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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

‘Not my problem what you think about me,’ she said.

‘Oh, but it is. You’ve pulled stunt after stunt, endangering this Republic at every turn. It stops here.’ He cocked his pistol and took a determined step forwards. Camille’s eyes flickered between Comtois and Al. ‘You were never going to help us get the girl, were you? It was a scam.’ His voice dropped as he came closer.

‘You’re right, we weren’t going to give you the girl.’

But that doesn’t mean I’m helping the Royalists. Cam caught herself before the words came out. She’d been railing against the government – against the whole Revolution – since her parents’ deaths, but it was pointless. It didn’t change what happened, and now she’d lost the memory of the people she thought they’d been. Her anger hadn’t changed anything. The past had only eaten her up inside, pushing her further away from the people she still had. The people who mattered. Her family.

‘And I’m not going to let you take my friend either.’

Camille took a breath, steadying the aim of her gun.

‘Too late,’ sneered Comtois.

His gun fired just as Camille squeezed the trigger on hers.

Three things happened almost at once.

A hot line of pain painted itself across her shoulder. She staggered back, clutching at the wound where the bullet had grazed her.

Comtois sank to his knees, hands pressed against his chest. Around the crossbow bolt protruding between his ribs.

The lock on the guillotine burst into a rain of splinters and hot metal as Camille’s bullet found its target.

She’d shifted at the last second, making Comtois’s bullet miss its mark by a fraction, and her own free Al.

He yanked himself out of the headlock. Camille darted forwards, pressing a knife into his hands.

‘Get free, quick,’ she instructed, then spun to meet the first guard, who’d shaken off his shock and launched himself at her.

She dispatched him with a well-timed boot and used his own momentum to spin him off the stage and into the crowd. Another guard attacked, but Al had cut his bindings, and ducked at the last moment before the guard reached him so the man went tumbling over and rolled off the stage after his comrade.