rereading it with this new information in mind. ‘You mean, he’s saying women are lovers and scholars…strong and gentle….’

She nodded. ‘That’s not just my interpretation. In fact, he wrote multiple poems about cats. In some lines, the metaphor becomes quite explicit.’

His nose scrunched up in doubt. ‘Do you relate to this? I mean, do you ever find yourself…seeking silence and the horror of darkness?’

She smiled. ‘I’m not quite sure I would describe it that way. But there are definitely times when I enjoy being alone.’

‘I don’t think that’s a woman thing. My father seems to love being alone.’

She flinched, the usual speech rolling off her tongue without thought. ‘Adrien. Your father doesn’t mean to isolate himself. He’s simply –’

‘Working through his grief in his own way. I know.’ He reeled out the words like a memorised speech.

Time to move things on. ‘I think Baudelaire was suggesting that women can be mysterious. He felt they were difficult to fathom.’

‘Are you sure he wasn’t talking about my father?’

A tiny smile escaped her lips. The boy was so sarcastic sometimes – a little like her, at his age.

The truth was, Adrien was right. Since the funeral – not to mention their encounter – Gabriel had shut himself off more than ever, delivering most of his instructions from a distance. Emails. Texts. Rarely, face to face conversation.

He’d cut himself off from business associates, too – not to speak of the media. The news was rife with speculations about the fashion tycoon going underground with his grief.

The only person he still went out of his way to speak to was Tomoe Tsurugi.

Jealousy burned in Nathalie’s throat, but she focused once again on the lesson. ‘Shall we go through the poem line by line, and look at the words Baudelaire chose to rhyme together?’

‘I guess so.’ Adrien folded his arms on the table, his head heavy.

‘You don’t sound very engaged.’

Maybe he heard something more in her observation, because he sat up straighter. ‘I’m sorry, Nathalie. I’ll do better, I promise.’ He sounded fearful. Like he worried about her reporting his disinterest to his father.

Her frown deepened. ‘Is there something on your mind?’

‘It’s nothing important,’ he said quickly.

‘I’ll be the judge of that.’ She leaned against the table, waiting him out.

His gaze dropped to the poetry book, and he nibbled at his lower lip, maybe considering how honest to be. When he looked up again, he said, ‘Do you enjoy teaching me?’

Her brow rose. ‘Of course I do.’

‘Really? I mean, is this really what you signed up to do?’

She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. ‘When your parents appointed me to look after you, my roles and responsibilities were very clear. I knew what I was agreeing to. There was the option to hire an outside tutor. However, I was already…connected to you. The arrangement made sense.’

Not to mention none of them had ever trusted anyone from the outside to look after Adrien. Now, more than ever, it felt imperative to keep him safe. Ever since she’d used the peacock herself, she kept having dreams – visions – of someone getting hold of one of the rings that contained his amok. Of ways the rings could be damaged and Adrien could be….

Released from existence.

A shudder ran down her spine before she could stop it. Adrien stared back at her, his keen eyes no doubt catching her discomfort. Thank goodness, he seemed to have other things on his mind.

‘That’s not really what I’m saying, Nathalie. What I mean is….’ He glanced away, then locked eyes with her again. ‘I’ve seen your room. I’ve seen the masks on your walls and the photographs of you in exotic locations. You used to be some kind of treasure hunter, or you went on safari or something. Right?’

‘…something like that.’ If only it had been as simple as he made it sound.

‘So how did you end up being my father’s Personal Assistant?’

The question was so blunt that she had to take a moment to process it.

This was one of the many things Gabriel had failed to foresee. That one day, Adrien wouldn’t be a baby. He wouldn’t even be a child. One day, he’d be old enough to notice the oddities around him and draw his own conclusions.

It seemed that day had come.

‘It’s…a very long story, Adrien. As you get older, you’ll see for yourself that no matter how much you plan for things, the universe often has its own ideas. You can never really know which direction your life will go.’

Adrien narrowed his eyes, staring at a point in the air. Then he locked eyes with her again. ‘Do you ever regret the direction your life took you?’

She stiffened in surprise. Even Gabriel – a full-grown adult – had never thought to ask her such things.

Maybe because he didn’t want to know the answer.

She smoothed out her shirt. ‘I don’t see the point in regrets. You can’t change the past.’

‘So, you do regret it.’

‘I didn’t say that.’

Adrien gave her a look that seemed to say, Don’t patronise me. It was one of those moments when she remembered he was Gabriel’s son, after all.

He leaned back in his seat, steepling his fingers on his stomach. ‘I want to go to school.’

The subject change made her stomach flipflop. ‘What?’

‘School. I want to go.’

‘I heard you, but….’ She drew in a long breath, trying to keep her tone neutral. ‘Why?’

‘Because – you’re right. You can’t plan for anything. I mean, my mother was so young. And then, she was just gone. For all I know, I could be next. In the blink of an eye, my life could just – just end. Here one moment, gone the next.’

He said this with such simplicity that her blood chilled. Was it possible that he – could he know? Did he somehow sense the precarious nature of his existence?

‘I don’t want to waste the time I have,’ he said. ‘I want to live.’

She swallowed hard. ‘And that means…going to school?’

He smiled out of one side of his mouth. ‘It means meeting people. Making friends.’ He injected the word with such longing that her heart hurt.

Gabriel’s answer flowed through her lips, in her voice. ‘You have friends. You have Felix. And Chloe.’

‘And no one else. I want – I want more friends. Ones I’ve chosen for myself.’

‘I see. Perhaps we could arrange for you to join more social clubs.’

He shook his head in frustration. ‘It’s more than that, Nathalie. I want – I want to understand.’

‘Understand what?’

‘Everything!’ The word exploded out of him, his voice rising as he continued. ‘I want to see this world you keep teaching me about! I want to explore – and make mistakes – and have an adventure! And something tells me it all starts with going to school.’

He sat up, his eyes dilated with eagerness. ‘Can you talk to my father about it?’

Her mouth hung open, the passion in his voice making her forget how to speak. ‘I – I’m not sure,’ she finally said.

Adrien’s fists balled up, his face contorting with sudden anger, the way his father’s sometimes did. ‘You can’t just keep me here all the time! This isn’t a home. It’s – it’s a graveyard. Everywhere I turn, all I see is my mother. There’s the memorial in the garden. There are paintings all over the house. She stares down at me from every wall. It’s like – it’s like she’s still in the mansion.’

Nathalie clasped her hands tight in her lap. ‘Do you want to forget her?’

‘Oh, Nathalie, of course not. It’s just – she’s everywhere, and yet – no one ever talks about her. My father hardly talks at all. He just hides away and pretends nothing happened. And this didn’t even start when she died. All my life, it’s like – it’s like he didn’t know what to do with me. And now – now he’s just gone. Every day, he gets further and further away.’

His voice grew smaller with each word, as if in mimicry of Gabriel’s distance.

He leaned forward, his gaze pleading. ‘I can’t take it, Nathalie. I feel like I’m living out one of these old, depressing stories you keep making me study. Surely there’s a way to move forward without forgetting. Surely there’s a way to carry my mother with us while we get on with our lives. Otherwise….’

All the energy seemed to drain from his voice as he delivered his crushing conclusion. ‘Why are any of us still here?’

The question sliced through her like a blade, wielded as skilfully as if he were fencing.

For five…maybe eight…maybe eighty seconds, neither of them spoke. The truth was, she couldn’t stand living in the mansion anymore either. Like Adrien, she felt Emilie’s presence with every step.

Because Emilie was still with them – about a hundred metres below their feet.

Adrien let out a long breath, his fingers fidgety with nerves. ‘There’s something else I need to tell you. I’ve…already enrolled somewhere.’

Her jaw dropped. ‘Where?’

‘Chloe’s school. Françoise Dupont. I really want to go.’ His desperation was audible.

She leaned on the edge of the table. The room seemed to be spinning. ‘You’re serious about this.’

‘I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.’ He leaned in further, his eyes supplicating. ‘Please talk to my father for me. Convince him to let me attend.’

Her mouth hung open, a reply not forming. If only it were as easy as he made it sound. But based on every interaction she’d had with Gabriel since the funeral, there was no way he’d –

The sound of her phone ringing cut through her thoughts, nearly startling her out of her skin. She pulled it from her pocket, half expecting it to be Gabriel – as if he were somehow listening in on their discussion.

She exhaled with relief when she saw Amelie’s name on the screen.

‘Excuse me.’ Nathalie took the call. ‘Amelie, how are you?’

‘Oh, Nathalie. Thank God – thank God.’ Amelie’s voice was rough and hoarse.

Nathalie sat up straighter, every nerve on high alert. ‘What’s wrong? Are you okay? Did something happen to Felix?’

Beside her, Adrien’s eyes went wide with worry.

Amelie sniffed before answering. ‘N-no, he’s – it’s –’

Colt. Something had happened to Colt.

Nathalie’s heart seemed to stop, the explanation hitting her even before Amelie gave it.

‘He’s dead,’ Amelie blurted. ‘I woke up and Colt was just – dead.’

Even knowing it was coming, the announcement was like a blow to the chest, making Nathalie fall back in the chair. She was vaguely aware of Adrien beside her, asking her something, but she couldn’t make out the words. The syllables were garbled, like he was speaking a language she’d never learned.

Down the line, Amelie was saying something, too, though it was lost in tears. Maybe tears of shock. Nathalie could hardly make sense of her words either. Thoughts whipped through her head so fast, they made her dizzy.

The peacock – it had taken Emilie. And now it had taken Colt.

After almost the same length of time.

Was that how it worked? Was there a time limit on how long you could survive after using the brooch? Because if there was….

It meant she probably had an expiry date, too.

And it seemed like it was only about thirteen years away.

Chapter Text

At the dining table, Nathalie gripped the phone tight to her ear, her gaze vaguely on Adrien, while she listened to Amelie’s tears down the line. No matter how many times the news repeated in her head, it just wouldn’t sink in.

Colt is dead.

Colt is DEAD.

It wasn’t unexpected. The man had been knocking on death’s door for years. And after Emilie…. It seemed it was only a matter of time. The frayed magic of the broken peacock miraculous had an expiry date – of about thirteen years, apparently.

