Blood & Honey

by Shelby Mahurin

  The Mirrored Grave

  Lou

  In the middle of the catacombs, I found the Tremblay family tomb.

  Never before had I hoped I was wrong as fervently as I did now—and never before had I felt so sick. As with the other tombs, skulls lined the shelves here, marking each ancestor’s final resting place. It was a custom I’d never understood. Witches didn’t decapitate their dead. Did one remove the deceased’s head before or after decomposition? Or—or did they do it during the embalming process? And for that matter, who was responsible for doing it in the first place? Surely not the family. My stomach churned at the thought of sawing through a loved one’s bones, and I decided I didn’t want to know the answers after all.

  My steps grew heavier, leaden, the farther I crept into the room until finally—finally—I found her name carved into a pretty rosewood casket.

  FILIPPA ALLOUETTE TREMBLAY

  Beloved daughter and sister

  “Célie? Are you in there?”

  There was no answer.

  At least Filippa’s skull hadn’t yet been displayed.

  Muscles straining, I pried at the casket’s lid, but it didn’t budge. After several moments of struggling in vain, I panted, “I don’t know if you can hear me—and I really hope you’re not in there, in which case I apologize profusely to your sister—but this isn’t working. The damn thing is too heavy. I’ll have to magic you out.”

  A rock skittered across the ground behind me, and I whirled, hands lifted.

  “Ansel?” Mouth falling open, I dropped my hands. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

  He took in the skulls with wide eyes. “When the others left, I tried the trapdoor again. I had a hunch.” He gave me a tentative smile. “After what happened with Coco, I knew you’d try to be more careful with your magic, with the patterns you could safely maintain, and sealing the door against just Reid . . . it seemed simpler than sealing it against everyone else or sealing it permanently. I was right. When it opened, I followed the first tunnel. It led me straight here.”

  “That’s impossible.” I stared at him incredulously. “That tunnel is a dead end. You must’ve gotten turned around in the dark. Where are the others?”

  “They went to a cemetery entrance.”

  “A cemetery entrance.” Instinctively, I released the pattern keeping hold of my heart, and all the love I felt for Reid—all the despair, all the panic—surged through me in a disorienting wave. I stumbled slightly under its magnitude. “Shit. Did Reid—?”

  He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. He told me to stay behind, but I—I couldn’t. I had to help you somehow. Please don’t be mad.”

  “Mad? I’m not—” A sudden, terrible thought caught my throat in its fist. No. I shook my head, reeling at the complete absurdity of it. Choking with laughter. To him, to myself, I said, “No, no, no. I’m not mad.”

  No, no, no, my thoughts echoed, repeating the word like a talisman.

  Pasting on a bright smile, I looped my elbow through his and tugged him to my side. “There’s absolutely nothing to worry about. I just think, under the circumstances, Reid might’ve been right. It’d be better if you returned to the tavern and waited—”

  He pulled away, eyes flashing with hurt. “It’s almost midnight, and you haven’t found Célie. I can help.”

  “Actually, I might’ve found her—”

  “Where is she?” He glanced at the skulls and caskets, anxiety creasing his brow. “Is she alive?”

  “I think so, but I’m having a little trouble—”

  “Whatever it is, I can help.”

  “No, I think it’s better if you—”

  “What’s the problem?” His voice rose. “Do you not think I can do it?”

  “You know that’s not what I—”

  “Then what is it? I can help. I want to help.”

  “I know you do, but—”

  “I’m not a child, Lou, and I’m sick and tired of everyone treating me like one! I’m almost seventeen! That’s a year older than you were when you saved the kingdom—”

  “When I fled,” I said sharply, losing my patience. “Ansel, I fled, and now I’m asking you to do the same—”

  “Why?” he exploded, throwing his hands in the air. Color bloomed on his cheeks, and his eyes burned overbright. “You once told me I’m not worthless, but I still don’t believe you. I can’t fight. I can’t cast enchantments. Let me prove I can do something—”

  I swore loudly. “How many times do I have to tell you, Ansel? You don’t need to prove anything to me.”

  “Then let me prove it to myself.” Voice breaking on the word, he cringed and dropped his gaze. Stared dejectedly at his fists. “Please.”

