Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,97

beside it, two more faces appeared: Alouette and Gabriel.

“Arrest warrant for Gabriel Courfey and Unknown Female, last seen escaping from the Montfer Policier Precinct. Female is considered a high-priority fugitive. Any information leading to her whereabouts should be AirLinked directly to the Ministère headquarters.”

Alouette sucked in a sharp breath.

“Don’t worry,” Gabriel whispered to her. “I’ve got, like, a hundred of those. And they haven’t caught me yet.” He stopped, a thought just occurring to him. “ ‘Unknown Female’? Wait, how are you not in the Communiqué?”

“In fact,” Cerise said, ignoring Gabriel. “I seem to be the only person here who’s not wanted by the Policier.” She narrowed her eyes at Marcellus. “Which, right now, makes me your greatest asset.”

Surrendering a sigh, Marcellus looked from the TéléCom to Cerise. “Okay, how do you propose we do this?”

Cerise beamed triumphantly as she flipped her TéléCom back around. “I’m glad you asked. Once we’re out of Laterrian airspace, I can place a cloaking code on the ship and override the navigation system to reroute us to Albion.”

“You can do that?” Marcellus asked.

“Like I said before,” Cerise flashed him a pointed look. “I’m an expert hacker. One could even say I’m soop.”

“Don’t say ‘soop,’ ” Gabriel said warningly.

“Why not? It’s Third Estate slang meaning ‘the best.’ ”

“I know what it means,” Gabriel said. “But you can’t wear that hat and say ‘soop.’ ”

Cerise huffed and straightened her rhinestone-studded beret. “I told you, it’s not a hat—”

“Just order the voyageur,” Marcellus cut her off before another argument could break out between them.

“On it!” Cerise chirped. She bounded back toward the cruiseur and disappeared inside.

“It’s confirmed. You are all insane.” Gabriel threw up his hands and, with a sigh, followed after Cerise.

Marcellus turned to reboard the cruiseur but was stopped by a gentle hand on his arm. “Wait.” Alouette’s kind, compassionate face almost seemed to glow in the mist. “I think Gabriel might be right. I think you should take a breath and really think this through.”

“I don’t have time to take a breath,” Marcellus said. “You heard the message. This source knows how to stop the weapon. Someone has to go to Albion. Now. Or the general wins.”

“Yes, but have you considered your other options?” Alouette asked reasonably.

“What other options?”

“Don’t you think you should try to …”—Alouette paused, looking like the next words were difficult for her to say—“contact the Vangarde? They might be able to help. Or, at the very least, shouldn’t you tell them about the message? If Albion is delivering a weapon to the general in two weeks, they should know about it.”

Marcellus felt a stab of guilt as he looked into Alouette’s large, dark eyes, and the realization hit him. “You don’t know.”

Of course she didn’t know. She’d left the Vangarde. And she didn’t have a Skin, so she couldn’t have seen the Universal Alert from earlier tonight.

“Don’t know what?” she asked.

Marcellus rubbed at the stubble that was forming on his jaw. He’d barely slept a full hour in the Renards’ couchette and the fatigue was starting to creep in. How could he possibly break this news to her? He glanced anxiously around the Tourbay, as though searching for help.

“Last night,” he began hesitantly, “the Vangarde tried to break Citizen Rousseau out of Bastille.”

Something flickered in Alouette’s eyes that Marcellus couldn’t identify. For a moment, he wondered if she even knew who Citizen Rousseau was. Last time he’d seen her, she didn’t even seem to know who the Vangarde was.

But then, in a tentative voice, she asked, “Did they— Did they succeed? Did they get her out?”

Marcellus let out a heavy sigh as the memory of that ship vanishing in a deadly flash of light replayed in his mind. “No. My grandfather discovered the Vangarde’s plan. He sent in a fleet of combatteurs, and they shot down her ship as it was taking off.” He lowered his head. “I’m so sorry.”

Alouette stood motionless next to him, her face gaunt, her breathing shallow. Then, as though remembering something, she reached into the bag strapped around her chest and pulled out a long string of metallic beads. Marcellus recognized them as the same ones she’d been wearing that day in the Forest Verdure, when they’d sat around the fire and she’d helped him remember how to read the Forgotten Word. The ones with the metal tag that said: LITTLE LARK.

“Who else was on the ship?” she asked vacantly as she ran the beads through her fingers in a slow, methodical rhythm. “How many others are …” her