Baker Thief

by Claudie Arseneault

  Claire bit her lower lip, her countenance deflated. Why was that a problem? Kouna had been clear about their lack of interaction with Claire, and Adèle had believed it. “No… Why?”

  Claire’s gaze flickered to Koyani. She didn’t answer the question, and Adèle didn’t push it. No point in drawing attention to it and causing Koyani to peg Claire as uncooperative from the start. The capitaine didn’t notice the brief lull in the conversation. They’d crossed back into the area with rows of tanks now, and she was staring at them. Koyani had rarely seemed so small to Adèle; despite the captain’s actual size, she often filled a room with her presence. Now she hunched over herself, her flesh hand clutching the prosthetic arm, her mouth twisted in a grim line.

  “We left Kouna when Zi—your friend barged in to call a rescue,” Adèle continued. “I rushed here with her and Koyani while Élise gathered reinforcements. We expected guards to be crawling through these labs.”

  Claire stopped dead in her tracks, leaning against Adèle’s subtle support as if her legs would give in. What colour their kiss had blown into her cheeks vanished again and her fingers dug into Adèle’s arm.

  “É-Élise is on her way with troops?”

  “I wish I had asked for doctors,” Koyani answered, her gaze still fixed on the tanks. “They will be needed if we want to care for everyone here.” She reached out for one of the containers, as if to brush her hand over it, but retracted her arm before she touched it. “Let’s move. They should arrive soon. I asked Paddlefish to wait for them, but I don’t like leaving her alone.”

  “N-no.” Claire stumbled back, releasing Adèle’s forearm from her vice grip.

  “What’s wrong?” Dread crawled into Adèle’s heart at Claire’s reaction. Something had been off about Élise all day, and now this? Koyani snapped her attention fully back to the conversation as Claire’s back hit a tank.

  “It’s Élise. She’s—when I arrived yesterday… She was—” Claire flailed and placed a hand on the glass behind her. “This. This is her work. Montrant needed an executive arm and—”

  Booted feet and shouts from the next room interrupted Claire, and Adèle’s throat dried as she recognized Zita’s voice, screaming at “wild brutes” to “let her go” and repeating her fake code name. The conviction she put into Spying Paddlefish amused Adèle for a flickering second—just long enough for the consequences of reinforcements led by a hostile Élise to sink in.

  “Capitaine, if she’s with Montrant Industries…”

  Raw anger shone in Koyani’s dark eyes as she slowly turned towards the two large doors leading out. Her voice remained steady, a solid rock for Adèle to rest upon. “Then someone on my team had even bigger secrets than you. Congratulations. I’ll deal with her.”

  The hesitant, almost diminished Koyani briefly witnessed earlier vanished. Adèle’s capitaine strode towards the double door with determination, as if nothing could stop her. Wasn’t she afraid of what they could do? Montrant Industries could never have built their network without legislative help. Who else worked with them, and how far up did it go? Adèle struggled to calm her thoughts and stay in control.

  “Claire?” she asked. They might have other options—other exits to escape through while Koyani bought them time. It would mean leaving her alone, however, and Adèle hated the idea of abandoning her capitaine like that.

  Claire lifted her chin and flung her hair back, her smile widening as her countenance returned. “I like this Koyani’s style. Better to face death head-on than cornered in a hole. Let’s go kick their butts so we can kiss again!”

  Warmth bubbled from Adèle’s chest, climbing into her throat and erupting into an elated, slightly hysteric laughter. Her fever was still running high, sending shivers down her spine. Two days ago, one of Montrant Industries’ goons had put a bullet through her, and now she would walk straight at several soldiers ready to obey their orders. It was wild, in a sense—wild and dangerous—but with Claire by her side, she couldn’t find it in her to worry.

  “With great pleasure,” she replied, and followed Koyani through the room.

  -23-

  JE CROIS EN TOI

  Police officers formed a crescent at the elevator end of the labs, several of them splitting from the group to go down the rows of benches and better surround them. Two of them stayed near the door, fingers clamped around Zita’s arms. Koyani scowled at them, but her attention focused on Élise, posing at the front and centre of her scattered troops. “The area is secure. Everyone can stand down.”

