Felix stared into the box, the knives inside all lined up against the fake red velvet, glistening. He remembered Samantha, with her blond hair held back by a hot-pink headband and her crookedly lined eyes, like she’d just learned how to put on makeup. She’d worn funny shoes, too, ugly brown ones with what his mother called a practical heel. And clear panty hose a shade too dark for her skin tone. Darling, his mother had announced as she clutched her deluxe set of knives and watched Samantha teeter off across the snowy driveway to her used green Toyota.
But which knife would do the trick now? Felix wondered. The one that so easily cut that penny? Or this bigger one that had sliced that block of wood in half? His fingers tentatively touched the skinnier one. Samantha had seemed especially proud of the way it had sliced a tomato. But how hard was it to do that? Felix had thought then, and thought again now. Still, his mother had gushed over that, too.
“What on earth are you doing over there?” Maisie demanded.
“Choosing the right knife for the job,” Felix said, quoting Samantha.
“Just grab any one and let’s go!”
Not only was Maisie tired and grumpy, but now that Felix had figured out what to do, all she could think of was Great-Uncle Thorne in that ICU. He could die at any minute!
“Hurry!” she yelled at Felix.
He appeared wielding a big shiny knife.
“It’s the one that cut that penny in half,” he explained.
“Whatever,” Maisie said, and took the knife from him before he started to worry over exactly how to do this.
She held the knife on the shard, then paused.
“Which way?” Maisie asked.
“What?”
“Well, I could cut it longways,” she said, slicing the air above the shard. “Or crossways.” She sliced the air the other way to demonstrate.
“Gee,” Felix said, “I don’t know. I mean, the shards are so tiny in the picture. They just look equal in size.”
Maisie and Felix both stared at the shard on the marble counter.
“Crossways,” Maisie said.
“Longways,” Felix said at the exact same time.
They looked at each other, then back at the shard.
“Crossways,” Felix demurred.
Just as Maisie agreed, “Longways.”
They looked at each other again.
Then Maisie took a deep breath, lifted the knife, and cut right through the porcelain shard crossways. Maybe it was a good thing that Felix had taken so long to choose the proper knife, because it slid through the shard easily, as if it were made of butter.
Really, there was no need for them to go up to The Treasure Chest. Felix had the seal in his pocket, and they both had half of the shard on yarn around their necks. But Maisie thought it would be better luck for them to leave from The Treasure Chest. For one thing, who knew if the shards would actually work the way they thought? For another, they needed luck to save Great-Uncle Thorne.
Together, Maisie and Felix pressed the spot on the wall that caused it to open. They walked, single file, up the stairs to the Treasure Chest and stepped over the velvet rope that hung across the doorway. The Treasure Chest felt oddly cold, and Maisie and Felix both shivered when they entered. Felix noticed that the stained-glass window that sent beautiful rays of light and color across the room in sunlight appeared flat and blank in the darkness.
“Ready?” Maisie asked, holding out her hand.
Felix took the gold seal from his pocket, pausing ever so slightly before he offered it to Maisie to touch. If the shard didn’t work, and he got separated from Maisie, he would be in a foreign country, in a foreign time, unable to communicate or understand. If— “Felix!” Maisie said.
Felix nodded and held the seal out for his sister to touch.
As soon as she did, he felt himself being lifted off the floor. He glimpsed Maisie, grinning as she tumbled. He smelled Christmas trees and all the wonderful smells that the wind carried on it.
Then, for an instant, nothing.
And then Felix and Maisie landed and a fair-haired, curly-headed boy was standing over them, staring wide-eyed.
“Well,” he said with a smirk. “Where did you come from?”
Maisie looked at Felix and smiled.
Felix smiled back.
They had both understood the boy perfectly.
CHAPTER 6
SANDRO
The boy pointed at them and smiled, too.
“I have never seen such costumes,” he said, nodding approvingly. “The Cat. The Owl. The Fool. All so common. But this—”
Here he swept his hands in a grand gesture.
“This is unique,” he finished.
Felix glanced around the room. It seemed to be a laboratory or studio of some kind, with long tables covered with wood and bottles and what appeared to be a pile of hair. The smell was vaguely familiar, and although Felix couldn’t quite place it, it reminded him of his father.
The boy wore what looked like tights peeking out from beneath an ankle-length robe with long flowing sleeves. Over this he wore a green jacket, and over that a stiff white apron.
Seeing Felix studying his clothing, the boy shrugged.
“I was making paintbrushes,” he said.
He scooped up a handful of the coarse hair piled on the table as if in explanation.
“You’re a painter?” Maisie said, her voice hopeful.
The boy puffed up his chest.
“I am indeed,” he said.
He gave them a quick half bow, bending slightly at the waist.
“Sandro Botticelli,” he said by way of introduction.