^^Above: The port of Brest, France, circa 1910s.^^

(Early update, because it's the last chapter, folks!)

La Grenouille — Bed and Breakfast

"Oui, c'est possible."

Rue Beaumarchais, Brest.

1 June.

We were woken early by the two siblings. Curran knocked on our bedroom door and said "Time to go" gruffly. Then I heard his footsteps thudding down the stairs.

Once we were all up and dressed, the sky still black outside, Roisin greeted us in the dining room with some breakfast and spare hunting leather. Five sets, one for each of us.

"Curran, you help the boys," she said, setting down the tray laden with tea and pastries. "I'll go with the girls, since a little more is involved."

Then she plucked two sets of leather off the back of the chairs and breezed out of the room. Curran grumbled as he told us to take off our morning-coats and waistcoats, because the hunting leather wouldn't fit over them. Our trousers would do, but our shoes wouldn't — and for some inexplicable reason they had extra pairs, all soft and pliable leather that went up to mid-calf. Then that was wrapped up with black puttees, to keep anything from getting in.

"You get a lot of hunters coming through here?" Cornelius asked, busy with wrapping up one of his legs.

"Some," said Curran. "Not many that need to escape, though."

"How'd you get all this extra gear anyhow?" Wilkes asked.

"Always have extras," he said. "For things like this."

By the time we were all finished, Roisin and the girls were coming back. I was used to seeing Naomi in hunting leather, although she hadn't thought to pack it when we'd left. Marjorie was a different story — she looked good in it, like she'd been wearing it all her life. Although I couldn't say I'd ever seen her in anything but a dress before.

Once we had our bags and bat-Gifford's cage, we left the house. It was Roisin who led the way, just like Naomi does on our hunts, and Curran who brought up the rear, like me. Both of them were bristling with weapons, blades strapped to the belts at their waists and across their backs. Curran even carried a quiver with bow and arrow.

"Any of you bring weapons with you?" he asked when we reached the dock, two motor boats tied up nearby.

We all shook our heads. Weapons were too much weight. And too much risk.

"Marjorie's a crack shot, though," I said, nudging her next to me. "Best target shooter I've ever seen."

"Here. You'll want this, then." Roisin slung the rifle she'd been carrying off her shoulder and handed it over to her. After that came the magazine of bullets. Not silver, or anything special. Just normal bullets. So they really were expecting the worst.

She took both, reluctantly and without a word. And briefly I wondered when we'd have to stop being soldiers like this.

"How about the rest of you?" Roisin turned to us, like a military officer, and gave us all a stern glare. "What can you do? Fightin' off the enemy wasn't part of the deal."

"I can shoot those arrows," Naomi said, nodding at Curran's quiver. "They aren't bullets, but I've never missed a target. Hand to God."

"Holding you to that, then." Curran handed over the quiver.

"Give me a blade and I can fight up close," I said. "If they get near us and there's any swordplay."

"Good." At that Roisin nodded at her brother, who'd strapped on two swords in an X across his back. He unsheathed one and gave it to me. "Keep that on you. And you two. How about you?"

That was to Cornelius and Wilkes, who'd said nothing throughout the whole exchange.

"I can fight with a blade as well," Cornelius finally spoke. "But my specialty is hand-to-hand combat."

"Take this, then." Roisin took off her weapons belt and tossed it to him. "That short blade there'll keep the hands out of the equation. And how 'bout you, boy? Been awfully quiet."

Wilkes said nothing, just tugged sheepishly on his jacket sleeves.

"You mute now, or what?" Curran growled.

"Don't talk to him like that," I said sharply. I knew Wilkes could be a capable hunter if he tried. But it was clear his father had a lot to do with how much he was allowed to do that.

"You in charge now?" Curran took a threatening step towards me.

"Curran, enough," Roisin said, her hand out like a lion tamer's. "You have any special talents, boyo?"

Wilkes shook his head. I felt a twinge of guilt mixed with sympathy. The Institute had taught him everything but how to actually fight a creature in real life. They could fill him up with as much knowledge as they wanted. But you couldn't stop a creature about to kill you by spouting everything you've learned in a book at it.

