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CHAPTER 21
The citizens of Collis soon fall into one of three reaction categories. The first kind live in the wealthier neighborhoods and assume such terrible things will never happen to them, and they are likely correct. So far the victims have been poor women known to sell themselves. If there’s any concern, it’s from the men who frequent the seedier side of town to indulge in its pleasures, like Oudin, who worry about being falsely accused.
The women who have buried two of their own are stricken with fear. Via Madame Emeline, Simon urges them to be cautious about whom they serve, and where, yet most live on the edge of destitution. They don’t have the option of foregoing the employment which enables them to eat.
Lastly are those who love the drama. I hear no other topic on the lips of Sanctum workers. Rumors spread like fire in a dry wheat field and change direction just as fast. I suspect much is said in my earshot in hopes I will confirm or deny the gory details. Simon warns me not to correct anything I hear, though I don’t fully understand why until four mornings later, when Remi brings us a note.
“Your killer has struck again,” he says, waving a scrap ofparchment as soon as the Montcuir’s housekeeper delivers him to Simon’s room. Remi drops the page just before Simon can take it from him.
Simon examines the tear at the top of the parchment. “This was ripped from something.” He glances sharply at Remi. “Where was it found?”
“Nailed to the Sanctum door.” Remi looks pointedly at Simon’s bed in the corner of the room and then to me with eyebrows as high as they’ll go, as if to say,Really? Here?
“Which door?” Simon demands. “Where’s the nail?”
Remi takes a step back at Simon’s harsh tone before regaining his condescending attitude. “The one on the transept, facing south. Still in the door as far as I know.”
Simon pivots to Lambert. “I need that nail. Disturb the head as little as possible.” Lambert hesitates, obviously wanting to see what the note contains, but then runs out, yanking his gloves on as he goes. Simon returns to studying the parchment. “When was it found?” he asks Remi.
“It was there when workers arrived this morning, but most can’t read so no one bothered to look at it until me.” Remi folds his arms. “You’re welcome.”
“Next time I’ll thank you for sending for me rather than removing it.”
I step up beside Simon, and he angles the page to show me. The words are poorly spelled and barely legible.
It hass ben 4 days and you hav naught cougt me and so I am forc’d to kill againe
“Just what I was afraid of,” Simon murmurs. Juliane appears on my other side, and he leans further to allow her to see, squishing me between them.
“I’ve never seen parchment so rough,” Juliane says.
I rub a thumb and forefinger on the corner. “It’s been freshlyscraped, and not very well, nor was it pressed and smoothed afterward.”
“Which means it was written on before?” Simon asks.
“Most likely,” I tell him.
Simon moves to the window and holds the note to the light, squinting. “Yes, there’s something there, but I can’t read it.”
I join him in looking, tilting my head against his shoulder to get the right angle, but I can’t see anything either. “Do you think it’s real?” I ask. “Is it from the killer?”
“Yes, but no.”
What in the Gifted Sun does he mean by that? I turn back to Remi. “Has a body been found?”
His jaw is clenched so hard it’s twitching. “Not yet.”
“It’s only a matter of time.” Simon folds the page in half and shoves it into his pocket. “Let’s go.”
“What about Lambert?” I ask. “He’s halfway to the Sanctum by now.”
“That’s where we’re going. He’ll expect to find me there.”
I don’t think he means Lambert is the one who expects him. We all follow Simon, Remi included, double-timing our steps to keep up with his lanky strides. Lambert is fetching a clawed lever to pry the nail from the wooden door when we arrive. While Simon waits, he pulls out the note and holds it up to the Sun again. “Too bright,” he mutters.
He continues angling the parchment different ways against the Sun, but gives up with a sigh as Lambert returns. “I still can’t read it. Maybe focused candlelight would work.”
The moon. I look around, finding the half-circle hanging midway in the western sky. It seems crazy in broad daylight, but I have nothing to lose by trying. “May I see it?” I ask Simon.
