Page 124 of The Mask Falling

“Only if it’s not going to make me paranoid.” I left the gaiters on the pile. “And if you don’t have to come and sniff me.”

His smile broadened to a grin, showing sharpened canines.

“You smell different from any other voyant I’ve met. So does your bodyguard,” he said. “All anormaux smell a little like petrol—you know?” I nodded. Some older vehicles still used it. “But he smells of spirits, too.”

Even I had caught the scent of metal on Arcturus, when I had slept beside him. Just a faint trace.

“Usually, there are other aromas laced through it. Most people in one order share a similar scent. You smell like an oracle. Bitter almond and honey. But there’s something else.” Malperdy considered, eyes narrowed. “Smoke. You smell of smoke.”

“Could be worse,” I said. “I was afraid you were going to say I smelled like week-old laundry.” My headlamp picked out beads of water on the ceiling. “How far down are we?”

“Several hundred feet.”

“Something tells me they didn’t mine this far just for limestone.”

“Maybe for gold. Or it could have been a siege tunnel.” Without letting go of the rope, Malperdy blotted his face on his sleeve. “Or they were looking for another realm. We want that, I think. We crawl into the deepest caves, touch the bottom of the sea, try to reach the stars.” He gestured upward. “We are forever looking for other worlds. Stranger ones.”

“And that’s what you found down here. A stranger world.”

“Exactly.”

We exchanged a smile.

Ivy had been right. This part of the carrières did feel a little warmer. I took off my oilskin and tied the arms around my waist, willing my pulse to slow. My skin had a dull sheen.

“What’s he like?” I leaned against the wall, arms folded. “Le Vieux Orphelin.”

“He is both leader and brother to us. Renelde was first to join him,” Malperdy said. “They were both born in the Scion Citadel of Lyon, in a district under the control of a brutal anormal named Louvel, who took a special interest in Renelde.”

Renelde smiled at whatever Ivy was saying. Her hands were restless, interpreting both ways.

“When she was sixteen, she met Le Vieux Orphelin,” Malperdy continued, quieter. “He was only seventeen himself, but he sheltered her in his bookshop and promised to help her escape. In the end, she found her own way out . . . but it was around that time that Ménard was posted to Lyon. Somehow they drew his eye.” He glanced at Renelde. “They fled to Paris, where Léandre and La Tarasque joined them. Then the rest of us. Ankou is the most recent arrival.”

“I’m going to take a guess,” I said. “You call yourselves les perdues because you were all lost before.”

“In various ways. Ankou is a fugitive,” Malperdy said. “There has been a bounty on his head for a few months.”

“I’ve never seen him on the screens.” I looked toward Ankou. “Why is he on the run?”

“I don’t know. Le Vieux Orphelin does, but he has told the rest of us not to ask. We respect that.”

“And you?”

“My uncle threw me out when I was twelve. It was kinder than sending me to the Vigiles.” He flexed his calloused fingers around the rope. “I tried to steal from Renelde. I thought she would kill me. Instead, she took me to Le Vieux Orphelin.” He looked at me. “I think that you and he are alike. Together, you could change the world for anormaux. Make it a safe place for us.”

His faith was both touching and nerve-racking.

“I hope so,” I said.

The rope trembled. I used the lull in our journey to dig out my box of medicine and swallow another capsule with as much water as I could manage. At last, a pair of boots came into view, then a head of white hair.

“Bon travail,” Léandre said, and we all stood to attention. “Let’s keep moving.”

“Wait,” I said. “Where’s Warden?”

Cocking an eyebrow, Malperdy nodded to a point over my shoulder. I startled when I saw Arcturus, bold as a mobster’s shirt, standing right behind me.

“How the hell did you get there?”

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