“You mean while I was resisting the urge to chuck my tea at Mirabelle’s friends,” she muttered.
Gabby had barely swallowed her first scalding sip before the two girls had brought up the scars. Mirabelle had flushed fiercely at their silly questions. Did the scars still pain her? Was it very difficult to look into the mirror? Was there nothing a surgeon could do to reduce their size?
The carriage turned a corner and lurched, shaking Gabby from the humiliating memory of standing up and excusing herself after a second round of questions, one of which touched on her handsome Scottish bodyguard.
“They got a telegram,” Rory went on. “From Nolan.”
A cascade of stones poured into the pit of her stomach. There was a flutter of hope in her chest, though piteously small.
“May I see it?” she asked. Nolan hadn’t written a word to her all month. Gabby had sent one letter. A simple thing, saying she’d arrived in London, that she was safe. Her pen had hovered over the fine stationery while she thought of how much she missed him. How much she loved him.
She had signed off with a safe Yours, Gabby and sent it before she could humiliate herself. When no reply had come, she was glad she had held back.
“It’s encrypted. Ye won’t have a clue what it says. The London boys decoded it, though, and it seems yer sister had herself a spot of mischief this morn.”
Gabby sat up straight. “Is she hurt? Was it Axia?”
Rory held up a hand, his palm bare. Demon hunters didn’t wear gloves. Too slippery on the handles of their weapons. “She’s just fine. Her gargoyle was wi’ her, and it wasnae Axia.”
Gabby relaxed her spine, relieved. Though not wholly. Axia was still a threat to Ingrid, still able to send her demon pets to the human realm to try to fetch her to the Underneath. Gabby should have been there, in Paris, at her sister’s side. Not hidden away in a big old house on Grosvenor Square.
“It was an Alliance assassin,” Rory said.
The carriage ground to a stop, and so did Gabby’s breathing. Before her mind could even form a thought, Rory again held up his palm.
“She’s safe. The assassin’s dead.”
“The Directorate sent him,” she said, remembering what her sister and Marco had told them about Carrick Quinn’s confession. Gabby had believed them, of course, though it hadn’t gone over well with the rest of the Paris faction.
“They canna know that,” Rory said as the carriage broke through a knot of traffic and started rolling again.
“Of course they know. Who gives assassins their orders?” Gabby challenged.
Rory sighed. “The Directorate.”
She cocked her head and crossed her arms. “There you have it.”
Rory removed his bowler and his mess of wavy ginger hair sprang forward, nearly covering his eyes. He didn’t like hats, she guessed. He was always taking his off and running his fingers through his hair, holding the bowler in his lap until he stepped into public view. Gabby figured the brim impaired his side vision, and for a demon hunter, being aware of one’s surroundings was of paramount importance.
“I need to go back,” Gabby said. Her body might have returned to London, but her heart was still in Paris.
“No.”
Rory was probably used to telling her that by now, she thought.
“Ingrid writes that the Dispossessed don’t know their tails from their wings. They don’t have a new elder; they don’t have any order at all. It’s been a month. The flame of vengeance must have turned cold for them by now, don’t you think?”
Rory leaned forward. The blades strapped to his vest shifted as well. “Vengeance is a flame that stays lit, Gabby, even if it’s only the bluest of embers. One breath of air is all it takes. Yer stayin’ here.”
Nolan’s cousin could be intimidating when he wanted to be, and right then, his frosty gaze and the tight muscles of his jaw urged her into silence. Fine. She wouldn’t argue. But she truly did not think—could not think—that she would be forever barred from setting foot in the city of Paris. What if Mama, Ingrid, and Grayson never left? Mama had her art gallery to see to, Grayson would never wish to be near Papa again, and Ingrid … well, Ingrid had Luc. A gargoyle. Yes, her cautious, intelligent, level-headed sister was in love with a gargoyle. Luc had been taken away from the abbey and rectory, but Gabby knew Ingrid would not be so easily deterred.