Beside her, Adrien’s eyes were wide with questions. Questions she couldn’t begin to answer. They’d never been close to Colt. Even so, it was too soon. Too soon. The family had barely recovered from the last funeral. And now….

On the phone, Amelie made an ugly noise. ‘I just – I just woke up and found him there. In the bed with me. I tried to wake him but – I’d been lying there all night, with – with a c-corpse.’

Nathalie shuddered so hard, she nearly dropped the phone. It was bad enough thinking of sharing a bed with Colt when he was alive. ‘How is Felix taking it?’

The questions in Adrien’s eyes grew, and he leaned in, his expression strained like he was trying to hear his aunt through the speaker. An inner voice told Nathalie to turn around, to put her back to him. But she couldn’t make herself do it.

‘He’s…doing better than you might expect,’ Amelie made out.

Unlikely. In fact, Nathalie expected he was having a private celebration, given the way the man treated him.

Had treated him.

My god – Colt is really dead.

Amelie sniffed hard, then let out a loud breath. When she spoke again, her voice was clearer. Stronger. ‘I don’t even know why I’m crying. I’ve wasted so much of my energy on that man as it is. God knows he doesn’t need it from me in death. I just – I need to put him to rest, then move on. The funeral is the day after tomorrow. Will you be there?’

Adrien’s brow shot up at the word funeral, obviously able to hear.

‘I’ll…have to speak to Gabriel,’ Nathalie said.

Amelie made a noise of disgust. ‘You shouldn’t need his permission to go to a funeral.’

‘I know,’ Nathalie said, maybe too quickly. ‘But you know I’m responsible for Adrien. And his father might not….’

She trailed off there, unable to finish her sentence. Every word sounded weak to her own ears – like an excuse.

Amelie was quiet down the line. The kind of quiet that carried judgment and pity and resignation all at once.

After a long time, she said, ‘Maybe I’m not the only one who needs to move forward.’

Nathalie winced, meeting Adrien’s eyes. His expression was hard and indecipherable. Too controlled. Like his father when he was fighting to maintain diplomacy at business meetings.

She looked away, refocusing on the phone call. ‘Amelie….’

‘I’m sorry,’ Amelie blurted, her voice softer now. ‘I’m just – I don’t –’

‘I know.’

They lapsed into silence, the auditory void heaving with all the things they weren’t saying. Amelie wasn’t just some sudden widow. She was free. No more parents. No more husband. No more expectations. Finally, her life was hers.

But mine isn’t.

Amelie let out a heavy sigh. ‘I should let you go.’ The classic British way of saying, I don’t want to continue this conversation.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. I need to notify the family lawyer and work out the details of the will and…. There’s just – there’s a lot. I want to take Felix out, too. Do something nice for him, now that….’

Now that she could.

‘I understand,’ Nathalie said. ‘But please, ring me if you need anything.’

‘Thank you, Nathalie.’ The warmth was heavy in her voice – as was the pity. As soon as they ended this call, Amelie would begin to move forward with her life. But Nathalie would still be in this mansion, pursuing a career completely at odds with her ambitions.

She’d still be Gabriel’s Personal Assistant.

When the call ended, Nathalie didn’t move. Then she slowly pocketed her phone, leaving her bubble of shock and willing herself to look at Adrien again – to meet the inquisition head-first.

He leapt on the opportunity. ‘Uncle Colt is dead?’ There was no grief in his voice, but there was compassion. For Amelie. For Felix. Maybe even for Colt.

‘Yes,’ she said. The syllable came out with more sympathy than the man deserved. It seemed impossible that he was no longer in the world. Just as it was impossible that Emilie was gone. Or that she would one day….

She pressed her hands hard on the table, pushing herself onto her feet. ‘I need to speak to your father.’

He stood too. ‘I’m going with you.’

‘Adrien –’ Whatever else she planned to say, it dried up in her throat when she saw the steel in his eyes. The truth was, the boy was as stubborn as his father. There would be no talking him out of this.

Her head dropped in resignation. ‘Alright. Come on, then.’

He flashed her a look of heart-melting gratitude. But it was painfully premature. There was no way this conversation would go well.

Abandoning the textbooks, Nathalie led him out of the dining room, heading for Gabriel’s office. She knocked on the door, Amelie’s news cycling through her head while she waited for a response.

Then Gabriel’s voice shot through the door like an arrow. ‘Enter.’

Nathalie jolted at his cold tone, designed for a servant rather than a…friend. But maybe – maybe she deserved it. After all, she was the one who’d found the peacock miraculous. She had translated the grimoire. No, she hadn’t forced Emilie or Colt to use the damn thing. But ultimately, she was accountable for this mess.

That’s why I’m going to die.

I’m…going…to die.

‘Nathalie?’ Adrien’s voice pulled her out of her head, his concerned expression making her warm with embarrassment.

She put on her most businesslike smile, then turned back to the door, forcing herself to open it. They crossed the long floor, stopping in front of his father’s podium and waiting to be acknowledged.

Gabriel looked up, his brow furrowed with irritation as he processed their appearance. ‘Yes?’

Nathalie clasped her hands behind her back – a habit she’d picked up from him. ‘I just had a call from Amelie.’

‘…and?’

‘And…Colt is dead.’

Gabriel’s eyes flew wide, before contracting. ‘I see.’ He glanced at Adrien, no doubt wondering why she’d seen fit to bring him in here when there was no way they could discuss the details in his presence.

As if sensing that was his cue, Adrien asked, ‘How – how did he die?’

Now, Gabriel’s gaze flew to her. There was a message in there – confirmation of what she’d already suspected. He was leaving it to her to offer an answer.

Biting back bitterness, she turned to Adrien. ‘You know your uncle was very ill. He simply…didn’t get better.’

‘Like my mother,’ he said in a dull voice. The voice of someone who’d lost all faith in miracles.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Just…like your mother.’

She locked eyes with Gabriel again, hating him for his silence. For leaving it up to her to parent the child his wife had died to bring into the world.

‘The funeral is the day after tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Amelie would like us to attend.’

Gabriel screwed up his face like the suggestion disgusted him. ‘Why would I go to the funeral for a man I couldn’t stand?’

Even Adrien flinched.

Nathalie drew in a breath. ‘This isn’t really about Colt. Amelie and Felix –’

‘I’m too busy,’ Gabriel said. ‘You know my schedule. Adrien has an important photoshoot that day, too.’

Adrien’s mouth dropped open. ‘I do?’

‘Yes. It can’t be missed.’ It was obvious he’d made it up on the spot.

Nathalie took a step forward. ‘Gabriel –’

‘Sir.’

She stilled, the syllable like a slap. Then she lifted her chin, anger making her muscles tight. ‘Sir – Adrien has a right to attend his uncle’s funeral.’

Gabriel shook his head. ‘It’s too soon. He doesn’t need another funeral to attend. He’s staying here and attending the photoshoot. You’ll just have to make our apologies to Amelie.’

Adrien’s fists clenched, his face flushed with emotion. ‘So that’s it? You’re just going to lock me up here forever?’

Nathalie sucked in a breath, not just at Adrien’s brazenness but at the cool look Gabriel turned on him.

‘Lock you up?’ Gabriel said. ‘No one’s –’

‘Yes, you are,’ Adrien snapped. ‘All you do is control me. You never let me do anything!’

Gabriel narrowed his eyes, studying his son. ‘Adrien. You have this all wrong. This isn’t about control. I’m protecting you.’

‘No, you’re hiding me! You won’t let me leave the house without a bodyguard. You won’t let me make my own friends. Now you won’t even let me go to my uncle’s funeral! You’re so busy thinking about what’s best for me, you never stop to ask what I want!’

The words ripped out, leaving him breathless, his chest heaving with rage. He stared at his father in open shock – maybe at himself.

Gabriel stared back, that cool expression never leaving his face. Perhaps he was intrigued to see how far the boy would take things.

Holding her breath, Nathalie’s gaze darted between them – until Adrien growled in frustration, cutting the silence. Perhaps sensing there was no persuading his father, he pushed past Nathalie, his shoes making a cold sound as they hurried across the tiled floor. He flung himself out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind him.

The sound made Nathalie jump. Soon, she heard the back door slam, too. Adrien had gone into the garden.

When she finally turned back to Gabriel, he’d removed his glasses and was pinching his brow like he had a headache forming.

He slid his glasses back on, his voice weary. ‘What the hell was that about? As far as I’m aware, he didn’t like Colt either. I honestly can’t imagine who did.’

She couldn’t either. ‘I don’t think it was really about the funeral. Earlier, he…. He told me he wants to enrol at Chloe’s school.’

Gabriel’s mouth fell open. ‘School?’

‘Yes. He asked me to speak to you about it.’

He blinked at her, as if trying to understand a foreign language. ‘Surely you didn’t entertain the boy’s ideas.’

She pressed her lips together. ‘Speaking freely…sir…I understand where he’s coming from.’ Especially after Gabriel’s ruling regarding Colt’s funeral.

Gabriel gave her the look – like he wanted to tell her to fuck off, but he was also painfully aware that he couldn’t function without her. He shook his head. ‘The current arrangement is perfectly suitable. You’re a fine tutor, Nathalie. I have the utmost admiration for your abilities.’

Her heart heaved with pride, chased with a large dose of self-disgust. ‘Thank you. However, this isn’t about his education. He wants friends.’

‘He has friends.’

‘I mean beyond just Chloe and Felix. He wants to see the world – like you and Emilie did. Like I did.’

Too late, she heard her mistake. Gabriel went rigid, his eyes icy with disapproval. ‘Nathalie, please don’t tell me you told him you relate.’

‘Of course not. But –’

‘Because I would remind you that as much as I respect you, you are not his mother. You will never replace Emilie.’

Mortification made her skin burn. Behind her back, she clutched her hands tightly together. ‘I’m not trying to.’

Perhaps he was regretting the harshness of his words, because he didn’t respond.

And she didn’t give him any further chance to try. Almost vibrating with rage, she turned and left the room, letting the door slam the way Adrien had.

Only when she was safely in her bedroom did she let the emotions hit her. Eyes watering, she stared around, searching for an outlet, finally hurling herself on her bed and punching it so hard, it made a sound.

