by A W Hartoin
“I think I will.” She went to the description on the case and forgot all about us.
Dad and I flew with Horc in the direction the blond went and found ourselves at the base of a very wide stone staircase. The area was amazing with curved ceilings and pillars, but at the top was the most impressive thing of all, an enormous headless statue. I wasn’t big on headless statues, but this one was different. It was winged and a female. She had to be the Winged Victory the tour leader was talking about. Everything about her said victory. She made my palms tingle with the flames that so wanted to escape.
Dad touched my arm. “She reminds me of you.”
My eyes got all moist. “Thanks, Dad.”
We flew up the stairs over the heads of the humans trudging up the long flight and bypassed the blond. Winged Victory of the Samothrace. What was a Samothrace? I circled the statue and ran my fingers over her draped dress. It almost surprised me when I touched it. The stone looked so alive with movement, rippling in the wind, that it seemed real. She was about to go towards the battle, unafraid and totally sure of what she was doing. Yes! This was right. This was what I felt. My palms went crazy. Hot tingles went down my arms. I held my fists tight to control myself. I wanted to explode flames in sparkling fireworks just to show everyone I could do it.
Dad got in my face. “Calm down. Not in public, remember?”
My cheeks puffed up and I blew out a hot breath. “I know. I know. It’s just so great.”
“It is acceptable,” said Horc.
“Are you serious? This is the best thing in the whole museum,” I said.
“It is not portable.” Horc cast an appraising eye on my favorite thing in the whole world and found it lacking.
“Portable?” asked Dad. “Spriggans wouldn’t steal this.”
“We would, if we could.”
“So nothing’s sacred?” I asked.
“Why would it be? We are talking about commerce.”
I rolled my eyes. “Can’t you just enjoy it without thinking about sales and profits?”
Horc raised an eyebrow lump at me. “Can you look at it without thinking of your fire and battle?”
He had me. I couldn’t. It simply wasn’t possible.
Mom flew up and took Horc back. “That was wonderful. The details in the hair and faces was amazing. Let’s go.”
“Go? What about this, Mom?” I asked.
“This?” Mom wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think so.”
“Adele, don’t you think it’s rather beautiful in its strength?” asked Dad with a well-placed look that was probably supposed to clue Mom in that this statue was like me. As usual, Mom was clue-free.
“I suppose it’s well-executed, but it’s not about real life.”
“What’s more real than victory and fighting for what you believe in?” I asked, my cheeks getting hot.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe family, love, the simple art of happiness,” said Mom.
“Great,” said Dad.
I threw up my hands. “Whatever. If you can’t appreciate this, you can’t appreciate anything.” I wanted to say me. You can’t appreciate me. But I didn’t, just for Dad’s sake. He was already looking like he needed a drink.
“I can appreciate things that ought to be appreciated. And I, as your mother, know what those are. If you would listen to me, you would, too,” said Mom.
“This is going well,” said Horc. “Makes me want to eat raw meat.”
“Look what you’re doing to Horc. You’re upsetting him,” said Mom.
“No, I’m not. He just likes meat,” I said.
Horc glazed over. “Meat. Raw meat. Goes well with fighting.”
“That’s it. I’ve had it with this conversation,” said Mom.
Dad pushed Mom and I around Winged Victory’s leg. “Good, because we’ve been spotted and it’s not a tour group this time.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
FOUR BROWN-WINGED fairies hovered beside thirty phalanx standing in formation on the pillar next to the stairs. The phalanx ability to stick to walls usually struck me as cool. That day it was just creepy. They stood out like roaches on the creamy stone. Each one wore a red cap low on its brow, making them more sinister. I couldn’t tell if Camille was among them. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted him to be there or not. He hadn’t exposed me to the horen. On the other hand, it was a phalanx spell that almost killed Lrag.
