Page 63 of The Mask Falling

“The suspect’s face was obscured, but the biometrics matched.”

His nostrils flared a little. I hoped that if he had any suspicions, this would allay them. A fugitive would surely conceal her own detection, not inform him of it.

“I stationed additional Vigiles in the area,” I went on. “In case she is correct.”

After a moment, Ménard released my fingers. “Good.”

Two attendants arrived then with the meal. For Ménard, a whole buttered crab on ice and a glass of pressed lemon, unsweetened. For me, a bowl of stew I thought was bouillabaisse—a dish from Marseille—and a well-done beef steak, served with mushrooms and laced with dark sauce.

Of course it had to be beef, one of the few things I avoided eating. My stomach braced itself.

“I will call Gabrielle for an update tomorrow.” I picked up my cutlery. “Is there anything more you need her to do in preparation?”

As Minister of Internal Security, Auclair would know all about the agreement to establish Sheol II here.

“Preparation.” Ménard was focused on prying the crab open. “For what?”

“For the—” The shell cracked. “Saison d’Os.”

Shit.

I had just made a grave misstep.Bone Seasoncame from a corruption of the Frenchbonne. I had drilled what I presumed was the official Scion translation—La Bonne Saison—into my skull, only to botch it.

Incredibly, Ménard didn’t even look up.

“No. Auclair has everything in hand.” He snapped a claw off. “Be assured, the site is well-protected.”

A bead of perspiration rolled down my nape. I had to cover my error. I creased my brow, put down my fork, and circled my temple with one finger, as if the pain was rising.

“Luce.” Ménard lowered the knife. “Should I call someone?”

“No need.” I met his gaze head-on. “Benoît, the colony in England was sordid. A breeding ground for sedition and disease.”

Straight away, another possible slip-up. I had used his middle name. He regarded me mildly.

“We must keep a closer watch on Sheol II than Weaver did on its predecessor,” I pressed on. “If there is another rebellion and the prisoners escape into our citadels, there will be chaos in France. Just as there has been chaos in England.”

His attention was back on his crab. “I have no interest in how the Rephaim choose to maintain the rotting places they inhabit.”

He said that word,Réphaïm, as if it were a poison. That was puzzling. And interesting. I should stop.

I couldn’t.

“They are in our country,” I said. “On our doorstep.”

“As I said, the site is well protected. We are not fools or marionettes, like Weaver. There will be no repeats of what happened on his watch.” Ménard picked white flakes of meat from the crab. “The Suzerain will have to purge her own house if there is another uprising.”

He peeled the finger-like lungs from the crab and placed them on a dish. I was about to retrieve my fork when I thought better of it. The steak would turn my stomach, which I might not be able to hide. As for the bouillabaisse, the smell of it was making my mouth water, and not in a good way. I could imagine the slime on those fillets, the cottony wetness of the eel.

“Luce.” Ménard had been spooning the mustard from the crab, but stopped. “Are you not hungry?”

I forced a weary smile. “I must admit the migraine has left me feeling a little delicate.”

“Ah, mon cœur.”

I slid the plate of steak aside, out of eyeshot. Ménard watched it move across the tablecloth, then started to eat again.

“Benoît,” I said, after a brief silence, “we should visit Sheol II ourselves. Just once, to show our support.”

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