Chapter 29 #2
Dupont shifted his position, wincing as his wounded shoulder pressed against the stone wall.
“Before we proceed further, there’s something you should understand about my position in all this.
” He drew a deep breath, his amber eyes meeting mine with unexpected intensity.
“I do not work only for the French military, Mademoiselle Bladewell. My true allegiance lies with Bishop Harkins and a faction within the Church that few know exists.”
I tilted my head. “The bishop? You work for Bishop Harkins?”
“I serve at his direction,” Dupont confirmed. “As do others like me—those who understand that not all supernatural beings are damned by their nature. The bishop leads a small but determined resistance against the Order’s influence within the Church.”
Catherine glanced between us, confused. “The bishop knows about werewolves too?”
“The bishop knows far more than even I can say,” Dupont replied with a thin smile. “His position has given him access to the Vatican archives that contain truths many have spent centuries suppressing.”
“Are they all werewolves like you?” I asked, struggling to process this revelation. “The bishop’s agents?”
Dupont laughed, a surprisingly warm sound in our cold sanctuary.
“Only the best of us, mademoiselle. Our kind has certain advantages for covert work—we walk in daylight without suspicion, yet possess strength beyond human limits when needed. But the bishop’s alliance includes others.
Humans with particular gifts. Even a few of your kind who have maintained their humanity despite their condition. ”
My mind reeled with implications. An underground network of supernatural beings and their human allies, operating in opposition to the Order, guided by a Catholic bishop I had believed was nearly alone in his acceptance of our kind.
“Why didn’t you reveal yourself sooner?” I demanded. “You could have saved them—Ruth, Rebecca, all of them. You could have warned us about the Order’s true intentions before it was too late.”
Pain flickered across Dupont’s face—not physical discomfort from his wound, but something deeper.
“My position as an infiltrator was too valuable to risk until absolutely necessary. I’ve spent years cultivating my cover within military intelligence, gaining the trust of men like Gantry and Gallow, pretending I was loyal to the Order. ”
“And that was worth more than their lives?” I wanted to scream, but I maintained my composure.
“In this shadow war, we must sometimes make impossible choices,” Dupont answered quietly. “Had I revealed myself earlier, I might have saved your immediate flock but sacrificed dozens of others who depend on the intelligence I gather. The bishop himself could have been exposed.”
“The full moon provided both opportunity and necessity to act,” Desiderius recognized.
Dupont nodded. “My transformation follows the lunar cycle. I can sometimes force a partial change through sheer will, but full transformation comes only with the full moon.” He gestured to his wounded shoulder.
“Which is why your attack wounded me so effectively. If it had happened earlier in the night, it wouldn’t have been much of a bother.
But this affliction came too close to sunrise.
In my wolf form, I heal rapidly. In human form, I still heal faster than most, but it will still take a day or two. ”
I absorbed this explanation, my anger gradually giving way to grudging understanding.
Tactical decisions in war always carried costs.
I had made my own when I agreed to join this mission to protect the Bishop—a choice that had ultimately led to my flock’s destruction.
Could I truly condemn Dupont for making similar calculations?
“The stage is set, Alice,” Dupont continued. “I’ll take care of everything. So far as the Order is concerned—and the U.S. Government—you will be the heroes of Ypres.”
“Heroes.” I tasted the word, finding it bitter as a dead man’s blood. “Was it worth the cost?” I gestured toward Catherine, who hunched miserably against the wall, her trembling increasing as hunger and grief competed for dominance in her body.
Dupont’s jaw tightened as he followed my gaze, the corners of his mouth pulling downward, a muscle in his cheek twitching once before he swallowed hard.
“In our shadow war, there are no clean victories—only survival and the hope of eventual justice. The Order has existed for centuries, its influence reaching into governments, churches, even secret societies that fancy themselves illuminated. They cannot be defeated in a single battle or a single night.”
Catherine slid down the wall until she sat curled upon the stone floor, her arms wrapped around her knees. “I just want this to be over,” she whispered. “I never wanted to be part of a war.”
I moved to her side, placing a protective hand on her shoulder. “None of us chose this war. But it found us.”
“The question now is not whether you will fight, but how.” Dupont pinched his chin. “And whether you will do so alone or with allies who understand what you truly face.”
I drew myself up to my full height, my spine rigid despite the hollow ache beneath my ribs. Each breath still carried the sharp edge of mourning, yet I felt something crystallizing within me—a cold, clear resolve born from their sacrifice. Their deaths would not be in vain.