Baker Thief

by Claudie Arseneault

  Adèle grimaced. “I don’t have anything to remove them. We’ll get it done as soon as possible, I promise.” Celosia swallowed and avoided her eyes. Nir bright hair fell before nir eyes and stuck to nir forehead. Slowly, Adèle brushed the strands aside and met nir gaze. “I’m sorry I can’t offer better,” she added.

  “I’m so afraid,” ne whispered.

  Adèle wrapped her hand around Celosia’s shoulders then turned towards the rest of the group. They had started filing out, everyone staying behind their leader, wary eyes on Adèle. A part of her didn’t understand their collective suspiciousness—she was saving them, wasn’t she?—but then she noticed everyone had metal bands like Celosia’s clamped on their wrists. Her breath caught. No way that was a coincidence. “Wait, everyone here is—”

  A loud bang interrupted her. Pain blossomed in her side, sucking out her breath. For a moment the world vanished behind a white light, its sounds drowned out by an intense buzzing in her skull. Her mind slugged through the sudden agony, finally reaching the obvious conclusion: someone had shot her.

  Adèle stumbled back and fell. As she hit the ground, her senses snapped back into place. Screams from the others, crying. Pleading. Adèle reached for her wound and cringed at the blood welling out of her side. Her head spun, her focus slipped. Good shot. She tried to sit up, but furious pain slammed into her belly and kept her down. Adèle cursed and punched the floor next to her, steeling herself for another attempt.

  “Everybody back inside, or you’re next!”

  The voice echoed weirdly, distorted by Adèle’s mind, firm yet cavernous. Feet shuffled. Celosia screamed. A wave of heat washed over her, and flames licked the ceiling, above Adèle. I can’t control it, ne’d said. Ne was burning nir wrists and the whole warehouse around them. Adèle pressed a hand on her wound, gritted her teeth, and pushed herself up again.

  Most of the witches had slipped back into their original prison, and as their attacker advanced, the rest of them followed—all except Celosia. Tears blurred Adèle’s sight, and at first all she could see was the shape of someone muscular, with short blond hair and a dapper vest. Details added themselves as they came into focus—a square jaw, slender hands, clean pants and shoes.

  “Don’t come closer!” Celosia’s shrill voice covered the fire’s growing roar. Jets of flame flew above Adèle, straight to her attacker, but they died long before they reached them. Cancelled out. Gone.

  “Continue and you’ll be next, Celosia.” The cavernous voice had vanished, replaced by soft words. Was she imagining the pain in them, projecting her own burning agony? Adèle shivered despite the heat. “Some things are worse than death.”

  Celosia answered with a burst of flames and a raw, heart-breaking scream. Adèle flinched away, her skin sizzling under the intense fire swirling in the air around. Nothing touched their attacker, and as they stepped over Adèle, the fire stopped too, cooling the air. Celosia crumpled to the ground, nir powers drained, the pain too much for nir. Dry wood cracked above their heads and the warehouse kept burning, even without nir help. With a sigh, their assailant picked up the iron bar and slid it back into the door, trapping everyone else.

  They would die in this fire if Adèle didn’t stop it.

  If only she could.

  Her arms gave in and Adèle slumped back to the ground. Propping herself up had become too difficult. Her strength was escaping through the bullet hole, following her blood, and her thoughts were threatening to do the same. She needed to get a grip on herself. Stop this asshole, at least. Maybe even manage to remove the iron bar again. Adèle focused her attention on a single beam across the ceiling, pushing out all other sensations—heat, smell, pain, despair. With shaky hands, she reached for her revolver.

  A shadow fell over her, and she froze. This time, the air remained hot. Adèle found herself looking down a barrel gun. An intricate design lined the left side. Useless, that. It wouldn’t shoot any better for it. Not any worse, either, and at this distance it couldn’t miss Adèle’s head. She lifted her own weapon, only to have it kicked out of her hands. The sharp pain in Adèle’s fingers made her forget the one radiating from her side for an instant.

  “You have a reputation for digging into others’ affairs,” they said.

  Indeed. It had gotten her transferred into the shittiest jobs, but she had never thought it would get her killed, too. Perhaps she should have.

