Sebastian made himself keep talking. “Blanshard is the same paranormal once known as the Vampire, the very same paranormal my great-great-great-aunt took down. And apparently I inherited her magic, but he’s stolen the brooch relic and my magic and unlocked the chains she’d bound him in, and if we don’t find him, he’s going to drain all the auras he can and murder countless people here at the fair.”
“Oh,” Wesley said weakly. “Right. Well. I only understood about half of that, but what I did get is that you and I need to stop Blanshard.”
“He was eager,” said Sebastian. “I’m sure he did not go far. He will be somewhere where he can be close to many people at once.”
“But that’s this whole fair.”
“He told Mercier he would be drinking his fill at the gate.”
“Your cousin mentioned the Porte d’Honneur, by the Grand Palais.” When Sebastian blinked, Wesley huffed. “I did have a classical education, you know. I studied Latin, I’m not completely useless around your language or others based on it. Let’s find Blanshard before anyone finds us and starts asking questions.”
Sebastian took a deep breath and forced himself to his feet.
There were at least a hundred people around the Porte d’Honneur, clustered in tight crowds in front of the regal Grand Palais.
Sebastian’s heart was pounding too hard for such a short walk, the ache in his chest sharp and worrying.You shouldn’t even be breathing,Mercier had said, and it felt like his entire body agreed.
They stopped at the edge of the plaza, finding something almost like privacy behind a kiosk selling hats. Wesley’s eyes scanned nonstop, lingering on the entrance to the exhibition, on the observation tower that had been set up for a photographer.
Two more steps forward, and Sebastian was forced to bend at the waist to get enough air into his lungs. The deep breath backfired, causing him to cough, and he fumbled for a handkerchief to cover his mouth.
“Sebastian.” Wesley’s hand was on his arm again. “What’s going on? You said Blanshard took your magic—why are you gasping?”
There was an undercurrent of something in his voice that was almost distress. And Sebastian realized Wesley was staring at the handkerchief, which was now spotted with blood.
Sebastian took another deep gulp of air and admitted, “Because he also took most of my life.”
Wesley’s grip turned painfully tight.
Sebastian turned up his wrist to show the tattoo. “I think the lion saved me. I think he held on to the spark that’s tattooed into my skin.”
“Saved you forever?” Wesley said, his voice as tight as the hand on Sebastian’s arm. “Or just bought you some time?”
Sebastian swallowed and shook his head. If his lungs were bleeding, if his heart was failing—“I don’t know.”
Wesley’s nostrils flared. He wrapped his left arm around Sebastian’s waist, for support, and then went back to scanning the crowd.
Sebastian took a bracing breath. “Stopping Blanshard is what matters—”
“I see him.”
Sebastian squinted, following Wesley’s finger to the photographer’s nest. And there, climbing the ladder, was Lord Blanshard. “He wants above the crowd,” Sebastian said in horror. “He’s going to try to drain them all at once.”
He staggered forward. He didn’t have magic, and he could barely move, but Blanshard’s magic chains were gone and it was all Sebastian’s fault and he couldn’t let this happen—
Wesley was faster. He drew the revolver again in one quick motion, and the afternoon sun flashed off the metal as the shot rang out.
Pandemonium erupted around them. Blanshard fell off the ladder as people screamed and fled.
“Come on!” Wesley grabbed Sebastian’s arm, helping him run behind kiosks until they reached the photography tower.
Blanshard was nowhere to be seen.
Sebastian’s legs collapsed and he hit the ground on hands and knees. His lungs were seized with a fit of coughs, and when he wiped his mouth, his hand came away bloody.
“Fuck.”Wesley began turning every which way. “I’m certain the shot was true.”
“It was.” Lord Blanshard suddenly appeared behind Wesley. “But you didn’t really think you could stop me with a bullet.”
