by Kat Dunn
Olympe seemed happy enough with Ada’s choice. Anything must be better after being sewn into the same clothes for god knows how long. Ada had seen a ring of mottled bruises, like a chain, around the girl’s neck, and more on her bare arms, snaking under her chemise. However unnatural or dangerous she might seem, she was still a half-drowned girl rescued from a prison. Ada couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.
She put water over the fire to boil and used scissors to cut the worst of the tangles out of Olympe’s hair. At first Olympe had baulked at the sight of the scissors, going terribly still until Ada had shown her that all she wanted to do was cut her hair. Then she’d demanded to do it herself, until she couldn’t reach the back of her head safely. It was clearly a struggle to hand the scissors back to Ada. With Olympe slowly more trusting of her, Ada took a cloth to bathe her face, neck, hands, trimmed her nails and washed the blood from her scabs. Smoke-like clouds bloomed across her exposed skin. It was hard to tell what were bruises and what were her odd markings. Ada had a thousand questions but swallowed them down, because Olympe’s eyes had glossed over with tears.
‘Are you crying?’
Olympe hid her face, rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her shift. ‘No.’ She straightened. ‘I need gloves. I’m not … safe.’
Ada’s eyes flicked to Olympe’s hands, remembering what Camille had told them about their escape. ‘I can lend you a pair.’
After putting on the gloves, Olympe retreated to the side of the room, back against the wall, positioning herself so she could see both the door and the windows at once. Scrubbed and fresh, Ada could begin to see the girl she’d once been. A girl with a mother who might have cared for her like this, brushed her hair and sung her to sleep. Ada couldn’t fight the urge to examine Olympe again, to look for some explanation for the mottling of her skin or the pinpricks of light in her eyes. Even if her rational mind could put together a reason, it was another challenge to believe what she was seeing was possible.
‘I am not a scientific exhibition,’ said Olympe sharply.
Ada blushed. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.’
Olympe opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated. ‘I have … grown unaccustomed to people with good intentions.’
‘You think we have good intentions?’
‘Yes. Though I suppose I do not have much of a choice. As your blond friend said, where could I run to that’s safe? As much as I do not like to think of myself as weak, I am … unequipped for survival on my own in a place such as this.’
‘I don’t think that’s weakness. There are hundreds of situations you could put me in and I would have no idea what to do with myself.’
Olympe’s mouth twitched in the hint of a smile. ‘Oh, I don’t know. You and your friends seem rather capable to me.’
‘We’ve had some practice.’ Ada stoked the fire, hiding her face. Cursing, she kneeled to add more kindling.
A rustle of skirts announced Olympe kneeling beside her, peeling off her gloves. A ring of scars circled each wrist like a delicate bracelet scorched into her skin.
‘Stay back,’ she warned. Then she held her hand out to the kindling and sent a ripple of sparks over the twists of paper and splinters of wood. They caught with a pop and the smell of ozone. Within a few seconds, the fire was glowing.
Ada nodded to her hands. ‘That must come in useful.’
Olympe blushed purple and quickly pulled her gloves back on.
‘Can you only do that with your hands?’
‘No. But it’s the easiest to control there.’
‘Do you mean if I touch another part of your body, I might get a shock?’
Olympe’s expression tightened, and she nodded. ‘Docteur Comtois always wore special gloves to protect himself.’
Ada rolled that sentence around in her mind for a minute. She imagined this so-called doctor fumbling with thick gloves lined in sheepskin as he sewed Olympe’s gloves to her dress, pricking her delicate skin so tiny red beads of blood blossomed along her wrist.
She shivered. Poor girl.
‘Do you remember the first time you were able to use electricity?’
‘No – I mean, I think I was born this way. When I was young I didn’t have so much control. I’d shock people that I didn’t like. It wasn’t on purpose, but when I got angry or upset it felt as though all of my insides were moving too fast, rubbing against each other, and then before I could control it, someone got hurt.’ She tucked her hands under her arms. ‘My mother always told me it was natural. A cat will scratch someone who steps on its tail. Maybe I am beastly like that.’