Curran and Roisin exchanged a glance, and I saw Naomi grasp Wilkes's shoulder and rub gently.

"You take him," said Curran finally. "If I'm bringin' up the rear I want the better ones."

"Yes, because I'm less adept than you, is that it?" Roisin snapped back. "Fine. You take her" — she pointed at Marjorie — "him" — she pointed at me — "and the bat's cage. Don't let anything happen to it, clear?"

"Right, right. I'm not an eejit."

"Get your arse in that boat, then."

We dispersed. Curran, Marjorie, and I boarded the rear boat, while Cornelius, Naomi, and Wilkes got into the lead one with Roisin. The cage we tucked under one of the benches, wedged between two bags and padded by the life ring. I took one last glance at it before Curran got busy with the motor, bat-Gifford looking back at me with a sort of melancholy expression in his large red eyes.

"We'll keep you safe," I said to him. "Promise."

He let out a soft croak, which could have been Thank you or You'd better.

We motored quietly out into Galway Bay. Roisin was pointing out the islands on our right: Inisheer, closest to us; Inishmaan, in the middle; Inishmore, the biggest and the furthest away. She told us their parents had come from the village of Kilronan on Inishmore, making the trip individually to what they called the mainland to seek their fortunes as young people in their teenage years. Their father, Colum, became a successful hunter and a mildly famous slayer of banshees. Their mother, Aisling, was a hunter in her own right, but instead made a name for herself by studying the habits of baby kelpies. She never killed one in her lifetime, though.

"Gentle soul, was Mam," said Curran. "Came to love them kelpies."

By now we'd passed Dunmore Head, far enough away now that they could go up on the motors and peel away from the coast little by little. Both boats did, churning the water into a white foam in their wake. I held onto the edge of the bench with one hand and the hilt of the sword sheathed in my belt in the other. Marjorie sat next to me, facing away from the wind, her hands gripping the long barrel of the rifle so tight her knuckles were white.

"I really think you'd make a great hunter," I said, over the noise of the wind and the motor. "You're a natural."

"Thank you," she said. "But that was never my parents' dream for me."

"Nor mine," I said, because it hadn't been. Our parents had never wanted us to take over their business until we were ready and they'd taught us everything.

"Now I don't know what it'll be," she said, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. "They'll never let me leave after they catch me."

"They won't catch you," I said, and I hoped my confidence wasn't premature. "They won't catch any of us."

"I hope you're right about that," she said. Then she looked away from me and at the dark expanse of the Atlantic on one side. She was at a double disadvantage, and both of us knew it. First, for being female, and second, for being a Selling. If she'd been anyone else, she probably could have done it.

It was when we rounded Cape Clear and entered the Celtic Sea that Roisin suddenly discovered we'd been found out.

"Curran!" she shouted over the whipping wind and the noise of two motors. She was waving from the stern of her boat. "More boats! Probably put off from Land's End, there!"

I saw him pull out a long brass spyglass, taking one hand off the rudder to look in the direction she was pointing. He searched the horizon for a minute or two, then cursed in a language I didn't recognise and shoved it away again.

"What did you see?" I raised my voice, the wind whipping it away just as quickly.

"Four of 'em, headed for us!" Curran bellowed back. "Get ready for a fight!"

I knew I wasn't much good with just a sword, unless they got close. It was Marjorie who could hold them off our tail. And that was what I told her, leaning in so I didn't have to shout.

"I can't aim if I can't see," she said in reply, but it wasn't the dark of night anymore. The sky was lightening to a deep blue now, the same colour as the water.

"You, girl, come back here," said Curran, probably coming to the same realisation as me.

Marjorie slid over to grip the gunwale, then stood and wobbled to the stern. I saw the rifle's muzzle going in small circles, from the trembling in her hand. She was as afraid as I was. Probably as we all were.

I watched him lean in to speak in her ear, pointing at the rifle with his free hand and then out behind us. Keep 'em far off our stern, I could imagine him saying. Shoot to scare 'em. Not to kill.

"Curran!" Roisin's voice was higher now, and she sounded scared. "They're coming closer!"

