by Morgan Rice
As she walked, Sidonie found herself thinking about the young Englishwoman who had come backstage earlier. She’d had such joy for the theatre, such enthusiasm when it came to the beauty of it.
There were days when Sidonie had almost forgotten about that side of things, with the constant work that went into preparing for performances, the shouting of directors, the low pay, the starving herself to look the way a leading actress was supposed to look…
Sidonie hadn’t given up, though, and the presence of the young woman, Kaia, had reminded Sidonie why. She loved it. She loved the theatre. Not just the applause, not just the chance at fame or importance; Sidonie loved it for itself, for the chance to be someone else, to bring whole worlds to life. Compared to a gift like that, one prop rose barely seemed like enough to repay it.
Sidonie was still pondering that thought when she heard a sound somewhere behind her. She turned, but didn’t see anyone there. Perhaps it was just a trick of her hearing, or one of the normal sounds of the Paris night.
She started walking again, keeping on the streets leading north, towards the river. She’d gone only a few paces when she heard the sound again. This time, it was more distinct, with the sound of a footstep scraping on cobblestones.
Sidonie started to walk faster.
The footsteps behind her sped up to match hers. Sidonie felt her heart starting to beat faster in her chest, fear rising in her.
No, no, this couldn’t be happening. Sidonie tried to work out what to do, where to go. Should she run? No, that would just make her look foolish if this turned out to be nothing. Maybe it was just someone who happened to be walking the same way as her.
To test that theory, Sidonie took a turning away from the main street, hoping that the footsteps would walk on by. They didn’t, and now Sidonie was worried enough that she didn’t care about looking foolish.
“I don’t have any money,” she called out. “I’m an actress, I don’t have anything.”
It might work. Paris was a city with more than its share of thieves, in spite of the Sûreté’s efforts, but thieves were only interested when there was something worth taking. There was a reason the pickpockets of St Germain mostly didn’t bother the cast at the theatre. Please let it just be a thief.
Just to be sure, Sidonie took another turning, and for a moment she thought that it had worked. Then she heard the footsteps again, closer now than ever. Sidonie started to run.
“Help!” she called out, projecting the way she might have for the back row of a theatre. “Somebody help!”
Help didn’t come. Even if there were people rushing to Sidonie’s rescue, even if there were Sûreté officers coming right now, they wouldn’t be quicker than the feet chasing after Sidonie. All she could do was run and try to hide.
She found another alleyway, this one smaller than the last. Sidonie ducked into it, hoping that the shadows there would hide her. She listened to the footsteps, feeling as though her heart might burst with the terror as they came closer.
She couldn’t hear them anymore.
Seconds stretched out as Sidonie waited there, listening in fear. She didn’t dare to move, didn’t dare to breathe. She waited for so long that she felt as if she might pass out from the lack of air. Still, there was no sound.
Finally, Sidonie dared a sigh of relief. She had lost whoever it was, assuming that there had been anyone at all. Maybe she’d been mistaken about the footsteps, or maybe it really had just been a case of someone heading in the same direction as her. Either way, it was over now.
She would probably laugh about this with the others back at the theatre tomorrow. They would probably joke about highly strung actresses, and how the whole situation had them all seeing things, and…
That was the moment when a figure stepped into the alley, wrapped in an opera cloak, advancing towards Sidonie.
“What do you want?” she demanded. “What’s this about? I haven’t done anything!”
The figure kept advancing, the combination of the cloak and the shadows meaning that Sidonie couldn’t see anything of them, except two gloved hands, the strangling length of a velvet rope stretched taut between them…
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kaia woke, staring at peeling plasterwork on the ceiling and smelling the musty scent of a room that hadn’t been aired well enough. It took her a moment or two to remember where she was.
When she did, she sat up, staring round at the room of the small hotel she and the inspector had found in Saint Germain du Pres. When they’d got in there and the inspector had asked for rooms, Kaia had been tired enough that it hadn’t mattered to her what the room was like. Now, she couldn’t help seeing the stains on the wallpaper from the gas lamps, and the chips in the washstand.
It was a long way from Kaia’s new room in the vicarage, but at the same time, it was still better than the dormitory of the orphanage back in London had been. She still had a room to herself here, in a city as spectacular as Paris. That was more than Kaia could ever have imagined, growing up.
She got up, washed using the chipped wash stand and dressed, taking a second dress Lottie had given her from the bag that she’d brought with her. It was a simple cream and taupe affair, without the vividness of her other, but that one had probably reached the point where Kaia should wash it. In any case, just the idea of having two dresses to choose from was enough to make her want to wear it, fitting it over her layers of underskirts and fastening its stays.
Putting on her boots, Kaia went to the door of the inspector’s room and knocked. He didn’t answer. Kaia assumed that he was still asleep, and considered knocking louder, but he probably wouldn’t appreciate being woken up like that. Kaia had heard him pacing through the walls last night, worrying about something.
