Baker Thief

by Claudie Arseneault

  “Getting our two criminals behind proper prison bars and making sure Emmanuelle’s manor is safe to return to. Lieutenant Jefferson showed up while the gouverneure tried to escape and almost killed Em, so we think troops might have raided her house.”

  “Oh.”

  Words escaped her. Livia was starting to feel heavy in her arms, and she knew it was as much emotional exhaustion as carrying her sister around for so long. Nsia seemed to understand, because they set a hand on her elbow and slowly guided her closer to the beds. “Let me prepare a clean area for you to lay your twin down. It won’t be much, but I’ll ask Docteure Adaho to check on her after she is finished with Mister Osinov. You must not worry for Emmanuelle—she is only resting and was up on the stage earlier.”

  Relief flooded through Claire and she allowed Nsia to lead her around, listening to their instructions until Livia rested on a mix of coats and clothes, one of them bundled under her head as a pillow. At first, Claire wanted to sit by Livia’s side and stay, irrationally certain that if she left her twin would disappear again. Nsia gently convinced her to take a break, insisting Adèle might be in need of some friendly company. When Claire glanced at the police officer’s crestfallen expression, she couldn’t help but agree. Adèle had rarely looked so stricken. Claire found a chair, dragged it close, and collapsed into the seat next to Adèle.

  “Nsia told me she’d be okay,” Claire said.

  Adèle startled, as if she hadn’t heard Claire settle nearby, too caught up in her fearful thoughts. She swallowed hard and flicked a smile. “I know. My guts won’t accept it, but I know. I just… I knew this would be dangerous, but I was ready for me to… Not for her.” She let go of Emmanuelle, clasping her hands together and setting them on her lap. They were shaking. “I don’t understand how she lived. Élise shot her right before my eyes, almost at point blank. She… All the blood. It was—”

  Claire wrapped an arm around Adèle’s back, pulling her closer until they could lean against each other. “It’s okay. It’s over now. We did it, Adèle. No one’s dying, from gunshots or being turned into exocores, or anything. Livia is safe, and so is your sister, and soon the four of us can sit around a table and play cards and chat, or eat fresh bread and make whatever plans we want.”

  “That sounds nice,” Adèle said, and she leaned further into Claire, closing her eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Warmth spread through Claire at the words and she whispered “me too” as she squeezed Adèle closer. She felt small, almost buried under the taller woman’s frame, but Adèle’s weight against her was full of reassuring promises. It was enough to be reunited with her, to be able to comfort Adèle and project into a common future—to know they had one, away from Montrant Industries’ inhuman plots and the conflict that had plagued their early relationship. Claire closed her eyes, enjoying the press of Adèle’s body as she imagined their next morning chat in the Croissant-toi, Adèle sitting at the counter while Claire prepared her strongest coffee and picked her best croissant out of the lot. She liked to think these brief exchanges would now end with Claire leaning over the counter to steal a kiss before sending her police officer to work.

  -31-

  DU PAIN ET DU REPOS

  Livia snatched a fifth croissant off the plate and tore a large chunk from it before shoving it in her mouth. She had opened her eyes about an hour ago and, after being reassured by Claude that she was safe, she had caught a whiff of the fresh pastries. Her first words had been “are those croissants?” and she had said nothing but the occasional thank you since. She didn’t need to. Tears had filled her eyes after a bite, and Claude knew that while she was probably famished, Livia was also using this prolonged break to sort through her feelings. He gave her the space she needed, sitting nearby with Gravity on his lap. Two more cats had elected to occupy Livia’s bed and piled one upon the other within the single ray of sunlight falling on it. Sometimes Livia stopped eating to stare at them and the faintest hint of a smile curved her lips. She finished her croissant, then reached for Sol, running a hand through her thick orange fur. After long minutes scratching her around the ears, Livia voiced her first question. She hesitated, as if she couldn’t decide what mattered the most. She met Claude’s eyes, and determination shone behind her exhaustion.

  “How much did you stop?”