I hovered behind Winged Victory, watching to see what they would do. They were in the perfect position to see all the exits. Mom and Dad were just below me between the leg and billowed-out skirt. They didn’t want to look and their fear made me nervous. I’d never been responsible for them before and it was weird. They were supposed to be in charge. I don’t know what they thought was going to happen. Neither of my parents had ever been in a fight, much less a battle. Obviously, I’d be in charge, but I couldn’t imagine how Mom would react. Would she do as I said? The phalanx hadn’t seen us yet from what I could tell and we might have to make a break for it. If Mom questioned me, we’d never get away.
The phalanx formation split into two and one took a position between them. He tilted his face up and scanned the room. It could be Camille. I didn’t know him well enough to be sure. There was a tug on my foot and I dropped, reluctantly, to Mom and Dad’s level.
“They’re talking about us,” said Mom.
“What did they say?” I asked.
“That the sea serpents reported a spriggan entering the glass pyramid and there have been sightings in this wing.”
I went back up and peeked over the shoulder. The formations scuttled down the pillar, split and began circling the statue, going in opposite directions. The brown wings flew above them. We’d be seen the second they got around the back of Winged Victory. There was nowhere to hide.
Mom and Dad’s faces were turned up, waiting. I had to decide. Quick. Then Horc looked up. For a boulder, he looked small from that angle. Small.
I dropped down and opened my bag. “Here, Dad, take this stuff.”
He took my shoes, the sword, sack of fruit leathers, and two juice flasks. “What’s happening?”
“We’re cornered.”
Mom gasped and looked around in a panic.
“It’s alright. I have a plan. Horc, you’re going in the sack,” I said.
The little spriggan spat out a large, jagged splinter. “I do not believe I will.”
Dad took him from Mom. “I disagree.” Then he stuffed a snarling Horc in the bag and he fit, probably because he was so round.
“Mom, where are the phalanx?” I asked.
She closed her eyes to listen and then they popped open. “Almost here. Hurry.”
I crammed my junk in around Horc and he snarled again. “Quiet. You’ll give us away.” I closed the flap over his face and buttoned it. The shape wasn’t good. What tourists lugged around a bowling-ball-shaped bag? It was huge. I wouldn’t say Dad was huge, but he was bigger than me. I pushed the bag into his arms and he slung the strap over his shoulder. Horc landed at his hip. Not bad. It wasn’t quite as obviously over-sized on Dad.
“They’ll see us in a second.” Mom’s chest heaved.
“Calm down,” I said. “We’re tourists. Let’s fly out so we look like we’re admiring the wings.”
“No way.” Her hands fluttered around her face. “I knew this would happen. Paris is a nightmare. We should stay in here.”
“We’ll be seen. Our wings are too wide to hide in the crevice.”
“Do what she says, Adele,” said Dad through clenched teeth.
“She doesn’t know.”
“I say she does.” Dad pivoted and flew to a spot that didn’t conceal him whatsoever.
No fear. Good.
I zipped out to his side. “I love the feathers. Aren’t they great?”
“There’s so much movement. They seem almost real.” Dad smiled and it passed for genuine.
The right phalanx formation had climbed up the wall behind the statue a
nd were moving at top speed toward us. The other formation closed in from the left.
“Look at it from this angle, Adele,” said Dad, still smiling.
Mom swallowed hard and thrust her hands in her skirt pockets. Then she darted out to us with a smile plastered on her face. It really looked more like a grimace.
“I like it from the back,” I said. “It’s like the view towards victory.”
Mom nodded. “Very nice.”
“I still like the front view,” said Dad.
Both formations went behind us. I could feel their presence like a weight pressing against my back. Mom’s eyes went wide, which is saying something. They were already pretty huge. She and Dad turned to face the red caps and I followed suit.
“Stop. Qui êtes-vous?” said a phalanx standing between the two formations.
Camille. Please don’t recognize me. Please.
The phalanx smiled, showing every one of his brilliant white teeth. The commander smiled that way and I found it endearing. With Camille, I had to suppress a shudder.