Kaia wanted to ask him about that, but didn’t know how. He’d been short enough with her last night, about whatever it was that had sent him rushing off. Kaia wanted to know about that, and about the sense of the shadows that she’d felt there. She’d been the one to find the place, and there was clearly something happening there, but Pinsley had refused to say anything about what was happening, treating her like… well, like some kind of child who needed to be escorted everywhere.
She certainly didn’t need a chaperone down to breakfast, at least, and maybe it was better to let the inspector sleep. Kaia went downstairs, to a dining room whose floral wallpaper was stained in a couple of places, but where a series of small round tables were covered with delicate lacework tablecloths. There, the landlady was laying out something that seemed significantly more elegant than a standard English breakfast. Kaia couldn’t see any sausages, porridge or toast, and instead found herself devouring small, elegant pastries.
“They’re very good,” she said to the landlady, who smiled and said something back in French.
There were a few other diners around Kaia, although most of them seemed to be getting up to leave for whatever business they had in Paris. A clock on the mantlepiece said that it was almost nine, which seemed fabulously late to be breakfasting when the orphanage would have had her doing chores for an hour by then at least.
The lateness of the hour meant that, by the time she had finished her breakfast, Kaia was alone except for the landlady, who seemed to speak no English. She sat there for several minutes, trying to work out exactly what she should do while she waited for the inspector to wake up.
There were newspapers, depicting events in Paris and beyond, but Kaia had no way to understand them. She spent another minute trying to feel what she could of the shadows in the city, trying to work on that sense while she could, trying to understand it. There was nothing to understand, though; the understanding of where the shadows were simply was, deep in the heart of her being.
After that, Kaia ran out of things to do. She found herself itching to be out there in the city, trying to find out more about the shadows, and what they were trying to do. She knew that the inspector would want her to wait for him, but how much longer would he be?
Even if he woke up now, how much would he help? He’d been crucial in getting Kaia to Paris, and there was no doubting that he was brilliant when it came to reasoning things through, but this wasn’t about reason. It was about what Kaia could feel and see, and Pinsley didn’t seem to really believe that, even now. Then there was his reluctance to tell her about what had happened last night. There was no point in waiting for him if he wasn’t going to tell her things.
As soon as Kaia thought it, she knew that she wasn’t going to wait. She mimed writing motions at the landlady until the woman brought her a pen and paper.
Going out to see if I can find out more about the shadows and the Shadowseers. Will try to get back for lunchtime. Don’t worry, I can take care of myself. K.
Kaia wrote Pinsley’s name on it. “For the man upstairs. For when he wakes up.”
She wasn’t sure if the landlady understood her or not, but she took the message. Going back to her room, Kaia fetched her coat and shawl, wrapping up warmly before heading out into the chill of the Paris morning.
It was time to find all the things that Xander had promised Kaia were waiting for her in Paris.
*
Kaia set out through the streets of Paris, hearing the sounds of conversations as she walked down the street, and making sure that she didn’t get in the way of any of the passing horses. There was a church or an abbey not far from their hotel, which looked even older than some of the ones back in London.
She started to walk, following the traces of the shadows, and realizing that they were leading her back in the direction of the theatre. Kaia walked there, watching the people around her, trying to decide what she would do once she got to her destination. Perhaps she would be able to persuade someone to let her inside, and from there, she could ask questions.
Kaia kept walking, past the shops that were just starting to open up to the public, and a site where it seemed that the streets were starting to be rebuilt in the same grand style as the boulevards she’d seen earlier. Now that she was able to simply walk through the area, rather than hurrying through it in pursuit of what she’d felt, she could see that the area around the theatre was a kind of artistic district, with small galleries and artists’ studios dotting the streets on either side of her. She walked past a coffee shop where half a dozen older men seemed to be arguing with one another over what she assumed was some philosophical point or other, while a door or two down, two men were carrying sculptures out from a building and setting them on a cart, whose horses waited with a kind of “seen it all before” patience.
Kaia remembered the way to the theatre, but even if she hadn’t, she would have been able to follow the traces of the shadows. They were faint now, but they were there, indelible as ink stains on the city. She could feel other shadow traces too, but these were the ones she’d been drawn to last night, and so these were the ones she wanted to investigate first.
Eventually, Kaia got to the theatre and stood staring up at its edifice. It was still impressive, still hinting at the mystery and beauty of what went on within with its columns and statues, only now it was much quieter than it had been the night before. Walking up to the front doors, Kaia found them locked.
It hadn’t occurred to her that the theatre might be closed. It hadn’t occurred to her that a place as huge and magical as this would ever close. Just in case it was simply the front doors that were locked, Kaia made her way around the building, looking for a side entrance. She found one and knocked on it.
A man in shirt sleeves, pants and work boots looked at her and fired off something in rapid French.
“I’m sorry,” Kaia said. “I don’t speak French. Do you understand English?”
The man said something else to her, and although Kaia couldn’t understand his words, she could make out the impatience in his tone.
“I was here last night,” Kaia said. “I need to get inside.”
