The Dark Fable, page 12
Mad led her to another fire escape and began climbing down. “We’re doing some shopping.” She pried open a window, slid in.
Evie jumped down into a bathroom. A pink night-light lit their way into a boutique, where streetlamps cast long shadows across the carpet. Mad began selecting items. She glanced at Evie. “We need to look like we belong at a fancy party.”
“You always steal your designer clothes?”
“Not always. Just when it’s fun. Do you know how much this one is? Two thousand dollars.”
Evie plucked a ball gown of smoky black gossamer from a rack. Mad slinked into a Cinderella gown of white tulle. She shrugged on a pink-and-silver bomber jacket, tossed a similar jacket of black and flame red to Evie.
They returned to the roofs, Mad swift in her ballet flats, Evie in sneakers. Mad caught Evie’s hand and led her across an arch of wrought iron connecting an old building to a Gothic mansion. Evie could hear the sounds of a party inside. Light winked off the Ferraris and Cadillacs in the driveway.
“Is this what it’ll be like, Mad, when we get to the Church of the Bleeding Saint?”
“Oh no. That’s going to be a strategy.” Mad moved to a skylight, flipped it open.
Evie crouched on the edge and said, “Look, I understand the money needed for this lavish lifestyle, but do you really need a side hustle? I know that nightclub in LA didn’t belong to Ciaran’s friend. Why the petty crimes?”
“Eves.” Mad looked at her, serious. “We are criminals. It’s like that story about the crab and the lizard.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You know . . . the lizard says he’ll carry the crab across the sea and the crab pinches the lizard, and, as they’re drowning, the crab says, ‘It’s just in my nature.’ ”
“I think that was a scorpion and a frog. So, stealing is just in your nature?”
“I can’t help it.” Mad slid into the room below. She called up, “Come on.”
Evie peered in, saw Mad hanging upside-down from a beam just below the skylight. Evie lowered herself, toes first, onto the beam. She didn’t look at the drop to the floor far below.
“Trust me.” Mad smiled, radiant. “Take my hands.”
Evie crouched, reached for Mad’s hands, clasped them. She took a breath and slid from the beam, let herself be lowered until she could jump to the floor. Mad astronaut-somersaulted and landed on her feet.
The room was enormous, with walls of bookshelves at least twelve feet high. Mad walked to a cabinet of drawers and opened several, found what she’d been searching for—a package of white gloves. She tossed a pair to Evie.
“We’re looking for a safe. I suspect it’s behind some books.” Mad switched on a flashlight she took from her backpack. She flung another flashlight to Evie. “The gift I want will be in that safe.”
Evie tugged the gloves on and aimed the flashlight at a row of books. As they began to rummage, Evie asked, “When did you know? That you could do the levitating all the time?”
Mad was turned away, tracking her flashlight beam over the shelves. “I didn’t do it again until I was in high school. I’d start levitating a few inches whenever. No one noticed. I was with my friends in a band. One night, I was singing, and I began to rise. Like, a lot. People noticed. Lost my friends that day. They thought I was a freak.”
“We are freaks.” Evie shrugged.
“No, Evie. We’re glorious specimens of evolution.”
They spent a few precious moments white-gloving through vintage children’s books with quaint titles like Queen Summer and the Golden Frog or Cyrus Rabbit’s Carousel. Evie found herself calmed and delighted by this whimsical theft.
“Found it.” Mad aimed her light upward to reveal a small metal door in the wall behind a shelf of children’s books. She began to rise in the air. The sight still unnerved Evie, who waited tensely while Mad, leaning close to the safe, turned the combo lock and listened for clicks.
Voices came from beyond the doors, a thread of music. Evie asked, “Mad . . . who are we stealing from?”
“A famous magician who has a lot of magic books. Priest, the man we’re getting this for, has the info we need for weird artifacts. He knows stuff.” She sighed. “I really want one of those on our team, a book person with arcane knowledge—”
“This Priest knows about the Bestiarum Vocabulum?”
“He’s gonna tell us what that book is all about. What it can do. Why Mother and Father want it.”
