A Dash of Magic: A Bliss Novel (17 page)

“Actually, it’s one in eight,” she replied.

“Oh, in that case,” said Sage, “I guess we’d better go.”

Rose, Ty, Sage, and Leigh set off out of the hotel, with Gus trailing behind. Jacques sat tucked in the pocket of Rose’s sweatshirt, and Sage carried an empty blue mason jar.

Rose pulled at the brass handle of the heavy glass door of the hotel and held it open for her brothers and the cat, then shuffled on through, failing to notice that two more people were shuffling on through at the same moment. She found herself wedged in the doorway between two people, who whined and groaned in French. Rose couldn’t tell what they were saying, but it didn’t sound very friendly.

After a moment of struggle, Rose squeezed through the door and fell to her knees, where she finally got a good look at the two French people: Miriam and Muriel Desjardins, who were wearing matching red dresses and headbands made of silk roses.

Miriam lost her balance and went sailing into Ty, who tried to catch her in his arms but buckled under her weight, leaving both of them landing in a heap on the concrete sidewalk. Muriel spun around and fell butt first toward Sage, who tossed the blue mason jar up in the air in order to free his hands but missed Muriel’s shoulders anyway.

Rose saw the jar flying to its death on the hard concrete and slid toward it with outstretched arms so that it landed in the soft palms of her hands. Unfortunately, Gus had gotten caught up underneath her, and he squealed as he wrestled his hind leg free.

“Please!” he shouted. “I am not a toy! I am a living thing!”

Miriam and Muriel both turned toward Gus and watched in terror as he stood on his hind legs and brushed himself off. “The nerve of you people.”

The twins Desjardins turned to each other, wide-eyed, and began to scream.

“Oh boy,” said Rose. “Here we go.”

The twins scrambled to their feet and backed away from the gray cat with the rumpled ears and bad attitude.

“The cat—he . . . spoke!” Miriam wailed.

“Shhh!”
Ty shouted, hopping to his feet. He clamped his hand over Miriam’s mouth and ushered her into an empty alley on the side of the hotel. Rose followed suit, leading a fainting Muriel.

“I knew it!” Miriam hissed. “I knew there was something creepy about you people! You’re witches! You have a talking cat! You probably ride on brooms as well! Didn’t I tell you, Muriel?”

Muriel could only cry and struggle to break free from Rose’s grip.

“We’re not witches!” Ty squealed. “We’re magicians!”

“You’re magicians?” Miriam said, shivering with terror. “What do you mean, magicians?”

“We’re kitchen magicians!” Ty said. “We make magic with food. Magical cakes, pies, cookies . . . you know, things you eat. All very harmless. Fascinating, of course, and powerful, but ultimately harmless. We’re from a long line of kitchen magicians. The night that you found us on the deck of the Eiffel Tower, for instance, we were collecting unspoiled rainfall, directly from a storm cloud.”

“What about the talking cat?” said Muriel, still staring in terror at Gus, who sat on the pavement with his front legs folded across his chest.

“He was given a Chattering Cheddar Biscuit a long time ago, and he’s been able to talk ever since,” Ty answered.

“This is all too much. I have to sit down,” said Miriam, faltering as she lowered herself to the concrete.

“So, you’re not evil?” Muriel whispered.

“No, no, no,” Ty said, shaking his head. “But we know someone who is. She’s our aunt. That’s why we’re competing in the Gala. She stole our magical cookbook, and we challenged her to a duel; and if we win the Gala, we get the cookbook back, but if we lose, she keeps it forever and she can do whatever evil thing she wants with it.”

Muriel’s jaw dropped. “Who is your evil aunt?”

“Lily Le Fay,” Rose said, practically spitting the name from her mouth.

Miriam gasped from where she sat on the concrete.

“I knew it!” she shrieked. “She is the one who made us lose!”

“What?” Rose shouted. “How did she do that?”

“We made our famous Key Lime Cupcakes for the SOUR category,” said Muriel. “We added lime juice that we had squeezed the night before, as usual.”

“We have made the cupcakes over three hundred times,” Miriam added. “To us, it is easier than breathing. They are perfection each time.”

“But when Jean-Pierre took a bite, he winced,” Muriel went on. “We were devastated. We went back and were about to toss out the lime juice when I noticed that it smelled funny. I tasted it. Someone had replaced our fresh-squeezed lime juice with olive juice.”

“I peeked over at Lily Le Fay’s garbage,” said Miriam, “and I saw an empty can of olives. I know it was her.”