  Her commanding tone left no doubt about the nature of her words, but no one obeyed the order. Several glanced at Élise instead, and Adèle’s blood boiled. She shifted closer to Claire, her arm lifting protectively over her. It wouldn’t do much against that many soldiers, but she couldn’t help it. She regretted even coming. What a shitty rescue this turned out to be.

  “I’m afraid you have been relieved of your command, capitaine,” Élise said.

  Koyani barked a laugh. “Have I?” She started forward, one confident stride after another, her gaze fixed on Élise. Soldiers redirected their firearms towards her, and their stance tensed with every step Koyani took between the rows of science benches. “You are making a big mistake, Lieutenant Jefferson. Do you think you can lead my unit with a snap of your fingers? You have broken my trust, and I am relieving you from your position. Everyone else still answers to me.”

  Fury simmered under her cool tone, and when Koyani stopped less than a metre away from Élise, the other woman moved back. Adèle knew she’d have done the same, and every officer around the room shifted away, as if they desperately wished to be elsewhere. Koyani’s brutal honesty and willingness to put investigations over hierarchy had led the mairesse to grant her a special investigative unit, and it seemed the gathered police officers knew not to stand in her way. When she thrust her wrists forward in a mock “arrest me” gesture, several of them flinched. “What is the charge? Is there even one?”

  “Not for you.” Élise didn’t bother to hide her displeasure. She must have asked for leverage against Koyani beyond destitution from her position. Did her influence stop there, or would it come later, when she’d had more time to contact help?

  Koyani snorted in derision. Her voice dropped to a whisper, yet Adèle had no doubts everyone in the room could hear her. “What about you? Looking forward to answering for all the people you sucked into gems?”

  Élise laughed, but her control and mirth felt forced. She was afraid of what Koyani could do—of how far down the capitaine could drag her by speaking up, even if Élise won. Adèle squared her shoulders, pride filling her at the certainty Élise wouldn’t escape unscathed… unless she had them shot right now. Would the guards obey such an order? Judging by Koyani’s confident walk to Élise, the capitaine didn’t believe it.

  A quick pull on Adèle’s sleeve distracted her from the exchange between her two colleagues, and she turned to meet Claire’s deep brown eyes.

  “Will you be all right?” she asked.

  Adèle choked down her surprise. Wasn’t the risk higher for Claire? “Me? What about you?”

  “I’m not the one running a fever and struggling to breathe,” she pointed out. “I will be fine. Do you trust me?”

  She dropped the question casually, with a heartwarming grin and excitement in her eyes, yet tension laced every single word in it. Do you trust me? Adèle wanted to answer “I kissed you, of course I do” but not everyone had such clear-cut standards, and the question had legitimate roots. It had taken everything for Adèle to stop seeing Claire as a thief and believe she had rightful motives. No wonder Claire desired reassurance. Adèle smiled at her and squeezed her forearm. “I have the most complete faith in you.”

  “Good. I… I need you to listen and to… try to understand.”

  Guards started to pivot towards them. Adèle’s heart hammered against her chest as Claire stepped back and met her eyes. A second passed in silence, the longest in Adèle’s li
fe. She could sense Claire gathering her courage, turning careful words over her normally loose tongue. Whatever she meant to say, Adèle’s stomach twisted in anticipation.

  “I also…” She stopped, looked long and hard at Adèle. “Moi aussi, je crois en toi.”

  I believe in you. Adèle frowned—didn’t she already know that? Then her mind heard the slightly off way Claire had pronounced it, linking her words with an audible “s”, transforming a simple profession of faith into a beloved bakery name: Le Croissant-toi.

  I… Croissant-toi.

  Adèle didn’t need the “am” in the sentence to understand its meaning loud and clear. Suddenly Claire’s rich and warm scent clicked as that of fresh bread, along with the striking familiarity of her demeanour—her shrugs and quieter smiles and occasional laughs. Even her worry over Adèle when in dire straits herself—all of it, really. Everything Claire was and did reminded her of Claude, with a hint of daring and playfulness he might keep under wraps at work.

  In the brief moment Adèle needed to absorb the connection, Claire snapped her handcuffs open. She grabbed a stunned Adèle by the shoulders, called “à la prochaine!” and spun around, flinging the surprised woman full force towards Koyani and Élise. Adèle yelped as she flew into the others, her head ringing from the impact, the gunshots that followed, and, more than anything else, Claire’s most important words.

