Page 26 of The Scarlet Veil

Thump-thump, are-you

Thump-thump, fright-ened

Thump-thump, sweet-ing?

I slam my eyes shut once more. Because the dark of my eyelids is far better than the dark of the unknown, the dark of mynightmares, and—and whereamI? Confusion scatters my thoughts, heightening my senses until I reel with them, until they converge in a sickening rush. This place smells not of fish but of something sweet and sharp, something oddly metallic, which means I’ve left the Doleur behind. Perhaps—perhaps I’m safe in Lou’s apartment?Yes.Perhaps I no longer feel the cold air of Brindelle Park because I fell asleep on her chaise. Perhaps they doused every light because they didn’t want to wake me.Yes, of course—

Dull pain stirs in my head as I nod deliriously.

Wincing, I touch the knot at my temple, and the entire delusion spins out of control, crashing to the ground at my feet. Because Lou did not give me this lump. She did not creep up behind me, unseen, and knock me unconscious with a single crushing blow.

You do know it’s dangerous to wander alone at night with a killer on the loose?

Oh God.

The entire world sways as I lurch from my seat, but small, cold hands descend on my shoulders with startling speed. With startlingstrength. They push me back down, accompanied by a dulcet feminine voice.

“Ah, ah, ah. You mustn’t flee.”

My heart sinks horribly.

At the woman’s words, a single candle ignites across the room—faracross the room, which spans nearly thrice the distance I expected. Vague shapes emerge in its wake: thick, ornate carpets, heavy drapes, and—and carved ebony boxes. At least two of them, perhaps more. The candle illuminates very little. With that flicker of light, however, the endless dark finally breaks, and my thoughts are able to focus with my vision. My breath steadies. My heartbeat slows.

This darkness—it isn’t real. Wherever I am, it is not a coffin with my sister, and Morgane le Blanc is dead.

She isdead, and she is never coming back.

“Are you frightened?” the voice asks, genuinely curious.

“Should I be?”

Humorless laughter thrums in response.

How much time has passed? When we parted ways, Lou expected me at her apartment in one hour. If I don’t arrive, she’llcome looking for me; they’llallcome looking for me—Jean Luc and Father Achille and the Chasseurs included. I need to stall until then. I need to—to engage the killer somehow. If she isn’t interested in conversation, Coco’s knives remain tucked in the sleeves of this cloak, and my hands remain free. I can kill if I must.

I have killed before.

“Who are you?” Despite the cold touch on my shoulders, my voice rings hard and clear as the crystal chandelier overhead. I am sotiredof being afraid. “Where am I?”

The woman leans around me, and her long sable hair falls over my shoulder, a touch lighter and warmer than my own. It smells of marigolds. Of sandalwood. “Why, we’re on a ship, darling. Where else?” With a featherlight touch, she plucks the crimson hood from my head, tilting to examine me closer. “I am Odessa, andyouare every bit as lovely as rumor claims.” In my periphery, she rubs a lock of my hair between her thumb and forefinger, and I hear rather than see the frown on her face. “A good deal less scarred, however. The other one had whole constellations of them—she carved all twelve stars of the Woodwose onto her left foot.”

Scarred? Constellations?I blink at the words. They seem... strangely irrelevant given our situation, in which this woman has assaulted me, abducted me, and stowed me in the belly of a ship like a piece of—

Wait.

A ship?

Oh no. Oh no no no—

When the floor undulates in confirmation, I tamp down on my hysteria swiftly, viciously. I cannot afford to lose my head. Not again. Not like I did with Babette. My eyes flick to the candleacross the room, to the wide windows behind it, but the curtains conceal whatever lies outside. I can only pray that we still float in the harbor, that we haven’t yet departed for the open sea. If the former, Lou practically lives next door; only a handful of streets separate her apartment and the water. If the latter, well...

I force a smile, unsure what else to do.

“It is... enthralling to make your acquaintance, Odessa,” I say at last.

“Enthralling.” The woman seems to taste the word, intrigued, before she drifts away to perch on one of the ebony boxes. “Not quite a lie, but far superior to the truth. Well done.”

My breath catches at my first true sight of her face, and I stare at her, rendered momentarily mute. “Er—”

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