Chapter Thirty-Two The Choice

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The Choice

ANAELLA SLIPS AWAY quickly and quietly, but the damage is already done. Everything was going so perfectly until now, I almost believed we could make it, that our plan would work without a flaw.

How naive of me.

Footsteps echo from the upper floor, and a second later Josephine appears at the top of the stairs. Her gaze falls on Madame, and then on me.

"You," she spits.

"Mon amour, where did you . . ." Renée's voice falters when she takes in the scene.

Within a split second, Josephine grabs Renée, pulling out a knife and pressing it to her throat. "You liar! I can't believe I fell for it. Guards!"

I should run, follow my sister and find Nuriel. But I'm frozen. I cannot leave Madame and Renée behind. I cannot just abandon them when the entire reason they are here is to help me. I cannot have any more innocent blood on my hands. Not after the coachman.

"Let go of her, you strumpet!" Madame calls, not bothering to keep her voice down anymore.

"Or what?" Josephine mocks as henchmen flood the room.

I don't even fight when they grab me. There are too many of them, their guns gleaming in the faded lamp-light .

Madame is feistier; she's swinging her fabric beater at their heads as they lunge for her. "Rot in hell!" she curses as they snatch her weapon and push her to the ground.

"Silence!" A gunshot pierces the air, and Renée screams.

My breath is so shallow I fear I might faint. But no one falls in a pool of blood before me. The room is as silent as a tomb. I let my eyes wander up, taking in Pauline's tiny figure and the gun still aimed at the ceiling above her head.

Her face is a vicious mask of vengeance, marked by a stain of blood from where Madame's beater struck her. Yet the wound only makes her seem more feral. I quiver at the sight. We should have locked her in the cellar when we had the chance.

"Lady Sibille put me in charge tonight." She bites on each word. "I'll be damned if one more thing goes wrong. Do you all understand?"

The henchmen nod, and the rough hands holding me down grip me even tighter.

"You . . ." Pauline steps slowly down the stairs, her round eyes glued to me. "You thought you could break a contract with Lady Sibille. Free your sister and keep your boyfriend's Talent. You make me sick."

She snatches the purse from my grasp and starts digging inside it at once. I flinch as Pauline empties my possessions onto the floor, throwing Father's book down as if it were a dirty rag she didn't want to touch. Her lack of regard for it makes my blood boil.

"You are the one who makes me sick," I say, surprised by how even my voice is.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Pauline's lips curve into the familiar twisted smile as she considers the diamond in her hand. "Take this and store it with the right blood sample," she orders one of the men, handing him the gem along with her gun—no longer needing it with the hoard of henchmen surrounding us. "The shipment should be ready by now."

"Pauline, let's get this done quickly," Josephine urges, her knife still pressed to Renée's throat. "We don't have all night. "

"What are you going to do to us?" I ask, trying to get them to talk longer. I need to stall, to buy enough time for Anaella to get to Nuriel and the police. He is our only hope now.

"If you need to ask, you're more daft than I thought." Pauline sneers. "I just wonder where we should toss your bodies."

Josephine chuckles. "How about the river?"

My eyes snap up to hers, but she's not looking at me. Instead, her eyes are glued to Father's book still resting on the floor, something resembling hunger in her gaze. "Having her end up like her father seems like nice symmetry to me."

A shiver runs down my spine, my mind blanking for a second. What did she just say?

"You know, I never did like guns much, so impersonal." Pauline grabs my hand before pulling out a knife, but I'm beyond caring.

Josephine did recognize the book when I was last here. She knew exactly who I was. Who my father was.

But Father's fall into the river was an accident. A horrible accident that happened because he was desperate. His Talent was lost in the fast-moving river that took his life. The police said so.

Pauline's knife slices into my palm, reopening the scar Dahlia gifted me months ago, with a searing pain that makes me scream. She's forcing the ruby off my finger, but my mind is still spinning.

The report said Father was drunk. I always thought it must have been desperation that drove him to liquor, even though it went against everything I knew about him. Father never drank. The world spins around me and my breathing turns ragged. It can't be true. His fate couldn't possibly have been the same as the coachman's. It simply couldn't. And yet . . .

Pauline leans closer to me, looking right into my eyes as she places the knife on her own palm. "Your Talent is mine," she whispers.

The doors behind me burst open and a crack of gunfire splits the air. Someone screams, and the hands holding me loosen their grip. I cover my head and duck as another bullet strikes the statue in the middle of the room .

"Get them!" The cries of the thugs are now matched by the shouts of policemen.

Stone particles are scattered over the floor where the angel statue's head rolls. I shuffle to my feet, suddenly free of any hold.