  “Too bad I need a death,” they added.

  Adèle’s stomach twisted. She thought of Emmanuelle and the rest of her family, of how difficult a second burial would be for them, and how she once more wouldn’t be there for her sister. She didn’t want to go. Moving to Val-de-mer was supposed to change her life, not end it.

  A thick shape barrelled into Adèle’s attacker, all black skirts and purple hair. Another blast exploded, but this time the bullet lodged itself in the wood, inches from her head. Relief flooded through Adèle, dampening the pain. Claire. Now her life and those of the witches trapped inside depended on the very thief she’d been trying to catch. Adèle squeezed her eyes closed and prayed to God she would hold on against the pain long enough to know which it would be: dead or alive.

  -15-

  À LA RESCOUSSE

  Zita led the way through the city, stopping every few blocks to concentrate on her Seeking. Claire slunk into the shadows nearby, trailing her and only coming out when no one else was around. After her likeness on the front page, she didn’t want to risk being seen, especially with someone else. That would only put her friend directly in a police interrogation room.

  “This is super weird,” Zita had said at one point. “I didn’t know what to expect, but you following me in the night was not it.”

  Claire had shrugged it off. Once you’d come to terms with the idea of humans as exocores, everything turned more mundane. She had been breaking into houses, stealing, lying, and even threatening people over the last few weeks. Zita hadn’t known for long, however, and although she seemed calmer now, she must still be unused to the exocores. Or to thinking of Claire as both her friend and a thief. As they headed into the Quartier des Grands Sapins and the docks area, Zita paused more and more often, readjusting her direction, until she stopped in the middle of several old warehouses. She gestured for Claire to come closer.

  “It’s this one,” she said, pointing at a large building. “Something is wrong, though. Most of the witches I detect are muted, like in your bakery. That means they must be exocores, too. But a few… they must be alive—or, well, still human, I mean. Their presence is too strong. They feel real.”

  Claire’s heart squeezed. “Any of them Livia?”

  Zita shook her head, avoiding her gaze. Of course not. No such luck for Claire. She forced a long, deep breath into her lungs, pushing her frustration and dread away. At least she would save others tonight, before Montrant Industries transformed them into exocores. One step at a time. “Right. Let’s get going.”

  Zita agreed, took a single step, then froze. Her eyes widened. “It’s gone.” She closed her eyes, focusing on her Seeking, before glaring at the warehouse. “My powers are blocked. Claire, I think Clémence is in there.”

  Claire’s head buzzed for a moment. Clémence. Ol had escaped once, but she wouldn’t let ol slip away again. Even if the witches inside couldn’t lead her to Livia, ol certainly could. What was ol doing there, though? Judging from Zita’s reaction, Clémence had entered the warehouse, not been there all along, otherwise Zita would never have detected anything. And if ol could move about freely… that didn’t bode well for ols innocence.

  “Let’s try to get the drop on ol and ask a few questions. Where do we enter?”

  “I’d say by those large doors?” Zita pointed at the main entrance. “I think ol is in an area behind them, but it’s hard to be precise.”

  “Got it. We’ll find ol.”

  Claire filed “searching through a warehouse packed with crates” with all the fun activities she’d never expected would
fill her nights and approached the warehouse. When she noticed the high and small windows, she strode up to the wall under one of them. A quick shove of magic into her legs, then she leaped up, catching herself on the windowsill and taking a peek inside.

  Unexpectedly, the main room contained very few boxes. A dozen of them lined the walls on her left, with perhaps more under her, but otherwise nothing filled the warehouse. Had they moved the exocores out already? Or did they not need this much room? Either way, this meant less to save, and maybe even that fewer existed. Doubtful, though. The open space also gave her a clear view of the warehouse interior. It would have been pitch black, if not for the dim light on the other side. Claire squinted, trying to spot anyone, when two shapes emerged from a room at the back.