“Matilda Elliot. Quelle surprise,” said Camille.
The rest of the phalanx got excited, looking at me and pointing.
Oh, crap!
Mom and Dad looked at me, their faces blank. At least Mom wasn’t all freaking out. She was too surprised.
“Do you know them?” asked Dad.
“A little bit.”
I didn’t exactly tell Mom and Dad everything about Notre Dame. I figured what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt me.
“How are your friends?” asked Camille.
Now I was blank. “These are my parents.”
“I mean the other two, the troll and ponderosa.”
“Oh, right. They’re alive.”
Camille and I stared at each other. Me hovering in the air and him stuck to the wall. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how this was going to go. Neither could the brown-winged fairies and they didn’t look happy about it.
“Who is this girl?” said one of the brown wings in a voice so haughty, I wanted to give him a fire facial.
“Quiet, Maxime,” said Camille. “This is the wood fairy I told you about.”
“She,” he sneered, “protected you from the king’s guard? I don’t believe it. She is so young.”
Camille smiled again. “Young is only one of the things she is.”
“What do you mean?” asked Maxime.
Camille ignored him and continued sizing me up. “We’re looking for spriggans. Have you seen any?”
“They must have. The spriggan was seen in the Etruscan gallery. He couldn’t have gotten by us,” said another brown wing.
“I wouldn’t count on that, if I were you,” said Camille.
He thought my magical ability was invisibility, not fire. Finally a break!
“Have you seen a spriggan?”
“Why would a spriggan be in the Louvre?” asked Dad, his voice a little too loud.
“Where else should they be?” asked Camille. “This is the royal palace.”
“Spriggans are royalty?” I asked.
The phalanx laughed and slapped each other on their shells.
“Hardly. Spriggans are deceitful scum. They steal from the people.”
Horc moved in the bag and I jetted in front of Dad to block the view. “It’s the same in America. Spriggans are scum. They steal children and sell them.”
For once, I’d been able to surprise Camille. He seemed completely nonplussed. “That is the lowest of the low. We will destroy the spriggan here and then destroy them in your homeland.”
Yeah, right. If I hadn’t been with you at Notre Dame, you’d be dead.
“Fine with me,” I said.
“Are you sure you haven’t seen one?” asked Maxime.
Before I could answer, Camille turned. “What is it, priest?”
The tour guide in the red cape flew up and hovered nervously to our right. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Camille. I’ve been looking for them everywhere.”
Mom and Dad muttered, “Um. Um.”
Get it together, people.
“We must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere. I’m sorry you had to come looking for us,” I said.
“No trouble. It’s my job after all,” said the priest.
Camille glared at him and turned to us. “You know this…priest?”
“He’s our tour guide,” I said.
“Your tour guide? Really?”
I shrugged. “We’ve never been here before. What do you expect us to do? Just wander around aimlessly?”
Camille relaxed. Well, I say he relaxed about us. He had nothing but scorn for the priest. “We’re looking for a spriggan. Have you seen one?”
“Of course not. Spriggans don’t mix with the rest of us.”
“Are you saying you are one of us?”
“The order takes no sides.”
“That won’t last forever.”
The priest bowed to Camille but said nothing.
“If you see one, you’ll report it right away. Won’t you, priest?”
“I will do my duty,” said the priest. “May I take my guests now? We’re behind schedule.”
Camille nodded and said to me, “I’ll be in touch. We have need of your particular talents.”
Never gonna happen, pip-squeak.
“I’ll expect you,” I said.
“Do.”
The priest waved us to the left and flew away, trying to look unconcerned. We tried, too. Mom failed. She looked ready to barf. Dad was listing to the right from having Horc resting on his hip. We passed through another gallery. There was a lot of bronze stuff, but we flew through so fast, I blinked and it was over.
The priest left the gallery and at the top of another stone staircase, ducked behind a human tour group.
“You’re in the Sully Wing. Go down the stairs, two flights, and exit through the pyramid,” said the priest.
