Light flooded into the room too quickly. Mechanical blinds slid back, like a pupil dilating, until the ceiling above her was bright with sky-coloured glass. She winced and narrowed her eyes. She'd been staring up into the darkness for a long time, trying to make out shapes, trying to follow the movement of the pale-winged butterflies, and now the light was like a thousand little pins jabbing into her eyes.

There was no need to look, anyway. She knew what she would see.

"Can you feel it, Ladybug?" said a voice above her. "His terror and despair? He's lost someone he loves before, I think. He knows he won't survive it a second time. I can sympathize with that."

Slowly, Marinette tried to ease her eyelids open. Her lips were papery-dry, but she thought she could probably try speaking.

"Who are you talking about?" she said. "Did--did you just call me Ladybug?"

The figure standing over her--the only dark thing in the room now--appeared to hesitate. She saw him turn his head, as if he was looking at someone in the doorway, just out of her eye-line. Mayura, presumably--although maybe he had other allies. Maybe the room was full of henchmen, lurking just out of sight. It didn't matter. She had no daring, James-Bond-style escape plans. That kind of thing was for people whose legs weren't broken. She had only one plan: to seem as young and frightened and clueless as possible. It didn't involve much acting.

"All right," said Hawkmoth, after a while. "Let's play it your way. Your name, Mademoiselle?"

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I'm a high-school student at L'ecole Voltaire."

There was a short, uneasy cough, perhaps from the figure in the doorway. Hawkmoth ignored it.

"And you were probably in the ruins of that warehouse because you were doing a school project on structural engineering, yes?"

Marinette blinked, as if she was bewildered by his sarcasm. "My friend runs the Lady-blog," she said. "I thought I could get her some pictures."

"And your camera?"

"You mean my phone? It's somewhere..." She moved her arm, as if she expected her phone to be on the table-top beside her. "Please, I need to go to a hospital. My leg--"

"You won't feel any pain soon," said Hawkmoth. "Only power."

There was another cough. Clearly, Mayura was doubtful about all this. Marinette wondered whether she could use that.

"Do you know how I know you're Ladybug?" said Hawkmoth, leaning down very suddenly, with a smile that sparkled. "I can sense other people's emotions, I don't know if you knew that? And you're very frightened--that's not an act--but you're keeping it tightly reined-in, as if you're trying not to attract the attention of my akumas. How many high-school students would know to do that?"

Marinette gave him a smile of her own. It cracked her dry lips, but she didn't care. "I'm clever," she conceded. "I'm not Ladybug."

"We'll see," said Hawkmoth, straightening up. "If Cat Noir turns up to face me on his own, we'll know, won't we?"

"Still seems pretty circumstantial to me," she muttered.

Hawkmoth smiled again--this time, perhaps, a little unwillingly.

"In other circumstances, Mademoiselle, I'm sure we would have liked each other."

"The circumstances are entirely of your own making. Sir."

She saw him opening his mouth, and then closing it, as if he was wondering how much to tell her. He must have known that, if she was Ladybug, her plan would be to keep him talking for as long as possible, to give Tikki more time to recover. But it seemed he couldn't help himself. Maybe something happened to you when you put on the costume of a supervillain. You had an irresistible urge to reveal your plans and try to justify yourself.

"In any case," he said, staring reflectively at the head of his cane. "You don't need to worry about keeping the fear under wraps. I'm not going to use yours."

Marinette tried not to follow him. She knew that, if she understood, she wouldn't be able to keep herself from feeling a prickle of unease. But she had never been able to switch her brain off, no matter how tired she was. Or how much pain she was in.

"What are you-?"

"Cat Noir's emotions are far more intense, and I think I can tie them to you. All I need is to find an answering current of despair in you. Buried deep, perhaps. Hidden for years. Baited and starved and longing to escape."

He leaned down, and for a moment, she could swear he was looking through her. Right into her head--or worse, her heart. She tried to unfocus her eyes, take a breath, clear her mind of all thoughts, but she was still aching and bruised from the conversation with Adrien. She could feel it singing out, even above the pain of her leg and ribs. There was no way Hawkmoth could miss it.

His smile broadened, and he reached out a hand, tracing it over her sweat-soaked forehead. "Yes. There it is. The despair of loving someone who doesn't return your feelings. How carefully you've hidden it, ignored it, argued with it, overpowered it. And yet, for all your efforts, it runs so deep, it's practically the core of you. What couldn't I do if I tied Cat Noir's raw, ungoverned terror to a current as deep as that?"

"One thing's for sure," said Marinette, doing her best to meet his eyes. "You wouldn't be able to control what you called up."

"We'll see," said Hawkmoth. "I have an affinity with despair."

"Do you think it's your friend?" she demanded. She was starting to lose her composure now--starting to feel the anger. There didn't seem much point in keeping it under anymore. "Despair doesn't work for anybody. All it wants is to bring about as much pain and suffering as possible."

She shook her head, forced herself to meet his eyes again. She tried to summon up Tikki, her parents, even Adrien--all the people who told her to look for the best in others. With an effort, she softened her voice.

"Please. You've never killed anybody before--I can't believe you ever meant to. This is going to go bad so quickly, and there will be no-one to help you."

Hawkmoth's smile disappeared. The softness in her voice surprised him so much that he actually took a step backwards. For a moment, he looked lost, child-like, unbalanced.

He glanced again at the figure in the doorway, as if seeking reassurance. Whatever he saw there, it straightened his back and hardened his resolve. He said, "I'll never get another chance like this."

Marinette breathed out slowly. "Let's get on with it, then."