He jumped to the wheel and spun it hard, and the boat nearly capsized as it turned to the right. I had to catch the gunwale again and hold on for dear life. And over our motor and the wind I could hear a constant whump-whump, like a massive heartbeat, of the other boats drawing nearer. They could probably see us now.

"You ready?" he shouted back at Marjorie, who was now standing at attention on the stern, eyes riveted on a point on the horizon.

"Yes!" she shouted back. Between everything else, though, I couldn't tell if I'd imagined that tremor or not.

"Roisin!" Curran boomed. "Come about!"

She did, turning their boat into a sharp hairpin turn that nearly collided with ours.

"We'll do it this way now," he said, once we were side-by-side. "That way both of you can keep 'em good and distracted."

At that he nodded at Marjorie and Naomi, who I could see already had an arrow nocked into the bow. She'd definitely had more practice with a crossbow, but I remembered her shooting arrow after arrow at the target in the cellar during our childhoods. All bull's-eyes, too. She'd have no trouble keeping our enemies at bay.

Just before they fed both motors more fuel, I caught Naomi's eye and gave her one nod. She returned it, the way she always did just before we entered the most dangerous part of a hunt.

And it got very dangerous, very fast. The other boats gained on us quicker than any of us could have predicted, and now I could see who was in them: two men each, one steering and the other standing at the bow. I counted four at first, all with Shikari on the lookout. Then there were more, and I recognised Trenton Wilkes's mutton-chop sideburns and Solomon Selling's sandy hair, the same colour as both his children's.

"Mark!" Curran bellowed, and on cue, Naomi braced herself and raised her bow to a shooting position. Hurriedly, Marjorie followed suit with the rifle.

"Draw!" Roisin responded. I saw Naomi pull the bow string tight, squinting straight down the arrow shaft. She knew these commands because I'd used them before, when we'd singlehandedly fought off a whole pack of werewolves. I'd slashed at their faces while she'd shot at them, aiming at their hindquarters, their legs, and their shoulders.

"Fire!"

It seemed to come from all sides. Naomi's bow made no noise I could hear, but the report of Marjorie's rifle came at the same time the Shikari's did. A bullet ricocheted off the motor with a loud pinging noise, and I dove beneath the bench, covering bat-Gifford's cage with my body.

I felt the boat swerve, so suddenly it nearly knocked me flat on my back, and then just as quickly it went the other way, rolling me right onto the cage again. The firestorm increased, the bullets coming quicker now. A few bit into the bench above me, sending chunks of wood flying. I covered my head with one arm, holding bat-Gifford's cage close to me with the other.

"Don't lose them!" I heard a man's voice roar. It sounded like Trenton Wilkes's.

Right then there was a heavy splash, somewhere close by, and I knew Naomi must have hit a mark. Another gunshot from Marjorie, and a sudden hiss of steam. Curran whooped.

"Got one!" he hooted.

I poked my head above the gunwale, just far enough to see. One boat was dropping far behind the others, its motor shuddering in clouds of steam.

Another gunshot or two had me ducking again, and I heard Roisin shouting at Wilkes and Cornelius to do the same if they didn't want to be hit. Marjorie whirled and returned fire, followed by another heavy splash.

Our boats swerved again, changing position so quickly I had no idea if we were even on the route anymore. The gunshots went back and forth, pinging off the boat's metal shell and biting at the wood inside. Another pinged off our motor, but miraculously didn't rupture it.

I peeked up above the gunwale again, and spotted one boat gaining faster than the others, coming up on our left side. The Shikari at the bow had his gun aimed right at Curran's head.

"Left!" I shouted nonsensically. "Left!"

Everyone turned left, even Curran. Our boat careened in that direction, ramming straight into the Shikari's. He toppled and fell, straight into the water, and as Curran tried to correct course he ran straight over him. The bump was jarring through the floor of the boat.

"Curran!" Roisin waved. "This way!"

He turned it hard, and we shot off after her. The others were onto us pretty quickly after that, and that was when our luck began to run out. I saw Naomi jerk, like she'd been hit, and collapse. Marjorie ducked too, but timed it badly and instead fell hard against the deck and lost hold of the rifle. One of our pursuers rammed our boat so hard Curran stumbled and nearly fell.