‘I HATE THAT MAN!’

It felt good to say it out loud. The declaration had been lingering on her tongue ever since the morning after…after he’d used her. FUCK! He’d used her as a proxy for his wife, and then he’d discarded her.

And he didn’t even have the balls to admit it – to tell her it was a mistake made in grief. He just pretended it never fucking happened. As if she never happened. As if –

Growling, she heaved herself off the bed, anger propelling her to her wardrobe. She flung open the doors, yanking out outfit after designer fucking outfit, every last one of them marked with the Gabriel G. His way of branding her.

His words echoed in her mind.

‘You will never replace Emilie.’

Who was he trying to convince? Himself? Because he was the one who’d turned out the lights when they’d had sex. He was the one who’d fucking CALLED HER EMILIE!

Blazing with fury, she gripped two ends of a blouse, tugging hard. But it wouldn’t tear – a testament to the high fucking quality of the range.

She tossed it aside, moving on to a tailored dress she once wore to a business event. Once because that was what Gabriel was like. Wasteful. Decadent. He didn’t value anything.

The dress wouldn’t rip, either. God, this fucking fabric, with its five fucking layers. If she couldn’t claw the fucking garment with her nails, maybe she could take scissors to it and cut it to fucking ribbons and decorate his fucking office with the –

She cried out, dropping the dress as arms wrapped around her. The door must have opened without her noticing, and Gabriel had – he was –

‘Shh.’ He murmured it into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. Longing warred with revulsion. It was a good thing she wasn’t holding scissors now or she might –

She drew in a deep breath, her voice low and threatening. ‘Let – me – go.’

He didn’t obey. In fact, he held her tighter…then began trailing a long finger down one of her arms. ‘I’m sorry, Nathalie. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean those harsh words downstairs. I’m just…I’m a mess.’

Heartache dripped from his voice, even as he pressed hard against her back, his body giving different signals.

‘It’s only been five months,’ he said, his mouth so close to her neck. ‘That’s not long enough to move on. Not long enough at all. But when I think about it….’ His voice cracked over the words, the admission stalling in his throat.

‘You lost her years ago,’ she finished for him.

He let out a pained sigh that she felt in her bones. ‘After the funeral…when we…. I betrayed her. If I move on, I….’

Nathalie’s eyes stung with emotions she didn’t want to feel. She weakened in his grasp, her voice softening against her will. ‘I don’t expect to replace her, Gabriel. I don’t want to replace her. You were right, before. I’m not her. I never will be her. All I want you to see is me.’

The statement came out more desperate than intended, her heart pounding as she waited for Gabriel to reply. But all he did was hold her, his finger still stroking her arm…up…and down.

Then he slowly turned her around.

He cupped her face with both hands, staring deep into her eyes. The midday light in the room streamed through, so it was impossible to hide. This time, he was looking at her. When he leaned in to kiss her, electricity sparked in her blood. This felt nothing like the last time he’d kissed her.

She threw her arms around his neck, kissing him hard in return. Kissing him with all the longing she’d carried inside for nearly half a year – alongside the hatred.

He made a hungry noise that was all hers. ‘Nathalie,’ he gasped against her mouth. ‘Nathalie, Nathalie, Nathalie….’

Feverish with desire, she pressed herself against him, threading her fingers through his hair. A small voice murmured in her mind that this was wrong – this was a mistake – this would only make things worse.

But she ignored it.

Taking the lead, she pushed Gabriel across the room and shoved him onto the bed, relishing the flash of surprise in his eyes. Then she climbed on top of him, every movement controlled – and controlling.

This time, there would be no denying who he was with.

This time, he’d get a taste of the Nathalie who’d existed before she’d known Gabriel.

This time, he would be the servant.

Chapter Text

As the early afternoon light drifted through her bedroom window, Nathalie lay in her bed, wrapped in Gabriel’s embrace. His arms were loose around her body, holding her to his chest like she was a valuable possession. Ear pressed to his skin, she could hear the steady in…and out…of his breath, paired with a strong beat that proved he had a heart after all.

The scent of sex and expensive cologne filled her senses, her own heart still racing. Whatever they’d done the day of the funeral…this had been different. This time, she hadn’t felt Emilie’s shadow hovering in the corners of the room. This time, there had only been them.

She closed her eyes, replaying every detail in her mind. Despite Gabriel’s normally severe manner, his touch had been gentle. Considerate. There had been passion, but there had been softness, too – and almost desperate longing.

For her.

And when they’d reached the inevitable climax, something had become blazingly clear. What they’d shared wasn’t just sex. It was teamwork.

Now, as his fingers ran slow circles over her arm, one thought repeated in her head.

He’s mine.

As much as he owned her, at last it seemed she owned him, too – just as Emilie had wanted. This was their chance to start over. To work for a better future, not overshadowed with illness. At least, until….

Until it was Nathalie’s turn to go.

A chill made her body spasm against his, and Gabriel shifted position, turning to her. When they locked eyes, she was transported again to when they’d first met on that river. Even now, it felt like she was being dragged downstream to some unknown destination.

He smiled a little, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead that made her want to weep. This was the Gabriel she’d always hoped existed beneath the surface. This was the man she’d pinned all her hopes on for so many years. It wasn’t delusion – he was real.

If only she could make him show this side to Adrien. Then they might find a way to be a happy family. The idea made her tingle all over, feeding a need she’d once believed she didn’t have.

Gabriel nudged her aside, propping himself up on his elbow so he could see her better. He reached for her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. ‘Do you forgive me?’ he asked, his voice soft as feathers.

A week ago – a day ago – she would’ve laughed at the question. Even now, a voice in her head told her to be careful. To leave him wondering. But her mouth said, ‘Yes.’

A slow smile stretched across his face, and he leaned in to kiss her again, his lips lingering on hers. Her body was stirring again, moving closer to him, almost possessed with a need to be closer.

He drew back, putting a little distance between them even as he stroked her cheek. ‘Thank God. I’d hate for you to be unhappy with me, Nathalie. I need you. I don’t know how I’ll do what I need to do if you’re not by my side.’

Something about the way he said this made her go still, all the warmth leaving her. Despite what they’d just shared, she grabbed the duvet and pulled it up over her chest like a shield. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked slowly.

His smile widened, his eyes glittering like a child’s on Christmas morning. As if coming to some decision, he sat up. ‘There’s something I want to show you. Get dressed.’ It came out like one of his work commands.

Nathalie remained where she was, watching as he jumped to his feet, more than six feet of bare skin that had just been rubbing against her own. Just like that, he’d transformed back into the other Gabriel. Even undressed, he seemed clothed, wrapped in the many layers of his own ego.

Her heart panged, already mourning his tender touches and husky whispers of devotion. It was wrong to want someone this much – but she did. She didn’t want to think what she might do to have the other Gabriel back.

Unable to bear the expectant way he was staring at her, she eased herself onto the feet. Standing naked in front of him, she felt more exposed than she should, given what they’d done. But this wasn’t the man she’d had sex with. This wasn’t the man she’d shared her body with.

She looked away, fumbling with her clothes, putting them on as quickly as she could. Behind, she heard the rustling of fabric as he dressed too. When she turned to face him again, he was impeccably put together. He smoothed down his hair, leaving no trace of their previous tumble. It was easy to believe it hadn’t happened.

With another smile, he put out his hand for her – an order disguised as an invitation. She hesitated, then accepted, allowing herself to be led out of her room. Under other circumstances, it might have been romantic, but right now her heart was thumping with inexplicable fear.

In the hall, she cast a look at Adrien’s shut bedroom door. She’d forgotten him, in the heat of passion.

At some point, he must have come inside from the garden. In a house as big as this, hopefully he hadn’t heard them. Likely he suspected something was happening between her and his father, anyway. He wasn’t a little boy anymore, and he was particularly keen for his age.

As usual, Gabriel didn’t appear to have the slightest interest in Adrien. He all but pulled Nathalie past and down the stairs, eagerness speeding up his steps.

This is the man you love, a voice spoke in Nathalie’s head. Take a long, good look at him. REALLY look at him.

She did, noting the feverish glint in his eyes, and the way he ignored her pained noises as he dragged her along. There was no sense of malicious intent. More like a child so wrapped up in himself that he didn’t even stop to think that he might be hurting her.

Or anyone else.

He didn’t let go of her until they were in his office, standing in front of Emilie’s painting. Nathalie stared up at it, feeling the sting of guilt. Not even six months had passed, and she’d already bedded the woman’s husband – twice. Even if Emilie had urged her to do it, to make him forget her….

I’m sorry, Emilie.

Emilie didn’t reply.

Gabriel reached for the painting, touching it the same way he’d touched Nathalie upstairs – with a tenderness that made her sick with jealousy. She clasped her hands together, biting her tongue while he pressed the right spots on the painting. Then the floor dropped beneath them, taking them down to the basement.

It seemed they were going to visit the real Emilie.

The sickness grew, now in danger of rising up her throat. She clutched her hands together even more tightly, holding herself as far away from Gabriel as was possible in that cramped space. Suddenly, the thought of him touching her was unbearable – inconceivable. Whatever had happened upstairs, it hadn’t really been about them. Gabriel had still been thinking of his wife.

God, why couldn’t she just die?

The thought made her gasp, the sound muffled by the lift doors opening, giving a clear view of the runway that led to Emilie’s resting place.

Oblivious, Gabriel stepped out of the lift, without looking back to check she was following. Nathalie lingered behind, trying to make sense of the ugliness of her own thoughts. The nausea was thicker than ever, the guilt like thorns in her heart.

Finally, she exited the lift, reluctant curiosity drawing her forward. She was halfway down the runway when something brushed against her cheek, making her jump. Then another something touched her, and she squinted in the darkness, her blood running cold.

The air was teeming with wings.

She stopped mid-step, her heart pounding harder than ever. ‘Gabriel….’ Her own voice sounded foreign to her ears. ‘What are they?’

‘Butterflies,’ he threw over his shoulder.

The chill sank deeper into her bones. Butterflies. Just like in her nightmare. The one where Emilie’s corpse had come for her.

