Page 49 of City of Love

Luc is casting a disconcerted look at Noel, but Noel is glaring at this stranger in a way that makes me sure he’s going to incinerate him on the spot.

I pull my hand gently from the man’s grasp, and Luc clears his throat softly.

“Lydia, Gabin,” he says, gesturing to the stranger. “Gabin, Lydia.”

“Lydia,” Gabin repeats in an accented voice.

Luc nods. “Lydia is—” He breaks off, casting another nervous glance at Noel.

“She’s not interested,” Noel says, though it’s really more of a growl. He’s still glaring at Gabin, and now he steps past the man and reaches for me, giving my hand a little tug. I stumble forward and bump into Noel, who wraps one arm around me and angles me away from Luc and Gabin. I let him hold me this way, because he’s clearly doing his whole overprotective thing again, and in this situation I don’t mind.

He spins us around until his back is to his friends, his attention now solely on me. He walks me backward until we’re concealed by shadow, and then he cups my face in his hands.

“What are you doing,chérie?” he says, his voice tense. “Why did you come here?”

I swallow before speaking. “I was scared,” I say, feeling suddenly defensive. “I saw the alert on your phone, and you were talking about guns and knives and you were going to a cemetery late at night and I wasscared, Noel”—tears threaten, but I blink them back—“because I don’t want you to get stabbed or shot or arrested but you’re doing really shady stuff and—”

“All right,” he says, cutting me off. Though everything about him is still tense, his eyes soften as he goes on. “All right. I understand.” He takes a deep breath, exhaling roughly as he runs one hand through his hair.

“I can go back to the flat,” I say quietly. “Just—pleasebe careful, okay?”

Noel shakes his head. “No,” he says. “You can’t go back now. I don’t want you to go alone, and I don’t have time to take you.”

“It was pretty quiet on my way here,” I say, a little offended that he thinks I couldn’t bike ten minutes without getting myself killed or something.

But he just shakes his head again, his gaze darting all around us. “There are some guys coming that I don’t want you to run into.” He takes another deep breath and then looks back at me. “All right. I need you to trust me tonight, Lydia. I need you to do what I say. I know you don’t like being told what to do, but—”

“That’s fine,” I say quickly, and relief passes over his face.

“Good. Thank you.” And with that he lets go of me, turning to speak to Luc and Gabin in rapid French. They speak in low voices for a minute before everyone nods, and then Noel pulls from his pocket one of those rolls of material that have a bunch of lockpicks in them. I’ve seen those in movies, but never in real life; still, I try not to let my jaw drop.

This whole night was already feeling surreal, and it’s only getting more so. Maybe I’m dreaming?

But the stir of the breeze around me, the stark memory of the fear on Noel’s face—they make me think that’s not the case. No, this is real.

The entrance to the cemetery is a large green gate set into a high stone wall, and on either side of the gate is a door. Noel starts to work on the door to the left of the gate, and the whole time I’m waiting for the police to come along.

But no one does. It’s almost anticlimactic; if this were a movie, there would be an explosion soon or at least some James Bond background music.

But there’s nothing. It’s just the four of us and the soundtrack of a quiet night. Vehicles in the distance, a dog barking a few streets over, the odd noise of birds or wild animals—and the rushing, slightly frantic thoughts in my mind.

Gun. Knife. Guillotine. Prison. Police.

Other than the occasional instance of speeding, this is the first time I’ve ever broken the law, and I don’t like it.

When Noel finally gets the door open, he slips through, and Gabin follows. I go after Gabin, and Luc brings up the rear. This order seems to be deliberate based on the way these men fall into line, so I don’t question it. We trail through the cemetery, and I find myself wishing it were light out so I could see better.

This place is huge, and it doesn’t look like the cemeteries I’ve seen before. There’s little to no space between the plots here, and there’s no grass. There are headstones and statues and mausoleums, and under the cover of darkness there’s an eerie sort of beauty about it.

We’re walking for a couple minutes before Noel slows his pace. He halts when we get to a mausoleum with an ornate door and intricate carvings, giving jerky little nods to both Luc and Gabin, who continue on slowly.

When he looks back to me, he places one hand on the small of my back and guides me into the shadows of the mausoleum until I’m huddled on the doorstep. The tiny building would be cute were it not for the fact that a dead body is inside.

I try not to think about that. It’s not like I don’t have enough to focus on right now.

“All right,” Noel says, a muscle jumping in his jaw as he looks at me. “Do you know how to use a knife?”

My eyes widen, and my voice is incredulous as I say, “Do I look like I know how to use a knife?”

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