And that was when the first Shikari landed in our boat.

"Oh no, you bloody don't!" I sprang to my feet, drawing my sword and blocking his attack on the motor's gasket. That turned his attention towards me, and I saw the maniacal glint in his eyes for the first time up close.

He thrust at me with his own weapon, a long curved blade with a jagged edge. I blocked it, then retaliated with a swipe of my own. He parried it and stabbed at my midsection again. I retaliated with my own, keeping him on his back foot while Curran tried to keep the boat on a straight course with us fighting around him.

I felt my strength flagging by the time I disarmed him, forcing the point of my sword up against his hilt and twisting hard. That in turn bent his wrist entirely the wrong way and he had to drop it. I kicked it away and then used my fist, aiming a punch right at his face. He caught my forearm and used my own momentum against me, ducking under me as he slammed me down onto the deck. My sword clanged out of my hand as my vision broke into two and went black at the edges.

"You bloody wish!" Marjorie screamed from above me, somewhere behind the Shikari with my sword in his hand. How had he gotten it? I couldn't remember.

Then, with a heavy thud, the Shikari jerked forward and dropped the weapon. She hit him again and he groped blindly behind him. Then a third time, and he keeled over.

"You all right, boyo?" Curran was bending over me, blood coming from a gash in his head somewhere.

"Ugh," I managed.

"Curran!" I heard Marjorie squeal. "There's another one! Right on us!"

"Use the bloody rifle, girl!" he howled back.

"I'm out! I can't!"

"Jaysus," Curran growled, and he disappeared from my vision. "Steer the boat then. I'll take 'im."

They switched places, and from somewhere at the stern I heard Curran's sword rasp as he drew it and the clanging of metal. I blinked a couple times, trying to think past the throbbing in my head, and rolled over to sit up.

I saw it when I stood, what was happening in the other boat. Trenton Wilkes had caught up and was attempting to board them, while both Cornelius and Wilkes were going at him with their fists. I couldn't see Roisin at all, probably tending to Naomi at the stern.

"Get us to their boat," I said, leaning against the gunwale. There were at least two boat-lengths between us, and we didn't have to turn much. Except Marjorie did, bumping into the other boat and sending the others toppling into it. I jumped out of one and into the second, seeing my sister lying on the deck, a bloody handkerchief pressed to her shoulder.

"Naomi!" I skirted the motor and knelt down near her head.

Her eyes fluttered open, foggy with pain. "Wells?"

"You've been shot," I said, stating the obvious.

"Thank you for...telling me." Naomi winced as the boat jerked, signalling the arrival of another one. "I hadn't...noticed."

"The bandages are somewhere..." I made to get up.

"No, Wells..." She caught my arm. "It's just a...shoulder wound. Nothing fatal. Just...take care of them..."

She jerked her chin at something behind me. I twisted around, just in time to see Solomon Selling club his own daughter over the head with the rifle she'd dropped. She collapsed to her knees, hands up to ward off another blow.

"Oi!" I shouted, straightening. Solomon's head popped up, rifle raised to hit Marjorie again. "I'm talking to you, Selling."

"Don't do it, boyo," I heard Curran, somewhere in the mess of boats around us, call. "Man isn't worth it."

I didn't listen. I leaped back over the gunwales and went straight for Solomon. I body-checked him and seized the rifle, and he began jerking it back towards him, trying to loosen my grip. I stamped on both his feet, only redoubling my hold.

"Let go, you piece of scum," I growled. "Let go before I kick you somewhere more vital."

"Make me, boy," hissed Solomon. "You're worthless to me."

I rammed my knee up between his legs. His eyes went wide and he let out something between a whimper and a groan. His hands snapped open and he dropped to his knees. I set the rifle on the ground and pushed it towards Marjorie with my foot. Then I seized the front of Solomon's coat and yanked him close.

"You're despicable," I hissed into his face. "You're disgusting. At least two of your children turned out to be decent human beings."

"Unhand him, Hudson," said a deep voice behind me, from the other boat. "Now."