“If you are trying to beat her,” said Muriel, “we want to help. We’ll do anything to make sure she goes up in flames.”

Ty grinned. “How much do you know about the Cathédrale Notre Dame?”

“We are closed!” proclaimed the guard at the front of Notre Dame Cathedral.

Rose stood on her tiptoes and looked past the woman into the majestic vault of the cathedral. A few people were still milling about inside.

“What about them?” Rose asked, pointing.

“They will be asked to leave in fifteen minutes,” the guardwoman said.

“Fifteen minutes is all we need! Please? It’s our last night in Paris!” Rose said.

With a huff, the guard stepped aside so that they could enter.

Rose, Leigh, Ty, Miriam, and Muriel filed past. Sage was about to follow when the guard realized Sage was carrying not a baby in his BabyBjörn but a cat.

The guard raised her arm. “No cats!” she bellowed.

“But it’s a toy!” Sage protested. He thumped the cat on its crumple-eared head. “Look how stiff his legs are! Look at how fake this fur looks! No real cat would be this ugly.”

Obligingly, Gus kept his legs and body stiff and unyielding.

The woman touched the cat’s head, then pulled on one of his ears. “I can see it now—these ears are not very realistic, are they?”

“Nope!” Sage chirped. “Fakity-fake fake!”

And then they were past and walking down the side aisle of the cathedral.

“That,” Gus whispered, “was wholly uncalled for. Ugly!? Me?”

“
Non
! Not you!” Muriel said, leaning in to Gus and patting him on his head.

“Now let me get this straight,” said Miriam. “We are waiting until midnight, then we are going upstairs to the bell tower and collecting the chime of the bell in this jar?”

“Yes,” Ty answered. “But apparently there is some sort of gargoyle problem.”

“I don’t see what could be so bad about some stone statues,” said Muriel.

“Ten minutes until closing!” a voice reverberated through the stone vault of the cathedral. “Everyone is to exit in ten minutes!”

“How are we going to get around the guards?” Rose asked.

Miriam put her arm around Rose’s shoulder. “Luckily for you, my sister and I know this cathedral
very
well—including all the best hiding places. Come this way.”

Half an hour later, the night security guard had completed his tour around the cathedral, and there was the ominous
thunk
of dead bolts being shot home.

“How will we get out when we’re done?” Rose asked as she, her brothers, and the girls came out of a confessional.

“One problem at a time,
mi hermana
,” Ty said. “First, let’s get that bell toll.”

Rose tilted her head back to look at the ceiling, but it was so high and the cathedral so dark that the ceiling might as well have been an open sky on a cloudy night. Every movement Rose made—every shuffle, every twitch, every sniffle, every cough—bounced off the massive marble columns in a frightening echo.

“Let’s get this over with,” Rose said, checking her watch. It was already ten thirty p.m. Balthazar had said that Purdy and Albert would be out late, but this was pushing it. “Where is this bell? And where are these infamous gargoyles?”

Miriam was nodding. “The gargoyles are on the same level as the bell tower, up high, overlooking Paris. As for the bell—”

Leigh cleared her throat. “It really depends on the particular bell to which you’re referring, young Rose,” she said. “There are five bells in Notre Dame. Four are located in the North Tower, but the bell you’re thinking of—the Bourdon bell called Emmanuel—is located in the South Tower.”

Muriel gasped. “How does the tiny genius child know so much?”

“Magical mishap,” answered Ty.

“Normally she can’t even tie her shoes,” Sage added.

Muriel led the way up a vast spiral staircase of white stone. At the top of the stairs was a tiny doorway—apparently the bishops were shorter back when this place was built. Rose had to duck to get through.

On the other side was a stone balcony overlooking the city. Rose might have been frightened if she hadn’t found herself atop the Eiffel Tower just the evening before. Compared to that experience, the cathedral tower felt like it was hugging the ground.

“The bell is through there,” said Miriam, pointing to another tiny entryway at the end of the balcony.

“What now?” Sage asked, setting Gus on the ground.

Rose checked her watch: eleven fifty p.m. “We wait, and at midnight we capture the chime.”

“Is that so?” said a low, growling voice.

“Sage?” Ty asked. “Was that you doing a weird gargoyle voice?”

“No!” Sage said, trembling.

In the darkness beside them, something moved. Rose jumped, then turned to discover that the deep shadows at the rear of the balcony had been hiding a gargoyle. The statue was perched on a pedestal set against the wall; it had a monkey-like face with a protruding snout and tongue, sharp teeth, sunken eyes, and a horn atop its head. Odd little bumps lined its back, and two wings sprouted from its shoulders.