  Claude heard the determination nestled within her question: Livia meant to fight until Montrant Industries was destroyed if necessary. He smiled at his sister, glad she wouldn’t have to.

  “Everything,” he said. “We found who and where, and Denise is helping us put an end to it all and retrieve all the exocores sold. Adèle and her capitaine are building a case on everyone related to Montrant Industries. It’s over, Livia. I’m… I’m so sorry I brought you into this, and you suffered so much.”

  “There was a warehouse with women…”

  “We saved them, too. There were a lot of exocores in it, and Zita could sense them. That’s how I found your trail.” Threads of guilt weighed him down again, but he pushed them away. He had rescued as many as he could—more than anyone else. He should mourn the others without blaming himself. Claude reached out, placing his hand over Livia’s. “I know you want to participate, but you need to recover. It’s under control now. You and I can rest.”

  He couldn’t wait to return to his bakery, although he suspected he would take a few days off before reopening. Claude tried not to think of what his finances might look like after the time spent closed. It shouldn’t matter, considering what he’d used that time for, yet it bothered him that he had let down faithful customers without an explanation. Would they ask questions? Might any of them recognize him from Kouna’s first newspaper article? He had no desire for fame; he wanted his slow life back. Livia clearly had different goals, however.

  “What about the witches stuck in exocores? Can we do anything for them?” She slipped her hand out of his and turned her head away, to stare at the bright window. “They can’t stay in there, Claude. It’s too awful.”

  For a moment, he felt guilty. It hadn’t crossed his mind that he should be there for the trapped exocores. Hadn’t he done enough already? But in truth, he didn’t grasp the science behind this and would have no idea where to start. “I know. Emmanuelle understands something of how they created these gems. If anyone can figure out how to undo them, it’ll be her. She’ll get a grant for it, too.”

  “Then I want to help,” she said, and Claude realized instantly nothing could stop her.

  “As long as you rest first.”

  “Sure.”

  And they both knew, from that simple answer, that she wouldn’t—not unless forced to. Claude made a mental note to warn Emmanuelle about it so that Livia wouldn’t burn herself out, then he grinned. “It’s good to have you back, stubbornness and all.”

  Livia laughed, and the sudden loudness scared Sol away. She watched the cat scamper out of the door before turning to Claude. “It’s… It’s good to be here and feel human again. You don’t need to be in a gem to feel like an animal—or even less than that. And those in exocores… they didn’t have an awesome twin to come and save them. No one was there to convince them it’s not true, that they’re worth so much more than their magic.”

  “I’ve been talking to those I had, at least. Just in case they were sentient. I kept them up to date about my efforts.” It had been weird, but Claude hoped they had heard him and understood they weren’t abandoned. Still, for every exocore in his basement, a dozen others existed out there, perhaps more. And there were all of those he had lost in the warehouse. “Some… some people were still destroyed. I’ll see with Denise if we can hold a ceremony for them.”

  They would have justice, but it felt important to also honour their memory. No one would ever know who had perished that night.

  “You look exhausted,” Livia commented. “You keep telling me to rest, but you’re really no better. Will you be taking time off?”

  “I’m going back to
my bakery, yes.”

  Livia laughed and pushed at him. “That’s not a break, Claude. That’s a different task. Let’s make a deal: I’ll rest for three days if you do the same. Complete rest. No work!”

  “Baking is not work,” he muttered, but he saw her point. No baking for customers. That could be a good time to try out recipes and explore his ability to create something new, without the pressure of having to sell it. He could ask Adèle to test them… Claude smiled at the idea of preparing an oven-full of pastries and having her and Livia test each, one by one. He wondered if Adèle would take a few days off to rest as well. They could spend it together and figure out the details of their relationship. “Do you remember Adèle? The police woman who came by on the day you arrived?”

  “I do.” Livia’s eye brightened, and her tone turned to teasing. “Hard to forget the way you looked at her, especially when I know how much tall and strong brunettes are your type.”