I hesitated for a moment, then loosened my hold on Solomon. He looked up at me, and I wanted to punch him.

"Now turn around."

I did, and immediately wished I didn't. Trenton Wilkes held his son in a headlock, the muzzle of a revolver jammed into his temple.

"How far did you think you were going to get?" he said, raising one eyebrow. Now that there was more light, the sky turning a shade of cerulean, I could see the evil glint in his eyes. "Or were you intending to evade us forever?"

"That was the plan," I said, although I hated the fact that he was able to control me with a gun to his son's head.

"You are such naive children," he said, and gave his son's neck a squeeze. He gurgled and pawed at his father's arm. "None of you were going to get out of this alive."

"You seem so sure about that." I wished I could do something, but I couldn't, not with that gun to Wilkes's head. Possibly the only other boy I actually loved.

"I am." Trenton Wilkes smiled coldly, and with a nod of his head the Shikari rose from nowhere and hauled everyone else to their feet, arms around their necks and their guns pressed to their temples. One screech from bat-Gifford made me glance over at him. Another Shikari held his cage, and as I watched he gave it a violent shake. The small bat body inside bounced off the bars like a billiard ball.

"Don't," I said. "You don't have to do this."

"Oh, I don't? Not when it was you all along who thwarted us at every step? Yes, don't look at me like that, I know you stole the girl from the binding ritual, let out all my creatures from the Institute, and fled with that bat one of my men has right now. You and my son have been conspiring together all along."

"Maybe you should take a look at yourself, Trenton," I said, scowling when his lip twitched. "I know what you did to my father. You and Trotter the Rotter. I would have come after you a lot sooner had I known."

"Timmy was always a rebel," he hissed. "It didn't matter what anyone told him, he would always do everything his way."

"I think he just didn't want to be like you. Stuck in a predetermined role."

"You truly are naive, aren't you?" He sighed and shook his head.

"Maybe. But at least I'm less naive than you."

Then, taking advantage of his surprise, I whirled around and hit Solomon so hard I knocked him out. I swiped his revolver, and fired at the Shikari holding bat-Gifford. The man howled and dropped the cage, and tipped the boat as he fell overboard. I caught the cage before it went rolling over too, and wrenched the bent door open.

"Bite when I tell you, all right?" I said to bat-Gifford, and he blinked his red eyes twice, which I assumed meant a yes. Then he wriggled out, and some of the Shikari stared. I pointed at the man holding Marjorie. "Him first."

Bat-Gifford launched himself at the Shikari, screeching and beating his wings around the man's head. He had to let go of her to try and swat him away, but bat-Gifford caught his hand and sunk his fangs into it. The man screamed and tried to shake him off. Marjorie twisted around and swiped her leg under his feet, so he fell hard on the deck.

"Now him, Gifford!" I swept my hand to Trenton Wilkes. "Him! And bite him good!"

The bat went for Trenton's head. He was forced to drop his son to try and protect himself, and I leaped over the gunwales to pull Wilkes to relative safety.

"Not so fast," said the Shikari holding Cornelius captive. He was the same one I'd seen on the platform in London. He aimed his revolver at me. "Let go of the boy and I won't shoot you."

"Not on your life," I snapped, then to Cornelius, I hissed "Now."

Cornelius gave the Shikari's foot a hard stamp, and at the same time made a grab at his revolver. The Shikari growled in pain and bent double, allowing Cornelius to seize the revolver and whip him across the face with it butt-first.

"Him, Gifford!" I shouted, at the last Shikari holding Naomi. She was bleeding all over him, but he didn't even seem to notice.

The bat left Wilkes's father to swoop down on the Shikari. He raised his revolver, or tried to. Naomi seized his elbow just in time and the shot went wide, missing bat-Gifford by inches. Then Gifford was on him, biting down hard on his wrist. The man howled in pain and released Naomi, who spun around and slammed her fist into his cheekbone. He went head-over-heels into the water. Gifford came flapping up from between the boats and back to us, and Wilkes caught him gently in his hands.

"Clever tactic," said Trenton Wilkes, looking bored. "But I'm afraid you're all still our prisoners."