Olympe looked away for a moment, a flush of grey and purple across her cheeks. Then she seemed to gather herself again and turned back to Ada.
‘I’d like to sleep now. Please give my apologies to the others.’ On the threshold of the bedroom, she paused. ‘And thank you. I think I should have said that earlier.’
Ada’s expression clouded over. ‘There’s nothing to thank us for. Yet.’
5
The Restaurant Downstairs
Back at the Au Petit Suisse, Camille found Ada had returned already, leaving Olympe to sleep in their rooms above. The short summer night had finally fallen and the bells pealed out the small hours of the morning, but the battalion were still riding high on the rush of their close escape. Leaning over the table, eyes bright, Ada was explaining her hot air balloon flight with tiny twists of the ultra-fine paper the biscuits came wrapped in. First lighting them at one end, then sending them floating over the scattered dishes and glasses to land in their hair and on their plates. It seemed impossible that they had only launched the balloon that morning. Now something warm spread inside Camille as she slid into the chair beside Ada. She didn’t know how she’d been so lucky to find her. Ada had stuck with her long after it had all gone wrong, long after she had any right to expect. Being with her was like finding a tiny gap in the universe that was calm and warm and loving.
Al plucked one of the burning twists of paper out of the air and used it to light a pipe. He pointed the end at Camille, bowl aglow.
‘What are we doing about the science project upstairs? She’s gone to bed but I’m not sleeping in the same place as someone who could kill me as soon as I close my eyes.’
Guil took off his hat and balanced it on his knee. ‘We could all kill you in your sleep, Al. It would not be a difficult task.’
‘My god, was that a joke?’
Guil didn’t rise to the bait so Al turned to Camille.
‘The girl is too dangerous to keep around. Someone needs to take her off our hands sharpish.’
Camille glared at him. She was too tired for this.
‘We move her somewhere else as soon as we can. The Cordeliers looked clear when I checked it with Guil earlier. We’d have been saved a lot of bother if you’d taken the time to find out if the Duc de l’Aubespine actually had a daughter before we went crashing in there.’
‘Are you saying it’s my fault we’ve ended up with a hell beast in the parlour?’
‘I’m saying you have a role to play and you didn’t play it. Now we’re in over our heads.’
He knocked back his drink and slouched in his chair. ‘What do you want from me, an apology?’
‘No, I want you to do your damn job.’
‘So let’s do our job. Give Olympe to the duc and then this whole mess can be behind us.’
Camille pinched the bridge of her nose. She’d gone about this all wrong.
‘I’m making a decision. We’re not handing Olympe over – to anyone. None of you saw what they’d done to her. They had her sewn into her own dress and gloves and an iron mask around her face. Welded shut. Like armour – no, like a cage. Not to protect her. To protect them. Do any of us have any idea what that means she went through?’
Ada curled her arm around her waist for support. She smelled of the river water and damp and the rosewater she kept in a tiny bottle by their bed.
‘She’s obvious
ly … different,’ continued Camille. ‘I know that.’
Al levelled a look across the table. ‘She’s not human, Cam.’
‘She’s a girl who’s been used all her life and doesn’t know who to trust,’ said Guil from beside Olympe’s empty chair. ‘Seems quite human to me.’
Ada nodded. ‘Perhaps not exactly the same type of human, but for all her strange appearance, I don’t think she’s a threat.’
‘Are you kidding me?’ Al leaned forwards, his elbow in a patch of sauce. Guil gave a long-suffering sigh and set down his coffee, backing out of the crossfire. ‘You saw what she could do. How is that not a threat? I can’t believe I’m the only one objecting here. She’s dangerous at best, a devil sent from hell at worst, and I don’t think it’s worth sticking around to find out which!’
