Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,20

and pieces of their conversation.

“… this is not a good time …”

“… but Papa …”

“… tired of this behavior. It won’t change my mind about anything.…”

“… I’m totally serious about the dress.…”

“… fine. Take the TéléCom. We will discuss this later.…”

When Chevalier reappeared, he looked flustered and agitated. “Apologies again, General and officers.” He smoothed down his short hair, walked back to the console, and frowned at the screen. “It appears we do have some viable footage from the hour before Limier was attacked, but it looks to be corrupted.”

The general rose from his chair and walked over to the wall monitor. “Play it.”

“Yes, sir,” the directeur said as he tapped on the screen.

The monitor glowed to life, and for the longest time, Marcellus could not make sense of what he was looking at. He moved closer and stood next to his grandfather, squinting at the screen.

At first, there was nothing but shadowy blurs of green and an intermittent flashing light, accompanied by faint scraping and crackling noises. If all the files on the memory chip looked like this, finding the general’s facility was not going to be easy. A few seconds later, the distorted footage cleared somewhat, and Marcellus could make out what looked to be a thicket of trees.

“The Forest Verdure,” Officer Meudon declared, stepping up beside Marcellus. “That’s where he went to make the arrests.”

“Who was he arresting?” the general asked.

“Two criminals by the name of Renard. They both had about a hundred outstanding warrants logged in the Communiqué.”

Marcellus’s gaze snapped toward Officer Meudon. He had to be talking about Chatine’s parents. “Were they sent to Bastille?”

The officer shook his head. “They escaped shortly after the droids led them out of the forest.”

Wisps of movement drew Marcellus’s attention back to the screen where he could just make out a collection of small stones on the forest floor. They appeared to be arranged in some type of pattern. It took Marcellus a moment to connect the image to his memory and then, in a flash of certainty, he knew exactly where this footage had been captured. It was the old Défecteur camp that he sometimes liked to escape to when he needed to be alone. A place once inhabitated by people who had tried to live outside the rules of the Regime. Until his grandfather rounded them all up in a spate of brutal raids. Now, all that was left of the Défecteurs were abandoned camps like this one.

The footage began to bounce violently again, as though Inspecteur Limier was running. Jumping, maybe? Shaky blurs of movement kept whisking through the frame, and the soundtrack continued to squeak, making Marcellus feel dizzy and disoriented.

Then the image juddered and cut out, and the screen went black.

“Is that it?” the general said in a gruff, dissatisfied whisper.

But just as Directeur Chevalier was about to utter a clearly confused reply, the monitor flickered, and a new image blurred in and out of focus. Marcellus tilted his head, trying to make out the strange black object that filled the entire screen.

“What is that?” he asked.

Officer Meudon squinted. “It looks like a …”

“A boot,” the general replied flatly.

Suddenly, the shaky image made sense. It was a heavy, black, Ministère-issued boot. Limier’s, presumably. And it was pushing down on something. The footage cut out again and returned a second later. And Marcellus could now see the boot was standing on a hand. A hand desperately clutching hold of a rayonette.

The three men leaned in closer. There was a violent crash of movement and Marcellus nearly leapt back. The image blurred and shuddered, flickering rapidly in and out. The squeaks and crackles seemed to reach a fever-pitch. Suddenly, the rayonette was clutched in Limier’s own hand and pointed down at the ground. At someone crouching below him. A girl?

And then, in a confusion of light and motion and trees, Marcellus saw them.

Deep dark eyes, like two vast pools of night sky.

Alouette?

Marcellus bit down on his lip to keep the shock from barreling out of him.

For a long time, the image was frozen on her terrified face. Marcellus glanced uneasily over at his grandfather, who was gritting his teeth, as though he wished he could reach through the screen and grab her. Marcellus’s heart hammered in his chest as he thought about Mabelle’s words to him earlier this morning.

“Little Lark is no longer with the Vangarde.… She left.”

Marcellus tore his gaze away from the monitor and glanced uneasily at the unconscious inspecteur lying only a mètre