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

“You didn’t hurt me.” Her eyes—wide, panicked—dropped to my shirt. Belatedly, I noticed the dark liquid there. Metallic. Viscous. The fabric beneath clung to my skin. I frowned. “It’s just that you—well, you’re covered in blood.”

Bewildered, I half turned, lifting my shirt to examine my ribs. The dull ache in my side felt more like a bruise than a wound.

“Reid,” Beau said sharply.

Something in his voice halted my movements. Slowly, I followed his finger to where Saint Magdaleine lay in the snow.

To where tears of blood dripped down her cheeks.





La Petite Larme


Reid

After a moment of harried, whispered conversation—as if the statue could hear us—we retreated to the safety of the sanctuary. “It was that wretched dog,” Beau said, throwing himself into the pew beside Coco. Near the pulpit, Lou rose. Candlelight illuminated half of her face, bathing the rest in shadow. A chill swept down my spine at the chthonic image, as if she were cut in two. Part Lou and part . . . something else. Something dark.

She frowned, eyes flicking between Célie and me. “What is this?”

“This,” I said, rougher than intended, turning to scowl at Célie, “is nothing. She’s going home in the morning.”

Célie lifted her chin. Tightened her hands on the strap of her leather bag. They trembled slightly. “I am not.”

“Célie.” Exasperated, I led her to the pew beside Lou, who made no move to greet her. Odd. I’d thought the two had formed a tentative bond after what they’d endured in La Mascarade des Crânes. “You just saw how dangerous it is here. Everyone in the kingdom wants us dead.”

“I don’t want us dead.” Beau crossed his ankles on the pew in front of him, slinging an arm over Coco’s shoulders. When his gaze flicked to Célie, she flushed crimson. “Thank you for the warning, by the way, Mademoiselle Tremblay. It seems everyone else has forgotten their manners. Appalling, really. That statue would have crushed us if not for you.”

“Statue?” Lou asked.

“The statue in the cemetery . . . fell,” I murmured. I didn’t mention the tears.

Ignoring both of us, cheeks still pink under Beau’s perusal, Célie sank into a deep curtsy. “Y-Your Highness. They alone have not forgotten their manners. Please forgive me.”

He arched a brow, smirking at me over her bowed head. “I like her.”

Coco lifted her hood to hide her face. Though she didn’t settle into Beau’s arm, she didn’t lean away, either. “She shouldn’t be here.”

“It’s that dog,” Beau repeated emphatically. “Wherever he goes, catastrophe follows. He was there when the fisherman tried to drown us too.”

Célie frowned. “But the fisherman didn’t—” At our stares, she stopped abruptly, blush deepening. She lifted a delicate shoulder. “The boat capsized on a swell. Do you not remember?”

“Have you been following us?” Lou asked.

Célie refused to look at anyone.

I sat heavily, resting my forearms on my knees. “What are you doing here, Célie?”

“I—” Her expression open, painfully vulnerable, she glanced between Lou, Beau, and Coco before settling on me. “I would like to help.”

“Help,” Lou echoed. Mocking.

Célie’s brows furrowed at her tone. “I believe I—I believe I have resources that could benefit the group in its pursuit of M-M—” She broke off again, hoisting her leather bag higher and squaring her shoulders. “In its pursuit of La Dame des Sorcières.”

“You can’t even say her name,” I muttered, rubbing my temples.

“I do not need to say her name to kill her.”

Kill her.

Good Lord.

An unexpected cackle sounded from Lou, who grinned wide and lifted her hands to clap once. Twice. Three times. The odd glint had returned to her eyes. “Well, well, it seems the kitten has finally found her claws. I’m impressed.” Her laughter burrowed under my skin, clawed at my stomach. “But my mother is not a mouse. How do you plan to kill her? Will you curtsy? Invite her to tea?”

Yes, I’d clearly misinterpreted their relationship.

By the flex of Beau’s jaw, he’d done the same. “Leave her alone, Lou.”

Célie flashed him an appreciative look. Bolstered, she continued in a stronger voice, “I don’t know how to kill her—not precisely, not yet—but I do have information in my possession. You were correct before, Your Highness.” From her leather bag, she withdrew a crisp linen envelope. I recognized Jean Luc’s handwriting on the front. “King Auguste has postponed your mother’s execution indefinitely. He plans to utilize her magic to eradicate the fire.”

Beau nodded to me. “I told you so.”

When she extended the envelope, I skimmed its contents before handing it back. “Thank you for this, Célie. Truly. But I can’t let you stay. What if something happened to you? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” I paused, frowning anew. Come to think of it— “What did your parents say about this?”

She sniffed reprovingly. “Nothing at all.”