‘Enough.’ Camille slammed her fist on the table. ‘I’m not interested in superstitious nonsense. I don’t claim to understand her, but I don’t understand half the scientific discoveries out there either, so I’m not about to stop on that account. Ada does know what she’s talking about, so if she says this makes sense then I believe her.’ Camille chewed her nail. ‘I don’t know what the Revolutionaries want with her, but I don’t feel inclined to give them a person to use as a toy.’
‘So give her to the duc.’
‘No. He’s a fraud. He doesn’t get to just have everything he wants with no consequences.’
Al rolled his eyes. ‘If we don’t, we’ll be the ones dealing with the consequences. Hand over the girl, and all of this goes away.’
‘Who says? They weren’t honest about who they were sending us in to get, why would they be honest about anything else? For all we know the duc is planning to get rid of us if we know too much.’
Outside the rain had left a smear of clouds across the sky, the same smudged grey as Olympe’s cheeks.
‘Do you have another plan?’ asked Al.
‘We tell the Royalists the job was a bust, and get Olympe to safety.’
Al snorted.
‘Let me know where you find, I’ll take a holiday there.’
‘I’m serious.’
‘Oh, I know you are. If there was somewhere safe, don’t you think I’d have begged my family to take me back already and run to Switzerland with them? There’s nowhere safe for people like us. For people who are different.’
‘It’s not like a normal job where the person we rescue has family waiting over the border in Germany or Switzerland to take them in,’ said Ada. ‘Maybe we could send her to the New World. I don’t think they’d bother trying to follow her all the way there.’
‘You really think she’d survive a long Atlantic crossing on her own?’ scoffed Al. ‘Seems unlikely. This is what you need convents for. Best place to send your unruly womenfolk.’
Ada gave him such a glare he almost looked apologetic.
‘Or Belgium,’ he added. ‘I hear that’s equally depressing.’
‘We’re not handing her over,’ snapped Camille. ‘That’s final. I’ll think of something else.’
Al set his glass down loudly and glared at her. ‘You’re doing this because your pride was hurt. Stop trying to sell it to me as a good deed. We got her out of prison, isn’t that good deed enough?’
Camille fixed him with a sharp look in return, as the tension tightened between them. ‘If anyone here wants to trade Olympe’s freedom for cash, raise your hand.’
No one moved.
After a beat, Al slumped, a muscle flickering in his jaw.
‘You have my support,’ said Guil quietly. ‘Whatever difficult consequences it may bring.’
‘And mine,’ said Ada, squeezing her hand.
The three of them looked at Al. His eyes glittered in the candlelight.
‘Oh, don’t look at me like that.’ He tipped back the glass in one and stood with only a minor wobble. ‘You know I’m in. Wherever our glorious leader goes, so I follow.’
6
The Roof, Au Petit Suisse
‘Come with me.’
Camille stopped Ada before she could turn off the staircase at their rooms. Guil had already gone inside, and Al had left them to go ‘gather some more intelligence’ after dinner.
‘Where?’
Camille held out her hand. ‘Just come.’
Ada didn’t hesitate to take it, and let Camille lead her further up. The staircase eventually opened out onto the flat roof of the building. The café with its maroon and gold panelling stood at the junction of two streets, their building curving like a ‘U’ around the central courtyard before connecting with buildings on each street. The roofscape stretched into the distance. On a good day, they could see all the way to the hills of Montmartre.
It was late into the night, and above them, a thin blanket of stars rolled out from corner to corner, only slightly dimmed by the lights of the city. Ada paused on the threshold.
Camille’s hand closed around her own again, and pulled her into the starlight. ‘Come on.’
‘Why? What’s on the roof?’
Camille’s arm was firm around her waist, drawing her close so they swayed together to music filtering up from the busy café below.
‘I wanted to have you alone. And I wanted to dance.’
Camille gave her a smile, and Ada’s stomach belly-flopped. Even after all this time together, the soft curl of Camille’s lip could still make her heart flutter. It was ridiculous. But she hoped it never changed.
Camille extended her arm and Ada turned under it, coming back round to fit neatly against her side again. Ada could feel the heat of her skin through her flimsy dress, the swell of her breasts against hers as her heart raced as fast as the first time they’d kissed.