  Her heart flipped instantly. Was that Adèle? How had the officer found this place? Either she had been investigating Montrant Industries long before Claire had babbled to her sister, or she’d tracked down the warehouse in a single day. Skillful… and a little scary, too. At this rate, Adèle would snap handcuffs on Claire before she’d saved Livia and uncovered proof of Montrant Industries’ horrible activities. But perhaps… perhaps Adèle would help. She was here, wasn’t she? And she seemed to be helping a teenager out, with other people following behind. Emmanuelle had turned out more open than Claire had expected, and it’d gone so well with Zita! Hope sped up Claire’s heart, coalescing into determination to at least try to get Adèle on her side. It would be so much easier if she didn’t have to hide anymore.

  Light flashed at the periphery of Claire’s vision and a powerful bang echoed from the warehouse. Her breath caught as Adèle stumbled back and fell. No no no. That had been a gun. A gun, and Adèle was wounded. Claire dropped back to the ground, but before she could rush to the door, Zita grabbed her arm.

  “Don’t run towards the gunshot!” She hissed. “Do you have a death wish?”

  “It’s Adèle. Ol shot her.”

  “Isn’t she—”

  Claire yanked herself out of Zita’s grasp. “Yes. It’s complicated. I’ll explain later.” Their earlier quips didn’t cover the extent of her appreciation for Adèle. How did one explain she’d befriended the police investigator trying to catch her, and also wouldn’t mind grabbing her by the hips, pushing her against the wall, and kissing her hard? All of a sudden, Claire was hot and slightly dizzy, goosebumps running across her skin, and glad for the mask hiding her flush. “I spotted the other witches too, and they need our help.”

  As if to confirm her words, bright flames erupted from inside, shattering the window Claire had been peeking through a few seconds ago. Several screams followed the wave of heat out of the warehouse. She and Zita swore simultaneously, then Claire rushed for the door. When it wouldn’t budge, she called upon her magical strength and kicked the door in. So much for subtlety. Claire added speed to her powers in case a bullet came her way and dashed inside.

  The flames extended from the teenager that had been with Adèle, a whirlpool of bright fire reaching towards the ceiling. She stood at its centre, her red hair glowing, metal bands on her wrists shining. And she screamed so loud Claire’s ears rang, only to collapse a second later. The raging inferno barely diminished, eating away at the dry wood around. In the shifting and blinding light, Claire struggled to find Clémence or Adèle.

  Her stomach sprang all the way into her throat when she did. Clémence’s muscular figure loomed over Adèle, a firearm pointed at her, and a pool of blood already glistened under the police woman. So much blood. Claire blocked the image from her mind, sprinting ahead with a renewed surge of magic. Ol was preparing to shoot again, and if she arrived too late…

  Claire crossed the warehouse in less than a second, releasing all of her magical speed at once. Just as she shifted her weight to tackle Clémence, her magic vanished, breaking her balance and timing. Her momentum carried her forward and she slammed into Clémence with the grace of a seal on land—which didn’t stop ol from pressing the trigger. Her stomach lurched at the terrible sound. They both fell and rolled on the ground, and Claire scrambled to her knees as soon as she could, checking on Adèle: eyes squeezed shut, face contorted in pain, but clearly breathing and no new blood splatters. Good.

  Her relief was short-lived. Clémence grabbed her from behind, wrapping an arm around her neck and squeezing. Claire tried to shove magic into her muscles, but Clémence’s suppressive magic overpowered hers, nullifying her efforts. She cursed, trashed, clawed at ols forearm. Clémence smashed a fist into her belly to force her to stop, and stars danced before Claire’s eyes. She had to get out, but her lungs were empty, her throat crushed.

  Worst. Rescue. Ever.

  Something flew in from the side, hitting Clémence’s temple. Then another, like a red flash through the fire’s shifting light. Exocores, Claire realized as the chokehold lessened. Zita was throwing exocores at Clémence.

  “Those are people!” she exclaimed. “You can’t just fling them around!”

  “Sorry!”

  Zita rushed at them and smacked a gas lamp hard on Clémence, knocking ol over. The fire around them wooshed, briefly growing more intense where oil splashed into it. Claire rolled away, hacking and coughing, then struggled to her feet. Clémence didn’t stay down for long. Ol crouched, hands lifted, ready to fight if need be. Soot and dust marred ols white shirt, but Claire doubted ol would hesitate to get more dirt or blood on it. When Clémence’s eyes fell upon Zita, however, they widened and ol paled. She snorted at ols surprise.

