“If you want to drag a screaming child across the city to the evil scientist who created exocores and is without a doubt being watched by Montrant Industries, or working on the Pont des Lumières’ premises this very moment, suit yourself,” Koyani replied. “I’m staying here.”
“Right. I clearly need more coffee.”
Adèle gestured at the pot in the centre of the table. “It’s nothing fancy, but I made it strong.”
“Just like you enjoy it.” He smiled at her as he reached for it, and Adèle grinned back. The combination of her genuine pleasure and dishevelled bed head made his head spin and his mouth dry, and he tore his gaze away to focus on pouring his cup. While Val-de-mer’s dark green uniform granted her a sharp, assumed kind of sexiness, the loose shirt and latent sleepiness led to an understated, far more potent attractiveness—like she didn’t realize how amazing she looked, and how little he needed the coffee to be awake now. Claude cleared his throat and hoped the fire in his cheeks didn’t mean he’d grown bright red. “I take it the expedition went well?”
“I don’t know about ‘well’, but everyone is safe and sound,” Koyani said. “You can ask the Paddlefish for details. I’m sure she’d love to share the tale.”
Of course Zita would enjoy that. Claude reminded himself he needed to prod his best friend about that nickname’s origins, and if anyone except Koyani used it. He couldn’t help but wonder at the fondness with which the capitaine pronounced the word. “I will.”
“I can’t believe you forced me to sleep through this,” Adèle muttered. “Nothing happened here.”
“Cats invaded my bed and you didn’t stop them,” Claude replied. “Besides, you had your head in a pillow before I even left.”
“I try not to send officers who have been shot on the field,” Koyani said. “You needed the rest. Now you’ll be ready for tonight.”
“We’ll have the mairesse’s support, in more ways than one, but her demand was clear.” Claude let the sentence hang in the air and shoved delicious egg in his mouth. Needlessly dramatic, perhaps, but didn’t he deserve to eat and enjoy himself? Koyani had frozen in place, fingers half-wrapped around a glass of juice. Claude swallowed. “We’re duty-bound to crash the Pont des Lumières’ opening ceremony and, dare I say it, shed light on the horrors of Montrant Industries.”
Adèle snorted at his pun—the saints bless her, if she hadn’t, they might not have made good partners after all. Koyani released a sigh of relief and snatched her glass off the table, her smile widening. “Now that’s the Denise Jalbert I know. For a moment, I worried she would demand compromises from me. She knows I wouldn’t accept.”
“It sounded like she did.” These two obviously had a history, and it was none of his business. He focused on his meal, glad for solid food to put at the bottom of his stomach. Two of the witches he’d rescued entered while he was eating, followed by one of Koyani’s men—Yuri, the pale one who’d stayed with Adèle. He greeted them with a nod while heading for the breakfast table. Claude turned back to Koyani. “She promised to disrupt security as much as possible and to get in touch with information about what she accomplished late in the day. Frankly, I don’t care what happens at the ceremony. All I want is to go in there and save my sister.”
“Then focus on that.”
“There ought to be other exocores and witches with Livia, right?” Adèle asked. “You’ve been rescuing these people from the start. Finish what you started, and we’ll deal with everything that added itself to the task. You don’t have to do it all.”
“In fact, you shouldn’t,” Koyani continued. “The longer you stay the central figure in this, the harder it will become to hide the rest of your life. Since we have a spider’s blessing, I propose you try to go entirely unnoticed and let the attention shift on Mairesse Jalbert, myself, and Adèle. Mx. Kouna might even help us spin the tale away from you.”
“Good. That… that would be really nice.” Claude longed for the stillness of his bakery early in the morning, for a night cuddling against Adèle, or for a day of getting beaten at board games by Livia. He wanted his routine with loving and supportive friends and family, and for that, he needed anonymity.
Yuri slid at the table with his plate—a mountain of crepes and syrup, with no egg or meat whatsoever. “Already planning for tonight?” The fork and knife in hand, he attacked his food with great enthusiasm, stopping to speak in-between bites. “You could wait until after breakfast, you know. Clémence’s Montrant Industries care package contained the full schematics of the Pont des Lumières and its surroundings.”
