Double Cross

by Stuart Gibbs

  In that second, Greg sprang to his feet and took out the closest guard, kicking his legs out from under him and snatching the sword from his hand as he fell. The other guards wheeled back toward him, but before they could attack, Greg had already lunged for Milady. He caught her arm, spun her so that he stood behind her, and placed the sharp steel of his blade against her neck. “Back down!” he ordered the guards.

  They all froze, unsure what to do.

  “D’Artagnan!” Louis cried. “Don’t hurt her!”

  “Let my parents and Catherine go,” Greg countered. “Or I’ll cut her throat.”

  “Don’t give in to him,” Milady told the king. “He’s bluffing.”

  “I’m not,” Greg said. “If I had anyone else in this position, I would be. But not with you, Milady.” With that, he pressed his blade harder against her neck.

  Milady’s cool facade faded. When she spoke again, there was fear in her voice. “Louis, I was wrong. Do what he says.”

  Louis turned to his guards. “You heard her! Back away from the prisoners!”

  The guards obeyed, lowering their swords.

  “Drop your weapons,” Greg told them.

  A dozen swords clattered to the floor.

  Catherine leaped to her feet, grabbing the weapons around her and moving toward the door. Greg’s parents took her cue and did the same.

  “And now,” Greg whispered in Milady’s ear, “I’d like the amulet you’re wearing. It belongs to my family.”

  “You’ll have to take it yourself, if you don’t mind,” Milady said coolly. “I can’t remove it with this sword to my throat.”

  With his free hand, Greg unlatched the chain from Milady’s neck and lifted it up. The moment the Devil’s Stone came into view, everyone in the room gasped, aware there was something unearthly about it.

  “My amulet!” Greg’s mother cried. “How did she get it?”

  “I’ll explain later,” Greg said. In his hand, he could feel the stone pulsating with power. “You have something else of mine,” he told Milady. “The little magic box you find so fascinating.”

  “It’s right here.” Milady reached into the folds of her dress and fumbled around inside. “You’ll forgive me if this takes a moment. Oops. . . .” Something tumbled from her dress and shattered on the floor at her feet.

  Greg reflexively glanced down. The broken object was a glass perfume vial, not his phone. Milady had tricked him into losing focus. Before he could recover, she jammed an elbow into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him, then spun free of his grasp. At the same time, she swept his legs out from under him, then yanked the amulet from his grasp as he crashed to the floor.

  Greg couldn’t believe how quickly it happened. In all the time he’d known Milady, he’d never had any idea she could fight. As usual, he’d underestimated her.

  He sprang back to his feet to find she was already halfway to the door, the Devil’s Stone in her hand. His father and Catherine tried to block her path, but she dodged both like a cat. Greg took off after her.

  “Stop him!” Louis yelled to his guards.

  The men came at Greg, but Catherine and his parents had taken their weapons. Greg slashed his sword at them, and they shrank back in fear.

  “Come on!” Greg told Mom, Dad, and Catherine. “We can’t let Milady get away!”

  They followed him out of the throne room, and the guards pursued them. Greg caught a glimpse of Milady ducking around a corner ahead and went after her. They raced through the palace—through the grand ballroom, a waiting room, and the main kitchen. Milady upended a huge pot off the central stove, sending a wave of boiling water surging toward Greg. He sprang on a crate of cabbage to avoid it, then grabbed onto the huge rack of pots and pans that hung from the ceiling and swung across the water. By the time he was on his feet again, Milady was disappearing out the far door.

  Greg raced into the next room—a preparation chamber for feasts—only to find that Milady had vanished. He pushed on into the next hallway. Milady wasn’t here, either. Instead, a phalanx of the king’s guard was charging up the grand staircase.

  “There he is!” the leader shouted.

  Greg had no choice but to retreat back into the preparation chamber, where he almost bowled Catherine over as she emerged from the kitchen with his parents. “Milady’s gone,” he said. “And the king’s guard has us surrounded.”

  “Not necessarily,” Catherine told him. She yanked down on one of the oil lamps that jutted from the wall. There was a click, and a set of shelves swung out from the wall like a door, revealing a secret passage.

  Greg and his parents followed Catherine inside and pulled the door shut behind them. They could hear both factions of the king’s guard arrive on the other side a moment later and express concern as to which way their quarry had gone.

  The secret passage was extremely narrow, barely a foot across. Greg and his parents followed Catherine through it quickly.

  “Milady must have come this way, too,” Greg surmised. “How did you know about it?”

