Page 79 of The Mask Falling

“I’ve got to take Paige to see someone now,” he said, setting Jean-Michel down and ruffling his hair. Mylène looked sulky. “Hey, you can play another time. Your maman wants you to join her in her apartments. Better get there quick, or the baby will eat all your breakfast.”

Mylène sucked in a huge breath. “No!”

She grabbed Jean-Michel by the hand, and they took off, back toward my room, leaving me alone with Cade. I watched the kids until they were out of sight, none the wiser as to how they had got up here in the first place.

“I take it the game was your idea.” Cade sighed. “Paige, you need to tread carefully for both our sakes. They’re sweet kids, but if they get overexcited and tell Luce—”

“—I’ll be sent to my death. Which will happen anyway,” I said, “once Ménard realizes I’m worse than useless to him.”

“Help him, then.”

“We’ve been over this. Over my bones will the Butcher of Strasbourg have the Mime Order.”

“I know,” he said. “But I want to show you something that might just put the issue in a new light.” He strode toward the stairs. “Come on. I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.”

****

We made our way down to the next floor, where a single day Vigile guarded the door to the attic. Her hand strayed toward her baton when we approached.

“Vigile.” Cade lowered his gaze. “The Grand Inquisitor granted us permission to leave.”

“I am aware.” She opened the door. “Keep to the agreed route.”

We stepped through. Cade held a finger to his lips, then hurried me across a corridor and down another flight of stairs to the ground floor. We passed a room full of voices and dreamscapes before he swung me around a corner and stopped next to a velvet curtain.

“You’re about to see the greatest secret in Scion.”

“I thought the Rephaim were the greatest secret in Scion,” I said.

He gave me an odd look as he pulled the crimson fabric aside. “There’s more.”

“Right. Anytime you want to stop being unnecessarily enigmatic, Cade, be my guest.”

The curtain hid a small door, which he opened with a key. I had to duck my head to fit into the passage beyond, which led to yet another set of steps, this time made of stone. Cade pocketed the key and took a flashlight from a wall-mounted charger. I tried to ignore the sense of the walls closing in as we made our way underneath the Hôtel Garuche.

When we reached the end of the staircase, Cade tapped a code into a keypad, unlocking a foot-thick door. Once we were inside, he directed the flashlight toward the ceiling.

“This is a safe room. Protects the Inquisitorial family from invasion and disaster, including nuclear warfare,” he explained. “Used to be a wine cellar, apparently, before Scion.”

“The greatest secret in Scion is hidden in this cellar.” I stifled a cough. “Is it a stash of wine?”

“Actually, Ménard is one of the few Scion officials who doesn’t secretly drink. In fact, I doubt he’s ever broken a law. Scion is in his bones, his blood. He’s the embodiment of the anchor.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “That’s what makes him the perfect man to fight the Rephaim. Other officials—the ones who taste forbidden pleasures and benefit from voyant knowledge—could ignore the hypocrisy of working for the Rephaim. Ménard can’t.”

“You’re not endearing him to me.”

“I’m not trying to. He’s a cold-blooded bastard, but he’s a cold-blooded bastard with power and money. And that’s what we’ll need if we’re to stand a chance against the Rephaim.”

He had a point. Without Alsafi and his network of embezzlers, the Mime Order would soon burn through its reserves.

“You’re considering it.” Seeing me shiver, Cade said, “Do you want my jacket?”

“I’m fine.”

He nodded and pressed ahead, past crates and shelves, before he stopped and pointed his flashlight. I stared at what its beam revealed.

A Rephaite.

Even though he sat on the floor, I could see he would be taller than Arcturus standing—taller, in fact, than any Rephaite I had ever laid eyes on. His muscled arms were shackled to the wall above his head, each thicker than both of mine put together. Iron chains twined with familiar red blossoms crisscrossed his torso, which was gray where the flowers touched it. He looked as if he could tear me in two with his bare hands.

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