  My heart broke at the sight of him. He thought he was worthless. No, he believed it, deep down in his bones, and I—I could do nothing about it. Not now. Not with his life at stake. Perhaps he wasn’t worth much to the world, to himself, but to me . . . to me, he was precious beyond value. If there was even a chance . . .

  A man close to your heart will die.

  I loathed myself for what I was about to do.

  “You’re right, Ansel.” My voice hardened. If I told him the truth, he would balk. He’d refuse to leave. I needed to hurt him badly enough that he wouldn’t—couldn’t—stay. I nodded and crossed my arms. “You want me to say it? You’re right. You wreck everything you touch. You can’t even walk without stumbling, let alone wield a sword. You can’t talk to a woman without blushing, so how could you save one? Honestly, it’s—it’s tragic how helpless you are.”

  With each word, he crumbled more, tears sparkling in his eyes, but I wasn’t finished.

  “You say you’re not a child, Ansel, but you are. You are. It’s like—you’re a little boy playing pretend, dressing up with our coats and boots. We’ve let you tag along for laughs, but now the time for games is done. A woman’s life is in danger—my life is in danger. We can’t afford for you to mess this up. I’m sorry.”

  Face ashen, he said nothing.

  “Now,” I said, forcing myself to continue, to breathe, “you’re going to turn around and march back up the tunnel. You’re going to return to the tavern, and you’re going to hide in your room until it’s safe. Do you understand?”

  He stared at me, pressing his lips together to stop their trembling. “No.”

  “No, you don’t understand?”

  “No.” He stood a little taller, wiping an errant tear from his cheek. “I will not.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said no, I will—”

  My eyes narrowed. “I heard what you said. I’m giving you a chance to reconsider.”

  “What are you going to do?” He laughed scornfully, and the sound was so sad, so unnatural, it cut me at my core. “Freeze my heart? Shatter my bones? Make me forget I ever knew you?”

  I brushed the rosewood with my fingertips, deliberating. This magic would hurt us both, but at least he’d be hurt and alive. “If you make me.”

  We stared at each other—him looking fiercer than I’d ever seen him—until something thumped beside us. We turned to look at Filippa’s coffin, and I closed my eyes in shame. I’d forgotten about Célie.

  “Is someone—” Ansel’s lips parted on a horrified breath. “Is Célie in there? Alive?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, the fight leaving me abruptly. Coco had said her visions were rarely what they seemed. Perhaps this one could still play out differently. The future was fickle. If I sent him away, he could meet his death in the tunnels instead. At my side, perhaps I could . . . protect him, somehow. “Stay close to me, Ansel.”

  Between the two of us, we managed to slide Filippa’s coffin to the floor. Opening the lid was another story. It took magic to unseal it. But I knew all about breaking locks, however, and fortunately for me, I’d just broken a relationship.

  Another round in Morgane’s game.

  The lid opened easily after that.

  When we
saw Célie lying, unconscious, among her sister’s remains, Ansel promptly vomited up the contents of his stomach. I nearly joined him, pressing a fist to my mouth to stem the bile. Filippa’s corpse had not yet fully decomposed, and her rotted flesh oozed against Célie’s skin. And the smell, it—

  I vomited on Monique Priscille Tremblay’s skull.

  “She’ll never recover from this,” I said, wiping my mouth on my sleeve. “This—this is sick, even for Morgane.”

  At the sound of my voice, Célie lurched upright at the waist, her eyes snapping open. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she turned to stare at me. “Célie,” I breathed, dropping down beside her. “I am so sorry—”

  “You found me.”

  I wiped the slime from her face and hair the best I could. “Of course I did.”

  “I d-didn’t think you’d c-come. I’ve been down here for w-weeks.” Though she shivered violently, she didn’t rise from the coffin. I slipped my cloak around her shoulders. “She—she visited me sometimes. Taunted me. S-said that I’d d-d-die here. Said—said Reid had f-forgotten about me.”

