“Home,” he said. “It’s the only place I know she might be if he hasn’t gotten to her yet.”
Marceau nodded.
“If she’s not there, then I’ll…” He didn’t want to think about the worst, let alone consider it. “I’ll search the entire island until I find her.”
“I will dispatch some of my men to the Cuvilyés’s home and to your manor.”
“And my footman?”
The inspector sighed. “I will bring him along. You’d best get a move on. I left my horse out front for you.”
“Thank you,” Ben said. “I’m forever grateful.”
Ben started down the hall and stopped suddenly when the inspector called after him. “Monsieur? I need not remind you, do I?”
“Of what?”
“The law, sir! The law!” Marceau shouted.
Ben understood but knew he could not promise he would not hurt Arnaud. If a single hair was out of place on Remi’s head, the man would pay dearly.
REMI
Remi stirred against the brush of a warm hand against her cheek.
The soft snaps and pops of the fire crackled in the background, the sound soothing her as she turned beneath the sheets. A pair of brown eyes watched her.
“Wake up, Remi.”
“Ben?”
He smiled. “You’re tired.”
She agreed with a silent nod, a sob bubbling out of her. Sadness overcame her, and he pulled her close. “I feel broken.”
“No,” he said against her hair. “Bent, perhaps, but never broken.”
“Why is this happening?”
Ben’s hand ran soothingly down the length of her back. She felt wet, her clothes suddenly clinging to her body. The sound of the fire was replaced by the whipping winds of a cold storm raging overhead. They were a mess of tangled limbs, embraced by four dark walls with only one exit. A grave, a cell, another room she could not escape.
“Why does anything happen?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Will you give up?”
Remi shook her head lightly. “Part of me would like to.”
“Do you know what will happen then if you do?” Ben’s embrace hardened, and his hands stopped at her waist. She looked up into his eyes, now devoid of life. The fire in him extinguished. Her heart sank.
“You will die,” she breathed. “And I will die.”
“Is that what you want?” His lips moved, forming the words slowly. Like Leith, his lips turned blue, and the impression of a rope deepened into a purple bruise around his throat.
“No.”
“Then you must wake up.”
As if on command, the sky above them opened up and rained down on them. The little space filled quickly with water, and when Remi breathed it in, she remembered: Elise was dead, Ben was not there, and she was in danger.
Her eyes flew open, the vision replaced by reality.
The grave was gone, as was Ben. The room was unrecognizable at first, becoming clearer as her eyes focused. Dim yellow lights hung overhead, and the damp air and dirt floor hinted at some sort of cellar or storage house. She felt like one of the bodies that Ben had stored, only unopened and still alive. She moved a fraction, and it set her body ablaze with pain. She winced.
Whatever drug he’d used on her had not worn off completely yet.
“I’m surprised you’re awake.”
Arnaud appeared around a corner, dragging something heavy with him. With a groan, he heaved the weight of his baggage, slamming it into the spot opposite Remi with a hard thud. Her throat tightened, and she pressed her dry lips together in an effort to contain her fear.
“I would have let her go,” Arnaud said, nodding his head toward Sylvie’s crumpled and broken body, “but she left me with little choice.”
“What?” The question came out strangled, but he must have anticipated her reaction.
“Your maid is—well, was—a hysterical thing.” There was an edge of humor to his voice. “Did she tell you everything? She said she kept it a secret, but I couldn’t be sure, could I?”
“What are you talking about?” But then Remi stiffened. Sylvie had confided in her before running away. She admitted to her part in delivering the letters on Hugo’s behalf.
