Page 130 of The Light Within

It seemed strange that Darcy had once found Madame Sinclair intimidating. Now, the woman only looked time-worn, diminished, exhausted.

“I want a reassurance from you,” Darcy started, choosing her words carefully. “If AP is successful in destroying theMachina Tenebris,then the world’s supply of motecells will cease, correct?”

Madame Sinclair became statue-still. She regarded Darcy, unblinking. “You’re worried about your father. The pacemaker your parents are fighting to get approved?”

The woman’s face hadn’t softened. Darcy hadn’t expected it to.

“Yes.”

“I’m not sure why you think this is a negotiation.”

“Because your negligence has resulted in Julien coming to harm, so now you owe me. You can fix it by helping another person I love. My father is the kindest soul I know. He doesn’t have long left with us if they don’t get the pacemaker fitted.”

“I can’t promise anything,” said Madame Sinclair. “It’ll be a brave new world if we succeed in destroying the machine. Decisions will have to be made on how we proceed.”

“You’re on the consortium. You’ll be able to dosomethingin his favour!”

“The point of the consortium, when it was established, was to ensure that no single moteblessed individual could wield unchecked power.”

Darcy laughed. Madame Sinclair cracked a small smile.

“I know. We’ve come so far from that, haven’t we? If we manage to take down Lucien, then we need to go back to making decisions for the greater good, not individual cases. I can’t promise you anything specific. But I can promise that we’ll consider the human cost in our choices.”

Darcy’s heart pounded in her chest. “The human cost is everything, Madame Sinclair. Don’t forget that.”

With that, she climbed up the ladder without looking back. Left to navigate the dark corridors alone, it took her a fair few minutes to reach the exit.

Her eyes adjusted to the brightness. Cinn lingered by a stack of compressed cardboard boxes, smoking. Elliot stood a fair few strides away from him, close to Malik. Very close.

“What’s going on?” Darcy asked Cinn.

“I don’t know. We were waiting for you. Though we’ve apparently got some hours to kill, anyway.”

Cinn then had the audacity to offer Darcy the end of his cigarette. She glared his hand away, storming down the alley.

Malik appeared to be in the process of consoling Elliot—both of his hands were clutching the other’s. “We’ll find him,” he promised, in a low voice. “I know we will.”

“I hope so,” Elliot replied, gazing at Malik in a nauseating way.

Hadn’t Elliot met this random guy only the other day? He was milking this situation for all it was worth, clearly.

“We need to head back and come up with a strategy for when we arrive in Paris,” Darcy barked at Elliot.

Malik raised his eyebrows, shooting Darcy a questioning gaze. “To your cottage?”

Darcy’s stomach tensed at the familiarity in Malik’s tone. How many times had he watched them all there, from the shadows? And now Elliot was putty in his hands, just like that? “I won’t bother giving you the address. I’m sure you know it intimately.”

“There’s no need to be rude, Darce,” muttered Elliot.

Cinn peeled himself from the wall to join them. “Yeah, Malik’s on our side. He was stalking us on Eleanor’s orders, but he’s here to help, now. Right, mate?”

Shaking her head, Darcy strode off without a second glance back at them.

She’d need to save her energy, if this was what she was to deal with.

thirty-two

Cinn

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