I tensed, but he bowed, hands across his forehead, palms to me, hands crossed, so they shadowed his face in the flashlight beam. I recognized the posture: at the wedding at Notre-Dame, after I’d revealed myself, the people had done the same thing, pledging their loyalty to me.
I gaped down at him, then at Stellan. I let out a jagged breath. “Okay. Call them off.”
Scarface pulled a walkie-talkie out of his belt and barked into it, “No one at the back stairs. Try the east wing.”
It had actually worked. “Okay. Um. Stay with Lydia and pretend you’re still working for her. Try to keep the guards away while we escape. Luc Dauphin—make sure he gets out safely. And don’t let the Saxons do anything to my mother. That’s the most important thing.”
Scarface nodded. I started toward the door, but he didn’t get off his knees.
Stellan stopped me. “You’ll have to accept him officially,” he said quietly. “Otherwise he’s not really yours.”
I glanced at the door, outside, freedom. “What do you mean?”
“It’s usually done at the ceremony when we get our tattoos.” The frown on Stellan’s face told me he wasn’t sure about this idea. “The tattoo is the symbol of who you’re loyal to.”
A sacred Circle ceremony. We didn’t have time. It wasn’t like I could give him a new tattoo, anyway. My hand flew to my necklace, twisting, and then it stopped. The knot symbol, with thirteen loops.
“Where’s your tattoo?” I asked Scarface. Without standing or even looking up, he pulled down the back of his collar. There was a compass tattoo there, which had been inked over an old tattoo. I couldn’t quite tell, but it could have been an olive branch.
It didn’t matter. I unhooked my necklace. “Lighter?” I asked Stellan. He dug it out of his pocket. I flicked it and dangled my necklace in the flame. The orange light glinted off the gold.
“Are you sure you trust him enough to do this?” Stellan said. “It’s a big deal.”
“I don’t care as long as he lets us go,” I breathed in his ear. It wasn’t like we ever had to see Scarface again if something went wrong.
When I thought it would be hot enough, I tried to grasp the necklace between my thumb and finger, and hissed.
“I’ll do it,” Stellan said. I shook my head. He might not burn, but it still hurt him. He took a tissue from his pocket and gripped the necklace.
“Tell me where you want it,” he said.
But that didn’t feel right. “Together,” I said. “Above the compass.” I put my hand over Stellan’s. Together, we pressed the hot necklace into the end of the olive branch. Scarface twitched, and I responded by pressing harder. I wanted it to hurt. For my mom. For Mr. Emerson.
Stellan pulled our hands away, revealing an angry red welt. I hoped it would be enough for us to escape.
Scarface touched his neck, then put his hands to his forehead again.
Despite Scarface’s calling them off, a door opened in the stairwell far above.
“Go,” I said to Stellan. We shoved through the outer door as footsteps pounded down the stairs.
Scarface leaped up. He intercepted the pair of guards. “They’re getting away,” one of them said.
And then Scarface unceremoniously slit both their throats.
A strangled gasp escaped my throat. “I didn’t mean kill everybody!”
The door was closing. I clawed at it, keeping it open. “Don’t kill anyone you don’t have to!” I yelled.
Stellan grabbed my arm and pulled me away. “Nothing you can do.”
I felt sick. With one last glance back, I stumbled after him, letting the door slam.
“You know what our tattoos mean, right?” Stellan said. “Loyalty to the death. He’s given that to you now. If they’d seen him letting us escape, he’d be the one killed.”
My necklace was still dangling from my wrist. My hands were shaking so hard I couldn’t fasten it, and Stellan reached around my neck and did it for me. His white shirt, at my eye level, was stained such a dark red that it looked black in the dim light.
“Is it like stabbing the meat?” I whispered. “Like once you keep seeing people die over and over, it gets easier?”
“No.” He dropped the necklace on my chest. It was bloody and still warm. “It never gets easier.”
Stellan rested a hand on my shoulder, and I let out a shaky breath. For a second, I thought he was trying to console me, but I realized he was swaying. I caught him around the waist. “Concussion,” he said, leaning into me. “I think. Not feeling good. Should probably sit.”
I blocked out everything else. We weren’t out of the woods yet.
“Do you know where Elodie was going to look for Jack?” I said.
“No.” Stellan stumbled a little, and I held him up.
I looked at the chateau. It was four stories tall, all windows. I had absolutely no clue where Jack might be. I hadn’t been letting myself worry about him, but now it washed over me. What they’d do to a Keeper who’d gone behind their backs.