Page 83 of The Mask Falling

“Yes. Sadly, that is no longer possible, since the veils are now eternally torn.” His gaze bored into mine. “Scion is how we coexist, dreamwalker. You ought to leave the anchor well alone.”

11

Changeling

Cade had a cleaner and larger room than mine, upholstered with tawny satin. There was even a radio. A Vigile had brought us a platter of cold meats and fruit, hot saloop, and a log of white cheese. A fire crackled beside us. This, then, was how Ménard rewarded submission.

“You should eat, Paige.” Cade swallowed his mouthful. “You need your strength.”

The meats glistened in the ashen sunlight. I looked toward the window, my gaze distant.

I was more clearheaded now that we had left the cellar. Down there in the dark, with Kornephoros, every word had rung with doom. Up here in the attic, I was calmer. I could think.

“My first thought was that Ménard must plan to expose the Rephaite presence in our world,” I said, breaking a minute-long silence. “To rally people against them. Drive them out.” I shook my head. “But no. He wouldn’t do that. It would mean open war, and he already has enough war to manage. There are too many risks. Too many potential outcomes.”

“You’re getting to know him already.” Cade began to peel an orange. “For someone who detests fortune-tellers as much as he does, Ménard hates not being able to see the future. No, he’ll keep the truth close to his chest and try to remove the Rephaim quietly.”

I nodded once. Cade ate the orange and poured winter cordial into two cut-glass tumblers.

“He plans to keep everything the same in Scion, except for the balance of power.” He slid one toward me. “He wants to spin the wheel. Turn the anchor. In his world, amaurotics will be on top and Rephaim at the bottom. Voyants still get crushed in the middle, naturally. He’ll use Sheol II to keep unnaturals in their place. All unnaturals.”

I grasped the arms of the chair. Trying not to sound too interested, I said, “Do you know where Sheol II is?”

“No. They wouldn’t share that kind of state secret with an unnatural, even a house-trained one.”

“Frère never let it slip?”

He glanced at me. “You mean pillow talk?”

“If the shoe fits. I assumed that was how you were getting all this information about Ménard.”

“Luce isn’t stupid, Paige. She just happens to get off on screwing an unnatural on the sly,” he said. “Possibly because her spouse thinks any, er, loss of control invites the æther.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“I know. Ces amaurotiques.” He gestured vaguely. “To answer your question, no, Luce did not disclose the location of Sheol II, and I would be on the guillotine by morning if I asked.”

There was a trace of bitterness there.

“I thought he didn’t want Sheol II on French soil,” I said. Cade picked up a glass without comment, and I paused to think. “But now it’s here, he’ll use it.”

“Exactly. He wants it to be a prison for all of us—Rephaimandvoyants. That way, we can keep feeding them.”

“He only needs a certain number of us to do that. I presume he’ll kill the rest.”

Cade lifted his glass to his lips. “He’s not called the Butcher of Strasbourg for nothing.”

Chills flickered up my sides.

“Sheol II would also keep the existing Emim away from other areas,” Cade added. “Amaurotics can continue with their lives, untouched by the whole unnatural lot of us. That’s how it will be until he figures out a way to remove the Rephs without creating more Emim.”

“So that’s why Ménard is footing the bill for all your . . . experimentation.” I closed my ice-cold hands around my glass. “Someone must have come looking for Kornephoros.”

“Of course.” Cade tucked a slice of cured sausage into his mouth. “The Grand Overseer, no less.”

Jaxon. It was the first I had heard of him being in Paris. I tried to keep my expression calm.

“He arrived here in November. Ménard told him Kornephoros never showed,” Cade said. “I don’t know whether he believed it or not. Still, he did finally persuade Ménard to sign the Great Territorial Act.”

---