thirty-nine

Walking home, I was slower than usual with my injury, but I still took the long way, along the waterfront by the Logan Magnus gallery. The walk provided a mix of trees along one side of the popular waterfront path, and industrial warehouses and homeless tents on the other. My ankle gave a twinge when I turned sharply, but walking on flat ground wasn’t too bad.

Frustration threatened to overtake my emotions, but I reminded myself that he’d been in the painting for years, if not centuries. A few more days wouldn’t make much difference. Normally, walking in nature would clear my head, but not that afternoon. I couldn’t understand why I felt so nervous … What was that noise?

I whirled around, wincing as my ankle objected to the unplanned movement.

There was no one behind me. Thunder rumbled in the distance. I decided the noise that had made me feel uneasy must have been just another crash of thunder, below my conscious awareness.

As soon as I walked into the house, I smelled the intermingled scents of sweet and savory but couldn’t place the fragrances. The kitchen was empty, and a note from Dorian was on the counter. The gargoyle wrote that he and Tobias had eaten all the stuffed sweet potatoes and blackberry papillote, but he’d made me a small jackfruit and mushroom pizza that he’d left in the oven so I could reheat it for a late lunch. He knew me well. I have a tendency to single-mindedly focus on what I’m working on—a blessing and a curse for an alchemist—so I sometimes forgot to eat. But Dorian’s note had no trace of admonition.

I peeked into the cool oven. The sweet scents of jackfruit meat and cashew cheese wafted out, cut with the sharp scent of red pepper. The crispy cornmeal crust looked delicious. I turned on the oven. While it heated, I stepped into the backyard garden. The cold rains of the week were making the arugula and mustard greens tougher, so I guessed Dorian would want to gently cook them instead of using them raw in a salad as I usually did. I picked some of the smaller arugula leaves to add to the pizza.

When I came back inside, Dorian was in the kitchen shaking his head. “If you reheat it at this low temperature, you will have a soggy pizza. Is that what you want?”

I gave the gargoyle a hug. “Don’t ever change, Dorian.”

He patted my shoulder with a wing. “Why so sentimental this afternoon? Has something else occurred?”

“Nothing. That’s the problem.”

“You are troubled.”

I studied the gargoyle as he peeked into the oven. “You’re uneasy as well.”

“Of course. Monsieur Freeman is behaving strangely—”

“Not you too. I trust Tobias completely. That’s not why I’m worried.”

“I will leave you to your pizza. It must cook for seven more minutes. I will be upstairs. I was reading an excellent Gothic novel.”

I watered the herbs in the kitchen’s window box planters while I waited for the pizza to finish crisping. I sat down at the dining table with a slice of steaming pizza, but before I could take a bite, fists banged on the door.

I hadn’t been expecting Brixton, but glancing out the window on the way to the door, I saw his bike lying askew in the driveway. He’d been working weekends at the teashop but still coming over to my house two afternoons a week to learn about gardening. Had I lost track of days?

I opened the door and Brixton blew past me. “He in the attic?” he asked, already halfway up the stairs. “Dorian!”

“What did he do?” My ankle protested as I tried to follow him up the stairs. I winced and sat down on the step.

Brixton turned back and helped me up. “He roped Veronica into helping him do research—”

“That was my fault,” I said. “Checking out those library books was my idea, but it’s harmless.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Art history library research is cool. But now? He’s having her track down antique alchemy books kept in Europe. He’s looking for that backward alchemy book that brought him to life—the one that almost got me killed.”

My hands tightened around the bannister. “He wouldn’t … ”

Anger shone in Brixton’s eyes. “He did.”

“Dorian!” It was my turn to yell. I limped up the stairs and called his name again. “What’s this about the book—”

Dorian flung open the small attic door and looked down at us from the steep second set of steps leading to the attic. “I have not defaced more library books. I admit, it was not solely my own willpower that prevented it from occurring, as you have also not brought me more books, but I would like to think I would have the fortitude—”

“Dorian,” I snapped, “you asked Veronica to help you find your backward alchemy book.” I groaned. I should have known he was up to something when he’d subscribed to so many newspapers from across Europe. If he’d just been homesick, he would have simply continued the subscription to Le Monde he’d begun earlier in the year.

“How could you tell her you exist?” Brixton said. “You were the one who made me swear not to tell anyone. And now she says she’s working with you—”

“If you two would calm yourselves,” Dorian said, “I will explain everything.” He beckoned us into the attic.

I took the steps carefully, which was probably for the best so I didn’t rush into strangling the gargoyle.

“Veronica,” Dorian said once we were in the attic, “has always wished to meet Zoe’s ‘French friend’ who is shy because of his deformity. She feels bad that only Brixton has met me. I called and asked for her help to track down a special alchemy book I wished to find for Zoe for Christmas.”

“But that book and the guys who stole it are dangerous,” Brixton said. His cheeks flushed. “If they find out she’s helping look for the book … ” He swallowed hard. “Veronica will be in danger.” His hands balled into fists.

Dorian’s black eyes grew wide. “There is no danger. She is behind a computer.”

“Are you stupid?” Brixton screamed. “Is this because you’re not human? Someone who cares about their friends and knew anything about the world would never—”

“Brix,” I said, “how about we go out into the garden. I want to show you something.”

He shrugged off my hand and rolled his eyes. “I’m not eight years old. I’m not taking a time-out.”

“I’m older than your great-great-grandparents, and I still take time in nature to collect my thoughts. I need to step outside for a few minutes too. It’s the only way we’ll think clearly, not in anger.”

“Whatever.”

“Go out back and I’ll catch up with you in a minute.” I watched him stomp down the stairs, wondering if he’d be waiting for me in the backyard or not.

“I believe,” Dorian said, “young Brixton is in love with his best friend.”

“You might be right, but his worry is justified nonetheless. You know they’re dangerous, Dorian.”

Dorian scowled at me. “Alchemists! First you say it is not necessary to find the book as it is not dangerous, then you say it is so dangerous we cannot enlist the help of children.”

“It’s not the book that’s dangerous. It’s those who have it. That’s why we should leave it alone. They can’t do any damage.” I hoped. “But if they think someone is looking for them … ”

“D’accord. You may have a point.”

The phone rang. I’d plugged an antique black candlestick phone into a new jack in the attic so that Dorian could telephone without leaving the room. I picked it up, along with the separate earpiece receiver that fit in the palm of my hand.

“I’m trying to track down Mr. Freeman,” Detective Vega said. I could hear the hum of the station behind her. That was a good sign. She wasn’t at the front door.

“Is everything all right?” I asked.

“Just some follow-up questions.”

“He’s not here right now, but I can give you his cell number.”

“We have it,” she said, frustration evident in her voice. “He’s not answering. Well, I’m sure he’ll turn up.” A pause, but she didn’t hang up. “Zoe?”

The sound of concern in her voice threw me. “I’m still here.”

Dorian gave me a quizzical look and came to stand beside me to hear.

“It’s just … ” Detective Vega’s voice softened. “Be careful. Your friend Tobias … He might not be the man you think he is.”

I gripped the receiver. If she was still concerned about Tobias’s sketchy past, she might stay focused on him instead of looking for the true culprit. “He and I go way back. I know he can be eccentric—”

“Tobias Freeman arrived in Portland before he told you he did,” the detective said. “Before that morning he was arrested at your house. We’ve confirmed it now. He was here two weeks ago—at the time Logan Magnus was killed.”