I lived with taught it to me.”
“Wait a minute.” Cerise reeled on Alouette, her mind clearly calculating something. “Who are you exactly?”
Alouette hesitated. “I’m … It’s complicated.”
“A weapon?” Gabriel repeated in disbelief. “Being delivered from Albion? What weapon? Who is it being delivered to?”
“My grandfather.” The words were barely audible through Marcellus’s taut lips. Yet they were clearly loud enough, because everyone in the cruiseur turned toward him at once, question marks blazing in their eyes. “He’s been developing a weapon with Albion.”
There was no point keeping it a secret anymore. The planet would know soon enough. And by then it would be too late.
“What?” Alouette asked in a shaky voice.
Marcellus nodded. “The Vangarde recruited me to try to track it down. I don’t know what it is or what it does. All I know is that he’s going to somehow use it in his grand plan to take control of the planet. Or as he put it, ‘rid’ the Regime of the déchets and eliminate the ‘scum of Laterre.’ ”
More silence followed. But this time it was different. It was the kind of silence that keeps you awake at night. The kind that’s filled with menacing shadows and lurking horrors. Once again, Gabriel was the first to speak.
“Stop the cruiseur!”
“What do you mean, ‘stop the cruiseur’?” Cerise shot back.
“I mean, STOP THE CRUISEUR! I have to get out.”
Cerise directed the vehicle to a halt and opened the door. Mist immediately seeped inside, and Marcellus realized they were in the middle of the Tourbay, Montfer’s infamous boglands where he’d met Mabelle only three weeks ago. The memory was like a splinter twisting in his heart. Three weeks ago, she had been alive. And now she wasn’t.
Gabriel tumbled out through the door and bent over, hands on his knees, sucking in air with great, full-body spasms like he was drowning in the mist. Alouette immediately hurried after him and placed a tender hand on his back.
Marcellus fought to keep his own breathing steady. Suddenly everything was lining up in his mind. Pieces that had once seemed like random floating debris circling his thoughts clattered into place. The AirLink conversation overheard in his grandfather’s study. His mission from Mabelle.
“She was the only person who knew how to contact the source. She was our only lead for finding out what the general was working on and how to stop it.”
Marcellus leapt to his feet and jumped out of the cruiseur. He strode purposefully toward Alouette, feeling his heart thud faster with every step he took. “This person who taught you that First World code. Is her name Denise?”
The shock that registered in Alouette’s eyes was all Marcellus needed to see to know he was right. “Y-yes,” she stammered. “How did you know that?”
Marcellus felt the misty air around him catch fire again. The blaze and heat were all too familiar now. Like an intimate friend, whispering in his ear. And strangely enough, it was that very fire—smoke and flames and all—that allowed him to see the world clearly. That allowed him to see his path clearly.
Citizen Rousseau might be dead. Mabelle might be dead. The Vangarde might have lost that battle. But this war against his grandfather was not over.
General Bonnefaçon still had to be stopped.
“Because that message was meant for her,” he said. “Denise has been working with a source on Albion. Someone involved in the development of the weapon. The same person who, I imagine, sent that message. Whoever this person is, Denise is supposed to go to Albion to meet with them so she can stop the general from using the weapon to take control of the Regime.”
“But,” Alouette struggled, looking pained, “isn’t she still being held captive? Didn’t the general arrest her?”
“Yes,” Marcellus said, drawing in a long, burdened breath, “which is why I have to go in her place.”
- PART 3 - ALBION
The twelve planets in the System Divine orbited together like a string of jewels, precious and dazzling and rare. But one jewel stood out amid the others. A memory made real and a dream brought to life. An echo of the First World, with reminiscent whispers of the old world’s breezes blowing across its lands. One family secured this wondrous place for their people and their home.
But not without bitterness from those who lost out.
And not without deep resentments held across the skies.
From The Chronicles of the Vangarde, Volume 3, Chapter 10
- CHAPTER 26 - CHATINE
THE LAST TIME CHATINE HAD seen Laterre from space, she was leaving