Labyrinth Society (14 page)

"It's a labyrinth," whispered Tomi in amazement. "Why would McFarland have a labyrinth?"

The labyrinth wasn't made up of hedges like ours back home. It had been cut into the tall grass with a lawn mower and was a third of the size.

"It must have something to do with why she wanted Marie's necklace so bad."

"I don't like this, Lily. Let's find Alex and get out of here."

She didn't have to tell me twice. We crept around the side of the farmhouse to the back where the yard was a jungle of junk and overgrown weeds.

"How're we going to get into the house?" asked Tomi.

"Maybe he's not in the house."

I pointed to the back of the yard where there was a small stone shed. When the door to the shed swung open and one of the baldy twins stepped out carrying a tray of dirty dishes, Tomi and I ducked behind a rusted out wheelbarrow. After he padlocked the door and went back into the house, we ran over to the shed. But we couldn't see in, because the windows had been painted over.

"Alex. Are you in there?" I called out as loud as I dared through the keyhole. I pressed my ear to the door.

"Don't be daft," came an irritated voice behind us.

Tomi and I just about jumped out of our skin. It was Alex. He was alive and well and had barely a mark on him. He grabbed each of us by the arm and dragged us behind the shed.

"Where have you two been? I've been looking for you for hours!"

"Us? Why wouldn't you answer your phone? We thought you'd been kidnapped by McFarland." I waved the cell phone pic of him bound and gagged in his face. He went pale and Tomi threw her arms around him.

"Don't ever scare us again," she said into his shirt. Alex's face softened and he hugged her back.

"I'm sorry, luv. I lost me phone during the fight with Baldilocks. McFarland must have found it and used it to trick you. I had to run all over town trying to find a new phone, which let me tell you ain't easy on a Sunday. Then I had to download the GPS software so I could track you lot down. What's wrong, Lily?" he asked when he realized I wasn't paying attention. A chill had just gone down my spine.

"If you're out here, then who's in there?" I said, pointing to the shed.

I never got an answer because Tweedledee and Tweedledum were back… and they had guns.

Mia and the Objects of Supernatural Origin

"Stop staring at people. You're being rude," whispered Devon.

"Stop calling the kettle black, Miss Pot," I replied. Devon rolled her eyes and shook her head.

It was the first time she'd spoken to me since we'd arrived in Paris. We'd gotten into another big argument at the train station in Versailles when she found out I'd lied about having the cell phone Mrs. T. gave me. Devon was hoping to use it to get in touch with the others. She'd used all the money she had on our train tickets and couldn't buy a cheap disposable one. All I had was a twenty-dollar bill, which was useless in France. I'd purposefully left everything my foster mother had given me behind because I wanted to prove I wasn't a thief. I ended up treating her just like Mr. and Mrs. Higgins had treated me. Boy, did I owe her an apology.

Anyway, now we were on the metro hoping to beat the group from St. Albans back to their hotel. And for the record, I hadn't been staring at anyone. I was just, well, staring off into space. But could you blame me? Here I was in Paris, France with a girl I couldn't stand, wearing damp clothes, reeking of smoke, and chasing after a cell phone to make contact with kidnappers. I got to France through a portal in the garden labyrinth. Maybe I was having a weird and crazy dream, probably from eating the barbecue chicken and baked beans last night. But Tomi whacked me pretty hard across the face and it sure felt real to me. Plus, my cheek was still a little sore. And if I pinch myself, which I've done at least a half a dozen times, not only does it hurt like a son of gun, but I'm not waking up. So, much as I hated to admit it, what's happened to me so far has been one hundred percent real. And do you want to know the craziest part? I saw a ghost!

It happened back at the Palace of Versailles in the Green Library. We'd been through every room in the queen's private apartments and couldn't find any picture of Marie Antoinette wearing a necklace like the one described in Father Billon's journal. I was waiting for Devon to figure out our next move when suddenly there she was — Marie Antoinette. At first I thought it was a tour guide dressed in a costume who was going to give some kind of presentation or something, like when my fifth-grade class went to Colonial Williamsburg for our big class trip. It's a living history museum where the people who work there dress up like they did back in the colonial days.

The woman in the Green Library was dressed in one of those fancy silk gowns I always see Marie Antoinette wearing in paintings, with a big hoop skirt and the low neckline with lace and ruffles all over the place. Her hair was the whitish grey color my grandma called ash blonde, piled high on her head in elaborate curls, with jewel-covered combs tucked into it. She even had the same oval-shaped blue eyes as the real Marie. Her skin was so pale I bet the sun never touched it. But it was probably just covered with powder. I could even smell her heavy, flowery-scented perfume.