Was this a nightmare? Had she never woken up? Was she still lying in Gabriel’s arms in that bed upstairs? Or had she dreamt that, too?

‘Come on,’ Gabriel said. He was already on the platform at the end of the runway.

Gazing around, Nathalie forced herself to carry on. When she reached the platform, she stopped a metre from the coffin. Thank God, the lid was shut, covering the glass and hiding the body inside. Perfect. Immaculate. Unchanging.

Someday, when Nathalie’s time came, maybe there’d be a second coffin down here to keep Emilie company.

Her chest tightened, her attention drawn by the sound of a door unlocking. Following the noise, she found Gabriel behind the foliage growing over the platform. He was holding open a door, unlocked by some kind of security panel.

Perhaps the strangest thing was that she was surprised. The man had built a secret basement, for fuck’s sake. God, he’d cryogenically frozen his wife! Of course he’d installed a secret door down here. Next, he’d tell her it led to his private lair, like supervillains had in those comic books Placide was always reading.

The nausea had faded, replaced with the threat of hysteria. If she didn’t get a hold of herself, she was going to burst out laughing and never stop.

Still not seeming to notice her reaction, Gabriel ducked through the doorway, leading her into a tunnel. Judging by the smell, it was part of the city sewer system. How many city planning regulations had he violated when he’d built his damned basement?

Again, she nearly laughed, throwing her hand over her mouth to stop herself. She pressed her lips together as she walked, keeping a lookout for danger – as if the danger wasn’t right in front of her.

‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked.

‘I purchased another building nearby for a project.’

Her brow lifted. ‘What kind of project?’

‘You’ll see soon enough.’

Exactly what a supervillain would say.

At the end of the tunnel was another door, with another security panel. He entered a code, and the door opened, revealing a second lift. Suddenly, the idea of him having a secret lair didn’t seem like such a joke.

With tentative steps, she followed him in, every nerve on high alert as they shot upwards. Too soon, they rose into a dimly lit room. As far as she could tell, it was just an empty dome. But there would be more. There had to be more.

‘Gabriel, what is this?’ she demanded, unable to mask the anxiety in her voice.

‘The place where the next phase of my life begins.’

She opened her mouth to ask him what the hell that meant – when he reached into his jacket. Breathless, she watched him pull out….

The butterfly brooch.

Oh my god.

Oh my sweet, sweet god.

As he pinned the brooch on his lapel, memories resurfaced – of the last time she’d seen him use it, maybe fourteen years ago. Of when he’d used it on her, drawing out the desire she felt for him.

Emilie had scolded him, and the brooch had been locked away in the safe.

At least, that’s what she’d thought. Now, every instinct was screaming at her that it had never been kept in there. This wasn’t the only time he’d used its power.

With the brooch secured, Nooroo flew out, the kwami of transmission. His expression was glum and his head hung as if he carried a great weight. Everything about him gave off a message of, Please don’t make me do this again.

‘Nooroo!’ Gabriel called out as if he were on a stage. ‘Dark wings, rise!’

Nathalie took a step back, shielding herself against a flash of purple light. When it cleared, Gabriel had transformed, his clothing replaced with a suit of deep purple. The lapels were large and ostentatious, shaped like butterfly wings. The moulding of his mask was also reminiscent of a butterfly, and in his hand was a long cane.

Again, the voice murmured in her mind. This is the man you love, Nathalie. Take a good…LONG…look at him….

As if he’d heard her thoughts, Gabriel gestured at his costume. ‘What do you think? Am I still devastatingly handsome?’

She stared at him. And stared at him. He was devastatingly something, alright. ‘What’s this about, Gabriel?’

His face dropped with disappointment, and he leaned on his cane. ‘As you know, I’ve been studying the grimoire. I’ve had several private conversations with Nooroo, too, and I finally understand my power.’

She blinked at him. ‘Your power?’

‘Mm. You see, when I’m transformed. I don’t just feel emotions. I can use them.’ He clenched one of his fists, as if he’d just captured something only he could see.

She shivered. She’d long suspected this extension of the butterfly’s power. ‘Use them how?’

Gabriel smiled and popped open the top of his cane. Out flew a butterfly. She dodged it when it came near. Whatever that thing was, it wasn’t normal.

‘That’s an akuma,’ Gabriel explained. ‘A little worker of chaos, charged with my intentions. It will seek out whatever target I select, and merge with them to grant them…a gift. Powers of my choosing.’

He rattled all of this off like it made sense. Like they weren’t standing in the fucking Batcave and talking about magically imbued insects.

The butterfly flitted around her head, and she swatted it away. ‘You really believe you can do all that?’

‘I know I can,’ Gabriel said. ‘I did it to the workmen Tomoe and I hired to build this place. The process had some…beneficial side effects. None of them remember the job.’

The workmen…side effects…Tomoe….

Jealousy burned like acid in her throat.

She swallowed it down. ‘And…what? You plan on doing this to other people?’

‘Indeed.’

‘Why?’

He gave her a look that suggested he’d expected her to catch on sooner. ‘If the people of Paris are in danger, it will force the ladybug and black cat miraculous holders out of hiding. Then….’

‘You can take their miraculous.’ She half whispered the words. ‘You’re still intent on making the Wish.’

‘Nothing can stop me,’ Gabriel said.

‘But – I thought….’

He gave her a pitying look that stopped her dead in her tracks. ‘I care about you, Nathalie – but I made Emilie a vow. Til death do us part – not just hers but mine. I will not give up on her.’

The declaration made her head spin, and an old idea came to her. Something she’d once thought long ago – that he was a witch fattening her up for the oven. Years on, he was still doing it. Every time he touched her…every time he was kind to her…he was just fattening her up.

I’m the sacrifice for when he makes the Wish.

I’m the one who must die to let Emilie live.

When she locked eyes with him, the confirmation was there. Whatever they’d shared today had been as short-lived as a butterfly.

Drawing in a deep breath, she looked around the room – the dome. ‘How long did this take to set up?’

‘Years.’ He sounded like he expected her to admire his dedication.

She only shook her head. ‘So. This is how you wasted your time while your wife was dying.’

He flinched. For all his supposed power, he actually flinched.

That laughter was back in her throat. There was so much she could say to him – so much she could tell him. That he was a fool. That he was ungrateful. That even with all his vision, he couldn’t see what was right in front of him.

But there was no point trying to convince a madman – because that was what he was. There was no way to unsee it, now. Not when he was dressed like – like that.

She lifted her chin. ‘Take me back to the mansion.’

‘Natha –’

‘I said TAKE. ME. BACK.’

Again, he recoiled, staring at her like she was the one who’d transformed. Like she was the one who’d lost her mind and spent her spare time talking to insects. Then he dropped his transformation, removing the brooch without allowing Nooroo to speak.

Silent, he led her back down through the floor – through the tunnels – through the basement. There was no excitement in his eyes, as there’d been on the way to the dome. In fact, he looked downright morose. Like a child in a sulk.

When they were in his office, he reached for her, like he had some right to touch her. ‘Nathalie –’

She jerked out of his reach, freezing him with a look of revulsion. A sickening mix of satisfaction and sadness roiled in her heart as she read the hurt in his face.

‘I…have to go,’ she said, willing her voice not to crack. ‘I have quite a lot to do today. I need to finish Adrien’s lessons, then collect your dry cleaning, and then –’

‘It can wait.’

Her lips parted in surprise. Gabriel…was telling her that her work could wait?

She clasped her hands behind her back. ‘Pardon me, sir…but I don’t believe it can. You see, some of us are still living in the real world. And unfortunately, that includes picking up your dry cleaning.’

His eyes widened at her tone – and she turned away, unable to stand looking at him anymore. Even out of the costume, he was still something she didn’t recognise. Or maybe…maybe she recognised him a little too well.

She crossed the room, fighting to keep her steps slow and even. When she made it through the door, she released the breath she’d been holding – and the tears. They slid down her face without control.

With an angry grunt, she wiped them away. Then she all but ran across the foyer and up the stairs, still feeling the brush of butterflies against her skin.

Chapter Text

That night, Nathalie dreamt she was in the dome with Gabriel again – his secret lair.

She was barely clothed, wearing only a miniscule nightdress that skimmed her hips and left little to the imagination. Yet somehow, she didn’t feel sexy. As Gabriel stared at her, it felt like he was seeing not just beneath the fabric but beneath her skin, stripping her to the bone with his gaze. Perhaps he could even see the fearful thoughts racing through her mind.

If he could, he didn’t comment – at least, not with words. Instead, he gave her a lazy smile, his eyes like slits. Then he threw his arms out wide and raised his gaze to the ceiling, as though addressing the gods.

‘Dark wings, rise!’

On command, he was enveloped in purple. The colour of royalty. The colour of the crown chakra. The supposed auric colour of people with heightened spiritual awareness, psychic abilities, and empathy.

In every way, Gabriel was not the right holder for such power. Transformed, his violet suit was as sleek and stylish as anything he designed for his fashion range – and just as calculated to seduce. Staring at him was like staring into the eyes of a snake, hypnotic as it sized up its prey. 

With the confidence of a man who didn’t just think but knew he looked good, he flicked open the top of his cane, and a butterfly flew out. It flitted about the room like it was lost. When it flew Nathalie’s way, intuition made her swat it aside, a sense of revulsion she couldn’t explain. It came at her again, like a moth dancing around a flame.

Gabriel – or whatever ungodly name he’d given this new persona – stepped towards her, standing close enough to touch her. His blue gaze was cool and probing, completely at odds with the needful way he’d looked at her when they were in bed yesterday. When their bodies had been locked together the way she wished their hearts were.

The butterfly flew at her again, and she moved to brush it aside – but Gabriel grabbed her arm, stopping her. His grip was firm, if not painful, but his voice was soft.

‘Don’t fight it, Nathalie. Let it in. Let me in. Isn’t that what you wanted all these years?’

He said this so innocently that part of her wanted to say yes. That was what she wanted. At last, he recognised it. At last, he wanted the same thing.

Then her gaze widened, seeing beyond the eyes to the mask that now sheathed his face – and she remembered. What he wanted was his wife. And he’d already demonstrated that he’d do anything to get her back.

