59. Out Of A Dream.

At first, Ava couldn’t hear anything but a distant ringing sound. Presently she realized that some woman nearby was screaming, and it wasn’t her attacker. It was her. 

As soon as that shocked thought crossed her mind the screaming stopped. She felt herself trembling as she looked around for her assailant, the sociopath Lisette. But she was gone. 

Soon the ringing sound faded and Ava's hearing returned--and with a swell of joy she recognized Abe’s voice.

“Give it to me!” came his gruff yell. Through a pale white light, Ava could see that he had his arms wrapped firmly around a woman, who struggled violently but pointlessly against his grip.

“Let me go!” she screamed, twisting and writhing like a madwoman. Her red hair fell across her face and her eyes glowed almost animalistically. Ava thought she ought to recognize her. As though there was something about red hair that was important... 

“Give it to me now!” Abe yelled again. The red-haired woman! From the train -- who’d taken the watch! Ava felt like she was waking up from a dream as everything came rushing back.

58. Out Of Nowhere.

Cece almost felt sorry for the man. She let him blather on for almost half an hour about the watch; he was clearly attempting to make up some lie to cover up why he really wanted it. He was very bad at lying.

“Monsieur,” she said finally, “this watch is a relic of Parisian history. My family has been after it for years for its historical significance.”

The man who called himself Abraham was momentarily speechless. “Historical significance?” he asked blankly.

“But of course! Or rather, how significantly it is able to change history.” She smiled at her own wit as Abe's eyes widened. “But thank you for putting in such an entertaining effort to convince me otherwise. I stayed in the hopes that you might prove to be more interesting, but now I suppose I must leave you. I would not recommend following me--not unless you fancy starving to death in these lovely catacombs.” 

Cece smirked and turned away, confident she could outrun him if he tried to chase her--which he wouldn't. But she stumbled backwards into his arms when a shrieking woman appeared out of nowhere and slammed into her face-first.

57. Celine.

“It's only a watch,” the red-headed woman insisted. 

Abe just stared, flummoxed. Theft negotiation was not his forte. “Why does it matter to you?” he snapped. He suddenly felt tired--exhausted--and whatever this woman was playing at--was she flirting with him?--he didn't understand it. “I said you could name your price! It's sure to be more than you could sell it for!”

She studied him for a moment, as if deciding whether she should let him in on a secret. “What is your name, Englishman?”

"Abraham…”

She raised her eyebrows. “Such a strong name! Mine is Celine. Or sometimes Cece, to those who love me.” She folded her arms and stared him down. “If you really think I would sell the Coulise watch for mere money, well, you're more stupid than you look, Monsieur.”

56. The Psychiatrist.

Celine thought he was rather sweet--the silly man fumbling for his words. She felt a maternal urge to hand the watch back over and pat him on the head, even though she couldn't have been that much older than him. Her experience as a pickpocket had given her an excellent ability of gauging other people, reading them and understanding them almost immediately. Some people, she found, she just wanted to take care of. 

But, of course, she wasn't about to give up the biggest haul she’d made all year. She’d only returned because she was intrigued by him. His calls sounded so plaintive. It was foolish, she admitted, but she couldn’t resist. “Yes,” he said, finally answering her question. “There's only one of me now...” He glanced not, Celine noticed, up the hall or past her shoulder, but at the wall of skulls next to them. As though he was waiting for that girl to walk out of them.

He nervously turned back at her. “Please,” he repeated, “name your price. We need that watch. It's...it's extremely important.” He was speaking to her as though she was only a petty thief, she realized, who might have stolen the watch simply for the money--who didn't know what it was. 

She played along and grinned coyly. “Do tell.”

55. Any Face I Want.

“The others?” Lisette stared at Ava, torn between the need to kill her only witness and the desire to share her exploits with a willing audience.

"How many were there?” Ava asked, trying to sound eager.

"Five,” the murderess whispered gleefully. “This week! Silly, small people are so emotional. So easy to read, to manipulate. I just become what they want me to become--” 

"Like with him?” Ava nodded to the slumped figure at their feet.

“Exactly. He wanted a poor, lost, demure girl--one he would be thrilled to overtake--and so I gave that to him. I gave him the hunt.” She twisted Ava’s wrist for emphasis. “I can put on any face I want.” With the shadows sliding across her face and the ferocity in her eyes, the woman looked practically demonic. “Of course, that damned American got me caught,” she added with a furious glance down the corridor. Ava wondered whether her grandfather had known the truth about Lisette when he’d foiled her plans. 

“Then it's a good thing I came along."