“I’ll set it up in the library,” Adèle suggested. “Em has a large table for when her research spreads and becomes a little… out of control.”
“Excellent.” Koyani pushed herself up. “I’ll clean myself up. Rendez-vous there in an hour.”
The entire afternoon was devoted to plans. They examined schematics of the bridge and debated the best approach, they argued over who should come and who should stay safe, and they struggled to figure out when to seize control and what to say. Claude did his best to help, but the back and forth fried his brain. That was why he had never been a planner: the details slipped out of his mind as soon as they entered. After a while, he interrupted to give Koyani instructions on how to reach the Spinster and left.
They could tell him the plan later. He, however, needed to relax.
Claude granted himself permission to use Emmanuelle’s kitchen. Like the rest of the manor, it was elegant and airy, with enormous counters that he immediately envied. Large ovens occupied most of his bakery’s small space, and while he had sufficient counter length, Em’s surface stretched to almost double the size of his. Claude ran his fingers over it before seeking his most trusted allies: flour, water, salt, and yeast. He grinned when he found nuts and raisins, mentally making adjustments to his basic recipe. It’d been too long since he had baked anything—a few days, in truth, but they felt like a lifetime. Gnawing worry at the multiple ways tonight could fail disappeared as he measured ingredients, mixed them together, and created a sticky, humid dough. He didn’t need plans. He needed bread, and a creative outlet for his nervous energy—nothing could beat dough under his fingers for that. Claude soon had the basics for baguettes ready for the five-hour wait of the first pointe. He wished he’d thought to mix poolish before leaving for Denise’s house, the previous night—when had he last prepared anything without pre-fermentation? Too bad. Claude ransacked the kitchens until he found butter and started on the croissants’ dough.
“Zita said I’d find you here.”
Adèle’s voice caught him off guard. He jerked in his surprise, and his elbow hit the sack of flour, tipping it over. A white cloud rose over the counter, covering him as he scrambled to right the sack. For a brief, chaotic moment he expected it to roll to the ground and create an even bigger mess, and Adèle’s easy chuckles assuaged his frantic panic.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was… very caught up. In my croissant-making.”
“I could see that.” Adèle laughed again, before stepping in and searching the many drawers for something to clean with. “They’re still going over contingencies. I’m starting to believe Yuri is capable of conceiving every single scenario imaginable. It’s fascinating.”
“I think ‘exhausting’ is the word you’re looking for,” Claude replied. He gathered the flour off the counter with his hands, ignoring Adèle’s offer of a cloth. “Don’t mind me. I had too little sleep, and plans make my head spin. I’d rather be clear-headed than completely knackered.”
“Fair enough.” She leaned on the counter next to him, right over the flour. If the potential white smears bothered her, she didn’t show. “Does that mean you’ll improvise?”
“Clémence implied Livia would be in the upper parts of the Pont’s structure. There’s a doorway near the top. I’ll enter from there and search unless Zita senses her elsewhere. What else can I plan? I don’t know what state Livia will be in, or even
exactly where to find her.” He grabbed the bag of flour and closed it, before returning to his croissants’ dough, turning it over and kneading as he talked. “One thing has held true throughout this entire ordeal, however: the saints have watched over my dangerously impulsive posterior and kept me in one piece. I can only trust they will do so again.”
Adèle laughed, then reached for the amulet at her neck. “We can only hope they’ll protect us all.”
Silence slithered between them as Claude left the croissant dough alone and checked on the bread’s mix, to see if it had raised any. At first, the silence bothered him. He and Adèle were always trading words, whether it was while he asked her for news every morning at the bakery, or during her brief but tense exchanges with Claire. But not all silences needed to be filled, and Claude enjoyed the discreet and solid company this afforded him. He’d wanted to relax, not to dwell on the myriad of ways tonight could end. Adèle continued cleaning up while he worked, taking care of the flour that had spilled on the ground broom in hand, much like Livia had swept the Croissant-toi’s floor on the day of her arrival. Only when they were done and Adèle was storing the broom did Claude speak again.