‘In that case,’ she said, ‘the roof is my new favourite place.’
They moved in sync for a while, lazily, with the warmth of the wine still in their cheeks.
‘Do you remember when you’d bring me up here to tell me about the universe?’ asked Camille.
‘You were still confused about the earth going round the sun.’
‘Was not.’
‘You were too—’
Camille laughed and kissed Ada to shut her up. Her lips were a little rough, a little urgent and her fingers held tightly onto her waist.
‘Hush. That’s not the point.’
‘Then what is this mysterious point?’
‘The point is you brought me up here when I was at my worst and showed me that in the whole, huge universe, I am just a speck. One tiny person among a plethora of other people and places and times and experiences and feelings.’
‘You brought me up here to tell me the universe is infinite?’ She pressed kisses against the corner of Camille’s mouth, against the line of her jaw.
‘Infinite, and yet I found you. I knew as soon as I saw you at that dinner my mother held, when your father brought you along for the first time. I knew I was supposed to find you.’
Ada laughed, drawing back to look at Camille with a raised eyebrow. ‘Camille Laroche getting sentimental. I never thought I’d see the day.’
Camille stuck out her tongue. ‘This isn’t sentimental. This is me being very, very serious. You nearly died today.’
‘So did you.’
‘I know but I’ve done that before. This time you were in danger and I put you there and I’d never, ever forgive myself if something happened.’
Ada pulled her close again, so close their breath mingled. ‘Now you know how I feel when you pull stunts. How I felt when you were on trial. I felt so powerless – and stupid for having let my father separate us. He should have known I’d never forgive him for keeping me away from your trial. I’ll never let him come between us again.’
‘But he didn’t come between us, not really. That’s what I’m trying to say. You’re here with me now. And when my world was falling apart, when the Revolutionaries had executed my mother and then my father too – I thought I’d lost everything. But you showed me it was only a small world. I
t wasn’t the whole universe. And I could have a new world, if I wanted one. With you.’
Their movement had slowed so they were standing face to face, arms closed round each other.
‘I know I don’t talk about it much,’ continued Camille, ‘but I don’t think I would have made it without you. I know it can’t have been easy to leave your father…’
Ada tensed in her arms. ‘After what he did I never want to see him again.’
Camille tilted her head to kiss Ada again, clinging to her like a rock among the waves.
‘Thank you,’ she mumbled against her lips. ‘For everything.’
Ada was so used to Camille the leader of the battalion she sometimes forgot she could look like this, her hair curling at her temples and the edges of her eyes crinkling in a smile. The girl she’d run away for.
‘I meant it,’ said Ada, letting herself sway to the music still filling the air. ‘We can have our own world. When the Revolution is over, we’ll find a way to live. I’ll study – the universities will have to start admitting women – and you, what do you want in your world, Cam? When this is over?’
Camille shrugged. ‘You.’
Ada smiled. ‘You’ll have me. But what else?’
Camille opened her mouth, then shut it again. For a moment, Ada had the unshakable sense that no one had ever asked Camille what she wanted before.
Then the moment passed, and Camille’s arms snaked tighter around her waist.
‘No,’ she murmured. ‘That’s it. Just you. Because in all the huge, unknowable universe, there’s only ever been you that I’ve loved.’
Ada kissed her gently. ‘I love you too.’
As they danced the stars of Paris shone above them.
7
The Parlour, Au Petit Suisse
16 Prairial Year II
Sitting on the rag-rug in front of the cold fireplace, Olympe held her hand over a feather. Feeble daylight streamed through the shutters, picking out stains on the wooden table and threadbare patches on the chairs. It was the morning after the Conciergerie job took an unexpected turn and they’d slept late. Gathered round her were the battalion in mixed states of dress, Ada in a smart cream sprigged muslin day dress, Al still in his voluminous nightshirt, hair like a haystack. Ada had lent Olympe a clean outfit and Camille’s brush for her shorn hair.