I waited for faux Marie to start talking about life at Versailles but she never said a word. She just glanced over her shoulder like she was afraid she was being watched and then went over to the bookshelf. And then it happened. She stuck her hand right through the glass and pulled a thick blue book trimmed in gold off the shelf. Only it wasn't a book. It was a box disguised as a book. Then she pulled a piece of parchment paper from inside the left sleeve of her gown, shoved it inside the box, put it back on the shelf and… disappeared into thin air.

I just stared at the spot in front of the bookshelf where she disappeared. For a few minutes I couldn't move and barely breathed. Then Devon started asking me what was wrong. But I couldn't talk. It wasn't because I was scared. Yeah, I was shocked. Who wouldn't be? But I wanted to know what Marie had put into the box. Next thing I knew, I was pulling on the glass doors protecting the books, trying to get at the blue box. I didn't care who saw me or about getting caught and strangely enough, somehow I knew I wouldn't get caught, at least not then. I wasn't surprised at all when the glass door popped open.

When we found the sketch of Marie wearing the necklace, I had the eeriest feeling she'd wanted me to find it. But there was no way I was telling Devon what I'd seen. I already knew how crazy it would sound, and I knew she'd be a jerk about it. But since I now knew about Morgan being kidnapped, I guess I couldn't blame her for being so mean. I still don't know why I'd run after Devon instead going back to the gardens. I was more shocked when she'd burst out crying than I had been at seeing a ghost. I bet crying wasn't something she did a lot. I guess I just didn't want her to be alone.

"I'm sorry about your friend. She must be scared," I said. Devon gave me a surprised look and then turned to stare out the window without answering.

"Thanks," she finally said a few minutes later. "I know the others didn't think she was so great. But they didn't get to know her like I did. Morgan was cool. She was like my big sister. And… thanks for saving our butts back at Versailles. I totally blew it, which I never do," she added, sounding more like the Devon I was used to.

"What do the kidnappers want, money?" I asked. But Devon turned back towards the window like she was tired of talking.

"This is our stop. Let's go," she said, nudging me to get up.

We got off at a metro stop called Tuilleries`. I had to hurry to keep up with her before the crowd swallowed her up. I followed her up the steps out of the metro station to the street above. We were on a street called Rue de Rivoli. Tons of people were out either walking dogs or sitting at sidewalk cafes. All the buildings were ancient.

"What hotel are they staying at?" I asked.

"Best Western. It should be over there somewhere." She pointed across the street.

But I wasn't looking. We'd been walking next to a high hedge and once we'd gotten to the corner I noticed the huge glass pyramid in the middle of a wide courtyard surrounded by a palace as old as Versailles. I gasped. We were at the Louvre! It was enormous, and I couldn't stop staring. I was in Paris, home to some of the greatest artists in the world, with a lot of their most famous masterpieces a mere thirty feet away from where I was standing. My gaze immediately fell on a girl standing in the courtyard staring at the glass pyramid. She had shiny, coppery, red hair so shiny it glowed in the sunlight, and pale shimmering skin. She didn't look quite real. Was she a ghost, too? I was trying to get a better look at her when I heard my name.

"Mia! Come on!" shouted Devon, who was already across and halfway down the street. I looked back and the girl was gone.

Once I crossed the street, we headed past a golden statue of a woman on a horse, holding a flagpole high in the air, in the middle of a side street. It was Joan of Arc. The statue had to be made of bronze but the pointed ends of the flag she was carrying looked like they were fluttering in the breeze. Cool. There was so much to see I wasn't watching where I was going and bumped into the back of Devon, who gave me an evil look and I flinched.

"Sorry," I mumbled and meekly followed her into a tiny Internet cafe directly across the street from the Best Western.

Devon stood in the doorway and scanned the café, finally fixing her gaze on a harassed-looking guy in a suit sitting at a computer terminal while arguing on his cell. When he got up and left, Devon rushed over and sat at his terminal and then I saw why. He still had five minutes of paid computer time left on his terminal. Devon's fingers flew across the keyboard even though none of the keys were in the same place as our keyboards back home.

"Um, shouldn't we be across the street waiting in the hotel lobby?"

