“It could be dangerous. Their own raw magic forms a film that draws the rest out, as if trying to reach a new physical shell. Exocores function in the same manner, except that the more the magic fills the gem, the less pressure it applies to suck out what is left. I refined the technique to obtain the most out of any witch, but even then… This works better. The pressure never diminishes because the power is consumed as—”
“I couldn’t care less about what horrors you conceived to drain her. You knew I would return, so you better have designed a way to get her out.”
“I did… In theory. The film is their magic. I should be able to nullify it.”
“Time to make theory into a reality, my friend.”
“Please,” Zita added, her voice almost a squeak.
Ever since Claire had reminded her of Clémence’s contribution to this horror, Zita had looked nauseated. Clémence turned to her, and ols expression softened. With a slight nod, ol headed for the wall and placed a hand on Livia’s forearm. The film seemed to curl away from ol, like paper near a flame. Claire scuttled closer to her sister, ready to catch her. Her heart hammered as Clémence worked ols way up. What if she hadn’t arrived fast enough? What if after all of this, Livia was lost? Could any of the people in the exocores truly be saved, or had they risked it all for nothing?
Warm fingers snatched up Claire’s hand and squeezed it, stopping her panicked thoughts from wandering any farther. Claire glanced at Zita, standing by her side with a tired but confident smile. Warmth spread through her. Her best friend’s optimistic view of life never failed to calm her. It would be okay. They would put an end to the exocore creation and fix the damage done. Adèle was down there with Koyani and the mairesse, exposing the gouverneure for her heinous crimes. They would prevent police forces from stomping up the Pont des Lumières and arresting Claire. And while they were cleaning up the exocore mess across the city, Claire could bring Livia home and welcome her back with the best croissants she had ever baked.
Sweat rolled down Clémence’s forehead as ol worked, and the film stopped peeling away. Before Claire could complain, ol raised a hand. “I need a moment to recover before the hard part. I have to release them all together. This… Because the power is turned on, freeing your sister is applying more pressure on her two companions. Either I do all three, or they will die within minutes. I don’t want to mess it up because I was careless.”
Claire gritted her teeth. She wanted to scream. “Wonderful. Just… hurry as much as you can.”
Pressing Clémence might have been unnecessary, but she’d needed to release some frustration. With every moment Livia spent in this half-cocoon of magic, her life force slipped into the bridge, perhaps lost forever. Somehow, she doubted Livia’s deep pool of magic would remain unaffected by this technique. A look at her emaciated body destroyed any hope of that. Claire prayed that time and care would allow her sister to recover from this ordeal, and as she watched Clémence free the two other witches, she extended that thought to all of those stuck in exocores, whether as a thin film of magic or as a gem.
Long minutes passed, and Claire wished she could see outside, or hear enough noises to know what was happening. A dull throb in the back of her head covered the din of whatever chaos Adèle and the others had created, muffling out even gunshots. She suspected the ambient magic, the constant pain from her wounds, and the blood loss were causing it. Perhaps once they’d shut down the Pont and received treatment, it would vanish. The lights started flickering as Clémence neared the end of ols work, and when ol finally removed the last of Livia’s glowing cocoon, they fizzled out entirely. A long moan escaped Livia and she tilted forward, no longer imprisoned by the film. Claire slipped out of Zita’s grasp and caught her twin as she fell.
Livia felt ridiculously light even without augmented strength, as fragile as thin ice. Claire wanted to squeeze her tight but feared breaking her sister’s bones. She settled for a quick kiss on her temple and securing her hold. At least she had her. She could hardly believe it—her sister was in her arms, alive despite everything. Darkness had fallen around them, and Claire suspected the entire Pont des Lumières no longer shone bright and strong. They had cast it back into obscurity, right where it belonged.
