Haidée awoke, groaning. She tried to move, but she could only turn her head. Her cheek touched a smooth wooden surface. She opened her eyes and saw a fireplace at the end of the room. The hearth was lit. On top of the mantle was a half-burned candle and a tinderbox. A bit beyond that was an open window. She recognized the place—the attic laboratory that she had accidentally stumbled upon several days ago. Her eyes soon came to rest on herself. Or at least what she could see of herself. Her arm was spread outward. Her entire body was lying on a table. She tried to move again and discovered that her wrist was immobilized by black markings on her skin.
“Ah, Mademoiselle, I see that you are awake.”
She cringed at the voice, even though she hated herself for it. There were footsteps and then her captor was looking down at her with gleaming eyes, his white hair glinting in the light like an obscene halo. Her throat worked. She tried a sneer. He didn’t dignify a title. “Let me go, DeLorme.”
The priest made a disapproving sound at the back of his throat. “So discourteous! Well, I suppose I would have to expect such a thing from an actress. But I’m afraid I can’t let you go, Mademoiselle. You see, I’ve discovered that you’re an essential part of my plan.”
She felt her blood pounding in her ears. “What sort of plan?”
“Do you think I would be so foolish as to tell you what my plans are for you?” he said in an admonishing tone. He stepped away from her and she could hear the rustle of papers and the scratch of a pen.
She did not think that he was writing letters to his parishioners.
Haidée desperately tried to think of a way to keep the conversation going and of a way to get herself out of the mess. “Actually,” she began, “You should tell me what your plans are. I’m curious. And it’s not like I’m going to escape any time soon. You already have me where you want me.”
“That’s true.” His voice sounded like it came from the other side of the room. The pen scratched on paper for a few more moments before it stopped. More footsteps, but this time, it approached on her other side. She turned her head and saw the priest crouching besides the wood and glass contraption that she had noticed on her first foray into the attic laboratory. DeLorme unstoppered the water clock and the water began dripping.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He turned his head slightly to look at her. “I’m starting the count down,” he replied. “It’s nearly midnight.”
“What happens at midnight?”
“My, you have so many questions.” The priest straightened up and grasped the edge of the table. He leaned down to look at her wrist and she fought a horrified shiver as he smiled. “Don’t you agree my handiwork was quite clever?”
“Well, you caught me, didn’t you?”
His smile widened and his teeth flashed. “I did, didn’t I? Well, I suppose there wouldn’t be much harm in telling you what I have in store for you since you’re not going away any time soon. And I don’t think anyone will be looking for you at the moment. And even if they are, they aren’t coming here.”
“Why not here?”
“I’m sure you’ve realized that this used to be Nicholas Bisset’s laboratory. When I dispatched of him, I decided to use this place as my own workroom. He wasn’t using it anymore, was he?”
“What do you do here?”
“I planned, my dear Mademoiselle. And soon, with your help, all my plans will come to fruition tonight.”
“I’m not going to help you.”
“Who said that you were going to help willingly?” He stepped away from the table and crossed his arms. “I’m sure you know what will happen at midnight. I will put you on your back and cut away at your coat. My pen will be ready.”
“Why do you want to leech me of my powers?” she said bluntly. “Why did you kill the other astronomers? Are you looking for eternal life? Eternal youth?”
He laughed. “I’m not looking for power for myself. Do I look so selfish to you? No, this is for the greater good.”
“The greater good?”
“Of course, in your position, you cannot see it, but on my desk is the heart of Louis the Seventeenth. To beat again, it requires a great amount of energy. Once it is infused with enough power, I will put it into a body—perhaps into one of the young boys in the village. And the royal line will live again.”
“You’re mad,” she whispered. “What does the dead Dauphin have anything to do with this? I heard that some physician named Pelletan took the heart and preserved it. You couldn’t possibly make a dead organ live again. It’s against nature.”
DeLorme’s amusement chilled her. “Do you believe all the rumors you hear, Mademoiselle? Certainly, Philippe-Jean Pelletan took the boy king’s heart. One of his students took it and brought it here to me. I’m going to make the monarchy live again. That’s how it should be.”
“But why?”
“When the monarchy comes into power again, the church in France will get back up on its legs.” His lips curled in derision. “The Revolution convinced the people to forget about God. When I was a boy, this place, that you called an observatory, had been a monastery, a true sanctuary for those who revered Him. Then the rabble had to tear down the throne because the masses thought that they were better fit to govern the country. They evicted the monks and turned this place into a godless research institute!”
“But I thought the monks had abandoned this place and that the church willingly turned it over to the state…”
DeLorme slammed a fist onto the table. The jolt made her gasp. “Enough,” he spat out. “I have no need to talk to a dead woman. I have things to prepare. In half an hour, you will feel the sting of my pen.”