  “I’ve seen her use it before,” Catherine confided. “There are dozens throughout the palace. Louis’s father had them all put in while the Louvre was being remodeled. He wanted to be able to escape if the palace were ever overrun. Louis himself might not even know about all of them—although Milady certainly does. She used them all the time.”

  “Greg, who is this girl?” his mother asked.

  “This is Catherine,” Greg said. “We can trust her. She knows the truth about where we’re from. I promise, I’ll explain more later. But right now, we need to find Milady to get your amulet and my phone back.”

  They came to a fork in the passage. A hallway went to the left, while a narrow set of stairs went up to the right.

  “Which way?” Greg asked Catherine.

  Catherine started up the stairs. “Milady has a secret little room up here. She doesn’t know I know about it.”

  The stairs corkscrewed upward in a tight spiral. As they climbed, Greg realized he hadn’t even had a chance to say a proper hello to his parents after not seeing them for weeks. “I’m sorry,” he told them. “I didn’t think our reunion was going to be like this. Have you been all right while I’ve been gone?”

  “For the most part, yes,” his father replied. “Everything has been fine. Your mother’s health has actually improved greatly while you’ve been away. She seems to have gotten over her trauma after being imprisoned in La Mort.”

  “Really?” Greg asked. “That’s great, Mom!”

  “But then, two days ago, that horrid Milady returned and everything changed,” Mom continued. “The next thing your father and I knew, we were prisoners. They locked us in our room here, and we weren’t allowed out until the guards came for us just now.”

  “How were your travels?” Dad asked.

  “Very interesting,” Greg said. “I’ll tell you all about it when we have more time.”

  They reached the top of the stairs. They had come up so many flights, Greg figured they had to be almost at the top of the palace. The ceiling here sloped sharply, matching the steep pitch of the roof. There was a small landing facing a wooden door.

  The door was locked, but the wood was flimsy. Greg threw his shoulder into it, and it tore apart. He stumbled into what was obviously Milady’s secret room.

  It had probably been designed as an attic space, but Milady had commandeered it for her own purposes. It was surprisingly large, with a high ceiling formed by the roof of the Louvre directly above. A long table was stacked high with books, scrolls, and other documents that Milady had most likely stolen. There were two other doors, allowing her access to other hidden passages. Daylight streamed through two vents in the ceiling, making it better lit than most of the rooms in the palace.

  Milady herself stood in the center of the room. Rather than appear surprised by Greg’s intrusion, she seemed pleased by it. “Welcome,” she said with a smile. “I’m so pleased you could make it.”

>   It’s a trap, Greg thought, and he turned to warn the others. But he was too late. There were four men behind them, blocking the way out. Greg recognized all of them. He’d last seen them in the woods near the Pont du Gard. Three were members of Condé’s army. And the fourth—the handsome man with the devilish grin—was the Prince of Condé himself.

  ELEVEN

  “DROP YOUR WEAPONS,” CONDÉ ORDERED.

  Greg had no choice. He let his sword fall. Catherine and his parents dropped the weapons they’d been carrying as well.

  “I am impressed. You are a very difficult person to kill,” Condé told Greg. “I have no idea how you escaped from Les Baux. Apparently, if I want you dead, I’ll have to kill you myself.” He took a step toward Greg. The blade of his sword flashed in the light.

  “Not yet,” Milady said sharply.

  Condé stopped in his tracks like a well-trained dog. “Why not?”

  “He still has information that is of value to us,” Milady replied.

  “I already told you, I don’t know where the other Musketeers are,” Greg said.

  “I very much doubt that’s true.” Milady sighed. “However, there is other information I need from you. Something I couldn’t bring up in front of the king.” She held up the amulet, letting the piece of the Devil’s Stone dangle before Greg’s eyes. “Where is the other half of this?”

  “I don’t know,” Greg said.

  Milady came closer, studying him carefully. “Now that I believe. But you have some idea as to where it might be, yes? You and Aramis have been working hard on this, because Dinicoeur does know where the other half is, correct?”

  “Yes,” Greg said. Denying it seemed pointless. Milady probably already knew the truth.

  Milady smiled. “The real question is, exactly what can this stone do when both halves are brought together?”

  “I don’t know,” Greg said again.

  “Back to lying now, are you?” Milady asked. “That is very disappointing, Gregory.”

  Greg flinched in surprise. It was the first time he’d ever heard Milady say his real name.

  She smiled in response. “Oh, yes. I know much more about you than I’ve let on.” She turned to Condé. “Keep an eye on the parents and Catherine. I need to talk to Gregory here in private.”

  “But . . . ,” Condé began, looking concerned.

