Chapter 29
Favoring his wounded side, Dupont eased himself further into our sanctuary, finally leaning his good shoulder against an ancient stone coffin.
In the dim light filtering through cracks in the ancient masonry, his eyes reflected with that same amber glow I’d seen in the wolf’s gaze.
The confirmation of what he was—a creature I was meant to fear as much as humans feared me—should have filled me with dread.
Instead, I felt only the hollow emptiness that had consumed me since watching my flock die in flames.
One more impossible truth in a world that had rarely made sense.
“I must tell you what I know,” Dupont said. “It is not good news, but certainty is preferable to false hope.”
I braced myself, though I knew what he would say. “My flock?”
“All confirmed dead,” he confirmed, his expression grave. “The ammunition depot explosion was more catastrophic than even the Germans anticipated. There were no survivors from either side at the site.”
Though I had witnessed their destruction myself, the final confirmation landed like a physical blow.
Ruth. Rebecca. Thomas. James. All of them gone, beyond any hope of return.
Creatures like us could survive dismemberment, decapitation, even extensive damage—but not complete destruction.
Not being reduced to ash and scattered bone.
“And Mercer?” Catherine asked. “You killed him, right?.
Dupont nodded. “I consumed his heart. What remains of the body will burn to ash under the sun. By nightfall, nothing will remain.”
Desiderius remained rigid with suspicion. “And what of Dr. Gallow? We still have to deal with him.”
“Which is why it was so important I speak to you.” Dupont’s expression hardened. “He is likely gathering intelligence concerning the night’s events. He will soon make his report to General Gantry.”
“No one is left.” I huffed bitterly. “There’s not much information for him to piece together.”
Dupont’s lips curved into an unexpected smile. “I’m still here. Before I left, I told Gallow I was leading an elite support team to assist with the mission. He believes my assignment aligns with his—and the Order’s—agenda.”
“Your assignment.” Desiderius spat. “You were watching us all along.”
“Observing,” Dupont corrected. “Assessing. Determining whether you were worth the risk of exposing myself.” He shifted, wincing again as his movement disturbed his wound.
“Which brings me to our present situation. Gallow does not suspect my true nature, nor my true allegiance. I can report you all as casualties—give you a chance to escape this war, to rebuild your lives elsewhere.”
I stared at him, processing his offer. Freedom. The chance to disappear, to start again, to gather what remained of my shattered existence and find some new purpose. Another convent, perhaps. There was a certain appeal to the idea.
My fingers found the silver locket at my throat—the one Bishop Harkins had given me before this mission began. The Bishop’s mandate echoed in my memory: infiltrate the Order, learn their true intentions, protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.
“No,” I said, the word crystallizing my resolve. “We won’t run.”
Catherine looked at me with bewilderment. “Why in the world not?”
I straightened, finding strength in purpose that grief had nearly extinguished.
“What if you revise the report, Lieutenant? What if you tell Gallow that we fought to defend the Order’s operatives?
That all three of us did. That we were not the threat they’d imagined we were from the start, but allies? ”
“You want to present yourselves as sympathetic to the Order?” Dupont’s eyebrows rose. “The very organization that orchestrated the destruction of your flock?”
“I don’t understand,” Catherine whispered, shrinking back against the wall. “Why would we align ourselves with those who tried to kill us?”
Desiderius watched me with careful consideration. “It may give us an opportunity,” he said slowly. “To earn their trust. To infiltrate their ranks.”
“Precisely,” I confirmed. “The Bishop sent me on a mission before all this began. To learn the Order’s true intentions, their methods, their weaknesses. That mission hasn’t changed—only its context, and its difficulty. If anything, the losses we suffered only hardens my resolve to see it through.”
Dupont shook his head, clearly troubled by my proposal. “You’re passing up a chance at freedom, at safety. The Order’s reach is vast, their methods are ruthless. They’ve spent centuries perfecting the art of destroying our kinds.”
“All the more reason to understand them from within,” I insisted. “How many more lives will they destroy? How many others will they manipulate as they did Mercer? As they did us?”
“Revenge, then?” Dupont asked quietly.