Pauline curses and raises her knife. The hate in her eyes is so deep I'm certain she's about to strike me. "You . . ." She draws the word out with loathing. Before I can even react, three policemen grab her and drag her away. "Let me go!" she screeches, elbowing one of them in the face.

I should feel some sort of triumph at her fall, but all I care about now is getting to Josephine.

I need to know the truth about Father.

She is still at the top of the stairs holding Renée as her hostage and taking in the fight with a wide glare. I can see the fear on her face—the debate in her eyes as they linger on the book. Then her gaze meets mine, and her hold on Renée tightens. I know her next move even before it happens.

"No!" I cry just as she pushes Renée down the stairs.

The world slows as her body tumbles down with horrid thuds. Madame's scream cuts through me like a knife as she charges forward, catching Renée just before her head can hit the ground.

But I can't tear my eyes off Josephine as she steps back, trying to sneak away.

I cannot let that happen.

I spring forward, grabbing Father's book from the floor with my good hand and charging up the stairs.

"Running away without your prize, Mademoiselle Garnier ?" I call after her.

Josephine is almost at the back door leading to her storage area and cellar, but she pauses as she scowls at the book I'm waving over my head.

"This is what you want, isn't it?" My voice is nearly swallowed by the noise of the fighting below. It's a desperate move, trying to lure her to talk instead of fleeing. Yet somehow her hand still hasn't reached for the door handle. "Was ruining my father's business not enough for you?" I take another step toward her.

"Your father was a fool." She spits the words at me.

"Liar! Father was a true artist. Unlike you!"

My skin crawls as she laughs in response, the sound untamed. "One day you'll end up just like him—at the bottom of the river. Right where you both belong. My only regret is that the bastard took his Talent with him."

He took his Talent with him . . .

"You wanted to steal his gem." I know the words are true as they leave my lips. "Did Dahlia put you up to this?"

"Dahlia?" She laughs again. "She couldn't care less about a little fish like your father. But I never quite figured out his methods, no matter how hard I tried." There is a glimpse of madness in her eyes when she stares at the book. "And now you hold the answers I need."

Before I can understand what's happening, she charges toward me. We both crash to the floor as she flings herself on me, her hands grabbing the book. I cry out, but I don't let go.

"Give it to me!" she screams into my ear, aiming a painful jab at my ribs.

I wail in pain, my heart all the way up in my throat. I cannot let her take Father's book. I cannot let this vile woman defile his memory.

A wave of adrenaline runs in my veins as I push against her, and I manage to snatch the book from her grasp. She lunges at me again, eyes full of madness and rage. A second later, I smack the thick cover right into her face with all my strength and feel a crack. She staggers back from shock, blood dripping from her nose.

"You vile creature! I'll get you for this!" she cries.

But now heavy steps echo behind me, and police officers dash forward, grabbing Josephine and pinning her down. Then Nuriel is by my side, his hands helping me up to my feet.

"Let go of me!" Josephine shouts, saliva bubbling at the corners of her mouth. "Do you know who I am? "

"Wait!" I yell at them as they start dragging her away. "I have one more question for her."

They pause, staring at Nuriel as if waiting for his command. He nods.

I look right into Josephine's eyes, ignoring the blood now smearing her lips. "Did you kill my father?"

She spits at my feet. "I wanted nothing more than his Talent. You have no idea what it's like to be gifted magic and still not be the best. But the idiot tried to fight. He died before I had the chance to get my hands on it."

Tears spring to my eyes and my legs buckle under me, but Nuriel's strong arms catch me before I fall.

"Take her away," he orders.

I watch as they carry her, her hot pink coat dragging on the floor behind her. Her shouts echo through the hall like the feral cries of a wounded animal, receding only when they force her outside.

"Are you alright?" Nuriel asks.

"I will be."

"What was all of that about your father?"

"The truth, finally . . ." And even though tears stream down my cheeks, I'm smiling. Father was a hero. He fought for his family, for his Talent. He wasn't a desperate man, or a drunkard. He was a man of honor until his last breath. I hug his book tighter to my chest.

I try to stand on my own, pulling away from Nuriel gently. But his embrace tightens around me instead.

"I swear I'll be fine. You don't need to—"

"I was so worried we were too late." He speaks over me. "When your sister . . ." There is a tremble in his voice that makes me look up at him. His beautiful eyes, full of softness, lock with mine.

"What are you . . . ? We got the Talents, so you don't need to worry anymore."

He shakes his head, stroking a stray curl from my face and tucking it behind my ear. The warmth of his touch calls to me, inviting me to lean in and let it seep into my skin and revive me .

"I wasn't afraid because of the Talents. Did you honestly think I did all this just to help those stuffy Elite snobs keep their gems?"

