‘Parbleu, the bullet is still inside you,’ Melusine guessed, remembering how the Mother Abbess had diagnosed Leonardo’s suffering when he had first come to the convent. The chance it is the same for both. They stood for a moment in the passage and listened. Several men and women were piled there like wood, dead, horribly gored. She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch. Lucy howled as tooth met bone, her arm clamped in the trap of Rhea’s huge canines. “Of course it is, Anna. “I am going,” she said grimly, with three hairpins in her mouth. A sense of impending disaster was upon him. “Lucy, are you feeling all right?” He asked concernedly.
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