“You saved me again,” I said. “But how did you know?”
He smiled. “That’s my ability,” he said, acknowledging for the first time that he was, in fact, one of us.
“What’s happened to my brother?”
“I don’t know. Once we’ve dried you off, we’ll find out.” He offered me a silver flask. “In the meantime, drink some of this. It will warm you up.”
I took it and put it up to my lips. The brandy burned my throat but did begin to warm me almost immediately. As I tipped my head back to take a second sip, I noticed the cavern’s ceiling. Then looked at its walls. I recognized this place. I knew the carvings that covered every surface. The cavern was far bigger than I’d understood when I’d drawn it. I turned around. Beyond the fire were shelves of alembics, jars, and strange-looking utensils.
I handed him back the flask. “This is the library where the book is located, isn’t it?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No.” He raised his arms like a winged bird about to take flight. “No. All of this is the book.”
I walked over to one of the walls and ran my fingers over the carved notations and symbols. Section after section of them. Each numbered with roman numerals. I counted sixteen.
“And we aren’t in the castle,” I said, as another piece of the puzzle fit into place. “We’re not even on the castle grounds, are we?”
“No. We’re sitting right under my cottage. I’m the caretaker of the Book of Abraham, as my father was before me and his father before him, going all the way back to Nicolas Flamel.”
I sat down on a stone bench and felt its smooth surface beneath my fingertips. “You mean Nicolas Flamel was here?”
“After he staged his death, yes. This is where he and his wife came. He wanted to find a safe place to live out his days, work on his formulas, and complete his studies.”
“How long did he live?”
Gaspard laughed. “Not as long as they say but to a hundred and twenty-eight.”
“His wife, too?”
“A few years longer. And his son and his son after him. We all have long lives. Not immortal, but the Great Work adds years to our life span.”
“Your last name, Le’Malf . . . his name backward. How could I not have realized? And Nicky?”
“Yes, named after my ancestor. Like yours, my heritage is full of secrets and surprises.”
He sat down next to me and offered me the flask again. I swallowed a long draft, then gave it back to him. He took my hand. It felt natural for him to hold it.
“All around us, this is the secret,” I said. “It’s astonishing. He did all this work?”
“Yes. He engraved every one of these alchemical secrets. The formula for the Great Work surrounds you. You’re looking at the key to opening portals to other realms and claiming wisdom.”
“Hidden so the power could never be abused,” I said.
“Exactly.”
I was still absorbing the information. “And the prophecy about it being found by someone who sees shadows . . . that’s me?”
“Yes, you’re one of the very few people enlightened enough to be able to grasp what’s written here and learn from it.”
“Are there many others?”
“A few. Enough.” He smiled wistfully.
“Your wife?”
He nodded.
“Not Madame Calvé?”
“Sadly, no.” He laughed. “Even though she wants it so very badly.”
“You said you’ve been studying it. Can’t you just read it?”
“No. It’s a lifelong effort. The lessons can’t just be read, they have to be experienced. Each generation must live them. It would be too easy to just be given the secrets. You understand that, don’t you? You’ve seen the danger of just giving people information?”
I nodded. I hadn’t known before now, though. All these years, I hadn’t realized the real danger of what I did when I sketched those secrets.
“You’ve always been scared of the dark, haven’t you?” Gaspard asked.
I nodded. Of course I was. I had been my whole life.
“Why?”
I started to give him an answer about my blindness, and then I realized that he was asking me a much more complicated question. Gaspard was asking me why I was scared of my own secrets. Why I wouldn’t look at them. Why I ran from them.
I was beginning to understand. I hadn’t run away from Paris only because of Mathieu and my fear of hurting him. I’d run away because I was scared of Mathieu hurting me. I hadn’t understood love at all. I’d thought it was some kind of magick. And I was scared that my magick wasn’t as powerful as my mother’s. I was scared of being in her shadow. Of never measuring up. I was scared of the curse and that I would fail and be one of the doomed daughters of La Lune. But I’d been wrong about it all. My only failing was living in fear.
“Delphine, I’d like you to stay here. Study the book with me.” He paused. “I know about your family curse. I know you don’t think you can love anyone else. But I believe the curse can be broken. At least, we could try. Imagine all this knowledge . . . at your fingertips.”
I gazed around me. Took in the wonder of the chamber. Candlelight flickered on the deeply etched walls, cast shadows, hid some of the secrets and illuminated others. My drawings hadn’t done it justice. The cavern vibrated with energy and magick, and Gaspard was offering it all to me.
“It’s tempting.” I looked into his honeyed eyes, trying to feel just one spark. “Not just to learn all this but to be with you and Nicky . . . but my destiny isn’t to be the daughter who breaks the curse. Mine is to learn not to be afraid of it.”
“As sorry as I am that you won’t entertain my offer, I’m very happy for you that you know that now, finally.”
I smiled at him. “I do. Finally. Because of you. I’ll never forget that.”
Chapter 49
Gaspard took me back to the forest. To the path just beyond the waterfall.
“I’ll leave you here,” he said. “You know the way back, don’t you?”
I nodded.
“Then we’ll say good-bye.”
My eyes filled with tears. “You’ve saved me three times,” I said. “I’m not sure how to thank you.”
“You don’t need to.” He reached up and brushed my hair out of my eyes. Then he kissed me chastely on the forehead.
“Take care of Nicky,” I said. “Tell him to remember to color outside the lines.”
Gaspard nodded. He started to walk away. Then stopped. “There’s actually something I would like as a thank-you.”
“Anything.”
“A painting from you. When you get home.”
“Of course. A painting of butterflies, will that be all right?”
“Better than all right. Perfect.” He held up his hand in parting.
I mimicked the gesture.
He turned away.
For a moment, I wanted to run after him. To stay with him and Nicky. It would be so much easier than facing what was ahead of me. Facing what my brother had done. Moving forward with Mathieu without fear. Taking on the risks that being with Mathieu would bring. He still had a crack in his soul through which darkness entered. He might never mend. He might never find peace or poetry again. But he was my fate, wasn’t he?