And though he doesn't say the words, they hang in the air between us: I did it for you.

Nuriel's smile brightens as I finally allow myself to sink into his embrace.

"I believe this is yours." He pulls out my ruby. "That maid of yours gave us quite the fight over it. She'll be locked up for a long, long time."

I stare at the ruby, its magic calling me to reunite with it. But something inside me rejects it. This is not who I am. Not anymore.

"I . . . I don't want it."

"What will you do with it, then?"

I place the ring on my finger, the echo of music and the soft humming of a child echoing in my mind. "Give it to someone who deserves it."

He hugs me again, and a policeman appears at the top of the stairs.

"My lord, we need you outside. We believe we found your Talent."

"Your diamond!" I gasp. "The men took it before I could—"

"Don't worry about it." He smiles at me. "I'll be right there," he calls to the policeman before turning back to me. "I honestly hoped they wouldn't find it again."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Haven't you guessed by now?"

I look deep into his eyes; all his guarded secrets and games are finally at an end. The books in his study, the sketches he carried around, his dedication to the greenhouse designs, the ease with which he offered to risk his Talent for this mission.

"You're the architect."

"I am. Just as you are the modiste," he says. "We are quite the pair, aren't we?"

"I guess we are." I can't help but smile at him.

"My lord?" the policeman calls again.

"I'll be back soon." Nuriel cups my cheek warmly. "Cleodora. "

I stay in place for a few moments as he walks away, the tension dropping in my body until I nearly fall down again.

Down in the shop, police are swarming, but the fighting is done. Bodies litter the ground, while men in handcuffs sit among the ruins of bloodied dresses, suits, and shards of stone.

Madame and Renée are nowhere to be found, but I'm told they've been taken by the police to get medical care. I should go down and look for my sister, but I can't stop feeling as if something is missing.

Something important.

Someone.

Where is Dahlia?

Why isn't she here? Did she really leave Pauline in charge and stay away? I know she doesn't do any of the dirty work herself, but for her to just disappear . . . She wouldn't leave so many Talents in the hands of a puppet. It makes no sense. My thoughts trail away as I look down the corridor. Right at the end of it is Josephine's private fitting room. The door is slightly open, allowing a sliver of warm candlelight to fall into the carpeted corridor.

My legs start moving before I can think.

My heart hammers in my chest as I slowly push the door, and the familiar scent of jasmine envelops me.

"I've been waiting for you, dear." Dahlia's soft voice cascades over my skin, and I shiver. She looks at me with her beautiful, innocent doe eyes, leaning gently against the desk as if she hasn't a care in the world—as if she is not the shadowy beast I know her to be.

"Dahlia . . ."

I should shout, alert the police, and call for help. But all I can do is stare at her—at the way the crimson fabric hugs her figure just as it did the very first time I saw her. At how her lush, black hair drapes over her back in soft waves. How her perfect lips are slightly parted, as if inviting me in.

"You've surprised me, Cleo," she says. "Not many people manage to do that. "

I force myself to swallow as she pushes away from the desk, stepping closer to me.

"It seems as though you have a choice to make."

"I should call the police . . ."

"Yes. You should. But you won't."

"You never cared about me. You don't care about anyone. You had Lirone shot."

"My lovely, if I'd wanted the boy dead, I'd have sent someone to finish the job. I was the one who whistled back in the garden to alert the guards to your location."

My mouth drops. Could she be lying?

No . . . Dahlia never lies.

"I was too lenient with you." She sighs sweetly, that echo of pain lingering in her voice. "I have only myself to blame."

Her gaze is hypnotizing, and it sends electric shocks down my spine.

"What . . . Why . . . How could you do all of this? After everything . . . How do you just shut your emotions off?" A warm tear escapes the corner of my eye. I want to hate her. I want to stop her. But her hold on me is far too great. "Why can't I let you go?" My voice cracks.

"Oh, Cleo, don't you see? I didn't just want you to be mine . . . I wanted to be . . ."

Yours. Was that what she meant to say?

She tilts her head, the sentiment dying on her lips. Instead, all that remains is a glint of longing flickering on her face. "We truly did have something special."

I shake my head as I brace myself, desperately trying to shield my soul from the lure of her sweet words.

"Shhh . . . Don't strain yourself." She presses a finger to my lips. "It's not your fault. This is my Talent. " My heart skips a beat as she plants a kiss on my forehead, her lips softer than the flutter of butterfly wings.

But she doesn't say more, doesn't explain .

I don't try to stop her as she strides to the large closet. Pushing the clothes aside, she reveals the secret passage, the one I had only guessed the existence of before. "Goodbye, my lovely nightingale," she whispers before disappearing inside.