Maxine, the tallest of the three of us, grabs Finn’s other arm, supporting him between her and Oliver.

We turn the corner, off Rue Blanche and out of sight of the hulking mansion, and down another residential street.

Finn’s lips are parted and nearly blue. His breathing is shallow and his eyes are closed. He’s conscious, but just barely.

We’re moving as fast as we can, but it’s difficult hauling Finn, and I’m still shaky on my feet. Lena takes my hand in hers to steady me.

“What happened?” I ask between gasping breaths.

“He hit his head when he fell,” Oliver replies.

Maxine nods. “So did Frances.”

With my free hand, I reach up and gingerly press on a sore spot directly in the back of my skull. It’s swelling into a goose egg, but I’ll be fine.

“What happened after that?” I ask.

Oliver sighs and readjusts Finn’s heavy arm over his shoulder. “Another man helped me carry him upstairs. I told him Finn had a weak stomach and there was all that blood….” He shudders. “I volunteered to lay him down in a guest room to get some rest, and instead I ran right out the front door. I don’t think the guests saw us, but the butler sure did.”

“It doesn’t look like you were followed,” Lena says with a glance behind her shoulder.

“I want to get as far as possible before they realize we’re gone,” Oliver huffs.

“No one questioned the fainting?” I ask. “What happened after?”

I’m still not sure what I witnessed in the catacombs. It’s all coming back to me in flashes, like a dream I only half remember. There was the duke and the boy on the golden table and the sword and the veil and the spell—it’s all in pieces.

“Frances, you don’t remember?” Lena asks gently.

I hate the way she, Maxine, and Oliver look at me with identical expressions of pity. “You might as well go ahead and tell me.”

Maxine makes eye contact with Lena, who nods gently. “They killed the boy. We started running the minute the sword went into his heart.”

Oliver is quiet, remembering the horror. “The duke said a spell. They did something to the body. I was hauling Finn away before they got to the end of it. Everyone was too preoccupied to notice us leaving early.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. What they witnessed was all my fault. What happened to the boy was all my fault too, and the other body in the church as well. This confirms it.

I’ve spent the past year trying desperately to be good, to not cause any more destruction, but it seems I cause harm no matter how hard I try.

Maybe something about me is inherently bad. Maybe I really am irredeemable.