She jerked her arm free, taking a step back – but he came forward again, flanked by not just one butterfly but dozens.

Now hundreds.

Now thousands. They were multiplying before her eyes.

Shielding herself with her arm, she tried to ward the unnatural creatures off. But there were so many, their wings beating in time with her racing heart. It was an ugly noise, as ugly as the love she still felt for the man who’d summoned these awful insects.

‘Gabriel,’ she said, squinting as she fought off those fluttering wings. ‘Gabriel, why are you – why are you doing this to me?’

‘They won’t hurt you, Nathalie. Relax. Give in to my akumas.’ His voice seemed to buzz.

‘No. No, I –’ She clamped her mouth shut, feeling the tickle of insect legs at her lips, seeking entrance.

Disgust worked its way up her throat, and she hunched down, covering her head. Before she knew it, she was on the floor, covering her face with her hands. She could feel tiny wings beating against her back, and legs crawling all over her body.

Her stomach spasmed, and she held herself – when a sharpness in her head made her gasp.

As if on command, the butterflies darted away. Yet the crawling feeling didn’t leave. Now it was in her mind, like someone was sifting through her thoughts, searching for what they wanted. It was a feeling she recognised – from the last time Gabriel had used the butterfly on her, when they’d first recovered the miraculous.

‘Please – stop!’ Her words sounded weak even to her, as ineffectual as she’d ever been. She clawed at her scalp, trying to force his energy out of her head.

But he was too strong.

‘My dear Nathalie.’ His tone was still maddeningly serene. ‘Why won’t you just give in? Allow me to have this. Allow me to have you.’

The force in her mind intensified, and she let out a low moan as he dug harder through her thoughts. Powerless to stop it, a montage of memories and thoughts flew through her mind, laid bare for him to see.

The young girl eager to be accepted by her mother, only to have her heart removed.

The years spent adventuring, seeking something that might replace what had been stolen from her.

The seesaw of desire and revulsion she felt for him.

‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘Yes, Nathalie. Open it all up to me.’

Like a wrecking ball, she felt his words smashing through any walls that remained. If she didn’t do something soon, there would be no secrets left. Nothing she could claim to be wholly hers.

How – how had she allowed herself to fall this far? How did she stop it?

Hands touched her shoulders, lifting her so she was sitting and forcing her to meet Gabriel’s eyes. The butterflies were hovering around them like a protective circle. A ring to hold her – a spirit summoned to do his bidding.

Kneeling before her, Gabriel’s expression was unnervingly tender. And when he spoke, the words were inside her head, as if his voice had taken over her internal monologue.

‘You’ve been fighting for so long. But you don’t have to, anymore. Just let me take control – like I always do.’

His expression morphed, his eyes now deadly, his nails digging into her arms. The pressure seemed to be draining her, sapping all her remaining strength. Her vision pulsed in and out, and she felt herself falling, falling against him.

As if that were a cue they’d been waiting for, the butterflies swarmed her again, coating her, encasing her. This time, she didn’t fight it. Her whole body went limp, and she surrendered to the purple –

A purple that was so vivid, she could still see it as consciousness returned her to the waking world.

Unmoving, she lay in her bed, enveloped in the colour, floating in it until it cleared and she was staring at her white ceiling.

After a long time, she sat up, rubbing her eyes as she took in the details of the room. Her room. Not some secret lair installed by her employer…her lover…her….

What the hell even was he, now?

The image of his masked face filled her mind, and she shook it away, studying the bed. The place where he’d held her just yesterday – where he’d clasped her in his arms and murmured her name over and over again, like he feared she might disappear if he stopped.

Longing stirred in her body, quickly quelled by the memory of the butterflies. The thought was like cold water thrown over her head, making her clamber out of the bed and head for the bathroom.

At the sink, she splashed water over her face, trying to clear the images from her eyes. But they were still there, as clear as they’d been in her sleep. Even when she stepped into the shower and switched it on, her nightmare replayed in her mind.

She gripped her scalp, trying to purge the vision.

It wasn’t real. It was just a dream. Not some omen or prophetic vision, but a dream. It didn’t mean anything. Gabriel may be a little…eccentric…but he wasn’t going to use the butterfly on her. As he’d said himself – he needed her. Maybe not the way she’d hoped, but….

She scowled at herself. Why was she still thinking about this? She just – she needed to focus on her schedule for the day. On something normal. She had too much to do to waste time worrying about potentially evil butterfly men.

Like a whole day of lessons to get through with the evil butterfly man’s son.

Finishing her shower, she dried herself and dressed for the day. Then she left her room, heading down the hall to fetch Adrien.

When he didn’t answer the door, a bad feeling crept under her skin.

She knocked a second time. ‘Adrien?’

Again, there was no reply.

Usually, she respected his privacy. Now, she eased open the door, expecting to find him ill in bed.

But he wasn’t there.

In fact, he was nowhere in his room, not even in the adjoining bathroom.

Her lungs were tightening, like the beginnings of a panic attack, and she scowled at herself again. She was being ridiculous. He was probably just at breakfast or something. He was a teenager, for god’s sake. Despite all his father’s efforts to control him, he was bound to go off schedule from time to time.

Straightening out her suit, she turned for the door, prepared to march downstairs – when something caught her attention. A slip of paper sitting on his pillow, so small that she hadn’t noticed it before.

That feeling of unease deepened, every instinct telling her not to pick up the paper. But her feet were already moving her towards it, and her hand was reaching for it, bringing it up to her face. Just as she’d feared, it was a note, scrawled in Adrien’s elegant handwriting.

I’m sorry, Nathalie. Please understand. I HAVE to do this.

She dropped the note, the paper fluttering to the bed like butterfly wings. Ice filled her veins as the pieces slotted into place.

He’d gone to Chloe’s school, where he’d enrolled without permission.

If she didn’t stop him, Gabriel would kill him.

Heart pounding, she ran from his room and down the stairs, almost slipping on the tiles of the foyer. Undeterred, she bolted out of the mansion, to the car. Placide was leaning against it, reading one of his comic books. He looked up at her in surprise as she ran over.

She hurled open the car door. ‘Françoise Dupont – now.’

Placide’s eyes widened, and he slipped into the driver’s seat, as talkative as ever.

In the backseat, Nathalie drummed her fingers on her thighs as the car pulled out of the Agreste property. If she could just catch Adrien before he got to that school – if she could just bring him home before Gabriel found out – everything would be fine. Absolutely fine.

Except….

It wouldn’t.

Because Adrien wouldn’t be fine. When he’d talked about going to school yesterday, there’d been so much passion in his eyes, a kind of fire she rarely saw in him. If she held him back from this….

It might crush him.

But if she allowed it, Gabriel would crush him.

She growled, drawing a glance from Placide in the rearview mirror. Fucking Gabriel, imagining he knew what was ‘best’ for the boy. All Adrien wanted was friends. What the hell kind of parent got angry with a child for wanting to go to school?

The kind who isn’t in his right mind.

Again, the memory of Gabriel in that outrageous costume flashed in her mind, and she looked out the window to distract herself – her heart leaping into her throat as she spotted Adrien running down the road towards the school.

‘Stop the car!’ Nathalie ordered, rolling down the window.

Placide pulled the car up at the kerb, and Nathalie yelled, ‘Adrien!’

He stumbled, his eyes large with surprise – and fear. Then his face hardened with determination, and he started running again. ‘Don’t try to stop me, Nathalie! Go away!’

Without instruction, Placide started rolling the car forward to keep up with him. They’d almost reached the front entrance to the school.

‘Please don’t do this!’ Nathalie called through the window. ‘Adrien, please reconsider! You know what your father wants!’

‘But this is what I want!’ Avoiding her gaze, he kept running, as obstinate as the man he was defying.

Cursing under her breath, Nathalie slammed her fist on the doorframe. What the hell was she meant to do about this? Leap out of the car and physically drag him back? March into the school office and tell him no, his father did not want him to leave the house and interact with other children? Or maybe –

Her thoughts derailed at the sound of someone crying out. It was an old man, Chinese, hunched over on the pavement outside the school. Beside him was a fallen walking stick. It must have slipped out of his grasp, sending him tumbling onto the ground.

Both Adrien and the car had stopped. Nathalie watched with bated breath, anticipating what would happen next.

Adrien looked at the old man – then at the car – and she could almost read his mind. The school doors were right there. All he had to do was run up those steps and slip into the building, and he’d be home free. She wouldn’t make a scene.

But he’d have to leave the old man on the ground.

Nathalie gripped the door handle, waiting…waiting….

Adrien bit his lip – then did exactly what she’d expected. He hurried over to the man, slowly helping him onto his feet.

Despite everything, Nathalie smiled, her heart brimming with pride. This was Adrien’s weakness – and his strength. Kindness. The boy had heart, a thing she never had at his age.

And now she had to exploit it.

She opened the door and hopped out of the car, walking over as the man was thanking Adrien. Unaware of the momentousness of what he’d just done, he hobbled away, leaving them alone together.

Slowly, Adrien turned to her, reading the resolution in her face – and maybe the apologies. His face fell with defeat. Another child might have turned from her, might have run up the steps and into the school. But not him. Without a word, he walked back with her to the car.

‘I just want to go to school like everybody else,’ he said. ‘What’s so wrong with that?’

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

As he opened the car door, he looked more miserable than she’d ever seen him. ‘Please don’t tell my father about all this,’ he said quietly.

The request tugged at her heart, and she sighed, climbing into the car without replying.

When they were both buckled in, Placide turned the car around and drove them back towards the mansion. Adrien looked wistfully out the window, his gaze lingering on the school as it flew past, swiftly out of view.

‘I told Chloe I’d be there,’ he said. ‘She’ll wonder where I am.’

One last effort to persuade her to change her mind.

Nathalie folded her hands in her lap, fighting to keep her resolve. ‘I’m sorry, Adrien. This just isn’t the way to do these things.’

‘Then what is? How do I make my father see me? How do I convince him to let me do anything I want to do?’ His expression was as desperate as his tone, like he really expected her to have the answers.

Nathalie looked away.