  Claude choked, but he had to admit most of the girls who struck his fancy fit that description. Livia hadn’t seen most of them, however, so how did she guess? Had he always been obvious? He felt himself flush and released part of his shame in a chuckle. “We’re… something now. I’m not in love with her, that much hasn’t changed, but she’s… unique, to me. You’ll be seeing more of her, for sure.”

  “Powerful love comes in many forms, and not all of them need to be romantic. I daresay most aren’t.” She tilted her head back, leaning against the bed, and smiled softly. “I’ve been trudging happily alone, but… can I ask you something? It’s been… bothering me for a while, but it never felt right to ask in a letter, and I don’t really talk about these things with my friends in Tereaus. Sometimes I think I want to be with someone, like a couple, but it never lasts. It’s… a flicker—a few days of intense pining for romance, and then it’s gone. Does that ever happen to you?”

  Claude considered the question for a moment. Did it? He had certainly experienced a rush of want for Adèle, but it had nothing romantic in nature. In fact, the idea that she’d demand anything resembling an “I love you” from him had left him cold and hesitant to approach her. But they had their own words—their Je crois en toi—and it suited them better than romance ever could. What Livia described felt different. “I don’t think so. I never pined for anyone that way. All I wanted was for Adèle to trust and understand me as fully as I did her.”

  Livia let out a pensive “hm” and nodded. She could not entirely hide her disappointment from him, and he wished he’d had a better answer for her. They used to spend hours late at night, staring at the stars or a ceiling, talking through their problems. When his parents and Livia had left, Claude had finished his journey alone, with Zita as an outlet as he experimented with presentation. Livia, it seemed, had never found someone else to speak with.

  “It makes me feel like I don’t know what I want,” she said, her gaze intently refusing to leave the spot where Sol had. “Like I’m needlessly complicated.”

  “You’re fine, Livia. Believe me, all humans are needlessly complicated.” Claude tapped her knee so she would turn to him and smiled until she returned it. “You’ll figure it out, and now I’m here to help. There’s more to aromanticism than the complete absence of romantic attraction, and yours is no less important. Give yourself time. You used to tell me getting to know myself was a process that’d never end, remember?”

  This time, Livia laughed. “You’re right. I ought to take my own advice, eh? Besides, I’d already decided not to pursue anyone for a while. It’s just too complicated, and it feels so much like leading them on. It’s not, but… Whatever. Now there are exocores to save, and I’ll focus my limited energy on them. That, and on recovery. I… don’t think my magic is gone, but it’s a tremendous effort to reach for it. Like all that power has been locked away. Perhaps it’ll come back, with time.”

  “I’m sure it will. Don’t overdo it, and it’ll return.” Claude set Gravity down on the bed, then pushed himself to his feet and picked up the now-empty plate of croissants. “I’ll let Zuri know you’re awake and already have a healthy appetite. She’ll be thrilled, I think, especially considering half the household requires her attention.”

  “She should stay with them,” Livia said. “I’m fine, really, and I have all the cats I need to keep me company.” She gestured at the purring friends in the bed around her.

  “I’m sure Docteure Adaho can decide for herself, Livia. She’ll want to give you at least a last check-up.” Claude suspected she would return to the others. Yuri and Emmanuelle had been in a particularly terrible state when he’d emerged from the Pont des Lumières, Livia in his arms. Interrupting the ceremony had been costly for everyone. But they were all alive, and Montrant Industries would never take another life. Despite the bone-deep exhaustion and the work left to be done, Claude smiled. Tonight, he would invite Adèle over to dine, with great wine and fresh garlic bread, and they could talk in peace and figure themselves out and, maybe, maybe, seal it all with a kiss.

  * * *

  Adèle’s vélocycle trip through Val-de-mer on the following morning felt surreal. The Pont des Lumières still towered above the rooftops, but a powerful sun bathed the city in light, brightening its front façade. Even with the broken glasswork attesting to yesterday’s events, Adèle had the distinct impression she’d dreamed it. Certainly, her mind refused to accept that Emmanuelle had been shot. It had already shut out the details of her encounter with Élise—she remembered the gunshot, the echoes of her sister’s moan, the way Gouverneure Lacroix had casually stepped over her… but the rest had become vague. Just a solid ball of horror settling at the bottom of her stomach and pushing her to pedal faster.