While Rose was studying the statue, not wanting to believe that it had actually just spoken, it turned its head and looked right at her. “Boo!” it said.

Sage yelped, and Ty practically tripped over Gus as he backed into Muriel and Miriam. The twins were staring, horrified, at the stone statue. A fluffy cat who talks is one thing, but a statue in the shape of a demon is quite another.

“I want to go home,” Muriel whispered to her sister.

“Why did we trust the baking magicians?” said Miriam.

“It was your idea!” Muriel whispered.

The family watched as the gargoyle’s wings broke free from the sides of its sunken rib cage and its stony gray limbs peeled away from the pedestal. The gargoyle lifted its wings and began to flap them. To Rose’s surprise, its wings fluttered quickly and delicately—quite like a dragonfly’s. The gargoyle rose off the pedestal and buzzed through the air, landing squarely in front of the entry to the room where the bell was kept.

“Nobody will be capturing any chimes tonight!” the gargoyle thundered. “You are trespassing!”

Sage couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the gargoyle’s jagged ribs, beady eyes, and lolling tongue. “Ew,” he said.

“What?” the gargoyle snapped. “What did he just say?”

Ty cleared his throat. “He said . . . ‘Hello-ew.’ Don’t mind my brother; it’s just his crazy speech impediment. My parents have tried to get it fixed.
Anyway
 . . .”

Ty sauntered over to the gargoyle and stuck his hand out. “Hey. I’m Ty, as in the herb thyme. Put her there, buddy. What’s your name, my man?”

The gargoyle scowled. “My name,” it said, “is Eve.”

Ty winced. “You mean . . . you’re a girl?”

“Surprised?” the gargoyle asked.

“Not at all!” Ty bluffed. “I call everyone ‘man’! Girls, boys, gargoyle girls, gargoyle boys anyway . . .” Ty’s offered the girl gargoyle one of his thousand-watt smiles. “You are, like, the most beautiful gargoyle I, for one, have ever laid eyes on!”

“Your flattery won’t work up here” came another stony voice. A second gargoyle, this one just a giant head with a wide, fiery grin and the heavy, flowing eyebrows of a Chinese dragon, bounced up from the corner where it lay and rolled along the balcony railing toward Ty. “I’m Bob, Eve’s brother. We know we’re grotesque. We’re not ashamed.”

“Speak for yourself,” chirped a third gargoyle in a high-pitched, fairyish voice near the ceiling. This one had a catlike face with two long tusks; but instead of two ears, its head culminated at the top in a single, odd bulb shape. She leaped down and said, “I wouldn’t mind a little flattery. I’m their sister, Antonia.”

Ty smiled, searching for something about Antonia to admire. “I really like your . . . head-bulb thing,” he finally managed.

Antonia stifled a giddy giggle. “Thank you,” she said. “Many say it’s my finest feature.”

“Antonia!” shouted Bob, bouncing up in the air and landing on the floor of the balcony with a crack. “We’re trying to scare them away, not socialize with them!
Please!
”

Bob swiveled in place and addressed Ty in a fearsome voice. “Why do you trespass on our tower?”

Rose pointed a finger meekly up in the air. “Um, I think I can answer that, uh, Bob. My name is Rose, I’m Ty’s sister, and we are a family of bakers. We are competing in an international baking competition against our evil aunt to make her remove her dangerous Secret Ingredient from the market and regain control of our family’s magical cookbook. It would be a huge help if we could capture the sound of your bell’s magnificent chime. Will you let us?”

The three gargoyle siblings exchanged glances. Eve rustled her wings. “Your plea is compelling,” she judged. “But I’m sorry, no. Our only duty is to guard Emmanuel. We have never failed, and we won’t fail now.”

Sage winked. “Well, this audience is a tough one! It’s like they have hearts of stone!”

The gargoyles eyed him warily.

“Maybe a little humor will smooth over the situation—”

“Sage,” Rose said, “I don’t really think that’s a—”

“Hey, what’s a gargoyle’s favorite soup? Stone soup. What’s a gargoyle’s favorite hot beverage? Lava. What’s a gargoyle’s favorite type of music? Rock. What’s an alien gargoyle called? A meteorite. Who visits gargoyles when they dream? The Sandstone Man. What happens when a gargoyle laughs? It cracks up. . . .” Sage paused. “That’s it. That’s all I’ve got.”