“Le Bleu isn’t our fault,” Mallory said forcefully.
But Anaïs’s expression was sorrowful, even complacent. “Actually,” she said sadly, “it would seem that he is very much our fault.”
Mallory tightened her jaw.
“No more games, Mally. We have to find a way to make things right.” Anaïs inhaled sharply. “It’s what Mother would have done.”
Mallory huffed. “Don’t bring Mother into this.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
When Mallory turned away, Anaïs pressed, “People came from all over Lysraux to ask Noele Fontaine for her help. And shewould help them. Whether she was preparing fertility potions or medicinal ointments, reading fortunes or conducting séances… everything she did was to help people. To bring them comfort, closure, even joy.” She picked idly at a loose thread on the blanket. “Sometimes I wonder if she would be horrified to see what we have become in her name.”
“Don’t say that,” Mallory whispered, surprised at the prickle she felt behind her eyes. She could not remember the last time she had cried. “We have done what we had to do.”
“And now,” said Anaïs, “I think we have to help Armand. Really help him.”
“That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”
“Is it? Because I thought you were here to cheat that poor count out of his money.”
“Say that a little louder, why don’t you?”
“This is serious.”
“I’m being serious!”
“How? You wave around your herbs and sprinkle bathwater on the floor and pretend like you know what you’re doing, and in the meantime, there is a violent ghost on the loose and we have absolutely no idea how to stop him.” She lowered her voice to an insistent whisper. “I feel compelled to remind you, once again, that you are not a real witch. Not anymore.”
Drawing in a slow breath, Mallory lifted her pointer fingers. “True.Except…”
Anaïs groaned.
“Le Bleu has been relatively docile since we arrived. Everyone has been saying so. Something about our presence seems to have mollified him. So maybe…”
“What? Maybe what? Are you going to move in? Live here forever, with your count and your gaggle of murdered women?”
“It only sounds ridiculous when you use that tone of voice.”
“No, Mallory. It sounds ridiculous because itisridiculous. You need to tell Armand the truth. Stop wasting his time and give him a chance to find someone who can actually help him.”
Mallory dug her fingers into the blankets. “Let’s not be hasty.”
“Mallory!”
“I have a plan.”
“Your plan isn’t working.”
“Another plan. A new plan.”
“You always have a new plan, and honestly, it’s usually worse than the last one.” Anaïs threw her hands into the air. “You know what? I’ll tell him.”
“No, wait! Listen.” Mallory went to the vanity and dug through the drawer. It was easy to find the stark white card in the darkness—the paper almost glowed. “Fitcher’s Troupe. Remember?”
“Oh, I remember. Honestly, Mally—”
“I’ve seen them work. I saw them capture a voirloup with magic, actual magic.”