"Look at us," she said, glancing down at her wrinkled, soot-covered clothes. "We look a mess. They'd just think we were homeless and call the police."

"What are you doing?"

"This," she said, turning the screen towards me and lowering her voice. On the screen was a map with a blinking red dot. "I'm tracking my phone's GPS. The dot is my phone and it's not moving."

Her fingers started flying again and the map was quickly replaced by an image of a car- choked highway. One of the vehicles was a large tour bus.

"It's the tour bus St. Alban's is on. How'd you do that?"

"I hacked into the traffic cam on the highway outside the city. They're right outside Paris, only fifteen minutes away, but the traffic jam is backing everything up and it'll probably take at least an hour for them to get here." The screen went back to the welcome menu, indicating the time was up.

"So what do we do until then?"

"Wait."

She headed outside and parked herself on a wooden bench directly across the street from the Best Western Hotel and watched the guests coming and going. I sat next to her and rummaged through my backpack until I found a couple of granola bars and handed her one.

"Thanks. I'm starving." She stuffed half of it into her mouth. "You know you don't have to wait with me," she said around a mouthful of granola.

"And where else would I go, Devon?"

"You've still got the museum pass Sister Catherine gave you, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I saw your eyes bug out of your head when you were looking at the Louvre. The pass should get you in there if you want to go check it out."

"Seriously!" I said, jumping up. "But what about you?"

"Both of us don't need to wait, and it's not your problem anyway. Just be back in an hour or I'll leave you behind," she called out after me. But I was barely listening.

****

It took me a few minutes to figure out how to get into the Louvre. But once I was pointed in the right direction, I made great time. I flashed my museum pass at a guard and got on an escalator, which took me down to the Louvre's crowded main lobby, where I grabbed a map from the information desk. Sunlight from the glass pyramid above filled the lobby with light. According to the map, there were three main wings: Denon, Sully, and Richelieu. I had less than an hour. But what did I want to see? The Venus de Milo? The Egyptian exhibit? Then it hit me. The Mona Lisa! The Mona Lisa was in the Denon wing and I followed the map, pausing every few minutes to check out all the other art and sculpture along the way.

If I spent a week here I'd probably still not be able to see all the art here. But at least I could see one of the most famous paintings in the world. Too bad I wasn't the only one. I had to push my way through the crowd of people encircling the Mona Lisa. And once I got to the front of the crowd, I was disappointed to see the painting, which was mounted on a wall under thick glass, was so small. Seriously. It was half the size of a regular portrait. But she was still mysterious and beautiful with her smirky half smile.

I was probably the only one not snapping a picture. So when the Mona Lisa's gaze suddenly shifted from the left to looking straight ahead, no one else seemed to notice but me. I did a double take. Not only were her eyes looking front and center, but her head was also turned to the front and worst of all…she'd stopped smiling. The Mona Lisa was frowning. I must have been hallucinating. I rubbed my eyes, as the people around me continued to snap pictures. But when I opened them she was still frowning. Then I realized it was just like it was back in the Green library at Versailles. No one else could see what I was seeing. I also realized something else. The Mona Lisa was looking at something or someone across the room. I followed her gaze through the crowd and pushed my way back from the front of the painting to see what she was looking at. The room was full of people but most of them were crowded around the Mona Lisa. The back of the room was much less crowded. Then I noticed her.

Standing in front on the biggest painting I'd ever seen was the same girl with the shiny, glowing red hair I'd seen in the courtyard. She wasn't a ghost. At least I didn't think so. She was pretty solid, but so was Marie Antoinette. She was dressed in jeans and a white top and sandals. And I wasn't the only one looking at her. I detected movement out of the corners of my eyes as every figure in every single painting in the room, including the one she was standing in front of, was turned towards this girl. And like the Mona Lisa, none of them were happy. I had to know who she was. But by the time I reached her, she'd already left the room and was heading through another galley.

I followed her and so did the paintings. With each painting she passed, the angrier the figures inside the frames got. They went from giving her dirty looks to screaming at her. The words
ladro
and
bugiarda
were shouted by the figures in the Italian paintings and
mentirosa
and
ladrona
from the Spanish paintings. As far as I could tell, the redhead couldn't hear or see any of it. But I could. I was dizzy and my head was ringing from all the noise. I had to stop and cover my ears as the shouting got louder and louder. And when the people in the paintings started leaning out of their frames shaking their fists at the redhead as she headed into the next room and dripping paint on the parquet floors, I fainted.