-30-
OMBRES PROTECTRICES
When Adèle returned to the plaza, she caught a glimpse of the chaos that had unfolded without her. The Pont des Lumières was still shining bright light down on them, most of it white, and some coloured by the panels from the glasswork partly shattered by Claire’s entrance. Trash cans were smoking near the plaza’s exits, where Celosia’s magic had set them on fire, and several soldiers of the national guards were lying on the floor, hopefully asleep. Riderless horses milled around the crowd, remaining at the edges of the confused mass of humans. Adèle had no idea what had happened to the sniper, but the mairesse stood defiantly in the middle of the front platform, so they must have had been taken care of. Marcel had knocked Élise out once more, and they had walked the gouverneure onto the stage.
Unwilling to leave Em’s side as the docteure wove her healing net again, Adèle had stayed back with Zuri. Her sister had kept trying to shoo her off, promising Adèle she was feeling increasingly better and that if Yuri was fine she would be too, and it hadn’t been until Koyani gripped Adèle’s shoulders and asked for company on the stage that Adèle had agreed to leave. She’d hated every moment of it, but duty called, and deep down she knew she could count on Docteure Adaho.
She and Koyani flanked the mairesse on each side, with the capitaine holding the gouverneure steady once more. Adèle hoped that although their outfits were now bloodied, they still cut impressive figures. She found Kouna drawing again, at the exact same spot, as if they hadn’t doubted for a second that they’d return. Reassured by their confidence, Adèle smiled.
The Spinster turned to the crowd with the poise of someone whose speech had not been interrupted by snipers and cavalry. “Thank you for staying or returning to us. To those worried, the officier shot while by my side earlier is in good hands and will survive. If you need to seek safety, please don’t hesitate to leave the premise. What we have to say tonight will be printed in time for tomorrow’s breakfast. If, however, you want to hear here and now why your lives were put in danger, remain here, with us.” She waited, and a few made their way towards the exits. Once most of the crowd had stopped moving, she started weaving her tale.
“Citizens of Val-de-mer, I have told you earlier… Today, we shed light on the Pont’s true nature! Many perished for this bridge, often unnoticed and forgotten—those who built the structure, and those who power it even now. And that is the heart of it. The exocores are witches, imprisoned within a gem, slowly being drained of their life force. The Pont des Lumières is an abomination—a testament to our cruelty—and it should never have been allowed to brighten our cityscape!”
The Pont’s lights flickered as she finished her sentence, as if their power source had become unstable. Adèle’s heart lifted at their first good sign from inside. It had to be Claire and Zita. Who else? Claire had found her sister, and she would shut the entire bridge down. Excitement and hope rippled through Adèle in a head-spinning wave, and she struggled to focus on her situation instead of imagining Claire’s relief.
“This is nonsense,” Lacroix said. “We have forsaken witch magic. It’s unreliable and destructive, and the technology to force it into gems does not exist. You would do well to watch your words, Spinster. That web of yours won’t hold against bigger prey.”
The mairesse laughed, a brief and dismissive sound. “People here have had fourteen years to learn I do not spin my webs from lies, Madame la gouverneure, and nothing is more robust than the truth. Why else would you resort to snipers and soldiers? But we can explain in more detail, provided Madame Duclos feels up to it despite her very recent gunshot wound. Emmanuelle, would you care to demystify the science in general terms?”
Adèle spun on her heels as her sister strode u
pon the stage, wrapped in a golden light. The loose healing web circled Em’s entire frame, more tightly knit around her belly and back. Docteure Adaho held her arm, supporting her, and they walked with a deliberate calm that gave both an air of regality. Em had pinned up her curls again, and her hair looked sterling, as if she had never been attacked. She exuded competence and confidence, and as she took the centre stage, Adèle couldn’t tear her eyes away.
“Good evening, everyone,” Em begun with her science-lecture voice. “I’m afraid I have had little time to prepare charts and graphs to facilitate comprehension tonight. I have, however, had ample opportunity to examine those used to devise the exocores, and the conversion of magic into a solid support for energy is a specialty of mine. We will keep this simple, as I’m sure none of you attended this event or stayed through the violence for a science lesson.” A smattering of chuckles spread across the crowd and Em smiled at them.
