“He asked for your angel blood. As soon as he has it, he’ll stop the mimic,” Carrick explained. “I am here to make sure Dupuis upholds his end of the bargain.”
The blood Axia had hidden within Ingrid was the only thing standing between the fallen angel and her planned Harvest of Dusters. Once it was gone from Ingrid’s veins, the Directorate would no longer see Ingrid as a threat. It was the angel blood, Axia and her Harvest, that the Directorate feared.
“And what happens to the angel blood afterward?” she asked, recalling Vander’s worry about the Daicrypta getting their hands on it. “Couldn’t Axia simply send one of her demon pets after it? The blood should be destroyed.”
“We will study it first,” Dupuis answered, fingers still steepled.
“And then, by our agreement, it will be destroyed,” Carrick finished. Dupuis bowed in agreement.
Destroying it right away sounded like a much better idea to Ingrid. Perhaps there would still be a way for her to do so.
“What of you?” she then asked Carrick. “The Directorate will know that you’ve betrayed them. That you’ve bargained for my life.”
He let out a mirthless laugh. “I am already done for. The mercurite only saves us so many times before it starts to eat away at us from the inside. To be truthful, I’d rather be taken out quickly by a skilled Alliance assassin than waste away in my bed, my insides rotting and my brain turning to mush.”
Marco, his arms crossed tightly over his broad chest, replied, “If you’d rather not wait for that assassin, I’d be more than honored to do the job.”
Ingrid nudged him with her elbow. “Stop, Marco.”
She had no doubt, however, that he would do it, and that he’d do it with relish.
“Come, Lady Ingrid,” Dupuis said, crossing to the door and opening it. “The sooner we drain your angel blood, the sooner my disciples and I can recapture the mimic.”
Marco came out from behind Ingrid. His torso and arms flickered once with amber scales before returning to human skin.
“I had another question,” Ingrid said. “Where is Luc?”
Carrick looked to Dupuis, whose annoying little smile withered. Both men then shifted their attention to Marco.
The gargoyle took in a deep breath, arms still crossed over his broad, naked chest. A low, gurgling growl escaped on his exhale.
“They have him,” Marco answered, meeting Ingrid’s stare. “I suppose we should do as they say.”
Lennier dropped closer to the sloped roof of the Daicrypta building, Gabby clasped to his albino body. He released his hold on her and she fell less than a foot to the slate-topped roof. The pitch was slight. She barely slid an inch before Nolan took hold of her arm and steadied her, Lennier already flying away.
He and Vander had come to the roof first, in case a disciple had been stationed there, as Alliance were on the roof of H?tel Bastian. Constantine had left, and Nolan had ordered Chelle and Rory to stay below on the street. He’d tried to order Gabby as well, but considering she wasn’t officially Alliance, she hadn’t been under any obligation to comply.
Yann’s feathered wings hovered overhead, beating cold air down around them. He lowered Léon to the roof and then spiraled up and away. The Duster landed sure-footedly, though he still looked sick with nerves.
“What now?” Vander asked as his eyes swept along the dark roof.
Gabby didn’t see a roof door or a skylight to drop through. Léon picked his way down the roof toward a knee-high balustrade of carved stone. Gabby followed. Once closer, she noticed a dog-headed gargoyle protruding from the exterior of the stone railing. It reminded her that this was Dimitrie’s territory. Would he sense their arrival?
“The room Dupuis assigned to me is just below,” Léon said. Gabby tilted forward until she could see the double-hung top-floor window. “The window had been nailed shut, but I was able to pry the nails up before I escaped.”
“Through the window?” Gabby asked.
“No,” Léon said. “The window was my first plan, but things happened too quickly. I wound up escaping from the draining room.”
A cold wind gusted up over the ledge. The draining room. That was where they would be taking Ingrid. Or maybe they’d already taken her there.
“Climbing down is too dangerous,” Nolan said, still higher up on the roof’s slope.
Gabby swung her leg over the parapet.
“Stop, Gabby!” Nolan barked.
She felt something cinch around her waist, and then a lurching tug. She fell forward, her legs still straddling the stone balustrade. Her hands landed on glistening ropes that had latched around her middle. Léon stood with his arms outstretched, silk webbing having streamed from each fingertip.
“Léon, let her go.” Nolan extended his broadsword, both hands on the handle. Vander touched his arm.