When they were back in the mansion, Adrien stood in the foyer like a criminal awaiting his sentence. Nathalie glanced at the door to Gabriel’s atelier. He should be out at a meeting right now. There was no need for him to know any of this had happened.

She returned her attention to Adrien. ‘Please bring down your books, so we can begin our lessons.’

Adrien’s lips parted in surprise. Then, with a look of gratitude he turned for the stairs.

Nathalie watched him disappear on the upper landing, when her phone rang. It was Gabriel. Like a demon, the very thought of him seemed to summon the beast.

She smoothed out her face, trying to erase any trace of what had just occurred. Then she took the call. ‘Hello, sir.’

‘What the hell is going on with my son?’ he snapped down the line.

She flinched, holding the phone away from her ear. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked in her calmest voice.

‘I mean Audrey just messaged me to say there are photos all over social media of my son running around outside unaccompanied!’

Shit. So much for keeping it secret.

‘Nathalie – speak.’ He sounded like he was talking to a dog.

Irritation wiped away her nerves. ‘Adrien left the mansion earlier and ran away to Chloe’s school. I went after him and retrieved him.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘Upstairs.’

Gabriel was silent – a blessing, but never a good sign. Finally, he made a non-committal grunt. ‘That boy is so stubborn. I don’t know where he gets it from.’

She held her tongue.

‘He needs to get this ridiculous idea out of his head. He wasn’t made for normal school.’

Made. The word made her shudder.

‘I want you to double up on his lessons.’

She blinked. ‘What?’

‘He needs to understand there are consequences for his behaviour.’

‘Okay. But, sir –’

The line went dead.

She stared at the phone, not quite believing he was gone. Then she shoved it back in her pocket just as Adrien was climbing down the stairs to her.

When he hit the bottom, his eyes scanned her face, studying her the way he studied his textbooks. ‘Is everything okay? Did I get you in trouble?’ His voice was thick with guilt and worry.

Maybe there was a limit on how much heart could fit in one household. In this godforsaken place, maybe all of it had ended up in Adrien.

She forced a smile. ‘I’m fine.’ At least, as fine as I ever am. ‘Let’s just – let’s go start your lessons.’

He hesitated, clearly unconvinced. Then he dutifully turned around and went into the dining room.

Following him, Nathalie shoved back all thoughts of schools and escape runs and tried to focus on her job. But as she took her seat at the dining table and began their first lesson, it was hard to say who she hated more –

Gabriel –

Or herself.

Chapter Text

In the gloom of the dining room, Nathalie sat across from Adrien, pushing through his lessons for the day. They really should’ve covered more subjects by now, but Gabriel’s command that they double up on the work today meant that history was repeating itself. Not to mention math. And physics….

Someone ought to give her a medal for hiding her irritation. At least, she hoped she was hiding it. The fact was, the extended lessons weren’t just a punishment for Adrien, for running away to Chloe’s school. They were a punishment for her. Never mind that she’d managed to persuade Adrien to come home before things could go any further. She’d failed to keep him from leaving in the first place.

Worse than that, she’d failed to agree with Gabriel about keeping Adrien at home. He was nearly fourteen years old now. What happened when he turned eighteen? Would he still be locked inside the mansion, all his movements dictated by his obsessive father? Did Gabriel truly believe there would be any legal basis to do such a thing?

Like it or not, Adrien would become independent someday. It wasn’t a matter of if but when.

And when was starting to look sooner than either of them had anticipated.

She pushed the thought away, focusing on the now. Adrien must have finished answering her last question at least half a minute ago. Yet he hadn’t even commented on her silence.

Where the hell was she?

She looked down at the book that lay open on the table. ‘Who was the first president of the 5^th French Republic?’

‘Everyone thinks it was de Gaulle, but it was actually René Coty before the first elections.’ Adrien rattled this off in a dull monotone without even looking at her, just as he’d done with everything since they’d started.

At least Gabriel couldn’t claim Adrien wasn’t studying. He knew the answers to every question she asked, without hesitation. He just didn’t seem to care.

‘Excellent, Adrien.’ She opened her mouth to ask the next question, when a shadow filled the doorway. Expecting to see Placide, she looked up – and her heart almost stopped.

Gabriel.

What the hell was he doing here? He was meant to be out for another two hours. Even if his plans had changed, he didn’t normally visit them during lessons. For all his rules, he showed little interest in how they were carried out. Yet now, as he stepped into the room, it was clear in his eyes that he was interested.

A little too interested.

Finally drawn from his stupor, Adrien stared at him, his face pale. Nathalie felt a spasm of guilt. If only Adrien weren’t so famous. If only he were a normal boy with a normal life, not someone strangers snapped unauthorised photos of and posted them online. Then she wouldn’t have had to tell his father what happened today.

Then again….

Maybe it was good to have it out in the open. The last thing this family needed was more secrets. And the thought of Adrien keeping secrets made her feel a little sick.

Gabriel stopped near the table, hands clasped behind his back. ‘Give me a minute, would you, Nathalie?’ His tone left no room for debate.

‘Yes, sir.’ Somehow, the title didn’t feel ironic anymore. It was incredible what you could get used to – like addressing a man as a superior just twenty-four hours after he lay beneath her, begging her for exquisite release.

But she didn’t move from the table. There was just no way. He could speak to his son – sadly, there was no way to prevent that – but she refused to leave Adrien unshielded from whatever was to come.

‘Adrien.’ As usual, Gabriel snapped out his name like it was a curse. ‘You are not going to school. I've already told you.’

‘But Father –’

‘Everything you need is right here where I can keep an eye on you. I will not have you outside in that dangerous world.’

Nathalie held back a morbid laugh. As if it was the outside world that Adrien needed protecting from.

Adrien huffed out a breath of frustration. ‘It’s not dangerous, Father! I’m always stuck in here by myself. Why can’t I go out and make friends like everybody else?’

‘Because you are not like everyone else! You are my son!’

Gabriel’s anger was so loud, it had substance. Nathalie could almost feel it on her skin.

When she risked a look at Adrien, she expected him to have shrunk back, afraid. But his expression was as hard and stubborn as his father’s. Despite magical rings, Gabriel had lost control – not just of himself but of the situation. Maybe he even knew it, this time.

But he wouldn’t accept it.

He turned to her. ‘Nathalie. Triple today’s lessons.’

Her jaw nearly fell to the floor. Triple them? At this rate, they’d be working until nightfall. When the fuck was she meant fit in everything on her list for him? Maybe he just didn’t expect her to sleep? 

No longer hiding her irritation, she turned to Adrien. ‘We’ve been at this long enough. If you have –’

Her sentence was cut off by the grating sound of Adrien’s chair on the floor as he shoved himself to his feet. Scowling, he rushed past his father and out of the room, letting the door slam shut in his wake.

Gabriel stared after him like he couldn’t quite believe what had happened. Perhaps he was contemplating the ethics of erasing his son and trying again, making another one to match his preferred parameters.

The thought made her breath catch. Would Gabriel do such a thing? The man was many things, but surely he didn’t have it in him to vanish a child, particularly not a member of his family.

Did he?

He touched his forehead like he had a migraine. ‘Honestly, I’m a saint for not using the rings more often.’

Fuck. Maybe he did.

She gripped the edge of the table hard, leveraging herself onto her feet. Gabriel’s eyes locked onto hers, and she waited for him to chastise her for defying him about Adrien’s lessons.

But all he said was, ‘Have you seen the news?’

She blinked at him. ‘News?’ Had coming in to talk to Adrien just been a ploy to speak to her about something?

He pulled out his phone, bringing up a video app and opening a livestream. For the second time, Nathalie’s mouth dropped open.

Out on the streets of Paris, a – a creature was stomping through the streets, taller than the buildings and apparently made entirely out of stone. It was like something out of an ancient myth, a legend that couldn’t possibly be real. Yet there it was, on the screen, being presented by Nadja Chamack and discussed as if this sort of thing happened every day.

She looked up at Gabriel, prepared to ask him what the hell was going on – when understanding slammed into her. ‘You did that. That’s one of your akumas, isn’t it.’

He flashed her an unnerving smile, his chest puffed up with absurd pride. ‘Not too shabby for my first attempt, wouldn’t you say?’

Not too….

Their conversation in his lair yesterday rushed back through her head, replaying in all its vivid madness.

Irritation turned to disbelief. ‘This is how you plan to lure out the ladybug and cat holders? By terrorising all of Paris?’

He looked wounded. ‘I wouldn’t exactly call it –’

‘What if they don’t exist? Who’s going to save all those people? Did you even think about that? What if there are no ladybug and cat –’

She sucked in a breath, eyes rounding as two figures flew across the phone screen. A girl in a red and black spotted suit was hurling a – a yo-yo, while a boy in a black leather catsuit was wielding an extendable staff the way Adrien wielded his fencing foil.

Oh my god. They’re real. They’re really out there.

Gabriel might actually pull off his crazy plan.

But at what cost? The people out there – the buildings – everything was being demolished. From what she’d read in the grimoire, the ladybug holder had the power to repair the damage. But if Gabriel won….

The evil mastermind in question was almost vibrating with delight. Whether he’d thought about such morbid consequences or not, it didn’t matter – because he didn’t care. The whole world could burn, as long as Emilie was restored to him.

Nathalie eyed Gabriel’s day suit. ‘How are you doing all this if you’re not transformed?’

‘Once the akuma has found a host, it does all the work. True, I can’t communicate with the victim at the moment, but he knows what he has to do.’ He patted his jacket, speaking to it like a father encouraging a child. ‘Nooroo, don’t be shy. Don’t you want to see the results of your handiwork?’

A small purple head peeked out of his jacket. Peering around, the kwami flew out, shooting Nathalie an apologetic look before watching the footage playing on the screen. The battle had moved to the football stadium now, a blur of movements that were difficult to follow. Then the ladybug holder was throwing her yo-yo in the air and yelling something.

Lucky charm, Nathalie mouthed, recalling the magical words from her studies.

It seemed the universe had chosen to deliver an inflatable suit, red and spotted like the girl’s costume. In a whirlwind of ingenuity, the girl attached the suit to a hose that was lying on the turf. Then she hurled herself and the cat holder at the villain – Stoneheart, according to the caption at the bottom of the screen – and employed a bystander to switch on the hose. Water filled the suit, forcing Stoneheart to open his fist….

