Ingrid had seen a number of maps of Paris. The layout of the city had always reminded her of an inked thumbprint. The roads all seemed to swirl inward, crossing, merging, and growing tighter together until they reached the two islands in the Seine. Ingrid knew the city was large and sprawling, that there were over a million people living here and going about their daily lives without fear of the Underneath or of a vengeful fallen angel. For those people, it was life as usual.
But for the past handful of days, it had seemed to Ingrid as if the thumbprint of the city had started to smudge and disappear, as if those other people didn’t exist and the only things that were real had to do with the Alliance and Dispossessed and the scattered Dusters, driven into hiding.
Ingrid didn’t want to hide. She’d had the intense urge to leave her arrondissement for some other part of the city she didn’t normally see. To experience something that reminded her that that thumbprint was still there. That those other people were real.
Marco was at the reins of the landau, directing the horses down rue de Berri. She wasn’t certain Vander would be in his apartment, but she knew better than to go to H?tel Bastian again. Marco would have refused to bring her there anyhow. He must have trusted Vander; he’d only put up a mild stink about acting the part of lowly driver.
Ingrid was restless. She couldn’t go to H?tel Bastian, she shouldn’t go to gargoyle common grounds, and she definitely couldn’t stay at the rectory or abbey any longer. If Vander wasn’t at his apartment, she would direct Marco to Clos du Vie next, despite Constantine’s message that lessons had been suspended.
The landau drew to a stop, and a moment later, Marco handed her down to the curb. Ingrid saw Vander’s wagonette parked in front of them, the traces at rest on the pavement and his black mare likely put away in the stable behind the church.
“The Seer is beneath your station, Lady Ingrid,” Marco said, scowling up at the building that shared a wall with the apartments next door.
“It’s not like that,” she said. “He’s my friend.”
Marco gave her a look of pity. “And does the Seer know that is all he is?”
Ingrid gathered her cloak around her and pushed past Marco, heading toward the door. She’d only been to Vander’s apartment once, but she remembered the way in.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” Marco called as he climbed into the box.
Ingrid turned around. “You’re not waiting here?”
“You do realize I’m not truly your servant, don’t you?” He released the brake and guided the horses away from the curb. “I’m going to Yann’s bridge. If you need me, I will know.”
Marco merged into traffic, and with a groan of annoyance, Ingrid entered the apartment building. And does the Seer know that is all he is? Marco’s question poked at her as she ascended the stairwell. Saying Vander was just her friend had been a lie, though Ingrid wished it hadn’t been. Everything would be so much simpler if they hadn’t kissed those few times. If he hadn’t told her how much he wanted her in his life. Vander hadn’t yet told her that he loved her, but at this point the words weren’t necessary.
He knew how she felt about Luc. Didn’t he? Words weren’t necessary for that, either. Were they? Ingrid turned onto the third-floor landing and a quiver of nervousness weakened her legs. She had to tell him. Perhaps that was what she’d come here to do. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. As soon as she told Vander about Luc, she would lose him—and she didn’t want to lose him. The idea of it sent her heart into a flutter of panic, and then a sharp twinge ignited at each shoulder.
The current leaked from her fingers before she could rein it back in. It sparked off the metal discs in her gloves, sparing the electric bulbs strung along the short hallway. Vander’s door was just ahead. She would tell him. She’d get it over with.
Ingrid reached his flat and was about to knock when a familiar voice sounded from within.
“Is it working?” the muffled voice asked.
Ingrid leaned closer to the door. What on earth was Grayson doing here?
Vander’s voice followed. “Well, how do you feel?”
“Amazing,” Grayson answered. Ingrid could hear his excitement. “I only started feeling the itch to shift this morning. I can smell blood now, but it’s been two days.”
Ingrid pressed her ear against the wood, unable to believe she’d just heard her brother correctly. He’d gone two days without scenting blood?
“That’s … I don’t know what to say,” Vander replied. “I think we should tell Ingrid. I’d already tested our compatibility before Nolan took the blood stores, and it didn’t clot.”
Grayson: “Do you think she’d go for it?”