She took a step towards the door, but the man shook his head, snapping out something else. Kaia could only stare in surprise and disappointment as he shut the door in her face.
That hadn’t gone anything like she expected.
Then again, what had she expected? Had she hoped that the nice actress from last night, Sidonie, would be there and recognize her? Had she hoped that some member of the cast or crew who spoke enough English to understand her would be the first to meet Kaia, letting her try to talk her way inside? Even then, what could she say? If she tried to explain about the shadows and the Shadowseers, they would probably assume that she was either making up a story or just spouting nonsense.
Kaia leaned back against the wall opposite the theatre in frustration. She hadn’t thought this through. She’d assumed that she would be able to find things out without the inspector present. She’d wanted to find them out that way, if only to show him that she wasn’t completely helpless when it came to investigating.
Now, though, she wasn’t sure what to do next, and the sheer difficulty of the task Kaia faced started to hit home. She was meant to be going out into the city, asking questions, but she couldn’t even talk to most people. She could feel the lingering traces of shadows, but would that even necessarily lead her to the Shadowseers? She’d come all the way to France on the word of a man who’d been possessed before, and now Kaia found herself wondering what on Earth she was doing here. How was she meant to find her sister when she couldn’t even say the word “sister” in French?
For a moment, the futility of it threatened to consume Kaia. She clenched her fists against that feeling. No, she wouldn’t give in to despair. She hadn’t when shadows had flung themselves at her back in London. She hadn’t during years at the orphanage. She wasn’t going to now.
So it wasn’t certain that following the traces of shadows would lead her to the Shadowseers; it was still the best chance Kaia had. If the shadows were plotting something in Paris, didn’t it make sense that a society dedicated to stopping them would be somewhere close at hand? For now, following those traces was the best lead she had.
Kaia started to feel for them, more strenuously than she had back at the hotel, trying to stretch out her senses as much as possible. It meant a rush of feelings and sensations that made her glad that she was leaning against a wall, the flood of different responses threatening to overwhelm her. Some felt fresh, some felt older. A few didn’t feel like shadows so much as like the more general kind of darkness that had hung over Bedlam. It was as if Kaia had a map of the city, composed in shades of shadow, so that she could feel the places where such things were more intense, and the places where they had yet to touch Paris.
Now, all she needed to do was fit that web of sensations to the actual streets.
Kaia started to walk out through the city, heading vaguely north, towards the river. For now, it seemed to her that walking was the only option that she had. She needed to learn about this city, try to find out something using the extra sense that she seemed to have since other methods weren’t open to her. At the very least, it might give her something that she could tell the inspector when she went back to the hotel later. Kaia definitely didn’t want to come back empty handed.
She made her way back through the district that held the theatre, heading north. She passed a grand, square building whose sign even she could decipher, proclaiming it to be some kind of grand school of art.
She was still walking when she saw the crowd gathered, off near a side street. Deciding to see what was happening, Kaia started to walk over, joining what proved to be a group of at least fifty or sixty people, all trying to get further forward to look at something.
It helped then that Kaia was small for her age, because it meant that she could slip through the gaps in the crowd more easily. She could see now that the crowd was being held back by the French equivalent of the police, although these looked more military than the top-hat wearing peelers she was used to in London. A quartet of large, serious looking policemen stood guarding the mouth of an even smaller alley, keeping people back with trunch
eons in hand and grim looks.
Past them, Kaia thought that she could just make out something covered by a white sheet. It took a moment for her to make sense of that shape, but when she did, she found herself both horrified and strangely fascinated. There was a body here?
“Excuse me,” she said. “Does anyone speak any English? What’s going on? I don’t understand what’s happening.”
A man turned to her. His English was halting, but still considerably better than Kaia’s nonexistent French. “You should not go… be here, girl. You are more… too young to see this, yes? You should run along.”
Why did everyone want to tell her where to go and what to do, like she couldn’t decide for herself?
“If you tell me what’s happening,” Kaia said.
“Non. A girl should not ask such things.”
Kaia realized that she was going to have to try a different tack, and tried to think of something that might work with a man who obviously thought that this was no place for a girl like her.
“Please, I want to go,” she lied. “But my father saw the crowd and sent me to find out what was happening. I can’t go until I do.”
For a moment, she thought that the lie would be too complex for the language barrier between them, or that the man simply wouldn’t believe her. Then, he shrugged.
“There has been another murder,” he said. “Another actress, from the theatre along the way.”
“Another actress?” Kaia said. “Actresses have been dying?”
“One missing, one found strangled, and now another… Sidonie Beauvais. Now, that’s enough. You should go.”
Sidonie Beauvais. Sidonie. Kaia’s blood ran cold at the sound of the name. What were the chances of it being someone else? No, it had to be her, had to be the actress who had spoken to Kaia just last night. Now, she was dead, and actresses were being murdered.
Suddenly, Kaia had a pretty good idea of exactly what Inspector Pinsley was keeping from her.