  “Shhh. You’re safe now. Reid is the one who sent me. We’ll get you out of here, and—”

  “I can’t leave.” She sobbed harder when Ansel and I tried to lift her, but her body remained firmly in the coffin. We tugged harder. She didn’t budge. “I c-c-can’t m-move. Not unless I take you to—to her. She e-enchanted me.” I smelled it then, the magic, almost indiscernible beneath the stench of decay. “If I d-don’t, I’ll have to s-s-stay here with—with Filippa—” A keening wail rose from her throat, and I hugged her closer, wishing desperately Reid were here. He’d know what to do. He’d know how to comfort her—

  No. I slammed the door shut on the thought.

  I hoped Reid wasn’t here. Though I couldn’t lock Ansel away—not alone in the catacombs with only Filippa’s corpse for company—I could still prevent Reid from finding us, from following us to Morgane. In my mind, if I kept them separate, he’d be fine. I could still pray Coco’s vision had been wrong, and everyone would survive the night.

  “Can you stand at all?” I asked.

  “I d-don’t think so.”

  “Can you try? Ansel and I will help you.”

  She cringed away as if just realizing I’d been touching her. “N-No. You—you t-took Reid from me. She t-told me you enchanted him.”

  I tried to remain calm. This wasn’t Célie’s fault. It was Morgane’s. If I knew my mother at all, everything she’d told Célie in their time together had been a lie. Once Célie’s shock wore off, it’d be impossible to persuade her into leaving with me. I was the enemy. I was the witch who’d stolen Reid’s heart. “We can’t sit on this floor forever, Célie. Eventually, we have to move.”

  “Where’s Reid?” Her breathing hitched once more, and she looked around wildly. “Where is he? I want Reid!”

  “I can take you to him,” I said patiently, motioning for Ansel to join me on the floor. She’d started keening again, rocking back and forth and clutching her face. “But I need you to step out of the coffin.”

  As predicted, her wailing ceased when she spotted Ansel through her fingers. “You,” she whispered, clutching the edge of the casket. “I—I saw you in the Tower. You’re an initiate.”

  Thank God Ansel had enough sense to lie. “Yes,” he said smoothly, taking her hand. “I am. And I need you to trust me. I won’t let anyone harm you, Célie, especially a witch.”

  She leaned closer. “You don’t understand. I can f-feel her magic pulling at me. Right here.” She tapped her chest, the movement fitful, frantic. Blood caked beneath her fingernails, as if she’d tried to scratch her way through the rosewood. “If I get up, I won’t have a choice. S-She’s waiting for us.”

  “Can you break the enchantment?” Ansel asked me.

  “It doesn’t work like that. I don’t know how Reid did it at Modraniht, but it must’ve taken extraordinary focus, maybe a powerful surge of emotion while Morgane was distracted, and right now, I can’t—” Faint voices echoed down the tunnel. Though I couldn’t discern the words, the cadences, it wouldn’t do for anyone to find us here. Especially Reid.

  “Get up,” I snapped to Célie. “Get up, and take us to Morgane before this night goes to complete hell.” When she stared, dumbfounded at my sudden outburst, I tugged fiercely on her hand. It was no use. I couldn’t break this bind. Célie would have to choose to rise herself. Which she did, after I grabbed her face and hissed, “If you don’t get up, Reid will die.”

  La Mascarade Des Crânes

  Lou

  No longer in control of her body, Célie walked with mechanical footsteps down each left-hand tunnel, leading us into La Mascarade des Crânes. I nearly clipped her heels twice in my haste. Any second, Reid could march around the bend. I needed to deal with Morgane before that happened.

  My mind raged against me, presenting fresh problems with each step—fresh problems and stale solutions. As usual, Morgane had played one move ahead. I’d gathered my allies—and snuck away to face Morgane without them, my mind sneered—persuaded powerful pieces onto the board, waited for her to strike. But she hadn’t struck. At least, not in the way I’d planned. I stared at Célie’s frail back, her soiled mourning gown. Now I was trapped like a rat in the sewers with only Ansel and Célie for help. Even if I hadn’t vowed to keep both out of the fray, my chances of walking away from this encounter were nonexistent.

  This was a disaster.