Mad opened the safe and sorted through the books inside. She finally withdrew a small crimson volume in a clear plastic envelope and tucked it into her jacket. She hesitated, then grabbed another book, slid that into the other pocket. She descended, toes pointed downward, arms outstretched. Her feet touched the floor.
The door opened and a silver-haired couple stumbled in, arms around one another. Evie began to wish herself invisible, reached for Mad’s hand—
Mad stepped to Evie, swept an arm around her, and waltzed with her out of the shadows.
“Oh.” The silver-haired woman pulled away from the man, who straightened his suit. “We didn’t know anyone—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Mad dipped Evie, who looked, upside-down, at the couple. She winked.
The couple hustled out, the woman whispering, “Adorable. Kids these days . . . so free . . .”
Laughing, Evie and Mad dashed back to the area beneath the skylight. Mad clasped Evie’s hands. Evie closed her eyes and felt the air shift around her, the absence of gravity as her feet left the floor . . .
She opened her eyes in a panic, on the roof beneath the stars.
“Where are we going now?” Evie laughed, breathless. She didn’t want this night to end.
“To deliver the book we just stole.”
They jumped. They wove through the rooftop rave. When they exited the building, Mad walked over to a pink moped. She swung onto it, scooping up the helmet. Evie accepted a second helmet and got on behind her. “How did you—”
Mad dangled a set of keys. “The girl at the rave in the pink coveralls.”
As the moped sped through twisty streets, Mad somehow avoiding vehicular homicide, Evie tilted her head back to gaze at the sky.
They swerved to a stop in front of a stone house on a street called Rue de Verdun. The house’s twisty grille of a fence revealed a courtyard with plants in giant urns. As Mad and Evie swung off the bike, the gates opened to reveal a beautiful ebony-skinned man in a dark suit and velvet greatcoat. “Madrigal, darling.” He strode out and caught her hands in his. “How are you? And who is this?”
“I’m dazzling. This is Evie. She’s new.”
The man extended a hand to Evie. “I’m Priest. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Evie.”
Evie didn’t know whether to shake his hand or kiss it. She settled for shaking it. His eyes were hazel warm. She said, “You’re American.”
“Ex-pat. Marseille, this dirty, glorious beauty, is my soul’s home. Well, one of many places my soul feels at home. Come in. Come in. I’ve espresso and pastry.”
Evie and Mad followed Priest into a courtyard where urns frothing lavender sent a heady fragrance into the air. Beneath a lemon tree were a café table and chairs. On the table was a tray of pastries, three little espresso cups, and a porcelain carafe.
“How is Ciaran, that wicked boy? Queenie? Dev?” Priest poured espresso into the cups. “All well? All alive?”
Mad bit into a chocolate-filled croissant. “We’re invincible.”
“You’re young. Young people believe such nonsense. You be careful, Madrigal. And Evie, don’t let them drag you into anything you don’t want to do. Now, did you find my book?”
Mad pushed the crimson book across the table. Priest carefully drew it from the plastic, caressed its discolored red binding, the curving gold sigil on the cover. He opened it, revealing pages inked with symbols and script. He took a jeweler’s monocle from his coat and examined the pages.
“What is it?” Mad asked airily.
“A journal of astrological charts and notes by Carl Jung. Not many know the father of psychology was quite the mystic.” His cynical expression became one of dreamy satisfaction.
Mad rolled her eyes. She ate another pastry. Evie finished off a small cake of strawberry and marshmallow. The mocha espresso, rich and chocolatey, was perfect.
“That’s authentic.” Priest repackaged the book, smoothed the envelope as if he wanted to keep touching the book.
Evie boldly asked, “You know what we’re here for. Don’t you want any of the shipwreck treasure? Are you like Mother Night and Father Silence?”
“Darling, I’m nothing like them. I love books. That’s what I collect. Not gold ingots and such.” He flicked his fingers. “All that gold. You can’t sell that nowadays unless you melt it down, and do I look like a blacksmith?” He smiled. “So. John Dee’s Bestiarum Vocabulum.”
Mad took a plastic envelope from her jacket and slid it to Priest. “Here’s a picture of the desired object.”