“Justice,” I corrected. “For Ruth. For Rebecca. For Thomas and all the others who died believing they served a higher purpose, not realizing they were merely sacrificial pigs on the Order’s bloody altar.”
Catherine moved closer to me, her confusion giving way to tentative understanding. “You want to destroy them from within? Like... like spies?”
“I want to expose them,” I clarified. “To understand how deep their influence runs, how they’ve maintained their power despite the changing world around them.
” I turned to Dupont. “You said the Order deliberately cultivated hatred between vampires and werewolves. What else have they manipulated? What other lies have they spread?”
Desiderius nodded slowly, his initial hesitation resolving into grim determination. “The Order has operated in shadows for centuries. Perhaps it’s time they faced the light.”
Dupont studied me. “This is a dangerous game you propose, Mademoiselle Bladewell. The Order will be suspicious—particularly Gallow. He’s seen your resistance to his methods, your dedication to your spiritual path.”
“Then we’ll give him what he expects,” I replied. “A vampire shaken by loss, questioning her former convictions. Seeking a new purpose after watching her flock die despite her prayers and faith.”
“And you think he’ll believe such a convenient conversion?” Dupont challenged.
“Men like Gallow see what they expect to see,” I said. “He expects me to be broken by this loss. He won’t question if that brokenness leads me toward his cause rather than away from it.”
Dupont ran a hand through his disheveled hair, considering my words. “And if he doesn’t believe you? If this ruse fails?”
“Then we’ll be no worse off than we are now,” I answered. “Hunted, endangered, with few allies and fewer options.”
Catherine trembled beside me, her newly turned nature making her more vulnerable to fear and uncertainty. “I don’t know if I can do this. Pretend to support those who killed our family.”
I placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend to support them. Only to follow my lead.”
“Why can’t I just go back to the convent in New York?”
“Compromised.” Desiderius shook his head.
“Those of our kind who remain there will be targeted soon, if they haven’t been already.
I suspect luring us to the war was a part of a double-plan, one to sacrifice us for another cause, another to leave those in the convent and monastery without our protection. ”
I clenched my fists. I hadn’t thought of that. I now felt two needs warring within me. Infiltrate the Order, or hurry back to protect what might remain of those we’d left behind.
“I have not heard from my connections inside the Order that any plans have yet to be carried out against your mission in New York. I will continue to monitor the situation on your behalf.”
His words only slightly lifted my concern. Still, it was something. If they weren’t in immediate danger, perhaps I’d have an opportunity to both infiltrate the Order and warn them, somehow, that they might relocate.
Dupont pressed his bandage against his rapidly-healing wound. “You understand what you’re proposing? Once you position yourself as sympathetic to the Order, there’s no easy retreat. You’ll be expected to prove your loyalty—perhaps in ways that challenge whatever remains of your humanity.”
I met his gaze with the cold determination that loss had crystallized within me.
My posture straightened, shoulders squared against the weight of grief and responsibility.
In that moment, I felt the change that had begun the night before complete itself—the preacher’s daughter who had clung to redemption through prayer and restraint giving way to something harder, something capable of justice rather than mere survival.
“They took everything from me,” I said, each word precise and measured. “My flock. My mission. The souls I swore to guide toward salvation. Now I will take everything from them.”
Several seconds of silence passed as Dupont considered my proposal. Dust motes danced in the thin beam of sunlight that still shot through the hold Desiderius had made in the wall.
“Very well,” Dupont finally said. “But I do not think your proposal of a sudden change of heart is sufficient.”
“What do you suggest?” Desiderius asked.
Dupont sighed. “I will report that you three led a heroic but doomed mission that successfully destroyed the German ammunition depot. I’ll explain that you fought alongside Order operatives rather than against them, demonstrating unexpected loyalty to the cause.”
“Gallow will question it,” Desiderius observed. “He’s seen our resistance to his methods.”
“Which is why I’ll emphasize your tactical effectiveness,” Dupont countered. “Results speak louder than ideology to men like Gallow and Gantry. They care less about your motivations than your utility.”
I shook my head. “They saw us as weapons from the beginning. Nothing more.”