  The path widened as we crept onward, more lanterns illuminating this tunnel than the others. We’d walked for only a minute or so before voices echoed up the tunnel—many voices this time, carousing and loud. Unfamiliar. Some rose together in song, accompanied by the merry twang of mandolins, the dulcet chords of a harp, even the sharper notes of a rebec. When we rounded the corner, the first painted stalls rose to meet us. Here, masked merchants crooned to scandalously clad maidens, promising more than sweetmeat and pies, while others hawked wares such as bottled dreams and fairy dust. Bards wove through the shoppers. To the applause of passersby, a contortionist twisted his limbs into impossible shapes. Everywhere I looked, revelers danced, laughed, shouted, spilling wine on the tunnel floors. Coins spilled just as freely.

  When a dirty-faced child—a cutpurse—slipped her hand into my pocket, I seized her wrist, clucking my tongue. “I think you’ll find better luck over there,” I whispered, pointing to a drunken couple who sat beside a cart of powdered bugne. The girl nodded appreciatively and crept toward them.

  We couldn’t stop to enjoy the sights, however, as Célie marched onward, weaving through the revelers like a snake being charmed. We hurried to keep up.

  She ignored the infinite side tunnels and their unknown delights, keeping instead to the main path. Others joined us, whispering excitedly, their faces obscured by elaborate costumes: lions and lionesses with thick fur headpieces and claws of diamond; horned dragons with painted-on scales that gleamed metallic in the torchlight; peacocks with teal, gold, and turquoise feathers, their glittering masks carved into fashionable beaks. Even the poorer attendants had spared no expense, donning their finest suits and painting their faces. The man nearest me resembled the devil with his red face and black horns.

  Each glanced at our bare faces curiously, but none commented. My apprehension mounted with each step. Morgane was nearby. She had to be. I could almost feel her breath on my neck now, hear her voice calling my name.

  Sensing my distress, Ansel slipped his hand into mine and squeezed. “I’m here, Lou.”

  I returned the pressure with numb fingers. Perhaps I hadn’t broken our relationship beyond repair. The thought bolstered me enough to whisper, “I’m scared, Ansel.”

  “So am I.”

  Too soon, the tunnel opened to cavernous, empty space—like the inside of a mountain growing down into earth instead of up into sky. Crude stone benches lined the sloping walls like rows of teeth, and steep stairs led down, down, down to an earthen mouth.

&nb
sp; And there, in the center of that primitive stage, stood my mother.

  She looked resplendent in robes of black velvet. Her arms remained bare despite the underground chill, and her moonbeam hair waved loose down her back. An intricate golden circlet sat atop her head, but the corpses floating above her in a circle—peaceful, eyes closed and hands clasped—they formed her true crown. Though I couldn’t see the details of their faces, I could see their slashed throats. My stomach dropped with understanding. With dread. I shifted Ansel and Célie ever so subtly behind me.

  She spread her arms wide, smiled broadly, and called, “Darling, welcome! I’m so happy you could join us!”

  Around us, hundreds of people sat unnaturally still on the benches, silent and staring behind their masks. Magic coated the air, so thick and heavy my eyes watered, and I knew instinctively they couldn’t move. The eyes of those who’d entered with us emptied, and without a word, they walked promptly to their seats. Seized by sudden panic, I searched for Reid, Coco, and Beau amidst the audience, but they were nowhere to be seen. I breathed a short-lived sigh of relief.

  “Hello, Maman.”

  Her smile grew at my defensive stance. “You look beautiful. I must admit, I did chuckle when you melted your hair—classic mistake, darling—but I think you’ll agree the new color suits you. Do come closer, so I might see it better.”

  My feet grew roots. “I’m here. Let Célie go.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. She’ll miss all the fun.” Flicking the train of her robes behind her, she stepped forward, revealing another body at her feet. My heart dropped. Even from afar, I recognized the slight build, the auburn curls.

  “Gabrielle,” I whispered in horror.

  Ansel stiffened beside me. “Is she . . . ?”

  “Dead?” Morgane supplied helpfully, nudging Gaby’s face with her boot. Gaby moaned in response. “Not yet, but soon. With my daughter’s help, of course.” She stepped on Gabrielle’s hand as she continued across the stage. “Where is your huntsman, Louise? I had hoped he would join you. I have much to discuss with him, you see. A male witch! You cannot imagine my surprise after the little trick he pulled at Modraniht. Trading the Archbishop’s life for yours? It was inspired.”