“Have you… talked to Élise?”
“No.” Adèle clenched her teeth and slammed the cupboard’s door close. “Koyani and Inha have been with her, but I see no point. In the end, I didn’t know her that well.”
It had been long enough for the betrayal to hurt, that much Claude could tell from the sharpness of Adèle’s tone. He didn’t push the issue, however. Élise could rot in a cell for decades for all he cared; she would deserve it. He had only worried Adèle would need closure of some sort. Perhaps not.
“I guess we’re ready for tonight, then,” he said.
“If such a thing is possible.” The corners of her lips curved up in a shy smile. “What did you ask of me, once, at the warehouse? Promise me you won’t die? I don’t want to lose my new partner. It’s… hard, letting you split up from the group so soon. I wish we could stay together.”
Claude froze near the doorway. The depth of Adèle’s caring left him breathless, both from the head-spinning warmth it filled him with, and from the incessant voice of doubts, at the bottom of his mind. She loved him—romantically loved him—that much was clear as day. Did she expect him to change? Eventually give it back? Would she grow bitter if his love remained different? But he had been honest from the start, and Adèle had acknowledged it. He had to believe she understood and accepted what it meant.
“I’m not dying anytime soon,” he promised. “Imagine how many croissants are in our future? I want us to sit down and talk again, about us, but I want to do that with Livia safe, and with someone else taking care of Montrant. After that, we can enjoy some butter-filled goodness and define the shape of us.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Her voice had the same fragile huskiness Claude felt inside, and knowing they shared that uncertainty reassured him. Adèle crossed the kitchen in those long, determined strides that had always characterized her gait, and she set a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever the shape, I want you to be comfortable with it. It doesn’t matter if it’s unusual. We just need it to fit us, right?”
“Right.” And that was why she was amazing. A soft smile brightened his face, and Claude opened the door. “I bet it’ll be croissant-shaped,” he added. “Because of the layers.”
He had said it in jest and was rewarded with Adèle’s heartfelt laughter, but his thoughts lingered on the imagery. When he had first spoken of layers to Adèle, he had meant complications—elements and secrets that hindered their potential relationship. Perhaps that had been wrong. Perhaps they had needed the layers, like how flaky dough required being folded over and over in order to rise. Would their bond be as strong without Claire’s stealing and the shroud of mystery that had kept Adèle from perceiving all of him? He liked to think every one of their interactions, even the rocky ones, had contributed to the final result, and they had now reached the last step: baking.
He couldn’t wait to see what would come out of the oven.
-29-
LUMIÈRE CRUELLE
Even with The Spinster’s help, sneaking to the stage where political figures would inaugurate the Pont des Lumières proved a struggle. The first entrance had been unguarded, but other soldiers had moved around the premise, and Koyani, Yuri, and Adèle had needed every bit of coordination to take guards out before they were spotted. They had found themselves wishing Marcel had stayed with them, but he, Inha and several witches approached the area from the opposite side, closer to the bridge, opening a path for Claire and Zita.
By the time they made it to the front scene, Mairesse Jalbert was well into her speech. Her voice travelled over the gathered crowd, powerful even with the scratchy quality of old age threaded through it. “We can only hope that the Pont des Lumières will forever stand as a witness to what humanity is capable of. Many lives were sacrificed during the construction of this bridge—people who often go forgotten and unseen, but whose contributions we must remember. Today, we finally shed light on the Pont, and, as we celebrate, we must keep them in our minds.”
Adèle grinned. Every single one of those words could be reinterpreted, and, when the day was over, people would look back to the Spinster’s speech and notice the extra threads woven into her message. No wonder Koyani and Claude liked her so much. She had a way with the crowd, capturing their attention. Adèle had only ever read quotes from the mairesse before, and with a few spoken lines she understood why Val-de-mer had reelected Denise Jalbert for the past fourteen years.
