Page 13 of The Agent and the Outlaw
“Step aside, Antoine,” she said forcefully.
I didn’t move.
If she left now, it was possible she’d reach Versailles by nightfall. Then again, maybe not. Thebêtes de sangwould be fully recovered after going to ground today, and their speed would be increased—partly because they were supernaturally cursed, partly because of their penchant for cruelty and thirst for revenge. Besides, they knew I was here now. They’d be seeking vengeance upon this woman—Charlotte—but they’d certainly be coming for me. However I considered it, our chances of survival would be better if we stuck together.
I swore.
“I’m coming with you,” I said.
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “No, you’re not!”
“I am. They’ll be after us both now, and the least I can do is see you to safety. If that means taking you back to Versailles, so be it,” I offered with grim determination.
“Don’t be absurd. You murdered a marquis! I’ll not have you risking your life unnecessarily because of some misplaced sense of obligation. I can look after myself. Now, I thank you for your assistance back on the road, and I assure you that your ruinous secrets are safe with me, but it’s time for us to part company.”
I stepped toward her, prepared to argue again, when the door exploded open behind us. I whirled around to see the innkeeper aiming a pistol straight at us. I groaned inwardly. This was the last thing we needed.
“Neither of you are going anywhere,” the innkeeper smirked.
“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” Charlotte exclaimed.
“Earning the reward,” he said. “For him.”
Damn.What a fool I’d been. Of course, he knew who I was.
Charlotte turned wide eyes on me. “There is a reward for your capture?Mon dieu, Antoine, and that was before the events of last evening! Why is there a bounty on your head?”
I ignored her.
“Whatever they promised you—whatever the bounty—I’ll double it,” I said quietly.
The innkeeper’s greedy eyes glittered with momentary interest, then wavered with doubt.
“I think not, Monsieur. Those menwill return at nightfall, and I plan on handing you—both of you—over to them. I’d rather not find myself on their bad side,” he said. He waved the pistol and gestured for us to precede him down the stairs.
“Just a minute, Monsieur,” Charlotte said. “I’m not traveling with this man—might you be persuaded to let me go? I can assure you I’ll make it worth your while.”
The innkeeper and I exchanged a look. He seemed tempted but resolute.
“No, little bird, I’m afraid you both await the soldiers. Perhaps you can use your charms on them, no? They might let you go after all,” he chuckled.
“You can’t be serious,” she said haughtily. “If it’s money you want, I cantriplewhat you’re already getting.”
The innkeeper’s face twisted—he almost seemed to be regretting his decision—but eventually, he shook his head and pushed us out of the room.
Charlotte frowned but led the way down the stairs. She protested the entire way. The innkeeper guided us to the root cellar out back behind the inn. Hélène eyed us guiltily from behind the bar.The traitorous wench.
After flinging open the heavy wooden doors, the innkeeper shoved us both down a set of stone steps into the damp, earthen room. It was cramped and filthy. The walls were lined with shelves of dust-covered preserves and crates of junk. The room was barely high enough for me to stand up in.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” he offered, his voice laced with sarcasm. “I’ll be back for you with the soldierswhen they return.”
Then, he slammed the wooden doors shut and proceeded to lock us in. We both waited for the sounds of his footsteps to fade away before turning to each other. Shafts of sunlight streamed in through the weathered slats of the door, illuminating Charlotte’s petulant scowl. She sat down on a wooden crate and sighed.
“This is all your fault,” she grumbled. “If you hadn’t shown up at Versailles in the first place, I’d be asleep in my delicious bed, awaiting a warm morning bath, a pot of chocolate, and a day of leisure pursuits.”
“My apologies,” I said gruffly. “But it was your fault for getting in my way and then not heeding my warnings back on the road. If you’d just come along willingly, we could have worked something out.”
“Oh, yes, and then when you’d run into thebêtes de sangwith me tied across your horse, they certainly would have let us both carry on our merry way unmolested! You’d probably be captured by now, and God only knows what they would’ve done with me. Probably drained me, or worse,” she said bitterly. “And now wearein a bind, aren’t we? That lousy innkeeper likely overheard our argument and—even as thick as he is—probably knows I was headed back to Versailles.”
