Page 105 of Fire to the Stars
“What changed?”
“The full moon,” he says, and my heart beats faster. “Once it came out, he looked at it, then just…turned.”
“And flew away?”
“Dropped his clothes and everything.”
Just like dragons on Ignition Day.
I don’t know how I didn’t consider it before. The War-Torn Gods have always been two sides of the same coin. When the full moon ends, the Ignition begins. Why wouldn’t their magic mirror each other in this way too? The owl symbolism wasright therein the constellation.
But is Noctu’s magic aperfectmirror? That man appeared sickly. And if the owl form lasts until daybreak, Marshal Bard’s brigade should’ve found naked and confused vagabonds in Jardincourt National Park, not cultists in full uniform. I don’t see how they could’ve tried to assassinate me without some kind of control over their flight path.
“Was the shift voluntary?” I ask.
“Good question. We couldn’t tell.”
“I bet they stash supplies in preparation for reverting to human form. Did you find any stockpiles?”
“You’re one step ahead of me.” He grins. “Abby used huntinghounds to track the scent on the prisoner’s clothing. They led us to a few well-camouflaged stashes in the forest. They really know how to hide, Abel. They must’ve been at this for a while.”
“Atwhat, though? Bringing forth the feathered apocalypse?” I make a helpless gesture. “Noctu chose to give them an animal form that makes no sense for his agenda. Compared to the damage that dragons do, Noctu’s magic should beapocalyptic.”
Like his meteorite strikes. So why turn murderous humans into harmless owls?
“And then there’s the mystery of eau de vie and what it means to them,” I continue, thinking aloud, but ultimately shake my head. “Lyle, why did Marshal Payen want us to come here? Does she see something that I don’t?”
He works his jaw, then finally comes out with it.
“Abby suspects a dragon can track the cultists.”
It is a miracle that I remain standing. Truly a miracle, because the madness of that theory fills my blood with fury.That’swhat the Gendarmerie need me to help with? They want me to spend the last of Claire’s lifetime ontheirinvestigation?
“I’m leaving,” I choke out.
“Stop!”
Lyle grabs my arm. I try to yank it away, but pain buckles my shoulder. He releases me as quickly as he stopped me. “Sorry.”
“I would have done anything to save your mother, but she’s gone now.” My fists shake. “Give me agoodreason to sacrifice Claire’s last wishes just to help the Gendarmerie close a case.”
“Look at this map of Florent,” he says, unfurling one from the protective tube. Haphazard hand-drawn lines cut through the harsh topography of the Northern Alps. “These lines mark the paths the prisoner took each time we released him. This circle”—he taps a high mountain pass—“is where we believe he was headed.”
Under the mountain pass Lyle circled, he scrawled the wordsEau de vie is located somewhere in here.But the pass lacks fine detail, as if even the cartographer didn’t dare traverse it.
“So what?” I reply.
“Remember your journal,” he says. “Micah showed fixation on the owl constellation.”
Shame strikes my chest like a barb. “You read my research. When?”
“While you were in the hospital. Claire showed it to me when I discovered her secret. And it’s a good thing she did.” He takes a breath. “Ever since then, I’ve kept asking myself why your journal was so important to them. They didn’t know what you’d discovered. Even if they had, your findings seemed minor and inconsequential. What did it matter if a dragon could maintain form past Ignition Day? There was no cure. But when the cultist turned into an owl, I realized: What if it wasn’t about Diu’s magic? What if Noctu’s constellation was the key? So I scoured my memory for mentions of it in your entries—and you did, several times. Especially the day before Micah died.”
“June twenty-ninth,” I say distantly. “I wrote that the owl constellation held what remained of his attention span…”
“—which, as you well know,points north.”
I shut my mouth but take the map. He stays silent with raised eyebrows, as if encouraging me to think.
