Dexter staggered back to the wardrobe and collapsed into it, planning to hurl himself into the tunnel, but two hands appeared on the ledge when he reached it. He knew those hands.
Dex peeked over and saw his sister’s face.
The twins exchanged smiles they barely had the strength to produce, though Daphna’s fell away at the sight of blood all over her brother’s nose and chin. Dex got to a sitting position and dragged her up into the wardrobe. They lay there together under the coats, trying to recover.
“Branwen,” Daphna finally said.
“Mr. G,” Dex replied.
Neither spoke for another minute. They just lay there, breathing, trying not to hurt.
After a while, Daphna said, “There are reasons some people won’t riot—they’re all out there rioting, by the way—but not absolutely everyone.”
“Yeah?”
“It has to do with selflessness. If you have compassion for someone, like you have for Nora. If—if you are in love with someone—”
“Like you are with Quinn.”
“Dex—he’s in love with me, that’s true, but—”
“It’s fine. It’s good. I think I’m in love with Nora. What’s the third reason?”
“Meditation or—”
“Prayer.”
“Right.”
“Did you say, ‘dragon’?” Dex asked.
“Yes.”
“I thought so. That painting is on the floor, by the way. Mr. G was going to burn it.”
Daphna didn’t reply to this. She hurt too much.
“I guess that Golden book isn’t going to find itself,” Dex sighed.
“No, I guess it won’t,” Daphna had to agree.
The twins sat up, both wincing.
They sighed, then stumbled out of the wardrobe and over to the painting.
“Let’s take it upstairs,” Daphna suggested after seeing Mr. G.
Dex agreed. He picked up the trophy again—just in case—then one end of the painting. Daphna took the other end, though she almost couldn’t manage to lift it, her sides hurt so much. Then, limping and unsteady, the twins maneuvered the unwieldy frame up the steps, through the kitchen, and into the living room, where they set it on the floor.
Noise outside attracted their attention to the window. The rioting had restarted on the school grounds. Kids and adults were trashing the building, which was on fire.
A deafening clap of thunder forced the twins to look up.
There was fire in the sky now, too.
Dex and Daphna went back to look at the painting.
The Last Supper.
They stared at it awhile.
“I don’t get it,” Dex said after looking over the rendering of Jesus sitting with his Disciples at their table. They all looked decidedly Biblical. “This doesn’t seem like it belonged in that freaky exhibit. It’s totally normal.”
“I’ve seen tons just like this in history books,” Daphna said, equally baffled.
“So what’s the big deal? Why would they care if some guy paints what a million other guys have already painted?”
“There must be a difference,” Daphna assumed. “A small one maybe.”
“And what does it have to do with the book they want?”
“ I think Mr. Brown is a writer,“ Daphna said. “I think they were all writers, actually. If this lost Golden book, whatever it really is, is something other people would want, if it’s something other people might search for, it’d be pretty clever to send them chasing after the wrong thing, don’t you think? Maybe that’s what they write about. This painting might somehow hint that what they’re looking for is a book.”
“Is that it?”
“What?”
“It looks kind of like a book—” Dex was squinting at the painting, not entirely sure if he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. He pointed to Jesus’ upraised hand, which seemed to be holding a softly glowing golden square.
Daphna jerked upright.
“That’s not supposed to be there,” she said. “That’s not in any of the paintings I’ve seen. How could I miss that?”
“It’s not a cup then?”
Daphna’s face flushed.
“Dexter!” she cried, looking at the golden trophy cup still in her brother’s hand. “Mr. Brown—he lied about this, too! They’re not looking for any Book of Creation. That cup—the cup Jesus supposedly had at The Last Supper! That cup is the Holy Grail! Remember the painting of this at the Vatican? The caption said something like—”
“This is the new testament in my blood,” Dex remembered. “The pastor was shouting that same thing.”
“Right!” Daphna nearly shrieked. “How could a cup be a testament written in anything? It’s not a cup! It’s a book! The Holy Grail is a book! That’s what everyone—everyone in Heaven and on Earth—is searching for….”
Continued in The Book of Letters coming in the Spring of 2015.