“Ah.” He withdrew the illustration. “The Bestiarum Vocabulum. John Dee’s compendium of animals with supernatural connotations. The animals are symbols of spirits that ancient societies worshipped as creator deities. Fascinating stuff. John Dee was Elizabeth the First’s astrologer, astronomer, occultist, and alchemist. He had one of the largest libraries in England. A man after my own heart.”
“So, he was basically a sorcerer.” Evie rested her arms on the table.
“A Collector, as well.”
“What can the book do?” Mad demanded.
“It was allegedly written by demons, to call them, to amplify their power. It is listed by Collectors, such as myself, as one of the most dangerous magic books in existence.”
Mad tapped a finger against the table. “How does it work?”
“A magic book written by anything otherworldly can be opened by blood. Even a drop. Most books have a lock, but the key can often be an everyday item transformed by proximity to the book, such as a needle or a nail. If the magic book wants to be opened, it can be coaxed to do so. But, as I said, sometimes merely being close to it can have effects.”
“Why don’t you want it?” Evie was watching Priest and Mad; the man’s attitude toward Mad was one of careless affection.
“Oh, I’ve plenty of books and, honestly, I wouldn’t go near this one. I am not fond of magic books—it’s like having spiritual plutonium in your possession. Speaking of spirits, Madrigal, did I ever thank you for Houdini’s Ouija board?”
“A present from one diva to another. Thank you for the Metropolis reel.”
“Robot Maria.” Priest grinned.
And it dawned on Evie that Priest was the man who had taken Mad in as a runaway. He was her former guardian.
“Madrigal. May I advise that you not give that book to Silence and Night?” Priest slipped the envelope back to her.
Mad tilted her head. “You really think we have a choice.”
“I understand giving that pair anything they ask for”—Priest shook his head—“is not a choice.”
Just then, another wind swept through the courtyard, causing orange blossoms to skate across the table. Evie shivered. She felt as if the wind were bringing something with it, a warning breathed upon her skin by some elemental divinity.
“The mistral,” Priest told her knowingly. “The wind of misfortune and madness.”
“I know,” Evie said. “Van Gogh hated it. He called it the devil.”
When Evie and Mad returned to Black Fox House, they entered the main room to find Ciaran brooding in a wingback chair. He said, “We’ve a guest.”
“Oh, he’s unhappy, the prince.” Mad strode toward him as Evie lingered near the entrance.
“You weren’t supposed to take Evie.” Ciaran rose.
“She’s one of us,” Mad challenged.
“I didn’t want him to know about her.” Ciaran looked furious for an instant. Mad levitated an inch, toes down like a ballerina. All the doors around them slammed shut. Cold crept through the room.
“It’s okay.” Evie moved swiftly, placing herself between them, facing Ciaran. “We got the information we needed. Who’s the guest?”
Ciaran eased back into his chair. “Mother Night.”
Mad shot an alarmed glance over one shoulder at Evie.
“She wants us well-fed for tomorrow evening. She’s in there.” Ciaran jerked his chin toward the closed doors to the kitchen. “Cooking. With Queenie.”
Mad walked to the dining room and flicked on the lights. “The table isn’t even set.”
Evie flinched as the kitchen door opened and Mother Night, her black hair in plaits and her white Isabel Marant dress protected by an apron, emerged. She swept a cool gaze over Mad and Evie.
“There you are. Set the table s’il vous plaît. Ciaran refused to do so.” She returned to the kitchen, her stiletto heels clicking. “Dépêchez-vous! The bouillabaisse is almost ready.”
Mad opened a cabinet and began taking out plates. Evie moved to help her because disobeying Mother Night seemed something only Ciaran dared. After a moment, Ciaran rose to assist. Meeting Evie’s gaze over the crystal, he smiled crookedly. Dev arrived, immaculate in dove gray Valentino, with a massive bouquet of flowers.
La Fable Sombre dined on grilled sardines, oysters, tender squid, and fish smothered in olive oil and garlic. Everyone behaved, with Mother Night at one end of the table and Ciaran at the other. Queenie could have been Mother Night’s daughter, she was so poised in the woman’s presence. Dev watched Night as if she were a goddess. As Mother Night spoke with Ciaran, Mad sat at Ciaran’s right hand, reading the vintage children’s book she’d stolen from the collection.
