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Back Dangerous Remedy
Chapters (86)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Contents
  7. Paris, June 1794
  8. PART ONE
  9. 1
  10. 2
  11. 3
  12. 4
  13. 5
  14. 6
  15. 7
  16. PART TWO
  17. 1
  18. 2
  19. 3
  20. 4
  21. 5
  22. 6
  23. 7
  24. 8
  25. 9
  26. 10
  27. 11
  28. 12
  29. PART THREE
  30. 1
  31. 2
  32. 3
  33. 4
  34. 5
  35. 6
  36. 7
  37. 8
  38. 9
  39. 10
  40. 11
  41. 12
  42. 13
  43. 14
  44. 15
  45. 16
  46. 17
  47. PART FOUR
  48. 1
  49. 2
  50. 3
  51. 4
  52. 5
  53. 6
  54. 7
  55. 8
  56. 9
  57. 10
  58. 11
  59. PART FIVE
  60. 1
  61. 2
  62. 3
  63. 4
  64. 5
  65. 6
  66. 7
  67. PART SIX
  68. 1
  69. 2
  70. 3
  71. 4
  72. 5
  73. 6
  74. 7
  75. 8
  76. 9
  77. 10
  78. 11
  79. 12
  80. 13
  81. 14
  82. Postscript
  83. A Ship in Le Havre Port
  84. Acknowledgements
  85. About the Author
  86. About Zephyr

‘This girl is so much more than that,’ said Comtois, leaning forwards, impassioned. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to begin to understand, but a power like hers – it could change the world. Can you imagine if a French republic became the first country in the world to truly harness the power of electricity? Factories and steam power would be nothing next to what we could create. And, yes, if war threatened us then why not use every resource at hand to defend ourselves? France must have her. She is our future, our safety, our deliverance.’

The room was silent save for the crackle and pop of the logs in the fireplace. A smattering of rain pattered against the windows. Camille could hear the faint wheeze of her weak lungs.

Briefly, the thought crossed her mind that maybe it would have been better if Olympe had drowned in the river. At least that way no one could use her.

‘What about what she wants?’

Comtois blinked, staring at her with incredulity.

Camille neatly lined up her knife and fork on her plate and laid her napkin across the top.

‘What if she doesn’t want to do any of that? Shouldn’t she get to choose what she does with her life?’

‘If it means the difference between success or destruction for our country? No, she doesn’t.’ He looked at her over the candles. ‘None of us do.’

10

The Bal en Crystal

Ada found Al slumped in a velvet booth, one hand wrapped around a bottle of the new Swiss spirit, absinthe, the other arm slung around Léon’s shoulders. Their booth was close to the stage where a group of dancers, naked and painted to look like the night sky, were twisting and spinning in a fluid, swaying performance. Across the stage was a banner reading Le Corps Plein d’Étoiles. The tabletop was strewn with cards, pots of snuff, sugar cubes, matches and pipes and a tiny slotted spoon. Al had abandoned mixing the absinthe with sugar and water and was knocking it back from the bottle. Léon looked decidedly unimpressed.

It seemed as though half of Paris had fitted themselves into this basement on the edge of reality. Waiters sped between laughing groups, depositing bottles of wine and beer and gin and plates of potatoes from the new world, fried golden and sprinkled with salt. The walls were covered in thousands of tiny fragments of glass and mirror and paste gems and anything that sparkled and glittered, turning the whole place into a kaleidoscopic fever dream.