forty-five

With my two best friends beside me, I couldn’t help feeling hopeful.

“We cannot wait for the detective,” Dorian said as he paced the floor, having convened a meeting in the attic.

“I know,” I said.

“And what of Heather’s unknown attacker? Moreover, can you risk the police confiscating the painting? Nicolas is ill-equipped to break out of an evidence room.”

“It’s not evidence,” I said. “Police search warrants don’t cover everything in a house.”

Tobias swore. “Dorian is right. Isabella’s son-in-law thinks that painting is a forgery.”

I groaned.

“Monsieur Freeman,” Dorian said, “did you blow your cover with the artist-forger Isabella?”

“Do you mean am I still on good terms with her? I should be. I didn’t confront her about the secret workshop before I took off this morning.”

“Bon. You must break into the secret studio you believe contains the painting—”

“How do you propose I do that?”

Dorian blinked at him. “You do not know how to pick a lock?”

“Why would I know how to pick a lock?”

Dorian shook his head and flapped his wings. “D’accord. This means you must take me with you.”

Tobias turned to me with his eyes wide. “He’s a thief?”

“His father was a stage magician who was originally a clock-maker,” I said. “Dorian’s claws are better than lock picks.”

“I cannot misplace them,” Dorian said, chuckling as he drummed his claws together.

“Damn,” Tobias said. “I forgot Jean Eugene Robert-Houdin raised you.”

“Shall we depart?” Dorian asked. “My plan is brilliant in its simplicity. I will turn to stone form. You can say you wished to show Isabella a beautiful gargoyle sculpture. She would appreciate this, no?”

It turned out the answer really was no. Something must have raised her suspicions.

I’d accompanied Tobias and Dorian to the Castle, and was hiding in the bed of the truck with a tarp above me and my cell phone at the ready. But when we reached the front gate, Isabella’s screaming voice sounded so loudly through the speaker that even I could hear her.

“Spies!” she shouted. The gate speaker distorted her voice, but the words she yelled were clear. And chilling. “The phoenix is rising. You can’t be here. Leave!”

Though I knew the sound of her voice had been transformed by the crackling speaker, Isabella’s words made me shudder. They rang of madness.

Since I was in back, I couldn’t see the reactions of my conspirators. But I felt it soon enough. My shoulder knocked into the side of the steel bed as Tobias backed up.

He couldn’t hear me, so I called him on my cell phone. As much as I hated to admit it, these things did come in handy.

“Pull over once we’re out of sight,” I said.

“Already on the lookout for a good spot.”

He clicked off, and less than a minute later I felt the truck transition from asphalt to dirt. As the scent of pine grew stronger, the truck came to a rest. I heard Tobias’s voice. “Nobody’s around. You can climb out.”

I lifted the tarp. Thick pine trees filled the sky above me. I climbed out and slipped into the passenger seat. If I was sitting on the seat with my legs curled under my chin, there was room for the three of us, with Dorian on the floor in front of the seat, though I doubted it was comfortable for his wings.

“Something’s not right,” Tobias said.

“I fear you are a bad spy, Monsieur Freeman,” Dorian said. “Through no fault of your own, of course, I must add. You are an honest man. This is why you prefer chess to poker. This—”

“Can we focus?” I said.

“Her reaction back there,” Tobias said. “I don’t understand it. Something really weird is going on.”

“Grief takes many forms,” I said, thinking of Ambrose’s madness after losing his son Percy. “She’s either a murderer who’s onto you, or she’s angry and lashing out because of everything that’s going on. Either way, Nicolas is captive at her house.”

“That place is a castle in more ways than its cosmetic appearance,” Tobias said. “Those iron front gates and the high fence that circles the property are no joke.”

The painting of Nicolas was so close but beyond reach. It was worse than not knowing where he was.

“There might be a way,” Dorian said slowly. “I cannot see outside. Can you tell me, is it safe for me to step out of the truck for a few moments here?”

Tobias nodded.

I opened the door and Dorian climbed out after me. He took a few steps and unfolded his gray wings.

“Mes amies,” he said, “I have been practicing.”

I stared at the gargoyle. I knew it was his biggest disappointment that even though his wings had become feather-like upon his discovery of the Elixir of Life, he’d still been unable to fly. “You’ve been practicing flying?”

He nodded shyly.

“That’s why you’ve been acting secretively and been gone at times when I hadn’t expected you to be,” I said, thinking back on the gargoyle’s unexplained absences. I should have been happy that he was achieving something that meant so much to him, and that it might help us, but I couldn’t help feeling hurt. “You could have trusted me.”

Dorian flapped his wings, causing a gentle gust of air to float over me. “You would have stopped me.”

“I would have stopped you from practicing anywhere dangerous. You were doing it near the river, weren’t you? That’s how you saw the glittering phoenix charm. Because you were flying above it.”

