Page 128 of The Light Within

Bound by these cuffs, he wouldn’t be able to channel. For a fleeting moment, he held onto the possibility that the motetech wouldn’t block access tohismotes. That dream promptly faded when he reached for them, to be rewarded with nothingness. He couldn’t sense windmotes, even though there was a slight draft. He could see light emanating from his father’s disk, but he couldn’t detect a single lumenmote. For Julien’s entire life, he’d sensed some form of mote constantly, wherever he was, at any time. Now, it was like he’d been blinded, stripped of a vital sense.

Jonathan Steele stepped out from behind him.

He was wearing one of the grey outfits often offered to people who’d used the Displacement Baths.

“Hello, Julien,” he said in English. “I’d say it’s nice to see you, but I’ll spare you any games. I owe you that much, at least.”

Julien gaped at his boss, the man he spent years working under. “Non,” he whispered. Hepleaded. “Don’t do this.”

A briefcase lay in the shadow of a wall. Clicking it open, Jonathan extracted a vial and a small cloth. He quickly soaked the cloth with the liquid.

“What is that?” Julien knew. He might have gotten himself down here, but he wasn’tthatstupid.

Closing the space between them, Jonathan knelt on the floor with Julien, pressing the cloth to his mouth. A pungent, unfamiliar scent filled Julien’s nostrils, stinging and suffocating. He jerked his head backward, but Jonathan’s firm press followed.

This wasn’t how Julien imagined his death, far away from everyone he loved, his father leering above him, his final moments slipping away in a haze of chemical fumes and betrayal.

One thing was for sure—Cinn was going to track him down in the shadowrealm and murder him all over again.

thirty-one

Darcy

If you wanted something done properly, you had to do it yourself.

It was the first lesson Darcy’s father ever instilled in her; it was the motto she lived her life by. And it had never rung so true as it did that day.

So when Elliot started to spiral into a hopeless panic, and Cinn started threatening to leave that very second, Darcy demanded they go see Eleanor that exact instant.

As much as Darcy wanted to get to Paris as soon as possible, she’d never underestimated Lucien Montaigne. The man was ruthless, cunning, and always two steps ahead. If Julien really was in danger, they’d need more than the three of them—they’d want a small army to lead into battle. Darcy could almost hear her father’s voice reminding her to stay sharp, to never underestimate an opponent. The stakes were high, and she wasn’t about to let her guard down. Not now. Not when everything was teetering on the edge.

Eleanor might not be the army they needed, but she was a start.

So, she collected Cinn from his room, from his position slumped on the floor, leaning against the bed frame, staring vacantly at the floorboards.

Five minutes later, they were in the alley at the side of the corner shop, banging on the metal door with no handle and no lock. Harder and harder they pounded, determined that there must be some member of the AP down there who would eventually hear them.

“Hello?” shouted Elliot. “We need to talk to someone.”

“What are you doing?” an accented voice shouted from behind him. A thick Swiss-German accent.

The three of them spun to find a balding, middle-aged man glaring at them.

“Hi,” said Cinn. Then, of all things, hewaved. “It’s me. You know me.”

“You?” spat the man, eyes wild. “Yes, you’re in my shop buying my cheapest cigarettes, flour and eggs almost every day. Great for me. But this does not explain why you bang!” He shook a pointed finger at the door.

Did the shop owner know about the secret moteblessed organisation operating from the depths of its basement?

If Darcy had to guess, she’d say no.

The metal door flew open, hitting the brick wall with a crash. Specks of dust floated to the ground. From within the dark entrance, Malik stepped into the light of the alley. He smiled at everyone, as if not surprised to see a stand-off between an angry shopkeeper and the three suspicious people banging on his basement door.

At the sight of Malik, the man’s expression changed from anger to mild annoyance. The pair of them proceeded to have a hushed, rapid conversation, which resulted in the shopkeeper huffing before wheeling around to head back down the alley.

“You three sure know how to make an entrance.” Malik paused, frowning. “Where’s your prat of a leader?”

“Julien’s not ourleader,”mumbled Elliot.

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