A Darkness Strange and Lovely

“Oliver isn’t a monster. He saved my life,” I added. “And Laure’s.”

Joseph and Daniel flinched, as if noticing the bloodied woman on the floor for the first time. Yet neither approached.

“Why?” Joseph demanded. His neck bulged. “Why would you bind to a demon?”

“You make it sound as if I set out to do it, but I did not.” I tipped up my chin. “As I have said over and over, I had no choice. Marcus sent the Hell Hounds after me.” I raised my right hand. “He had a spell on me, and the only way to survive was to bind to Oliver.”

“Why did you not tell me?” Joseph straightened to his full height, and his voice bellowed out. “I told you I thought a demon was responsible for les Morts! How, Eleanor, how could you hide a demon from me after knowing that?”

“Because Oliver is not the one raising les Morts.”

“How do you know that?” Daniel lowered the pistol, and I noticed that his hands trembled. His voice too. “And how do we know this creature isn’t the one raising the Dead?”

“Because I’m telling you it is not Oliver.”

“And you are a liar,” Joseph spat. “A liar and a necromancer. I should have seen it—you are no different than he.”

It was like a punch in the gut. He. Marcus. And for a split second my heart clenched . . . but then all regret vanished in a seething rush. After everything we had done together, after we had stood side by side against the Dead, after Joseph had seen what Marcus had done to my family, he thought I was no different? All my past loyalty had bought me nothing?

“No!” I spat. “No. I am not like Marcus. I am not the corrupt necromancer you so desperately want me to be.” My lips curled back. “Do not look at me like that—as if you do not understand what I mean. All you see, Joseph, is black or white, and I am sorry, but I do not fit into those lines.”

I drew back my shoulders. “Necromancy has not corrupted me, but Marcus has corrupted you and how you view the world. I am still Eleanor and the same girl I have always been. Only I’m stronger now. Stronger than you, Joseph, and stronger than your machines. I can use my magic—my necromancy— without turning into Marcus.”

“Is that what you think?” Joseph gave a growling laugh. “That you are somehow immune to the darkness inside you? You are not, Eleanor. You are only blind to it, and eventually it will take control.”

“And if it does take control?” I threw my arms wide. “So what? I don’t care—and you shouldn’t either. I am on your side! If this magic is the only way to stop Marcus, then so be it!”

“Is this truly what you believe, Eleanor?” Again Joseph laughed, his face twisted with disgust and his scars stretched taut. “You believe you are powerful enough to face Marcus? Do not mistake the feeling of strength for actual strength.”

“Tell yourself that,” Oliver snarled. “Tell yourself she’s weaker than you if it makes you feel less afraid. But know that it isn’t the truth. Eleanor is strong; and once she is trained, she will be as strong as a demon, as strong as Marcus, and certainly stronger than you.” He flourished a hand at the corpses littering the hall. “She raised these. All of these, and all by herself. The rats, the birds, the butler—it was all Eleanor’s magic.”

I spun to Oliver. “Why are you saying that? I didn’t do this!”

“Oh yes, you did. It might not have been on purpose, El, but I felt your magic all over it.”

“But I couldn’t have!”

“Yet you did.” He gave me a sad half smile. “It was you who raised the Dead.”

Bile rose in my throat. “But how? There is no possible way!” Then I remembered the words I’d thought before passing out: Awake, awake, awake . . . “ Oh God, oh God, no. ” My breathing came faster. I clutched my stomach. “It was me. Oh no, no, no . . . it was an accident! I was trying to hold a seance.”

“You need multiple people to hold a seance,” Joseph declared.

“So I used the crystal clamp. But it overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t reach any spirits.”

“Of course not!” he yelled. “The seance is not about power. It is about focus. Focus and discipline—neither of which you have!”

“Because you have not taught me!” I screamed. “If you want me to learn, then teach me! Do not tell me simply to resist my magic. I cannot; don’t you see?”

Daniel took a step toward me. I jolted. He had been so silent, I’d forgotten he was here.

“How,” he said in a rough voice, “can Joseph be expected to teach you? You lied to him—to me.”

His eyes ran desperately over my face. “What . . . what are you?”

A fresh wave of fury crashed into me. I scoffed. “That is a stupid question coming from you since, pray tell, what are you, Daniel? You prance around the city pretending to be a gentleman in your fancy suits and with your fancy manners. Well, you are not a gentleman. You’re a criminal, remember?” I rounded on Joseph. “And you—you have the same magic in you. It must be so wonderful simply to fight the corruption. But how, Joseph? How do you do it? I can’t solve this on my own!”

Joseph’s mouth opened, but I surged on before he could fling out any more unwarranted accusations. “Both of you are running around chasing your tails and attending parties and salons while les Morts run free. While an amulet with seventy-three compulsion spells hides somewhere, waiting to be detonated. While Jie is missing! And while Marcus could be here any blasted moment. The Spirit-

Hunters are an ineffective joke.” I pounded my chest. “But I have power, and I intend to use it.”

Before Joseph or Daniel could answer, I spun around and knelt beside the still-unconscious Laure.

“Ollie, can you lift her? She’s small.”

“I can manage,” he answered, crouching beside me. Together we hefted the woman into his arms.

“We will take her to the lobby and call for a doctor,” I said as we trudged past the Spirit-Hunters toward the stairs. But I barely made it two steps before Joseph’s voice rang out.

“Stop. I cannot let you go free.”

Oliver and I paused, but I nudged the demon to keep going. Then I pivoted around and advanced on

Joseph. “And what will you do to me? Blast me to pieces like one of the Dead?” I spun to Daniel.

“Shoot me?”

“If we have to,” Joseph answered quietly, “then yes.”

“Well, you do not have to because I am not your threat. You know me, Joseph. Daniel.” My gaze darted between them. “All I want to do is search for Jie, and after I find her I will leave Paris— leave you—for good.” I pushed out my chest, pumping all the assertion and command I could muster into my words. “I am not a threat to you—not unless you try to stop me. If you get in my way, then this”—

I motioned to the corpses—“will seem like child’s play.”

Without waiting for a reply, I marched after Oliver, and together we descended.

It was a bluff. I couldn’t fight Joseph. Oliver and I could barely carry Laure down the stairs, much less use any more magic. But it didn’t mean I wouldn’t fight Joseph if he got in my way.

The truth was, despite my exhaustion, I felt ablaze with potential. I would finally do something. I would find Jie and stop Marcus.

“Are you . . . all right?” Oliver asked between gasps for air, his cheeks bright pink.

We were passing my floor. Tufts of putrid fur and feathers littered the carpet, only broken up by brown bloodstains or by mounds of rotting corpses. And every so often, a dazed hotel guest gawping at the disaster. It was a replica of the top floor—as was every floor in the hotel.

“I am . . . fine,” I answered, panting. Laure was a small woman, but Oliver and I had no energy left. We