Before leaving for the cabin, I tried the police once more. I left a message with a confused dispatcher, then sent Oberon to the police station to convey the urgent message about Adam. Oberon wasn’t completely convinced about Adam’s guilt, but it made more sense to him than Willow. I reasoned that even if he told the detectives that a crazed woman with dyed-white hair was going to a cabin to attack his friend, that was fine.
I also called Dorian to tell him where I was going. I was surprised he didn’t insist on me stopping at home to get him, but he did recommend I bring a weapon. I didn’t carry weapons around with me, so I picked up a loose brick in a flowerbed near the warehouse lab.
My phone’s GPS told me Adam’s cabin was less than an hour away. I reached it in just over 30 minutes.
Pebbles and small branches crunched under my tires as I turned onto the dirt road less than a mile from the cabin. I pulled over behind a dense grouping of trees. I didn’t want Adam to hear me approaching, so I put the brick in my bag and continued on foot. I kept clear of the road all together, making my way towards the cabin through the trees. I spotted the poison oak Oberon had mentioned, which was deep red at this time of year and blended in with the crimson leaves shedding from the nearby dogwood and maple trees.
I knew I was in the right spot when a small cabin came into view that looked exactly as it did in Adam’s painting. A solitary black car was parked in front.
I listened for a full minute, but I didn’t hear any voices. I couldn’t stand not knowing if Max and Perenelle were inside, and what had become of them, so I crept to the window.
My breath caught. The wooden shelves in this front room were nearly identical to ones in The Apothecary’s Cabinet. Thick glass jars lined the smooth shelves. Each jar was filled with a colorful pigment or dried flowers. There was a gap where it looked as if an apothecary had removed half a dozen jars for their work. Looking through the glass windowpane, it was as if I’d been transported to the French Farmhouse where I’d lived with the Flamels.
I pried my gaze from the eerily familiar scene. Besides the uncanny shelves, there was a laminate kitchenette, a few pieces of mismatched furniture that had seen better days, and an open door leading to a small bathroom. There was one more door, but this one was closed. I crept around the side of the house. The second room’s window had been boarded up. I gave a tug, but it didn’t budge.
I made my way to the front door. It was unlocked. A trap? But Adam had no way of knowing I was coming, did he? I couldn’t think about worst case scenarios. If he was in the back room with Max and Perenelle, it was worth the risk.
I hurried inside and to the closed interior door. This one was locked. If Dorian had been with me, he would have made quick work of the lock with his claws. But I was on my own. I knelt at the handle, and that’s when I heard it. A creaking noise came from behind me.
Before I could turn around, strong arms grabbed my shoulders and threw me to the ground, hard, knocking the wind out of me. Before I could recover, I felt myself being shoved once more. Through a doorway that was now open. This time, I caught myself with my hands and rolled onto my side. Adam White stood above me, a mixture of confusion and rage on his face. He didn’t come at me. He did something worse: he slammed the door.
“No!” I screamed as I scrambled up and yanked in vain on the handle.
“Are you hurt?” a familiar voice asked. I was so flustered that I hadn’t realized I wasn’t alone.
Perenelle rushed to my side and helped me up.
“Only my hands.” I winced as I stood. I had scraped my palms, and my shoulder would surely have a bruise, but otherwise I was unharmed. I scanned the small room as I stretched to make sure.
A solitary wooden stool stood in front of a table filled with equipment. It looked like a section of a chemistry classroom ready for its next experiments. A Bunsen burner, glass vessels, jars of minerals and pigments, a scale, a metal pot, a mortar and pestle, a notebook, and dozens of other items cluttered the table. The Brother and Sister painting rested on the table as well, supported by the wall behind the table. There were no other doors in the room. Where was Max?
“You’re not drugged?” she asked.
“Drugged?”
“That’s how he got us. It’s my fault for not keeping up with modern science. He sprayed something in our faces, and we woke up here.”
“Where’s Max?”
“He’s safe.” Perenelle paused and pressed her ear to the door. “I think Adam has gone in search of him once more.”
“Max escaped?”
“Not exactly.”
“Could you stop speaking in riddles?” I tried not to let frustration creep into my voice. I was upset with myself, not Perenelle.
“I have to make sure Adam is gone first,” she said. “I think he is.”
“Did Max escape or didn’t he?” Maybe I’d knocked my head without realizing it, because nothing made sense.
“Max is safe,” she said once more. “Adam knows I understand more about pigment recipes than he does, so he wants me to create the paint formulation for him. He threatened to hurt Max if I didn’t help him, so while Adam was gathering jars from the shelves in the other room, I helped Max hide.”
“Help should be on the way,” I said. My bag with my phone inside it was on the other side of the locked door.
“I’m not sure how long he’ll search for Max before giving up.”
“Why did you two go see him alone, before telling anyone?”
She frowned. “We didn’t. Not exactly. Max wanted to get a look at their lab to check an idea about the poison, because he believed you. With my connection to the stolen paintings, Max thought I’d sense the ingredients if they were there, so he took me along. We didn’t think we’d be in danger or that he’d catch us off guard. We didn’t realize Adam was a killer.” As she spoke, she’d begun to mix colors together on a wooden pallet.
“You’re not going through with making his recipe, are you?”
“Adam says he doesn’t care about the money the paint formulations will make him,” Perenelle said. “And I believe him.”
“He thinks the brilliant colors will bring him closer to his sister he cherished,” I said. “But you can’t mass produce your paint, even if you wanted to.”
“No,” she said as she dipped a small paintbrush into a daub of paint. “But I don’t want Adam to be able to use my love for you against me. When he doesn’t find Max, he’s going to threaten you to make me do his bidding. I’m making sure he can’t do that.”
Perenelle touched her left hand to my cheek, then lifted the paintbrush in her right hand to the Brother and Sister painting.