  Adèle, Koyani, and Élise landed in a heap on the ground, and Élise shoved Adèle aside and sprang to her feet, firearm at the ready. Koyani snatched her lieutenant’s ankle and yanked her back down, just in time for Claire to sprint past them, a streak of purple hair flying above the three women. Zita shouted wild encouragement above the din of a first salvo of gunshots, cheering her friend on. Adèle started to push herself up, but Koyani’s metallic hand forced her down. Bullets whizzed through the air above them, and Adèle belatedly realized she might have gotten shot again if not for her capitaine. Was that why she’d yanked Élise down, or did Koyani aim to protect Claire?

  Adèle tried to catch a glimpse of Claire, but between the officers converging on the escaping thief and the workbenches, Adèle couldn’t spot her. She flinched with every gunshot, half-convinced a cry of pain would follow, yet the chaos endured. Élise had found her feet and shouted orders, and Adèle’s heart sang with the palpable frustration in her tone. Even as rough hands grabbed her and Koyani, pulling them to their feet, she couldn’t help grinning. Claire had walked free from Montrant Industries. She had never given up her pursuit before, and Adèle knew she wouldn’t do so now, either.

  No matter what happened to them, Adèle had the utmost faith Claire would see this through.

  * * *

  Super speed turned out insufficient against a hail of bullets. Pain flared through Claire as she sprinted across the room, bent over so the lab benches would catch most of the shots. Two grazed her anyway—one along her right arm, and another past her thigh. Every step sapped her strength, but she kept pushing her exhausted body, drawing upon her magic to finish her escape.

  Fatigue and pain blurred the edge of her vision as she ran past the stunned bundle of limbs she’d turned Adèle, Koyani, and Élise into. She’d have to thank the capitaine for clearing her path. Her own mind buzzed with a strange elation—the adrenaline from opening up to Adèle and dodging literal bullets all at once, her heart hammering against her chest, threatening to burst. Every tink of a bullet landing into the floor at her feet or the benches around warned her of potential brutal death. Claire kept moving, praying the saints would protect her. By the time she reached the elevator, it was already a miracle she’d only been grazed twice. She sprang up, breaking fists first through the panel giving access to the cabin’s roof. Her knuckles would hurt for years, but she had no choice. Either she gritted her teeth and climbed despite the pain, or she’d be shot down mercilessly. As Claire grabbed the elevator’s cable, she heard a friendly voice cheer her on.

  “You show ’em!” Zita called, and though she lifted Claire’s spirits, it came with a pang of guilt.

  None of the others would escape, and who knew what Élise would do? Would she force Zita to hunt Claire down, the way Seekers had been used after the Meltdown? Or would Zita, Adèle, and Koyani all be filed under “knows too much” and executed as soon as possible? Claire fought against her rising nausea and started pulling herself up. Every swing of the cable—every inch climbed—sent waves of white-hot agony through her arm, and her right sleeve was soaked with blood, but she pushed on, forcing magic into her muscles. Claire remembered how quick the fall had been and wept inside at how endless the way up seemed. By the time she reached ground level and ripped the grate open, she was drenched in sweat and wracked with pain. Shouts echoed from below, and she leaped to safety just as bullets flew past her.

  Two officers and the lounge guard scrambled to attention. The instant she noticed their firearms had remained in their holsters, Claire burst into action, speeding right between them and leaving their surprised cries far behind.

  Sunlight hit her in full face, and she hissed at the sweltering day as if it was the tank’s hot white lamp. A month ago, she would have been in her bakery, greeting late customers hoping for leftover bread, slowly cleaning the place after a busy day. Instead, she was fleeing law enforcement in broad daylight, bleeding and exhausted, while her best friend and her maybe-something-special stayed trapped behind.

  Claire dove into an alleyway, passing under rows of bright white-and-yellow flags, and released her magic. She staggered for a moment, surprised at how heavy her limbs felt again, weighed down by exertion. She considered hiding there, in a corner, and praying no one would find her while she recovered, but the risk was too high. She forced herself into a brisk pace, heading north and more or less towards the Quartier des Bouleaux, but despite the pursuit which would soon follow, her mind drifted away, to Adèle and their brief, intense encounter after Claire’d woken up in the tank.