  “How long did you think you could lie to my face?” Bitterness and anger laced her words. “How can you–”

  A large beam overhead cracked, then snapped. It crashed down between Claire and Clémence, flames clinging to it as it fell, sending a wave of intense heat their way. Claire and Zita stumbled back, shielding themselves with their arms. Clémence hadn’t moved, still staring at Zita with a torn expression.

  “Zita, I—” Ol stammered and stopped.

  Then ol turned heel and ran.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” Zita exclaimed, before dashing after ol. Her short legs couldn’t keep up with Clémence’s long strides, but Zita could track ol, at least, following the void that ols cancelling power left in her Seeking. Perhaps Clémence would finally lead them to Livia. Claire resisted the urge to chase them too; she had to trust Zita with this. She hurried to Adèle’s side instead and was relieved to find her clinging to consciousness. The warehouse’s creaking and groaning grew more intense with every passing second—they needed to get out of there.

  Claire brought Adèle’s hands on top of her wound, then lifted her, drawing a small frown from her. She kept applying pressure, hoping to staunch the blood flow, and pushed magical strength into her limbs before heading for the main door. Cumbersome as another adult was, Claire had no trouble carrying Adèle. She bent her knees as much as possible to avoid the thick of the smoke, but her already burning lungs protested immediately. She was glad for the fresh air outside when she escaped.

  Adèle moaned as Claire put her down. Her eyes fluttered open and she dug her fingers into her forearm. “The others… Free them.”

  “As you wish, Madame l’Officier.” She straightened and saluted with a slight smirk. Claire would’ve gone back in anyway—she remembered the screams and knew what they meant—but her quip dragged a thin smile out of Adèle. “But don’t you die on me. I’m getting used to running into you wherever I go.”

  Adèle raised a glassy gaze on her. “I—I can’t. No dying until I’ve caught you.”

  Her voice slurred, each word weaker than the one before. Claire hated having to leave her—what if she did die? Yet if she didn’t move, everyone stuck inside would burn. Them and all the exocores stored within. She couldn’t save Adèle and abandon everyone else. How could she ever get every soul out to safety, though? The warehouse was already threatening to collapse.

  Claire gritted her teeth and plunged back in. She zoomed for the door on the other side and reached for th
e metal bar, stopping less than an inch from it. That thing was radiating pure heat. She searched the room for a tool to help, to no avail. Claire unclasped her cape, whispered farewell to it, and wrapped the fabric around the iron bar. It caught fire immediately, but with her super strength she needed only seconds to remove the rod. Claire flung it away, smoke still filtering into her lungs. Then she kicked the door in.

  Heat rushed in with her. She found a dozen women huddling in a corner, as far from the thickest part of the fire as they could. A black woman stood as Claire entered, spreading her arms protectively. Claire hacked from the smoke in her lung for a moment, then straightened.

  “Hi. I’m Claire. Can you wonderful people make a bee line for that exit? Adèle is bleeding right on the other side. Anyone who has the strength to grab a crate would be welcome to do so.”

  “What of Celosia?” The leader had a deep and marvellous voice—the kind Claire could’ve listened to for hours.

  “Fire girl? She fainted. Might be a little burned out?”

  She winced at her phrasing. Some puns were better kept for later. The leader stared at her. “Ne is agender, not a girl.”

  “I’m sorry, right, I’ll remember that. I didn’t check on ne. Came straight here.” And she needed to go. What had seemed like a minuscule number of crates to salvage now stressed her, and she’d spotted a second door. There could be even more on the other side. She had no time to waste. “Good luck. I’ll join as soon as I can. And seriously. Grab a crate if you can.”

  Claire sprinted right out again, dashing left to avoid a shower of sparks and smouldering wooden chips. Her gaze sought the crates of exocores. So few, she had thought upon arriving, but now… how could she save them all before the warehouse collapsed? So few, and yet too many. She gritted her teeth and pushed some of her dangerously low pool of power into her muscles as she reached a first pile. She had to save them before they burned to the ground.