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“It is not safe here for Eva’s daughter. You must go. I will help them.”

“I can help them—I can take them somewhere safe. But I need someone to help me. Tell me who is doing this, who is behind all this. I’ve found where Djhan and Manon are hiding. I know where they are … please … let me help you.”

His eyes widened and he shook his head. “You must not say such things. You must not look for them. They do not belong here.”

I sank down on the bench beside him. The cold radiating from his body. I quickly shucked out of my coat and wrapped it around his shoulders. “I know someone is hurting you. Someone at the hospital…”

“None of you are safe here.” He pressed his forehead hard against mine as the words came on a whisper. The February wind moaned through the loggia, resonating with his voice. A trick of the wind, that’s all it was—and yet I pulled away all the same.

Before I could say another word, Dr. von Keller appeared in a flurry of motion. He fussed at Félix, fussed over Félix. His hands flying to the poor man’s face and body, to make sure he wasn’t feverish and his pulse was steady. With an irritated snarl, he ripped my coat from Félix’s shoulders and threw it at me before leading Félix away. I stared after the two of them, running my hands over my coat absently, smoothing it in my lap, trying to make sense of what had just happened. I didn’t even pause to think the fabric was cold to the touch.

CHAPTER THIRTYReflections. Refractions.

AFTER a bit of argument, I convinced Ruan to return to the boardinghouse ahead of me. I needed to clear my head and make sense of what I’d seen. What I’d felt in that cave. The sudden death of Cecil Peterson. The constant warnings for me to leave. With Dr. Peterson gone, it looked even more likely von Keller was the villain, and yet no matter how obvious it appeared—the pieces did not quite fit. He cared too much for Félix and his patients to be a killer. He was protecting them.

The moon was high in the sky by the time I returned to the boardinghouse. It had grown quite late and I was no closer to the killer than when I started. I pushed the door open half expecting to find Ruan waiting on me—but he wasn’t there. Nor was Mrs. Wauters. Our landlady had been scarce the last several days. Disappearing at odd hours and then reappearing as if she’d been here the whole time. I ran up the steps to the empty attic room. From the window, I caught a glimpse of his shadow. Ruan sat alongside the chicken coop with his back against the building. I darted down the stairs and out across the lawn to join him.

Ruan was cradling a piece of fluff in his hands. Then it moved. Strike that. Not fluff. Ruan was holding the most pitiful, woebegone chick I’d ever seen in my life. Balding in spots where its feathers had been unceremoniously plucked out, its skin red and raw from abuse. I leaned down looking at the creature, impossibly small in his large hands.

Ruan stroked its head with his forefinger, evidently hearing my unspoken question. “Mrs. Wauters told me yesterday morning that this one had been bullied by the others. No matter how she tried to separate them—” He touched its beak and it let out a cheery little peep. “And this one, keeps going right back for more. Reminds me of you.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Charming.”

He frowned, that familiar divot back between his brows. “She said she was going to let nature take care of things. Either this little one would figure it out, or…”

Or she’d let the other chicks kill it. What a dreadful thing for a person to do. Surely, there was another solution that didn’t involve such a violent end for the little thing. But I supposed the woman was at the end of her rope. Surviving on only what she could make from a boardinghouse. I frowned, glancing at the chick. “Are you giving it advice?”

He let out a low chuckle and shook his head. “No. I don’t know what else to do. It’s cruel to show it kindness. But I couldn’t bear to hear it fighting for its life after what we saw today.” He looked up at me, and the little chick cheeped again in response. Clearly it was smitten by my pellar. It and anyone else who spent five seconds with the great brute of a man. It clearly had excellent taste in witches.

He stood slowly, placing the little chick on his shoulder before gesturing for me to join him in the house. “What did you make of what Félix said back at the priory?”

I looked dubiously at the chick, who was nestling herself into Ruan’s woolen jumper. “None of it makes sense.”

Ruan nodded, motioning again for me to follow. “Come. Let’s have some tea and we can sort it all out.”

The two—well … three—of us left the yard and went up to the attic room. Ruan closed the door behind us and sat the chick down on the floor to explore.

I eyed it uncertainly. “If it soils itself, you’re cleaning up after it.”

Ruan laughed beneath his breath. “I’ll take my chances on her. Now tell me what it is you learned this morning while I was in Walcourt.”

I let out a breathy laugh. A great deal had happened, and I’d been remiss not to tell him at once—but I’d been so distracted by the tale he told me of the girl in his dreams that I could not bear to add to his worries. I flopped upon the bed and began to regale him with what I’d learned from Sister Agathe and what I’d found in the caves. “I still don’t understand how the child plays into things. Von Keller behaves as if he’s trying to protect the patients. But it’s clear Djhan and my mother were trying to hide the girl.”

“Do you think von Keller knows about the child?”

I nodded as the edges of a theory began to coalesce in my mind. The girl. It came back to her. Every single time. My words came out slowly. Softly. “He spoke of her when we met in his office, but he failed to mention her mother was the first to die. That’s an important detail. It changes everything.”

Ruan wet his lips. “And a suspicious omission.”

It was. Terribly so. I drew in an unsteady breath as I stared at the little chick cheerfully pecking at an apple slice Ruan had cut for the creature. It was a darling little thing. All soft and fluffy, at least where it wasn’t bald from being abused by the other young poultry. My stomach knotted at the thought Mrs. Wauters would allow it to die. It was nature—yes. What harm was there in coddling the poor thing until it was old enough to fend for itself? The woman had been so helpful to us, and yet the two sides of her did not make sense. Then a second thought struck me. What if our killer wasn’t at the priory at all?

“Narcisse and Alfred are dead…” I murmured.

Ruan furrowed his brow nodding. “And…?”

“There is only one person on this list who has given us information about the priory who isn’t dead.”

The chick hopped about, pecking at her reflection in my silver flask. The one I’d carelessly left on the floor alongside my valise. My heart thundered in my chest. I’d filled my flask with the brandy Mrs. Wauters had given me. I’d drank it down right before entering the café mere moments before I met Alfred. Violet Devereaux had taken the bottle shortly afterward. I’d not had a chance to drink any more to test the theory.