Chapter 37

A banging on the door echoed around the small, damp cell. Sidonie reluctantly lifted her head from Apolline’s shoulder and wiped her eyes.

‘Aunt Eloise must be ready to leave,’ Sidonie said.

‘I’m glad for it. You don’t belong here. You belong in the sun and the light.’

‘I belong wherever you are.’

The door swung open.

‘I will return soon. And next time I won’t be leaving without you,’ Sidonie promised.

‘Best not to make promises you can’t keep,’ Apolline said with a sad smile.

‘You should listen to her,’ Pierre de Lancre said coldly. He stood at the entrance of the cell, his eyes burning with hate. ‘Neither of you two whores will ever see the sun again.’

Sidonie turned, pushing Apolline behind her, putting her body between Pierre de Lancre and her friend. ‘Gendarmes! Gendarmes!’ she cried.

Pierre gripped the heavy oak door encircled by thick iron bands and sealed it shut with a twist of the key. He dropped the ring that held the keys and it clattered to the ground, the sound obscenely loud in the small cell. ‘Not so brave now that you are locked away where you belong. Did you think there would be no repercussions for what you did to Father Ignace?’

Sidonie eyed the keys. Too far away. ‘What do you believe we are trying to conceal, Monsieur de Lancre?’

Pierre followed her eyes. He kicked the keys further away. ‘Was it your plan to kill Father Ignace? Because he saw you for what you truly are? After Father Ignace was dead, who would be next?’

‘What’s he talking about?’ Apolline whispered.

‘I don’t know,’ Sidonie replied softly.

‘Shut up!’ Pierre shouted. ‘You do not talk to each other, whispering your spells and your magic! You think me a fool? I know what your kind does. The way you flaunt your bodies before good, honest, God-fearing men. Planting lustful thoughts in our minds, leading us away from the light of God and towards the fires of Hell. Is that what you tried to do to Father Ignace? Only your magic didn’t work on a man of God, so you beat him instead?’

‘Father Ignace isn’t the man you think he is,’ Sidonie said, backing away as much as she could in the tiny space.

Pierre lurched forward and grabbed Sidonie by the throat, driving her back until her head cracked against the stone wall. She clawed at his hands, gasping for air.

‘Help!’ Apolline shouted. ‘Someone help us!’

Pierre threw Sidonie to the side and struck Apolline with a closed fist, sending her to the ground where she lay unmoving. ‘No one is coming to save you. You are mine now.’

Sidonie tried to crawl towards the door, but Pierre grabbed her ankle. Flipping her onto her back, he sat on her, straddling her hips. She tried to fight him off, managing to strike his face twice before he grabbed her wrists in one hand and held them over her head.

‘You don’t understand!’ Sidonie cried, still hoping that if she could tell him the truth about Father Ignace, he would see reason. ‘Father Ignace attacked a girl yesterday. A child. He tried to kill her. I fought him off to save her life—’

Pierre gripped her throat with his other hand, cutting off her words and her breath. She bucked beneath him, struggling for air. Black spots formed in front of her eyes and her ears filled with the sound of her heartbeat, rapid and desperate. A hand rummaged beneath her skirts.

‘This is what you want, isn’t it, you whore?’ Pierre whispered, his mouth against her ear. ‘Well, I’m going to give it to you, witch.’

Something crashed into Pierre, knocking him off her body. Dazed and gasping for air, the fog lifted from her eyes, and she saw Apolline atop Pierre, his body trapped beneath hers. She gripped his hair and pounded his head onto the cold stone floor, once, twice, three times before he ceased moving.

Someone yelled, and at first Sidonie thought it must be her, but it came from the other side of the door. Crawling over to the keys, Sidonie pushed them under the door before making her way back to Apolline, who lay panting beside Pierre. Dragging herself the rest of the way, she finally collapsed with her head on Apolline’s chest.

Sidonie drifted in and out of sleep, her moments of rest interrupted by dreams of being choked. She flung her hands out, clawing desperately at phantom fingers around her throat until a gentle but firm grip stilled her hands and gently placed them back on her chest. At times, she heard voices, but she was not ready to open her eyes.

‘Is she free?’

‘Completely. The arrest was never official, and after what transpired ...’

‘Eloise, you must not blame yourself.’

‘I was there, Liane. Not fifty feet away. To think she almost died—’

‘Aunt Eloise?’ Sidonie whispered.

‘Hush now, rest.’ She felt a cool hand on her forehead and her eyes closed once more.

‘Give her some more syrup of the poppy. She needs rest.’

‘Should we tell her?’

‘Tomorrow.’

The next time she awoke, it was dark. The sound of harsh, laboured breathing had woken her from a restless sleep. She tried to turn her head, but it was too heavy. She held her breath and the sound stopped. She reached out her hand, but all she felt was empty air.

A touch as soft as velvet tapped inquisitively at her cheek. She raised a hand to brush it away, and the muscles in her shoulder protested at the movement. There was a heavy weight sitting on her chest. The touch came again, this time more insistent.

‘Ra! Stop that! Mademoiselle Sidonie is trying to sleep.’

Sidonie opened her eyes and squinted at the light. A face came into view, distinctly feline. A harsh tongue scraped her nose. Then the weight on her chest vanished. Lyse stood beside her bed, holding the cat Ra in one arm.

‘He came in with me,’ Lyse said. ‘He worried for you. I worried too.’

‘Water?’ Sidonie croaked.

Lyse put the cat down and fetched a glass from the side table. She couldn’t support Sidonie’s head with her other arm, which was bandaged and in a sling, so most of the water went onto the pillow and down Sidonie’s neck. She wiped the drops away only to find something unfamiliar hanging around her neck.

‘I don’t need the pouch now,’ Lyse said. ‘I have you and Madame Eloise to protect me. She said you must not try to talk. It hurts, I know. I’ll fetch Madame Eloise. She’s been by your side the whole time you’ve been asleep. She only left now to use the necessary.’

‘Lyse Fournier!’ Aunt Eloise strode into the room and came to stand beside the bed. ‘To speak of such things. I was simply getting a breath of fresh air. How do you fare, dear Sidonie?’

‘Apolline?’ she asked, trying to rise from her bed.

‘Still yourself!’ Aunt Eloise said. ‘She was released from that dreadful conciergerie. The accusation against her came from Pierre de Lancre, and given his behaviour in that cell, it no longer carried much weight. Capitaine Vasseur ordered her release, once Madame Garnier gave him a full accounting of what took place. Your injured state confirmed her story.’

‘Did you bring her home with you?’

Aunt Eloise hesitated. ‘I saw you settled and then sent Antoine to fetch her.’

Even in her weakened state Sidonie realised that her aunt hadn’t answered her question. ‘Where is she?’

‘She had left the conciergerie by the time Antoine arrived. No one has seen her since.’