But a mob burning an innocent creature alive sounded exactly like my fight. They would do the same to Lou, if given the chance. The same to Coco. My mother. Me. Familiar anger, thick and viscous, simmered in my gut. These villagers alone weren’t guilty. Though they would slaughter this innocent, Morgane had tortured and maimed my siblings, my brothers and sisters—all collateral damage in this war they hadn’t chosen. A war this cauchemar hadn’t chosen.

No more.

A brief stop at the lighthouse wouldn’t hurt anything. We could warn the cauchemar before the mob struck—perhaps even free it—and still leave by sunrise. It was the noble thing to do. Lou might’ve chosen the wrong path for us, but this felt a step in the right direction. Perhaps it would set us on a new course. A better one.

At the very least, it would delay our arrival to Chateau le Blanc. And perhaps . . .

“I vote no.” Coco’s voice cut sharp from beneath her hood. “Cauchemars are dangerous, and we can’t afford distractions. We should proceed to the Chateau.”

Lou grinned and nodded.

“If we help this cauchemar,” I murmured, “perhaps it’ll help us. Here is your mysterious ally, Cosette. No trees required.”

Though I couldn’t see her face, I could feel her glower.

Shaking my head, I handed Célie my blanket before returning to my pew. Lou didn’t let go of my hand. Her thumb traced the veins along my wrist. “We need Célie’s carriage,” I said. “Whether or not she returns home.”

Célie’s head snapped up. “A carriage would speed our travel considerably.”

“Yes.” I considered her for a long moment. Rather, I reconsidered her. A muscle twitched in my jaw at her hopeful expression, at the determined set of her shoulders. This was not the Célie I’d always known. “It would.”

Throwing his hands in the air, Achille stalked to the scullery to be rid of us. “Fools, all of you,” he said over his shoulder, voice grim. “A cauchemar is strongest at night. Act at first light before the mob attacks. Whatever you do, don’t let them see you. Fear makes people stupid.” With one last look between Célie and me, he shook his head. “But courage makes ’em stupid too.”

An Insidious Presence

Lou

From the darkness, a voice arises.

Not that voice. Not the terrible one that croons and beckons. This voice is sharper, biting, cutting. Familiar. It does not tempt me. It—it scolds me.

Wake up, it snaps. You aren’t dead yet.

But I do not know this word. I do not understand death.

No one does. That’s not the point—or maybe that’s the entire point. You’re fading.

Fading. The darkness offers oblivion. Sweet relief.