And out flew a butterfly.

Still, Gabriel’s smile didn’t drop.

‘Looks like you lost,’ Nathalie said.

‘This time, Nathalie. This time.’

She exchanged a worried look with Nooroo. How many times would there be? At what point did someone like Gabriel give up? Maybe when he’d alienated everyone he knew? When he’d destroyed everything that made him him and forgotten the purpose of his lunatic quest?

He turned up the volume on the TV, bringing Nadja’s voice into the room.

‘…to this amateur footage, the Parisians now know the identities of their heroes!’

Andre Bourgeois’s familiar face now filled the screen. It was still so strange getting used to thinking of him as the mayor. ‘I am pleased to announce that we will be organising a huge celebration in honour of our city’s new protectors, Ladybug and Cat Noir!’

Gabriel laughed. ‘New protectors. I wonder how long it’ll take for them to realise they didn’t finish the job. I can still sense the akuma energy out there.’ He breathed in deeply, as if inhaling a delicious aroma.

There was no way Adrien could stay in the house with this. There was no way he could be locked in here with this as his male role model. He’d learn more from Placide, and the man never talked.

‘Gabriel –’

‘Ah-ah-ah!’ He held up a finger to stop her.

‘Sir –’

‘Wrong again.’ His lips curled into the kind of smile that made her question all her life decisions. ‘It’s Hawk Moth right now. Hawk Moth.’

He had to be kidding.

‘Gabriel. I really think we should talk about Adrien.’

He frowned, like a child told he needed to switch off the TV and do homework. ‘What about him?’

What about…. ‘Are you serious? He just ran out of the room! The boy wants to go to school!’

‘Why?’

It was all she could do not to slap him. ‘You heard him – he wants friends! He wants to get out there! His parents both did this. He doesn’t understand why he can’t do the same.’

‘Nathalie. He’s not like his mother and me. He’s a sentibeing. You know this better than anyone.’

‘Yes – but he doesn’t!’

Too late, she heard her volume. Adrien was probably listening to their argument all the way upstairs. If things carried on this way, he might even hear her murder his father.

She took a deep breath. ‘Look. What if I organise a new schedule for him? He can continue his music, Chinese, fencing, photoshoots – all the stuff you want him to do. The only difference is he would go to a proper school, instead of having me teach him. It would free up my time so I can do more work for –’

‘Nathalie, no.’

‘For fuck’s sake, Gabriel!’ She no longer cared if she was shouting. ‘You can’t keep him incarcerated here! Have you ever stopped to consider how old he is? When you made that child, did you ever think that one day he wouldn’t be a child anymore? What happens when he’s an adult? Will you chain him up in that lair of yours? Or maybe –’

His arm went around her and his hand clapped over her mouth, stopping her speech with force. Over his shoulder, Nooroo gasped and drew back.

Nathalie went totally still, hardly daring to breathe. Locked together like this, memories flooded her mind, of the way he’d held her in bed.

Perhaps Gabriel was remembering too, because there was hunger in his eyes. His gaze roved all over her, like he couldn’t make up his mind whether to kiss her or hit her. Right now, it was hard to say which would be worse – and a thought hit her like lightning.

This is why Amelie was relieved when Colt died.

Slowly, Gabriel released her, smoothing out his suit as though nothing had happened. ‘All of this is irrelevant. I have work to do. As I said, Paris’s new heroes haven’t actually saved the city.’

Nathalie took a careful step away from him, dragging her hand across her lips and wiping away the residue of his hand. ‘What do you mean?’

Instead of answering, Gabriel glanced at Nooroo, inviting him to explain matters to the uninitiated.

Nooroo sighed sadly. ‘Ladybug didn’t capture and purify the akuma. She let it fly off.’

‘You mean….’ The details of Ladybug’s power were coming back to her. ‘It might multiply.’

Nooroo nodded. ‘And if the victim experiences negative emotions again, the original akuma will return to him and turn him back into Stoneheart. Only, this time, he’ll have an army.’

Gabriel grinned. ‘Exciting, isn’t it?’

That wasn’t quite the word she would’ve used.

He pocketed his phone. ‘I have work to do. If anyone calls for me, I’m in a meeting and can’t be disturbed.’

And supposedly that poor boy who’d been akumatised was the Stoneheart.

Gabriel held open his suit jacket, eyes on Nooroo. The kwami cast Nathalie a worried look before darting back into hiding and leaving the room with his master.

She stared after them, trying to process the last fifteen minutes of her life. How the hell had her one ally in this house turned out to be a kwami?

This wasn’t in my employment contract.

A slightly hysterical laugh flew through her lips, and she covered her mouth to stop herself.

Jesus, Nathalie, get a grip.

Lowering herself back into one of the chairs, she dropped her head in her hands. Despite the laughter, her eyes stung with tears – of rage and grief and God only knew what else.

This was why she’d gotten her heart back? So it could be ripped out of her chest and crushed into dust? What was the point?

Why – why did she have to meet the Agrestes? Why did this have to be her life? Was it possible that her mother hadn’t been cruel after all? When she’d switched off Nathalie’s feelings, had she perhaps been trying to spare her from the human horrors that waited for her in adulthood?

The first tears pushed out of her eyes, hot and hateful. If only there were some way to go back. To undo everything that had happened. To remove her traitorous heart, that awful muscle responsible not just for keeping her alive but for keeping her tied to him, the most vile, selfish –

She stiffened, a chill stealing through her body and halting her tears. She’d – she’d felt something. A presence. Someone was watching her. But they weren’t in the room with her.

They were in her mind.

Her eyes flew wide, and she raised her head, every nerve standing on end. Gabriel’s mental touch was probing, almost sensual, igniting a bloodlust she hadn’t known she had.

She gripped the edge of the table. ‘Get. OUT.’

For once, he listened. In an eyeblink, her mind was hers again.

But he’d be back. A man that persistent wouldn’t leave her alone. Wouldn’t respect her privacy. Wouldn’t think twice about using her to advance his own goals.

Whatever relationship she’d believed they had…she’d been deluded. Gabriel didn’t care about her. Maybe he never had. And now that he had powers, she was in danger of losing more than just her heart to him.

She was at risk of losing her soul.

Chapter Text

That night, Nathalie hardly slept. Her brain refused to shut down, assaulted by unwanted thoughts – memories of Adrien running away to that school, Stoneheart obliterating Paris, Gabriel insisting that she call him Hawk Moth….

As her bedside clock ticked the hours off, panic gripped her. Even if she managed to fall asleep now, it wouldn’t be enough to get her through the next day.

Finally, she gave up, switching off her alarm and staring around the room – bright with sunrise. The memories were still with her, keeping her company as she clambered out of bed and readied herself for the day.

Exhaustion made her movements slow, so that by the time she made it to the dining room, she was hardly early. Adrien would be down any minute, for breakfast and another day of lessons.

She glanced at the wall separating her from Gabriel’s office, imagining him alone at his podium. Presumably, he was working on designs. That’s what his diary said. But after what had happened, who the hell knew what he was up to. In fact….

Nursing a tall cup of coffee – possibly the strongest she’d ever made for herself – she pulled up the news on her phone. As soon as it started playing, her chest tightened. Just as Gabriel had promised, there had been developments in the night, presented onscreen by Nadja Chamack.

‘Just as Paris is about to celebrate the appearance of our two new superheroes, Ladybug and Cat Noir,’ Nadja said, ‘a new wave of panic is sweeping across the capital as dozens of people are mysteriously transformed into stone monsters. It’s simply unbelievable!’

Unbelievable? Or exciting? Judging by Nadja’s tone, she expected this story to make her career.

The camera panned away from her, giving a wide-angle view of dozens of stone beings spread across the city, all giants like Stoneheart. They were standing completely still, like someone’s strange idea of modern art, or a European take on the Moai of Rapa Nui. Their eyes were glowing, more like lights on a machine than anything alive.

‘These victims transformed into stone beings are still like statues,’ Nadja continued. ‘The police are perplexed as to what will happen to them. Will they come back to life? Or be frozen in time forever?’

A deep chill ran down Nathalie’s spine. She couldn’t help but glance down at the floor, seeming to see right through it – to Emilie’s coffin, hidden away in the basement beneath her feet.

Onscreen, the footage panned back to the television studio, where Nadja carried on with her report. Projected beside her was a picture of one of Stoneheart’s minions.

Stoneheart. Hawk Moth. All of it could’ve come from one of Placide’s comic books.

‘The stone beings are scattered all over Paris,’ Nadja said, ‘and for the time being, they are showing no signs of movement. Police have cordoned off the area.’

On cue, the camera cut to Andre Bourgeois, standing firm beside Officer Raincomprix. ‘We won’t stop until we find a way to get these people back to their normal selves. But for now…we’re not making much headway.’

She almost laughed, though there was nothing funny about the situation. As if a handful of police officers and the mayor could stop what was happening. What would Andre think if he knew it was his old friend who was behind this insane turn of events?

The camera returned to Nadja, now flanked by a photo of Paris’s overnight heroes – Ladybug and Cat Noir.

‘Paris is relying on our new guardian angels, Ladybug and Cat Noir, to save us all,’ Nadja said. ‘Our lives depend on them.’

No pressure there.

Nathalie leaned in closer to the phone, studying their heroes’ faces. Of course, the magic could be distorting things, but…they looked so young. How the hell had they gotten their hands on the ladybug and cat miraculous? Where was the Guardian who’d chosen these two?

Was there even a Guardian? Or were the masked crusaders flying past the cameras just a couple of kids who’d happened to find the jewels like Nathalie had?

Shutting off the news, she turned over her phone, taking a long sip of her coffee. No sweetener, no milk, just an almost unbearable bitterness – a taste intense enough to dampen her nerves.

At least, that was the idea. But watching that news clip hadn’t helped.

She took another sip. God, how was any of this happening? Yes, magic had played a vital role in her life ever since she was born – since she was conceived, even. And almost as soon as she’d turned eighteen, she’d hired herself out to recover powerful artefacts for countless swaggering millionaires.

