“What makes you think so?”
“A different look in his eye. I said something after we determined that the book wasn’t down there . . . about how I was sure you’d find it. And he asked me if you’d wanted to come here or if it was my idea. As if that was any of his business.”
“What did you tell him?”
Sebastian’s eyes searched my face. “You care?”
“We’re having a conversation. I’d like to know what you told him.”
“I said that I was your manager and that you are always happy to take the commissions that I get for you.”
“In other words, you lied.”
I didn’t know why it bothered me that Sebastian hadn’t told Gaspard the truth. After all, it wasn’t any of Gaspard’s business.
“You always have been happy to take the commissions that I get for you.”
“I used to be. But you know that’s not true anymore.”
“Madame is waiting, Delphine. Let’s go to lunch.”
No one was better than I was at deflecting questions and changing the subject, except for my brother.
I followed him out of the room, leaving my sweater behind. I wouldn’t need it anymore. The crisis had passed, and I never had to go down into that chamber of horrors again. And I could hope we’d find the blasted book soon and leave this medieval alcazar.
Gaspard had gone back home to eat with his son, so it was just my brother and me and La Diva at the table. Over a quiche and salad with a crusty baguette and more of the delicious fruity rosé from the region, the talk returned to the missing book.
“What admirable perseverance you have, Madame.” Sebastian was charming her. “To have searched for this book for more than thirty years and still have the energy to carry on.”
She smiled. “It’s been a labor of love, and I believe it is my mission to find the Great Work and discover Flamel’s secrets.”
“But you’ve never lost faith,” he said.
“No, I never have had any doubt.”
“How is that?” I asked.
“I have proof that the book is here.”
She hadn’t mentioned proof before.
“Really? What kind?” I asked, hoping she was going to say she had a letter written by Flamel himself, which I could look at and touch. I sensed there was a connection between his elixir and my ancestors’ and wondered if I could pull any information from something he’d held. I’d had a little experience with that. Maman had taught me. My sister Opaline could hold stones and learn from them, actually hear them speak. If the stones were combined with a personal item, such as a lock of hair, Opaline could actually receive messages from the dead.
“Nicolas Flamel told me,” La Diva said, as normally as if she were reporting back on what the cook had told her had been sold at the market that morning. “We’ve had several séances with Flamel over the years,” she added.
Sebastian raised his eyebrows. “And he spoke to you about the book?”
“He did.”
“Did he tell you where it was?” I asked.
“Yes, but we’ve never been able to find the area he said to search. That’s why it’s so important that you’re here.”
“What exactly did he tell you? What did he describe?” I asked.
“You do believe in the power of séances, don’t you?” Madame asked, looking first at Sebastian and then at me.
“Do we need to remind you who our mother is?” Sebastian smiled.
“No, of course not. In fact, your mother was present at several séances I attended in Paris. None, though, when Flamel visited.”
“Maman has always said that séances can be very revealing but they can also be confusing,” I explained. “There are too many powerful influences that can alter and affect what occurs.”
“Of course. That’s why we’ve conducted quite a few with the great alchemist. And except for Jules and Pierre and me, we always mixed up the attendees, to prevent just such a situation.”
“Jules? Pierre?” Sebastian asked.
“Jules Bois. You’ll meet him this weekend; he’s coming to my party,” Madame explained. “Jules is a novelist and my oldest and closest friend. We were going to marry at one point . . .” A smile lifted the corners of her mouth, and for a flash, I saw the young girl she once was. “And Pierre.” She looked at me. “You knew Pierre Dujols, didn’t you? He owns the Librairie du Merveilleux. He’s quite ill now and bedridden. His nephew has taken over running the shop.”
After her reference to Mathieu, I changed the subject. “Where did Nicolas Flamel tell you the book was?”
“He said the book is in the library of light and shadow, but . . .” She paused as if remembering.
“But?” I prompted.
“He told us that only someone who could see in the shadows would be able to find the book.”
The room was suddenly chillier than it had been. I looked at Madame and Sebastian to see if either of them had noticed, but it didn’t appear so.
The cold washed over me along with a wave of dizziness. I had a memory flash of fighting churning water. The current spinning me in its vortex, trying to pull me down.
I stood up. “I . . . I need to get my sweater,” I said, and left the table.
I could feel Sebastian’s eyes boring into my back, but I didn’t turn around. I had to get away from whatever I’d sensed in that room. It wasn’t unusual for me to feel a temperature change during a psychic episode. But it was extremely rare for me to have a flashback to my childhood drowning incident. What had triggered it now?
In the studio, sitting among all the discarded sketches, I hugged myself and intoned the chant my mother had taught me when I was a child, to center myself whenever I was overwhelmed by my fears. I hadn’t had to use it in a long time, but I had never forgotten it: Make of the blood, a sight.
Make of the sight, a symbol.
Make of the symbol, life everlasting.
I repeated it again and felt the warmth return.
Each of the daughters of La Lune had a mantra that was hers alone and that encapsulated her powers. Some were more enigmatic than others. It had taken my mother months to understand hers, just in time to save my father: Make of the blood, a stone.
Make of a stone, a powder.
Make of a powder, life everlasting.
My sister Opaline had also learned hers only weeks before she found herself in need of it: Make of the blood, heat.
Make of the heat, fire.
Make of the fire, life everlasting.
I had known mine since I was ten years old and had understood its meaning as soon as I’d heard it. My mother said that was because out of all of our powers, mine was the most accessible to me, and I recognized the mantra as having to do with my second sight right away. She and my sisters had had to struggle to find theirs.
Make of the blood, a sight.
Make of the sight, a symbol.
Make of the symbol, life everlasting.
I repeated it to myself three more times until I was completely calm.
There was a knock on the door, followed by my brother’s voice. “Delphine? Can I come in?”
“Yes.”
“Are you all right?”
I nodded. “I am now.”
“What happened?”
“I’m not quite sure. Suddenly, I didn’t feel very well.”