Evie wondered what Mother Night would have done if she knew about Mad visiting Priest. She concentrated on making it through dinner and keeping her wits about her.
Afterward, Mother Night moved to Dev and slid a silver and diamond pin into his tie. “It belonged to Steve McQueen.” She gave Queenie a pair of vintage boots that laced to the knee. “They were Amelia Earhart’s.” She placed a ring of ruby and gold onto one of Ciaran’s fingers. “Worn by Lorenzo de’ Medici.” Mad unwrapped a first edition Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and held it, staring at it, her hands trembling slightly.
Mother Night walked to Evie, who didn’t move as the woman reached out and gently tucked Evie’s hair behind her ears. “I’ve nothing for you, Evie. I don’t know what you want.”
“I don’t want anything,” Evie whispered.
Night stepped back. “Everyone wants something. I will find out. Au revoir, children. I’ll see you at the next Thieves’ Night.”
After Mother Night had gone, La Fable Sombre rambled into the main room, where they sat on the floor to plot their second heist of the year. Ciaran had spread out the blueprints to the Church of the Bleeding Saint. He moved pieces from Dev’s chessboard across the map. He looked at Mad. “Apple of my eye. Comrade in arms. My BFF. Would you explain the semantics to our newcomer Evie?”
“I sure will, you dashing devil.”
Dev sighed. “You only called me apple of your eye once.”
“Was I drunk at the time?” Ciaran inquired.
“I believe you were.”
“Enough flirting. Someone explain it to me.” Evie was fed up with their Mad Hatter repartee.
Mad threw back her shoulders. She sat on the floor, hands in her lap. She moved the chess pieces, the black queen and the black knight. “Ciar and Queenie will be the Flaunt, posing as a passionate couple—they fake it so well—who want to be married at the church. I’m gonna be the Eye again, to make sure no one else shows up. You and Dev will be the Strikers. While everyone in the church is distracted by Ciaran and Queenie’s drama, you and Dev will be on the move.”
“Who’s Tooth and Claw?” The brawl at the LA nightclub had been a lesson in fighting, but Ciaran and Mad had also recently shown Evie some self-defense techniques.
Mad exchanged a look with Ciaran. “We shouldn’t need Tooth and Claw.”
Evie doubted it would be so easy. She stared at the map to the church crypt. “I can only invisible one person at a time. So only Dev.”
“It’s uncanny. What Evie does.” Dev stretched his arms over his head.
Ciaran watched Evie. “We need to get in and out, fast and quiet. No mayhem. Like Mad said, there shouldn’t be any need for Tooth and Claw, but . . .”
“Always expected the unexpected,” Evie finished.
“Always know your opponents.” Queenie tapped the blueprints. “Some church staff. No problem. But what if the Sirens are guarding it?”
“We can fight the Sirens.” Dev looked regretful.
“I don’t want to fight Circe,” Mad said fiercely. “So we’ve got to stick to the invisible plan. You are the star of the show, Eves.”
That statement should have made Evie nervous, but warmth blossomed through her, softening her heart. “Why can’t we just Door into the church? We have photos for Ciaran to visualize with.”
“I try not to use the magic doors with places I haven’t been,” Ciaran explained. “Photos aren’t always accurate.”
“The skyscraper incident,” Dev recollected.
“You’re telling me about that later,” Evie demanded. She looked at Mad. “So, how do we get in?”
“We arrive in three separate cars. Queenie and Ciar will get there first, as the bride-and groom-to-be. I’ll be a tourist, but I’ll get to the roof my way, maybe even be mistaken for an angel. That leaves you, Evie, and Dev to enter through the cemetery as the sun is setting. There’s a back door.” Mad set a finger on the church blueprint. “That hall leads to the crypt.” She drew from beneath the map a brochure for the church. “See? They even have pictures because they give tours. You see that symbol?”
Queenie said, “That’s where the crypt will be. It supposedly holds a dead saint or whatever who turned part of a sea into blood. I get now why the Sirens chose the place.”
“I can get us in. Stone loves me.” Dev’s relationship with the world of inanimate objects was a source of fascination for Evie.
