Gods & Monsters (Serpent & Dove #3) by Shelby Mahurin

Beau’s brows dipped. “How do you know that?”

“How do you not?” Lou countered.

“We should rest.” I wrapped an arm around Lou’s shoulders, leading her to a nearby pew. She looked paler than usual with dark shadows beneath her eyes, her hair wild and windswept from days of hard travel. More than once—when she didn’t think I was looking—I’d seen her entire body convulse as if fighting sickness. It wouldn’t surprise me. She’d been through a lot. We all had. “The villagers will wake soon. They’ll investigate any noise.”

Coco settled on a pew, closed her eyes, and pulled up the hood of her cloak. Shielding herself from us. “Someone should keep watch.”

Though I opened my mouth to volunteer, Lou interrupted. “I’ll do it.”

“No.” I shook my head, unable to recall the last time Lou had slept. Her skin felt cold, clammy, against mine. If she was fighting sickness, she needed the rest. “You sleep. I’ll watch.”

A sound reverberated from deep in her throat as she placed a hand on my cheek. Her thumb brushed my lips, lingering there. As did her eyes. “I’d much prefer to watch you. What will I see in your dreams, Chass? What will I hear in your—”

“I’ll check the scullery for food,” Beau muttered, shoving past us. He cast Lou a disgusted glance over his shoulder. My stomach rumbled as I watched him go. Swallowing hard, I ignored the ache of hunger. The sudden, unwelcome pressure in my chest. Gently, I removed her hand from my cheek and shrugged out of my coat. I handed it to her.

“Go to sleep, Lou. I’ll wake you at sunset, and we can”—the words burned up my throat—“we can continue.”

To the Chateau.

To Morgane.

To certain death.

I didn’t voice my concerns again.

Lou had made it clear she’d journey to Chateau le Blanc whether or not we joined her. Despite my protests—despite reminding her why we’d sought allies in the first place, why we needed them—Lou maintained she could handle Morgane alone. You heard Claud. Maintained she wouldn’t hesitate this time. She can no longer touch me. Maintained she would burn her ancestral home to the ground, along with all of her kin. We’ll build new.

New what? I’d asked warily.

New everything.

I’d never seen her act with such single-minded intensity. No. Obsession. Most days, a ferocious glint lit her eyes—a feral sort of hunger—and others, no light touched them at all. Those days were infinitely worse. She’d watch the world with a deadened expression, refusing to acknowledge me or my weak attempts to comfort her.

Only one person could do that.

And he was gone.

She pulled me down beside her now, stroking my throat almost absently. At her cold touch, a shiver skittered down my spine, and a sudden desire to shift away seized me. I ignored it. Silence blanketed the room, thick and heavy, except for the growls of my stomach. Hunger was a constant companion now. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten my fill. With Troupe de Fortune? In the Hollow? The Tower? Across the aisle, Coco’s breathing gradually evened. I focused on the sound, on the beams of the ceiling, rather than Lou’s frigid skin or the ache in my chest.

A moment later, however, shouts exploded from the scullery, and the sanctuary door burst open. Beau shot forward, hotfooting it past the pulpit. “Bumfuzzle!” He gestured wildly toward the exit as I vaulted to my feet. “Time to go! Right now, right now, let’s go—”

“Stop!” A gnarled man in the vestments of a priest charged into the sanctuary, wielding a wooden spoon. Yellowish stew dripped from it. As if Beau had interrupted his morning meal. The flecks of vegetable in his beard—grizzled, unkempt, concealing most of his face—confirmed my suspicions. “I said get back here—”

He stopped abruptly, skidding to a halt when he saw the rest of us. Instinctively, I turned to hide my face in the shadows. Lou flung her hood over her white hair, and Coco stood, tensing to run. But it was too late. Recognition sparked in his dark eyes.

“Reid Diggory.” His dark gaze swept from my head to my toes before shifting behind me. “Louise le Blanc.” Unable to help himself, Beau cleared his throat from the foyer, and the priest considered him briefly before scoffing and shaking his head. “Yes, I know who you are too, boy. And you,” he added to Coco, whose hood still cloaked her face in darkness. True to his word, Jean Luc had added her wanted poster beside ours. The priest’s eyes narrowed on the blade she’d drawn. “Put that away before you hurt yourself.”

“We’re sorry for trespassing.” I lifted my hands in supplication, glaring at Coco in warning. Slowly, I slid into the aisle, inched toward the exit. At my back, Lou matched my steps. “We didn’t mean any harm.”

The priest snorted but lowered his spoon. “You broke into my home.”

“It’s a church.” Apathy dulled Coco’s voice, and her hand dropped as if it suddenly couldn’t bear the dagger’s weight. “Not a private residence. And the door was unlocked.”

“Perhaps to lure us in,” Lou suggested with unexpected relish. Head tilted, she stared at the priest in fascination. “Like a spider to its web.”

The priest’s brows dipped at the abrupt shift in conversation, as did mine. Beau’s voice reflected our confusion. “What?”