  She hadn’t slept at all last night, constantly getting up to check on Em, then returning to bed only to turn over and over. The nervous energy had continued through dawn, until Zuri and Koyani had grown sick of it. The capitaine had ordered Adèle to go by Yuri’s place to pick up essentials for him. The sniper’s bullet had ruined his uniform and the new binder he had so excitedly talked about on her first day of work, and in his brief moment of consciousness, he’d given Zuri a list of his medical needs and very clear, insistent instructions on how to take care of George, his pet iguana.

  For a flat in the poorer parts of the Quartier des Saules, Yuri’s home had been surprisingly clean and well maintained. She had been in and out as fast as she could, yet it had been hard to miss the massive wall of romance and erotica novels in his room. She preferred stories with less sex herself—it always felt awkward to read—but if any of these crossed into the mystery genre, she might give them a try. She wondered if Yuri would lend her any, then set aside the thoughts to look for his binder and pills, and to care for George. The creature stared at her, unmoving, while she refreshed the water in his bowl and prepared a plate of fresh lettuce ripped into shreds along with bits of carrots and a few figs. Once the food offering was completed, she checked the temperature of his environment, made sure the curtains were wide open to let sunlight in, and promised him Yuri would return soon. George, it seemed, liked being talked to: he flicked his tongue and tilted his head to the side.

  Once she was done, Adèle decided this would be the perfect time to replenish her stock of vivifiants. The last few days had left her airways painfully tight and, while biking from the Quartier des Mélèzes to Yuri’s home took her down the cliff’s slope, she knew the way back to Em’s manor would finish her off. She’d need help to unclog everything between her throat and lungs.

  She used the stop at a pharmacy and the long wait it always brought to further calm down. Emmanuelle had been safe from death within an hour of being shot, yet the terror it had provoked lingered on. Adèle hoped her sister would wake in a better state of mind than her own, that her brain wouldn’t replay the events over and over. She rested against the pharmacy’s counter and closed her eyes, trying to empty her thoughts of the previous night—all but the end of it, leaning against Claire, taking comfort in h
er warmth and her assurance that the future would be better.

  She’d been right, too. Em’s house had a few broken doors—nothing major, however, and no national guard had been waiting for them there. They’d been able to reclaim possession of the place without resistance and install Em, Livia, and Yuri in isolated rooms. The two witches left to watch over Clémence’s little brother had hidden safely, and the kid had jumped into ols arms as soon as he caught sight of ol. Clémence had been allowed to return to ols home with him, but Denise Jalbert had assigned trusted policemen to ol—as much to keep Clémence from running as to protect ol from potential retribution from Montrant. Zita avoided ol, instead spending much of her time with Koyani and the mairesse, eager to use her Seeking to find exocores across the city.

  Claire had remained with Adèle for most of the night, trusting Nsia Kouna with Livia’s safety. Adèle had no idea how she had managed to stay away from her lost twin, but she had been grateful for the company. They had cuddled in a large sofa, Zephyr climbing onto their lap, and Adèle’s panic had eventually receded. She clung to that memory now, pushing herself back to that calm place, and the tightening of her throat lessened in part. The vivifiants would have to do the rest.

  Adèle returned to Em’s manor shortly before noon and forced herself to bring Yuri his things before she hurried to her sister’s room. Em sat up in her bed, awake and smiling, a healthy pink colouring her cheeks. She had a heavy tome on her lap and her nightrobe seemed to glow from the inside—probably Zuri’s healing net underneath it. Zephyr and Aurora formed a cat pile within reach of her right hand, in perfect position for occasional petting. Relief washed through Adèle and she grinned.

  “Don’t tell me that’s a science book,” she said.