"And I'm afraid they're not," said Curran, looming up behind him.

Trenton Wilkes spun around, about to shoot him. But Curran whacked him in the throat, then kicked him in the stomach with so much force he went crashing into the gunwale and over the side, into the water.

"Come on!" He jumped down into the boat, then just as quickly into ours. "Let's go go go!"

We did, Cornelius and I tossing the unconscious bodies into the water while Roisin helped Naomi into our boat and then threw the bags in afterward. She jumped on last, just as Curran started the motor and broke away from the mess. Then we were speeding off again, all accounted for, battered but alive. Once again, we'd managed to thwart our enemies. Even if only temporarily. And for the moment, that was the best we could have hoped for.

—

The sun was well above the horizon by the time we saw the French coastline appear. It was sandy as well as rocky, with sheer cliffs where the water foamed white as it crashed against them. I wondered what exactly we'd find here — not only in the hunting community, but within the country itself as well.

I was distracted from that thought as Curran slowed the boat, but none of us spoke much. Instead we watched the cliffs slide by, and the villages perched on top of them. I heard Roisin speaking quietly to Naomi and Marjorie, who had both come out of this more wounded than we had. Wilkes still cradled bat-Gifford in his hands, sitting unmoving in the bow.

Surprisingly it was Cornelius who joined me at the gunwale, standing next to me with arms folded. I glanced over at him, noticing the bruise on his jaw and the split on his lip.

"Quite a show back there, Wells," he said, and I was surprised to hear it. I think it was the first time he'd actually said my name. "And quick thinking with the bat."

"I didn't think we were going to get out of it any other way," I said with a shrug. "And if I didn't get him out of the cage, that man was going to kill him by shaking him."

"I think you saved more than one life today," Cornelius said after a moment, his eyes scanning the coastline. "Including my sister's. So...thank you."

"I'm a hunter. It's what we do."

"I don't know why, but I actually agree with you for once," he said. "I think we hunters need to look out for one another."

I glanced over at Marjorie. She was sitting halfway upright, a handkerchief like the one Naomi pressed against her shoulder on the wound on her head. But she looked so comfortable in black hunting leather it was as if she'd been wearing it her whole life.

"And before you ask, yes, I'm calling my sister a hunter," he said through a heavy exhale. "I think she is one now."

I nodded. We were never given the official title, Naomi and I, when we took over Father's business and his jobs. But the two of us were also hunters.

"Nearly there, boyos," said Curran, before either of us could say anything. "Brest's just up that way."

I hadn't even noticed we'd turned into the bay, and we were motoring slowly but surely towards a cluster of buildings on the coast that was much larger than some of the others we'd passed. It was the most comforting thing I'd seen since we'd left London.

"We'll help you find Angelique," said Roisin, as Curran navigated us into the harbour. "She is not an easy woman to locate. But after that, it'll be up to you what you do. In other words, this is where we must leave you."

"You've been such a help, both of you," Naomi said, with a wince. "If there's any way to repay you..."

"No," said Curran. "No pay. Gettin' out of that nasty scrape alive was enough."

We didn't speak until we'd drawn up to the dock and tied up. Then Curran stepped off first and helped Marjorie and Naomi off after him. Then Cornelius and I, both with a bag each. Roisin had to gently coax Wilkes out, because he hadn't moved from his position the entire time we'd been on board. And then lastly herself, with the rest of our bags.

It took a while to find the right bed-and-breakfast. For one thing, we were exhausted after the last few hours and a near-sleepless night. And for another, the streets were so maze-like we found ourselves lost on multiple occasions. But eventually, on Rue Beaumarchais, Curran stopped and pointed upward at a sign hanging from the whitewashed house we stood in front of.

"This is it," he said.

"La Grenouille?" Naomi said, squinting up at it. "What's that?"

"The Frog," Marjorie translated. "Why is it named The Frog?"

"Hunters in France know frogs mark safe places," said Roisin. "If the sign of the frog is up here, it means it's safe. If it's a white cat, it isn't."

"Why a white cat?" Cornelius asked, as Curran knocked on the bed-and-breakfast's front door. "I thought only black cats were bad luck."