“Thank you so much for helping us back there,” I said with a smile, but Mom and Dad looked unsure, their eyes darting around nervously.
Come on. Look the lie, people.
“You must go,” said the priest. “He’s not safe here. Please, for your own good.” He turned his head. “Wait here. Something has happened.”
The priest disappeared between camera-laden hips.
“Can you hear anything, Mom?” I asked.
“Someone’s saying not to bring groups down into Sully,” she said, still looking barfy.
The priest returned flushed. “There’s fighting downstairs at the entrance to Medieval Louvre. You must exit through Richelieu. Go straight through the closed gallery. There’s a gap in the door on the right. You should be able to fit through.”
Horc moved violently in the bag and Dad patted him.
“Take a left and go straight to the stairs. I must go.”
“Why are you helping us?” asked Mom.
The priest fingered the fine embroidery on his cape. “My order believes in tranquility. We help all those in need. When I saw your child, I knew you would be in need.”
“You took a big risk,” I said. “Camille doesn’t trust you. Are you supposed to be on his side?”
“We have managed thus far to avoid choosing sides. We hover in the middle.” His face saddened. “It won’t last much longer. We will have to choose.”
I knew all about choosing. It was never easy. “Good luck to you.”
“And also with you,” he said, turning to fly away.
“Wait,” said Mom. “We don’t know your name.”
“It’s better that way, I’m sorry to say.” He flew away through the arch toward Winged Victory and I felt unaccountably sad. I didn’t think we’d see him again and I would’ve liked to. I bet he knew what a Samothrace was.
“Let’s go,” I said.
“Where?” asked Mom.
“To the Richelieu Wing, like he said.” What I didn’t say was that I wasn’t stopping there. A large map against the wall behind my pare
nts had a detailed look at the Richelieu Wing. The Napoleon apartment was there at the far end. We were so close.
“Okay,” said Mom. “To the Richelieu and home.”
Dad gave me a sideways look. I don’t think he bought it for a moment that I’d actually give up and go home. That Mom did kind of irritated me. Didn’t she know me at all?
We flew across the stairway area, keeping low to the ground and less visible. On the other side we found a set of doors barricaded with signs that the gallery was undergoing restoration. Mom saw the crack the priest told us about and we slipped through with no problem, except Horc might’ve gotten a little banged up.
When we flew out into the open, I gasped and I don’t do that often. This was what I expected from a royal palace, gilded ornate wood panels with inset paintings up to an even more ornate painted ceiling. Every inch had been lovingly decorated in the most opulent way.
“I wish Iris was here,” I said.
“So do I. That is, if were safe,” said Mom.
I held my tongue. Mom still thought there was such a thing as safety. If there was, I hadn’t found it, not since Whipplethorn. It occurred to me that Whipplethorn was the last safe place and it had been destroyed. We had to find our way in a much different world. Mom couldn’t see that. She was always trying to get back to Whipplethorn.
We flew past Louvre employees, wearing blue aprons and carrying brushes. The gallery was eerie after the bustle of the rest of the museum. None of the humans spoke to each other. They were intent on their work. Some had magnifying glasses and long Q-tips. Others seemed to be restoring the gilding.
If we could stayed longer, I would’ve watched what they were doing. Those Q-tips were kind of a weird thing to use on paintings, if you ask me. I wondered what they could possibly be doing with them.
We passed out of the closed gallery and found the Richelieu stairs down to the ground floor. I scanned the area for red caps, but saw only humans.
“We made it,” said Mom, like she thought we wouldn’t. She really had no faith in me at all.
“Find a group of humans to hide in. Stay low and don’t talk to anyone, especially not those sea serpents or the red caps or anyone wearing a gold feather,” I said.
“Gold feather?” asked Dad. “What’s that about?”
I hesitated. I hadn’t told them about the horen at Notre Dame. I suspected the gold feathers were his creatures.