Page 118 of The Mask Falling

“It was commissioned by the Grand Commander of France for his forces, and his alone. This one is a prototype. Anyone possessing it would be assumed to be in some degree of contact with French high command,” Ducos said. “Use it to assassinate the Grand Overseer. England will have no choice but to respond to the loss of two of its representatives.”

I accepted the revolver. Lighter than my old one, it was a Lévesque, designed by the same engineer as the Senshield guns. Ducos went into her coat and handed me a metal case.

“A military-grade stiletto, should you prefer to eliminate him at close quarters. Also of French design.”

It appeared I had options when it came to killing. “The pistol is on the mantelpiece, if you want it for someone else.”

She rose to take it, then returned to her seat. Another case emerged from her ever-giving coat.

“In here you will find a new dissimulator, adrenaline, and a micro-camera.” She handed over one last case. “The adrenaline is from Cordier—to suppress your fatigue, should you need to fight. The micro-camera is very important. It can be attached to your clothing. Photograph the body as evidence that the assignment is complete. If you are at risk of capture, I expect you to dispose of all of this.”

A camera. That was a rare thing in Scion. Recording devices were strictly regulated.

“I must leave Paris for a time, but I will be back no later than the fourteenth of February. This assignment should be completed by that date.”

When I could speak, I did. “And you’ll take word of the Mime Order to Domino?”

Ducos picked up her briefcase, shooting me a final look. “I will,” she said. “Goodbye, Flora. I trust that you will make a success of this task.”

The door closed behind her. Not long after, Arcturus found me sitting on the couch, staring at the wall.

“Jaxon.” My voice sounded miles away. “They want me to kill Jaxon.”

PART III

Eurydice

From the Greek ε?ρ?ς (eurys, “wide”) + δ?κη (dike, “justice”)

17

Apollyon

For the next two days, I should have been training. Instead, I was stuck in bed on a drip, sleeping as much as I could. I was grateful for the fever, which kept my mind soft and loose even when I was conscious. It made it easier to not think of my assignment.

Arcturus made sure I had nothing to do but rest. He brought me small meals, administered my doses, sat close by and held my hand when the fever disconcerted me. Meanwhile, he and Ivy gave each other space. Now and again, I sensed their paths cross in the kitchen or the parlor, and I would hear brief exchanges, too low for me to quite make out.

By the day of our journey, my fever was down, though I still had a cough. I rose late in the afternoon and forced myself into the shower, but the knowledge of what I had to do was oozing through my pores and my hair, bedded deep under my nails, and no amount of scrubbing would remove it.

Knowledge is dangerous, Liss had told me once. Months after her death, I finally understood.

You are to eliminate the Scion official known as the Grand Overseer.

I dressed in a thick-knit sweater and the waterproof trousers I had worn to Calais. I leaned over the sink and trimmed my hair so it fell almost to my shoulders, the way I preferred it. I pulled on a pair of socks and buckled the holster for my revolver and stiletto. The slender blade was perfect for piercing a kidney or a heart. I checked my backpack, which contained food, a canteen of water, three doses of adrenaline, the stimulant Ducos had first given me, and a box of medicine with instructions from Cordier.

For the first time, I also decided to carry the silver pill. I slipped the vial into one of my trouser pockets and zipped it shut. Domino might have given me strict orders about how to kill Jaxon, but if it came to it, I would choose my own end.

Arcturus was leafing through theDaily Descendantin the kitchen. I headed straight for the fridge.

“Hi,” I said to him as I passed.

“Paige.”

We hadn’t spoken about the assignment. Each time I tried to come to terms with it, a ringing filled every crevice of my skull.

“How is your fever?” Arcturus asked as I took out a carton of milk.

“Down a bit.” I brushed the backs of my fingers across my cheek. Still too warm. “I’ll manage.”

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