"Angelique will explain the reasoning to you," she said, seconds before the door opened.

"Ah, Curran!" said a gravelly woman's voice, followed by the woman herself in a brightly-coloured dressing gown and with a massive crown of black hair. She pulled Curran into a tight hug. "Tres magnifique, that you have come! Will you stay? Have breakfast? What happened to your face, mon petit chou? What have you done?"

"She's always liked him more than me," Roisin said in an an explanatory, apologetic way as we followed Curran inside.

The woman, Angelique, fluttered about us, taking note of our bruises and other wounds, promising to get us fixed up tout de suite. Then, after introductions, she left Roisin and I to take the bags upstairs while she fussed over everyone else's injuries.

"You will be all right here when we're gone, won't you?" Roisin said, turning to me in the hallway at the top of the stairs. "You'll find your way?"

"Yes, I think so," I said, although I wasn't entirely sure if that was true. Travelling across an entire country with nothing but our wits and just a couple facts — that it was Geneva we were trying to reach, and that when we arrived, we were to ask around until we found a vampire, a very old one, by the name of Gerault — was quite daunting.

"This is not the only safe-house in France," she said. "The closest one from here is Rennes. And then Tours from there. If you can travel between them, keeping a low profile, you will reach your destination unharmed."

"Thank you, Roisin," I said. "For all of it. Everything you've done. We really couldn't have done it without either of you."

"Well...I don't know about that..."

"It's true. Really. It is. We're grateful to you. And if you write to the hunters in Swansea, tell them we made it here safely."

"Yes. Certainly. I can do that." She reached over and grasped my shoulder, squeezing it gently. "You know, there's an old Irish toast, one we've always said as a joke, but now I believe it's appropriate. It goes: 'May your glass be ever full. May the roof over your head be always strong. And may you be in heaven a full half-hour before the devil knows you're dead.'"

I nodded. That last line was appropriate. This may have been purgatory, not heaven, and I'd have taken the devil over the Selling-Wilkes monster we'd woken any day. But it was the closest we were ever going to get to escape. Until, of course, they caught us again. And I was glad it'd taken longer than a half-hour.

"I think you may just be right," I said then. "The Irish do bring good luck."

—

I caught Wilkes slipping out without anyone else noticing while Angelique was pulling the bullet out of Naomi. To my surprise it was Marjorie who took my place when I excused myself, hurrying after him as he opened the front door and stepped outside.

"Wilkes!"

He turned, and the sun striking him from behind lit up his hair in a golden halo. "Wells?"

"Where're you going? I didn't think we were allowed to just wander by ourselves."

"I wasn't going far. I just needed some air."

"Yes, some air. A classic excuse."

He dug his knuckles into my shoulder, his grin shy. "That was not an invitation."

"I'll get one from you some day," I said, giving him a dig back.

"I've told Marjorie I'd do it," he said then, all the seriousness returned. "That once we've courted, we'll be married. And once that happens, we're going to reconstruct the entire Institute and the entire Guild."

"It's about time the Selling-Wilkes partnership did something good," I said, which was true. It was past due, in my opinion.

"We've just got to do this first," he said. "Whatever this is. With Giff and Geneva, and...everything else."

"You'll make a fine couple." I clapped his arm. "Balance each other out."

"Can I do it, Wells?" The question came tentatively, after a few minutes of silence. "Can I love you and her at the same time?"

"I think you'll love who you want, any time you want," I said, wanting to take his hand but knowing I couldn't, not on this public street. "Whether it's me or Marjorie or anyone. No one can decide it for you."

"Right." He dug his hands into his trouser pockets, then scuffed the ground with his heel. "Well, at least I know we'll be figuring it out together, then."

"Of course, Wilkes. We will figure it out together."

He looked right at me then, and I realised he was nothing like that boy I'd met on the street three months ago, nearly attacked by a vampire. There was a new kind of maturity there, one that seemed far beyond his true age.

"I think it's time you started calling me Langdon," he said. "I like it when you say it, more than anyone else."

"All right then, Langdon," I said, taking his hand and lacing my fingers through his. "It's a deal."

END OF BOOK 1.