“But enough about me,” Jalbert declared. “Let’s hear it from the true instigator of our brand-new bridge, the woman who pulled all the strings to make this happen in our beautiful city, the gouverneure of our state, Madame Annabelle Lacroix.”
She stepped back with a wide gesture at the smaller woman by her side, who had chosen an elegant forest green dress for the occasion. Gouverneure Lacroix thanked the mairesse with a nod then strode forward under the thunderous applause. A delicate smile decorated her lips, and she moved with poise and purposefulness. It was a different kind of confidence than the Spinster’s, but no less striking. In her fifties, the gouverneure had forged her way up through strength of character and, it seemed, a large network unafraid of shady dealings.
“Good evening, citizens.” Her voice rose as she spoke, carrying across the crowd with ease, rich and warm. “It is with immense pleasure that I am at this grand opening tonight. The Pont des Lumières is more than a gigantic infrastructure. It is my life’s work—a beautiful gift to this city I once inhabited, and which has suffered so much over the last decades. Many of you may know I was born in the Quartier des Épinettes, and my heart has grieved along with yours for the lives brutally wiped out in the Meltdown. Val-de-mer has endured difficult years, but today we move on!” A hard edge crept into her tone. “We move into a new era, one without dependence on witches’ fickleness. Starting tonight, we are in control of our destiny. And this beautiful bridge? It will light our way!”
She raised a hand, fingers stretched towards the sky, then clamped it into a fist and lowered her arm. At her signal, the Pont des Lumières blazed to life. Soft white lights ran along its main towers and the bridge behind, illuminating the structure, but the most impressive change came from the glasswork. Spotlights must have been installed on the other side, because the darkened piece of art turned into an intricate pattern of colourful tiles. A great tree stretched its branches, roots digging into red soil, the purple sky alive above it. And smack in the middle of the illustration, as if clinging to one of the branches, was Claire.
Adèle’s heart plunged as the brightness highlighted Claire’s shape, with Zita on her back. The crowd gasped and pointed, Gouverneure Lacroix cursed, and the soldiers raised their guns. Adèle sprinted forward, yelling “Marcel!” and gesturing at the line of guards between herself and the stage, now taking aim at Claire. They crumpled to the ground, put to s
leep by her colleague’s well-placed spell, and chaos followed their fall. The crowd backed away as one, people pushing at each other to get farther from the stage. On the other side, bright flames erupted from Celosia as Docteure Adaho’s small team of witches kept the soldiers busy. Several still shot at Claire, but she smashed the glasswork in. As the shattering of glass rang above the many screams, she disappeared within the Pont des Lumières, and Adèle returned her attention to their task. They needed to take control.
Koyani and Yuri had surged past her, leaping over the sleeping guards and climbing onto the stage. The capitaine clamped her hand over the gouverneure’s shoulders, the other holding handcuffs. Two bodyguards tried to rush in to help Lacroix, but Yuri put two sleeping darts into them with exemplar calm. Adèle joined them and surveyed the crowd. Inha and Marcel had been hard at work neutralizing what security the mairesse hadn’t managed to remove, and both the constant blasts of gunshots and Celosia’s fire stopped quickly.
“What is this?” the gouverneure demanded. “An arrest?”
“Hopefully,” Koyani said.
The gouverneure scoffed, but before either could continue their low conversation, a strange hush fell over the plaza. Most of the crowd had dispersed with the first gunshots, shoving their way to the closest streets, but those remaining stilled their flight and turned to listen. Many now edged back, their curiosity overcoming their need for safety. Adèle easily found Nsia Kouna within the spectators: they had ditched their quick disguise and stayed near the front lines. They were sketching furiously, eager not to miss a moment. Adèle slid closer to Capitaine Koyani, and she noticed Yuri naturally did the same on the other side and grabbed the gouverneure, allowing his capitaine full freedom of movement. Koyani set her hands on her hips and cleared her throat, to cast her voice across the plaza.
“My unit has been investigating the creation of exocores. We believe you, Gouverneure Lacroix, have been involved into this thoroughly inhuman process, and we have questions you must answer.”
Baker Thief Page 28