  She hadn’t expected Zita’s rescue to involve Adèle. She’d expected it to involve a kiss even less.

  It had felt so good to lean into Adèle—to just let go and allow protective arms to hold her up, even if only for a few seconds. Then Adèle had lifted her chin, and they had been so close, and exhaustion had washed away what inhibitions she had left.

  She had wanted a kiss—just a kiss, this whole horrible and complicated world be damned—and Adèle had blessed her with it.

  The world, of course, did not like being damned.

  She should have known better than to curse, even in her head. Koyani had interrupted, reinforcements had arrived, and Claire had been forced to make the most terrifying snap decision of her life: to drop the last mask, or to escape with her secret.

  It would have been easy to say nothing. She could have broken her handcuffs and dashed away without a word about the bakery, trusting Adèle to find her again, or running across the city to the Quartier des Mélèzes and Em’s manor. It would have been the sensible thing to do—one that gave them both time to prepare, absorb, and discuss. Claire had never been patient, though, and dozens of guns pointed your way added a sense of urgency. What if she never had another opportunity? What if Adèle died, or learned elsewhere?

  No. Claire had wanted Adèle to know, and she had wanted to tell her. She had held back before in case Adèle sought to arrest her and hinder her chance to find Livia, but after that kiss? That fear had vanished. Even now, as she darted between houses, pain in her arm and thigh flaring from gunshot wounds, a strange elation filled her. Je crois en toi wasn’t a scared admittance: it was a profession of faith. Adèle respected her—she believed in her. What stronger foundations could Claire ask for?

  If they could both make it out alive, it would be okay. They could kiss again, with significantly fewer layers of complicated. And maybe, just maybe, they could work out a relationship that fit Claire.

  Shrill police whistles shrieked, too close for comfort, snapping Claire back to the present. She needed to ditch pursuit,
and fast. She kept ahead through bursts of magic, ducking into alleyways or clambering upon rooftops when the vélocycles got too near. More than once, she thought she’d left them far behind and relaxed, only to be proven wrong by the renewed scream of whistles. The sound would haunt her dreams for weeks to come, sending her mind in a frenzy. Long minutes turned into an hour, and her exhaustion grew as the number of pursuers diminished.

  By the time Claire was truly clear of police, the Centre de Recherche was far away and she had entered the Quartier des Sorbiers—nowhere close to home. At least the law wouldn’t know where to look for her, but the run had completely, utterly drained her. She had burned all her magic, leaving nothing behind but an empty buzz between her ears and the desire to sleep an entire week. Claire headed deeper into her alleyway and sank against a wall. The Quartier des Sorbiers was rife with snaking narrow streets that climbed up its hill, houses lining against each other and creating unexpected pathways through the city. This particular alley had clothlines crisscrossing above, and the clothes and buildings blessed Claire with shade and privacy. She removed her mask, used it to wipe her sweaty face, then covered her hair with it. Nothing she would do could conceal her properly—not with her bloodied sleeve, snapped handcuffs, and black cotton outfit—but if Claire had to trek all the way back to the bakery, she would do her best not to draw notice.

  She dragged her feet down the twisting streets of the Quartier des Sorbiers, striking north first to avoid coming anywhere near the Pont des Lumières. She’d grown light-headed from blood loss, and the longer she lumbered through the city, a hot sun beating down on her, the harder it became to continue. Part of her wanted to collapse in the shade and let the world roll on without her.

  She needed her bakery, her safe place. Nothing else would soothe her ragged nerves. The overwhelming last days had emptied any reserves Claire had left. She had dodged death twice since dashing into the warehouse, saved Adèle and countless others, pierced the until-now ghost network, and spent an entire night strapped in one of those horrible tanks. Her hands still tingled from the warehouse burns, and the lack of proper rest, climb up an elevator’s cable, and new gun wounds left her utterly battered. She clung to what she had accomplished—to her kiss with Adèle and the certainty of her support, to Clémence’s dangerous change of heart and the papers making their way to Nsia Kouna, to her desperate escape and the fact she was still out there, alive and free. More than anything, however, she clung to her new, essential knowledge: