trailed off, his eyes widening at the sight before him. As if he were shocked to his core. He recovered the next instant and said, “Pardon the intrusion. Please excuse us.” Then he laced Celine’s hand through his and led her down the winding staircase.
As they made their way into the light and sound of the world below, Celine could not stop herself from glancing over her shoulder one last time.
The boy named Bastien watched them from over the railing, his eyes glinting like a pair of honed daggers.
BASTIEN
Time freezes for a second. Then thaws all at once.
Blame begins to fly around the room like a flock of starlings.
“This is Kassamir’s doing,” Odette accuses, invective heating each of her words. “He’s the world’s worst romantic.”
Hortense points a finger at Odette. “Ne t’avise pas de le blâmer. You were the one who invited the chit and her lapdog to dinner. Nous savons que c’était toi!”
Odette whirls in place, the tails of her baroque frock coat swirling about her. “I did not tell her to bring that hairless mongrel into our home.”
I say nothing, the words knotting in my throat. Still the air in front of me is filled with Celine’s scent. Still I cannot shake the irrepressible desire to race after her. To hold her, if just for an instant. To send her away. Compel her never to return.
Revulsion courses through my chest, tasting bitter on my tongue. I tried to glamour Celine. I tried to force her to leave against her will.
I am the selfish monster my uncle hoped I would become.
Madeleine steps between Odette and Hortense just as Kassamir reaches the top of the stairs, his expression subdued. Unapologetic.
“Pourquoi voudriez-vous faire une telle chose, Kassamir?” Odette demands.
“Because I don’t wish to perpetuate a lie,” he retorts, his Créole accent harsh. “The girl knew she belonged here. She realized it the instant she crossed the threshold. Who am I to tell her otherwise?”
Boone’s laughter is dry. “Well, perhaps you didn’t have to make it quite so easy. A warning would have been nice.” He pitches his voice louder. “Beware, fair folk, I’m sending the goddess of madness and mayhem your way!”
Kassamir frowns. “I am under no obligation to any of you on this account. Nor do I wish to maintain the wall of ignorance you and your kind have built around this poor girl. I am not one of you. As such I will not bow to the demands of any immortal, even Nicodemus, who should know better by now.” His nostrils flare. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an establishment to run.”
Odette puts up both her hands, as if to placate him. “We know you were well intentioned, Kassamir.”
“I was not,” he says. “But I am right, nevertheless, and that is what matters.”
Madeleine sighs. “Do you know the danger you inflict on Celine Rousseau by interfering in these affairs?”
“I am not a seer of the future. For that you would have to ask Odette.”
Odette wrings her gloved hands. “As I’ve said time and again, I can no longer see the future as it pertains to Celine. When we meddled with her memories, we changed the course of her fate. It will take time for the new path to become clear.”
Lines of irritation gather across Kassamir’s brow. “What you’ve allowed Nicodemus to do to Mademoiselle Rousseau’s mind is criminal. It is the cruelest form of punishment to allow Sébastien to bear witness to it.” He is angrier than I’ve ever seen him. My face grows hot as he speaks. The revulsion in my chest continues to spread. To fill the emptiness around my heart like water poured over ice.
“Maybe you have forgotten,” Kassamir continues, “but I have worked alongside Nicodemus for decades. I was here when he first brought Bastien to us. I remember what a sad, lonely child he was. How much he wished to love and be loved. In him, I saw myself. A boy taken from all he knows. From everything he loves. He has lost everyone dear to him. Must he lose this young woman as well? I will not be—”
“Mademoiselle Rousseau asked me to take away memories that might cause her pain, my friend,” a voice chimes in from the back of the chamber.
Kassamir stands taller. Refuses to avert his gaze, even when confronted by my uncle’s unflinching countenance. “She was given an impossible choice,” he says. “A decision made with a proverbial revolver pointed at her head. You took advantage of her pain, Nicodemus.