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“I thought there would be something,” I murmured. But Havelock, it seemed, had been thorough in his relocation spell. I wasn’t entirely certain there was even any air left behind. It was as if the former bakery had been torn from the fabric of the world by some god, as if I’d needed another reminder of the terrifying extent of his power.

It was fortunate that the door opened outwards—I don’t know how we would have closed it again if we’d had to reach through the nothingness to grasp the doorknob. I pushed it shut.

“Coudonc!” I exclaimed. “This is absurd. Well, we certainly aren’t opening today, are we? That will give the police another reason to suspect us of something nefarious.”

“Really?” Élise gazed at the shop doubtfully. “It looks the same from the outside. They’ll probably just assume we’re busy arranging the new location, if they notice at all. I don’t think anyone’s first thought when they see a Closed sign on a shop is that the owners have magically relocated to another street and left an abyss behind.”

“Laurent is already suspicious of our landlord,” I argued. “And he knew something was off about the cats yesterday—poor Thoreau looked like he’d been bathed in tomato juice! I don’t want to put even more questions into his head.”

“You mean Detective Rouzet,” Élise said.

“Yes.” I frowned suspiciously at the look on her face. “What?”

“You keep calling him Laurent,” she said, knitting her brows in exaggerated confusion. “I wonder why you’re on such familiar terms?”

“He asked me to call him Laurent,” I said even as I felt my cheeks heat. Being a person who cried and blushed easily was enormously inconvenient, as people were always taking it to mean more than it did.

And it certainly did not mean anything in this case.

“I wonder if Laurent suspects that Havelock owns the place,” I said, speaking half to myself. “If the mayor knows he’s in the city, I’ll bet the police have been warned, too.”

Élise grimaced, her gaze fixed on something behind me. “Speak of the devil.”

I started and whirled around, but it was only Yannick—he’d crossed the street in our direction and was now kicking his way through the snow piled against the sidewalk.

“Hello!” Yannick said, giving us one of his nervous smiles. “I trust everything is well? I’m sorry I was gone a few days—I hope those pipes didn’t give you any trouble in my absence! I had some business—ah, I was visiting a sick aunt. In Gatineau. Yes, I had business in Gatineau, in addition to the sick aunt, so—”

“Yannick,” I said. “Shut up.”

“We know you’re a magician, you ass,” Élise said, advancing on him. “And we know you were hiding Havelock Renard in the basement.” She punctuated each sentence by stabbing her finger into his chest. It should have been ridiculous. Élise was a full head shorter than him, but her expression held such focused fury that Yannick blanched and fell back. “You lied to my sister, and nearly got her killed. You and that bastard you work for. If you don’t start telling the truth, I’ll go down to Havelock’s secret little shop and find a spell that will blast you to pieces. I might not be a magician, but I promise I’ll give it my all.”

“I—” The colour had left Yannick’s face, and he stood gawping at us. “Havelock—is he—?”

“His sister attacked us,” I said. “She nearly pulled the building down on our heads. We’re lucky none of the cats were injured or worse.”

“Valérie,” he murmured, wincing. “She found him, then. He always said she would, despite all the spells he put on the place to keep her away. Is Havelock all right?”

He looked so worried that it brought me up short. I don’t know what sort of relationship I’d expected Yannick to have with Havelock—well, what kind of relationship could exist between the Witch King and his henchman?—but I’d not imagined there would be much warmth in it.

“He’s alive, if that’s what you mean,” I said. “He had to relocate the shelter, so he’s gone to the Rivenwood to collect enough magic to put it back.”

Yannick looked alarmed. “The Rivenwood! But he’s been trying to stay away from there—he promised he would. How long ago did he leave? Perhaps I can pull him back before he goes too deep.”

He yanked open the door to the shelter and made to charge inside, but luckily Élise and I placed a hand on either of his shoulders and hauled him back in time.

“Oh, my.” He squinted at the abyss. “That—you weren’t exaggerating. He moved it. The whole thing! Fascinating.”

He continued to stare into the nothingness as if it were some enchanting landscape. I reached out and shut the door again before the couple passing on the opposite sidewalk could get a look.

“He’s been gone since yesterday,” I said. “The shelter is now on Rue Sainte-Sophie. I thought you would have known he had a spare hideout in the city.”

“He mentioned something about it once,” Yannick admitted. “But Havelock has woven so many spells that it’s difficult to keep track—some of them are beyond the capabilities of any living magician, or perhaps any magician at all, save Vortigern. I’d no idea he’d created a relocation spell of this magnitude—I didn’t know this was even possible! What was it like? When he cast it, I mean.”

“Horrid,” I said succinctly. Given my recent experiences, I found the worshipful look on Yannick’s face distasteful.

“Well, if Valérie is in town, that explains the business at the train station,” Yannick said. “I would have been here hours ago, if I hadn’t been held up.”

“What business?”