“It was late at night. There are large birds along the water. It should have been a safe place to practice. You would have said any location was dangerous. You are too careful for your own good.”

“Tobias will back me up,” I said.

Tobias was leaning with his elbows on the hood of the truck. He held up his hands. “I’m staying out of this one.”

Dorian chuckled. “Monsieur Freeman is a wise man. Alors, shall we rescue Nicolas?”

I didn’t want to risk it by day, but we really couldn’t be sure the police wouldn’t confiscate the portrait of Nicolas. We had to act.

“If you’re going to do this,” I said, “there are some ground rules. Even under these circumstances, our usual safety precautions are in place. Especially now, since we don’t know what’s going on with Isabella. Wear your cape, and turn to stone at the slightest hint of danger.”

Once Dorian had agreed, we got back in the car and Tobias drove the three of us to a spot in the hills behind the Castle.

“Remember,” I said as Dorian poked his head out of the bag, “if they see you—”

“Yes, yes, I will turn to stone. They will not believe their eyes, and think the true intruder got away and left behind this beautiful statue.”

“You’re sure you can pick the lock?” Tobias said.

Dorian glared at us. “My father was more skilled at all forms of mechanical tinkering than Houdini, who stole Father’s name for himself. Not only was I taught by the best, but I was made for this.” He tapped his clawed fingers on the dashboard and narrowed his liquidy black eyes. “Now, shall we rescue Nicolas?”

“You’re sure there are no cameras?” I asked Tobias.

“Not unless someone installed them against Isabella’s wishes. She’s adamant about her family’s privacy.”

Tobias carried Dorian in the satchel until we were close to the back fence. The gargoyle pushed the starchy hemp fabric down to the ground and stepped onto the soft earth. He tied the cape around his neck and took an object from my outstretched hand: the bag large enough to fit the painting. He gave us a curt nod and unfurled his wings.

In the clearing, Dorian beat his wings a few times. I held my breath, unsure what to expect. For him to take flight, would his wings vibrate quickly like the wings of a hummingbird? Or would he need to take a running start to catch the wind like a hang glider? Neither happened. With a sound in between that of a swoosh and a thump, the underbrush blew away from the spot underneath him. With another grand flap of wings, Dorian’s body lifted up from the ground.

A gasp escaped my lips. His wings beat again. My short hair blew upward in the wind. The wings beat faster. Dorian rose higher and disappeared over the fence.

I ran to the fence and searched for a place where I could see through the wooden slats. A few yards away I found a piece of rain-warped wood that allowed us to peek inside the estate. It wasn’t a perfect view, but it shielded us from sight as well.

In the space between the slats, I saw Dorian standing on the ground, his wings tucked onto his back and the hooded gray cape covering his body. He scampered away and disappeared from sight.

“It’ll be all right,” Tobias whispered. “The little guy’s got it covered.”

“I know he comes across like he can do anything, but his ego—”

“Is probably justified in this case. The son of the father of modern magic? Damn, Zoe. If Dorian can’t make himself invisible and pick an intricate lock, nobody can.”

In spite of Tobias’s words, as the minutes stretched on he grew nervous as well. We paced along the fence, taking turns at the opening where we could see inside.

“This is taking too long,” I said. I sat on the soft dirt, but jumped up as something came crashing through trees beyond the fence. The sound of branches snapping filled the air.

Tobias was the one looking through the slats. He swore, then pulled me to the spot in his place. I saw a half-running, half-flying blur of gray bobbing up and down, coming closer to the fence.

“He can’t balance with the painting,” I said. Because Dorian was so new to flying, I doubted he’d ever practiced while holding anything.

The gargoyle took flight, the bag with the painting gripped tightly in his outstretched arms. The air whoomped as he beat his wings more frenetically than he had earlier.

Whoomp.

“I can’t watch,” I whispered, backing away.

Whoomp.

“He can do it,” Tobias said, taking my place. “He’s a smart little guy. I’m sure he’ll—”

I jumped as Dorian crashed into the fence. Tobias stumbled backward.

“Are you all right?” I called out.

A string of French curses rang out from the other side of the fence.

“It’s too high,” Tobias said, jumping in an attempt to reach the top of the fence.

“Give me a boost,” I said.

“Even if you can reach the top and get over, you’ll never get back out. Especially with your ankle.”

“We can’t leave him in there,” I hissed.

“We’ll find another—”

“Will you two please stop arguing so we may go home?”

Tobias and I whipped around.

Dorian stood before us, on the outside of the fence. He clutched the bag containing the painting. His left wing hung at an unnatural angle.

“It is done,” he said, wincing in pain. “I have obtained the painting. I have done my part to rescue Nicolas.” He handed the bag to me. “The rest is up to you.” He faltered.

“Your wing,” I said. “Are you all right?”

“Bien. Je vais très bien … ”

He proceeded to fall to the ground, unconscious.