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“His cathedral was enough for him. It was peopled with marble figures of kings, saints and bishops who at least did not laugh in his face and looked at him with only tranquility and benevolence.”
—Victor Hugo, Notre-Dame de Paris
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HE’D BEEN BULLIED AS a child. Not many people knew that. They wouldn’t laugh at him now. Not with his most brilliant plan yet.
He looked at the illustration that would make him a very rich man. The gargoyle looked back at him, seeming almost alive. It was eerie how well talented artists could make beasts come alive. He couldn’t suppress a smile.
Who was he kidding? Why would he even try to suppress his smile? He grinned, took one last look at the charred sketch, and placed it inside the antique, velvet-lined box with the alchemical image carved into its wooden lid.