But everyone who’d hired her had wanted those artefacts for some personal reason – immortality, wealth, children. None of them had bothered themselves with other people. Indeed, it had never crossed her mind that one of them might use their power to commit terrorism.

And that was naïve, a voice said in her head. It sounded like her mother.

Nathalie almost growled. How she hated when her mother was right – especially when the woman was dead.

She set her cup down, raking her fingers through her hair. A memory needled at her, making her stomach turn with sickness – of Gabriel digging through her thoughts yesterday, trying to use her like he used everyone else.

Was that what he did to victims like Stoneheart – like Ivan Bruel, as the news had named the boy later? Had that poor child felt Gabriel in his mind the way she had, but not been strong enough to fight him off? Was any of it what Adrien felt when Gabriel twisted the ring?

She blew out a breath, glancing at the door. Where was Adrien, anyway? A glance at the time told her he was late. Only by a few minutes, but still, it wasn’t like him. Unless….

A sense of unease crept under her skin, swiftly turning into fear.

He wouldn’t. Not after what happened yesterday.

Then again….

The boy is as stubborn as his father.

Abandoning her drink, she hurried out of the room and up the stairs, adrenaline waking her up the way the coffee had failed to do. Manners made her knock on his door, but she hardly waited before she flung it open. She already knew he wouldn’t be in there.

Having her proof, she ran back down the stairs, this time to Gabriel’s office. If he didn’t hear it from her, he’d find out some other way. At least if she told him directly, she might be able to minimise the damage.

Not thinking, she burst into the room without knocking. At the podium, Gabriel’s head shot up in surprise as she rushed over to him.

His forehead creased in irritation. ‘Nathalie, what is this? Probably half of Paris can hear you stomping about the house.’

She didn’t care. ‘Adrien – he’s not in his room.’

He glanced at his tablet. ‘I should hope not. It’s well past time to start lessons.’

‘You’re not understanding me. He’s not here.’

Gabriel’s eyes widened. ‘Then where is he?’

‘Probably at the school again.’   

He stared at her like she’d just told him there was an enormous cake in the sky, threatening to flatten Paris. ‘But I told him no!’

‘I guess you didn’t say it loud enough.’

‘For God’s sake. It’s dangerous! Especially now that….’ He didn’t finish that thought – maybe because of the way her eyebrows had risen.

If it was dangerous out there, it was his fault. He was making it unsafe.

Nathalie pushed back her smart retorts, settling for a hard truth instead. ‘He’s thirteen, Gabriel. Teenagers are famous for not listening to their parents.’

Gabriel was shaking his head. He clearly never expected his child to behave this way. ‘You didn’t even see him leave?’

‘No. I –’

‘Dammit, you’re meant to be watching him!’ He pounded his fist on the podium, making her jump. ‘Nathalie, if anything happens to my son, I’m holding you responsible.’

She blinked at him, struggling to process what Gabriel had just said. ‘I’m sorry, are you blaming me for what’s happening?’

‘I should say so. You –’

‘I’m the only one paying him any attention!’ she shouted, almost breathless with anger. ‘If you weren’t so busy playing Hawk Moth, maybe –’

She stopped there, not because of the look of shock on his face, or any sense of guilt or even concern about her job – but because there was no point. The whole reason they were in this mess was because he was incapable of understanding. Every word out of her mouth was a waste of energy.

Shooting him a final, withering look, she turned and left the room, ignoring his calls after her to come back here this instant!

Moving on autopilot, she headed for the front door. Outside, she ran to the car. Placide’s brow lifted, as if asking, Again? Without a word, she got in the car, and he started driving, seeming to know exactly where they were going without being told.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why couldn’t she have fallen for a man like Placide? A man who didn’t push her for explanations or even small talk. A man who quietly let others be and got on with his own affairs – very quietly. 

Bitterness filled her throat, and she leaned against the window frame, replaying her altercation with Gabriel.

If anything happened to Adrien, it would be his fault. It shouldn’t be dangerous to go to school. A boy shouldn’t have to run away from home just to go to that school, either.

What are you really trying to protect him from, Gabriel? What are you so afraid of? That he might go out there and meet people who aren’t like you and realise he could do better?

An image came to her – of Adrien as an adult, walking out the mansion doors and never speaking to his father again. Pity stabbed her heart, and then it faded. Nothing excused what Gabriel had done over the years, let alone what he was doing now. The fact was, he –

A blur of blue and black ran past, jolting her from her thoughts. As her eyes focused on the figure hurtling down the pavement, her heart started racing. It was Adrien, running like his life depended on it as they approached the school.

When he darted up the steps to the front door, she yelled, ‘Pull over!’

Placide didn’t even flinch, smoothly stopping the car.

Nathalie leapt out, calling to the boy above the noise of passing traffic. ‘Adrien! Don’t do this! Your father will be furious!’

Adrien jerked in surprise, halting in place and turning to face her. His eyes were large with fear. ‘Tell him you got here too late! Please!’

The desperation in his voice made her heart catch – and Gabriel’s threat echoed in her mind.

‘…I’m holding you responsible.’

Somehow, the words held less weight than they had before. In fact, she felt a strange, bubbling sensation in her throat, almost like – like laughter, threatening to explode out of her mouth.

Gabriel could certainly talk the talk, but what could he actually do to her? As far as she was aware, she was one of only two people in the world who knew his ugly secrets. If she wanted, she could turn him into the police right now – tell them he was Hawk Moth and show them the basement and the lair.

She could undo him in a second.

If she wanted to.

Slowly, she climbed back in the car. Through the window, Adrien shot her a look of heart-stopping gratitude. Then he darted into the school before she could change her mind.

Placide glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

She exhaled. ‘I’ll handle it.’

His eyes seemed to say, I hope you’re right about that. But as ever, he didn’t give the idea voice. He simply turned the car around and started driving back to the mansion, possibly the sanest member of their broken household.

When they returned, she expected him to remain in the car like he usually did – his haven beyond the madness of the mansion. Instead, he walked with her up the path. In the foyer, he placed a hand on her shoulder, his gaze warm with concern.

She tensed, almost frightened to hear his voice. In all these years, she could count the number of actual conversations they’d shared on one hand. It wasn’t a language problem. If Colt’s claims were to be believed, Placide was fluent in seven languages. Still, he held his tongue, like a monk who’d vowed not to talk unless necessary.

And now…now he obviously didn’t deem it necessary, because he maintained his vow. Even so, she read the message in his face loud and clear.

You’re not alone.

Her eyes started to water, and she stepped out of his reach. With an awkward nod, she hurried headed upstairs to her room, where she flung herself on her bed and stared at the ceiling.

Gabriel should be in a telephone meeting, right about now. At what point would he think to check that Adrien’s lessons were proceeding as planned? How long did she have before she had to tell him what she’d done?

Gripping the bedcovers, she started counting her breaths…in…out…. At some point, her mind slipped out of her body, drifting onto some astral plane where there was no Placide or Gabriel or even Nathalie – until she was suddenly hauled back to awareness when the room started to shake.

Eyes wide with alarm, she shot upright, looking out the window just in time to see a pair of grey, stone legs stomp past.

The akumas.

Fumbling with her phone, she pulled up the news again, watching the latest battle unfold. As expected, Stoneheart had returned, activating his minions. They were all over the city, now, mindlessly obliterating everything that got in their way…and no doubt killing people in the process.

How many people would have to suffer for Gabriel’s quest? How many would have to die?

The footage cut to another part of the city, and Nathalie threw her hand to her mouth. One of those stone beasts was outside the school. The school Adrien was at. If anything happened to him….

I’m holding you responsible, Gabriel.

She slowly lowered her hand, vibrating with anger – and fear.

Please, Ladybug and Cat Noir – help. Help Adrien!

As if she’d summoned them, they flew into view of the cameras, fighting off the monsters like they did this every day. She watched with bated breath, wincing and flinching every time one of them did something truly crazy. If they were children…. God, their parents would be going out of their minds, if they knew what they were up to.

Then, just when it seemed the battle might be won, Stoneheart coughed and spat out a swarm of dark butterflies, hovering in front of the Eiffel Tower. As if sharing one mind, they arranged themselves into a shape – a face. A familiar face.

Nathalie’s jaw fell open. What the fuck was Gabriel up to?

Everyone on the ground froze, even the heroes, gaping at the face of butterflies – their first image of their real opponent.

Then the face spoke. 

‘People of Paris!’ it said, Gabriel’s voice affected just enough to sound like a different man. ‘Listen carefully! I am Hawk Moth. Ladybug – Cat Noir – give me the ladybug earrings and the cat ring now! You’ve done enough damage to these innocent people!’

Nathalie almost face-palmed. They had done the damage? Was he serious?

Ladybug seemed to have similar thoughts, because she clapped sarcastically, while walking up the path towards the Tower. ‘Nice try, Hawk Moth, but we know who the bad guy is. Let’s not reverse the roles here. Without you, none of these innocent victims would be transformed into villains.’

Whoever this girl was, she had guts – and sass.

And she wasn’t done yet. ‘Hawk Moth, no matter how long it takes, we will find you, and you will hand us your miraculous!’

With that, she leapt into the air, hurling her yo-yo at the fluttering face. ‘Time to de-evilise!’

The yo-yo slashed through the face again – and again – and again – somehow capturing every akuma. Hawk Moth let out an angry cry, which was quickly cut off as the face disintegrated.

Sweet god.

Pitched on the edge of the bed, Nathalie held her breath as Ladybug turned to the camera.

‘Let me make this promise to you,’ she said. ‘No matter who wants to harm you, Ladybug and Cat Noir will do everything in our power to keep you safe!’

With as much style as Gabriel, she opened her yo-yo, and a swarm of white, purified butterflies flew into the sky.

Then she and her partner continued their battle against Stoneheart as if Hawk Moth had never interrupted them. Just as the grimoire explained, this Cat Noir had the ability to destroy things with a single touch, while Ladybug could materialise objects out of thin air.

Awestruck, Nathalie watched them save every victim, restoring their humanity and finally the city – the people. When it was all over, it was as if nothing had happened.

But it had. And until Gabriel got what he wanted, it would keep happening. The only question was….

At what point did he try to drag her into this, too?