“Magic is a form of energy. It exists in the air around us, like a great many other things we’ve yet to properly fathom. Witches pull upon this ambient energy and create an internal pool of it. Exocores steal this pool. One must understand, however, that although we use the image of a reservoir to describe a witch’s magic, it is not… gathered in such a manner. Their magic is threaded through their very being. You cannot tear the magic away without taking the witch, too. It must be freely given, or the person is trapped in the gem alongside their power.”
She paused, letting the full implication of her words sink in, the deafening silence sign enough that most were putting one and one together. Behind her, the bridge’s lights kept flickering more and more. Emmanuelle shifted towards it. “Right now, as we speak, people’s life force is being drained everywhere across the city.”
“But someone saw it coming.” Adèle stepped forward, half-surprised at her own intervention. She hated public speaking, and now all eyes had turned to her. She could feel them drilling through her, judging her, and her heart sped under the pressure. “When I arrived here, I was tasked with finding and arresting a purple-haired thief—one whom Mx. Nsia Kouna dubbed ‘the Exocore Thief’ in an incisive article. You saw her climbing the Pont des Lumières earlier. From the start, she and others knew something was wrong with the exocores. She saved hundreds of them already and she is saving even more right now.” The lights went down for longer than usual, and Adèle was certain Claire had almost finished. The crowd had hushed in a reverential silence. Adèle smiled; they were listening, believing. “Lieutenant Jefferson isn’t dead: she was involved in the large-scale kidnapping and transformation of hundreds of witches, and shot Emmanuelle less than an hour ago in one last desperate attempt to stop us.”
“And yet we’re here,” Koyani continued, picking up right where Adèle had left it. “Gouverneure Lacroix said the Pont des Lumières was her life’s work. She put everything she had into it, coercing one of Madame Duclos’ colleagues into developing a brand-new form of energy and throwing her political weight behind Montrant Industries. It’s over now. Adèle, would you like the honour?”
Adèle’s heart jumped as Koyani extended manacles to her. The gouverneure was staring ahead, pale and stiff, her chin lifted with as much dignity as she could muster. She was no longer arguing. Either she recognized the pointlessness when faced with an increasingly hostile crowd, now filled with angry mutterings, or she had another plan, secret cards to play later. The idea sent chills down Adèle’s spine, but she pushed it away. Tonight, they were exposing Montrant Industries. They could think of the consequences later.
Accepting the handcuffs, Adèle walked solemnly to the gouverneure and grabbed her wrists before clipping the cuffs around them. The soft click echoed across the near-silent plaza, as if the hundred citizens gathered were holding their breath, waiting for the sound’s finality and the undeniable confirmation of the events unfolding before them. And as Adèle pressed the handcuffs close, her hands steady despite the wild hammering in her chest, the Pont des Lumières’ lights went out, leaving only the occasional gas lamp to stave off the darkness.
“She did it,” Adèle whispered.
She allowed relief to flood through her as her eyes readjusted to the moonlight. The crowd clustered under the gas lamps around the area, seeking its light. One such lamp hung right above the front stage, and it now shed its light directly on Denise Jalbert, who had somehow known exactly where to stand. The mairesse began explaining the city’s plan to retrieve every exocore installed into people’s homes, offering financial compensation straight from Montrant Industries’ coffers so Val-de-mer would recover. Adèle tuned out the details, her mind returning to her new partner, the brilliant baker who had started it all, still inside the Pont des Lumières. This wasn’t over—of course not—but for now Adèle was ready to celebrate. Claire had found Livia, and they had arrested the gouverneure. It had almost cost Yuri and Emmanuelle their lives, but they had done it, and they deserved a break. She only hoped it would include fresh croissants and coffee.
* * *
No one came after Claire in the Pont des Lumières itself. She had expected troops to invade the corridors, booted feet echoing down the darkened paths and instead she received complete silence. Every step resonated loud and clear, and at first she had cringed at the sound announcing her presence. She had become so used to stealth and shadows. As Claire and the others progressed towards the exit, guided by Clémence’s mental map of the building, Claire grew accustomed to her own loud striding. She held Livia tighter, straightened her back, and lifted her chin. The Pont des Lumières belonged to them now. They had taken over—why else would no one come after them, ready to shoot them down? Koyani’s small team must have successfully kept the plaza under control.
Claire sped up her pace, eager to join the rest of the group and see what was left to be done. The Pont still contained hundreds of exocores, and someone needed to care for the two witches that had been installed with Livia. Zita had found a blanket for them and tried to make both as comfortable as possible while Clémence was recovering from the staggering drain of magic freeing the three witches had represented. They could ask Denise Jalbert to send allies—any ally but Claire. She had her sister, and the exhaustion of the past weeks was starting to settle in. She had done her part, and until she felt like more than an automated husk again, someone else would need to step up.
Claire strode out of the Pont des Lumières main entrance flanked by Zita and Clémence—a tiny barrel-shaped woman on one side, and a tall, dapper scientist on the other. A thin crowd was still milling around the plaza, forming groups of discussion, and the earlier chaos had left burning trash cans and downed guards. People hushed as they spotted the trio, nudging each other and pointing. Claire almost backpedalled into the Pont, her breath catching at suddenly being the centre of attention. Zita’s small hand against her back steadied her, and she forced herself to inhale deeply. It would be okay. They had torn down the Pont des Lumières and the awful lies behind Montrant Industries. This crowd was nothing she couldn’t handle. Claire sought the stage, across the plaza, and took her first confident stride in that direction, followed by Zita and Clémence.
To her surprise, people parted before them. Many whispered about the exocore thief, others shouted thanks at her. Clémence hunched ols shoulders, as if trying to occupy as little space as possible. Zita, however, grinned at the sudden influx of love. She waved at the crowd on each side, glowing at their enthusiasm. Halfway through the trek across the plaza, she leaned towards Claire and whispered “I can’t believe they’re so happy to see a bunch of witches.” And she was right, that was incongruous. Would their reaction be so positive if they knew Claire held the very witch who had iced the Lark Soul Tree? Doubtful, but she had no intention of shattering their illusions. Claire couldn’t remember the last public show of support for magic users, and she hoped this one would last. She summoned the confident façade she’d always donned with her mask and started nodding back at those who called out to her.
By the time she reached the elevated platform, Denise Jalbert stood on it, ready to welcome them. Zita climbed on it excitedly before helping Clémence up. Claire looked back at the smattering of people still gathered, staring at her intently, then tested her power. Clémence’s negating field must be contained, because she could access her remaining magic with ease. Claire’s smile grew—if they wanted a show, she could give them one.
“Good evening, Madame la Mairesse,” she declared. She made sure she had a solid hold of Livia before pushing strength into her legs and springing up, leaping higher than the mairesse’s thin frame, vaulting over her and landing neatly on the stage. Denise turned, startled but grinning. The crowd gasped and clapped, as if they had just witnessed great circus acrobatics, and the sound rushed to Claire’s head. Still clutching Livia, she bowed and retreated, away from the scene and away from them. As fun as their awe was, she had no patience for public appearances.
Most of their team had formed a small secure perimeter behind the stage, stealing the tent structure that had been set up for the gouverneure and repurposing makeshift tables into… hospital beds? Her heart stopped as she stared at Yuri and Emmanuelle, both pale and bloodied. Zuri bent over the former, lowering a golden web over his wounds, her expression set in intense concentration. Emmanuelle seemed in a better state, already wrapped in soft light, but Adèle stayed by her side nonetheless, her sister’s hand tight in hers. Claire hesitated at the edge, unsure where to put Livia down, or how urgently her twin needed help compared to Yuri and Emmanuelle. As she stood there, frozen and indecisive, Nsia Kouna spotted her and headed her way.
“Claire,” they greeted. “Welcome to our temporary headquarters.”
“Where is everyone?” She couldn’t find Koyani or her team besides Adèle and Yuri, and many of the witches who had been in the warehouse had gone, too. Gouverneure Lacroix was nowhere around either.
Baker Thief Page 30