  “Don’t worry,” Milady said. She picked up Greg’s sword off the floor and jabbed it into Greg’s back. “He won’t cause me any trouble.”

  With that, she forced Greg through one of the other doors and into a much smaller room, barely bigger than a closet. When Milady spun Greg around to face her, there were only a few inches between them. Although Milady kept the point of her sword tucked just below Greg’s chin, there was no longer loathing in her eyes. Instead, she actually looked friendly.

  “I know you think you’re doing the chivalrous thing by refusing to tell me what I want to know,” she said. “But you’re fighting a losing battle. There are more of Condé’s men inside the city than just those in the other room. Tonight, they will take the city gates by surprise from the inside. Then they’ll allow the army through, and Paris will fall. Meanwhile, Condé will murder Louis in his sleep. And just like that, Paris will have a new king. There is nothing you or your Musketeers can do about it.”

  Greg tried to remain tough before Milady. He didn’t want to give her the pleasure of seeing him crack. But he couldn’t do it. He knew she wasn’t bluffing about her plans—and the truth was, he didn’t know how to prevent it from happening. Tonight, despite everything he’d done, despite everything he’d been through, world history was going to change.

  However, Milady didn’t seem pleased by the effect this information had on Greg. Instead, she seemed concerned. “Now, now,” she said, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “There’s no need to be so unhappy. In fact, there’s a very good opportunity here for you. The next king of France doesn’t necessarily have to be Condé.”

  Greg’s eyes went wide. He stared at Milady in disbelief. No, he thought. She couldn’t possibly be that duplicitous.

  “Yes,” Milady said, as though she’d read his thoughts. “I mean you.”

  “I thought you loved Condé,” Greg said. “I thought you were going to be his queen.”

  “In the history of royalty, love has never been a prerequisite for being a queen,” Milady countered. “Royal marriages have always been about one thing: power. Now, Condé has the means to overthrow the throne—although frankly, he never would have been able to pull it off without me. But once that’s done, he brings very little to the equation. He’s nice to look at, but he’s not very bright. You, on the other hand, are very clever. Far smarter than just about anyone else I’ve met. But then, I suspect that’s because you’re from the future, correct?”

  Greg did his best to hide his surprise that Milady knew this. “That’s not true,” Greg said weakly.

  “Oh come now,” Milady said. “There’s no use denying it. I’m quite intelligent myself. Certainly smart enough to know that nothing like this could have been built in this day and age.” With that, she held up Greg’s phone.

  Greg stared at it. He was relieved to see it was still intact and could still get him home again. But Milady was currently holding all the cards. Right now, there didn’t seem to be anything he could do except play along with her.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I’m from the future.”

  Milady grinned, pleased with herself. “How far in the future?”

  “About four hundred years.”

  For once, Milady looked surprised. “So then, Dinicoeur isn’t Richelieu’s twin at all? He’s a descendant of his from the future?”

  Greg didn’t answer right away, and Milady rightfully understood that his hesitation was an answer in itself. She stepped back, and Greg could see that her mind was racing. A look of fascination overcame her as she put everything together. “No,” she said. “He’s not a descendant. He’s Richelieu himself! My goodness, this stone doesn’t merely make time travel possible. It can also make one immortal?”

  “Yes,” Greg admitted. “Though I think Dinicoeur has learned that’s not as great as it sounds.”

  “Then we can learn from his mistakes,” Milady said. “What else can the stone do?”

  “That’s it,” Greg lied. “Isn’t that enough for you?”

  Milady didn’t catch his lie; she was too distracted with visions of glory.

  “Yes,” she said. “That could be very handy indeed. So I want you to think very carefully about your choices, Gregory. If you try to stand in my way, things won’t work out well for you—and your family and your girlfriend out there will be lucky to survive the next five minutes. But if you work with me and help get the other half of this stone, the world will be ours for the taking. Just imagine combining the power of the throne with the power of the stone. We could create an empire bigger than that of Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, or Genghis Khan . . . and we could rule it for eternity. Now which sounds better to you?”

  Despite his best instincts, Greg found himself disturbingly tempted by Milady’s offer. It certainly made a twisted sort of sense. Taking the moral high ground sounded great in theory, but what good would it do if it only got him and the people he cared about killed? Why not team up with Milady instead and become rich, powerful, and immortal? He could help everyone then. As Greg stared into Milady’s gorgeous blue eyes, he found himself thinking that it wouldn’t be so bad to have her as his queen as well. True, she had betrayed him before, but she was so beautiful. . . .

  No, he thought. What am I thinking? And then, he found himself wondering if it was even him thinking at all. There was something eerily hypnotic about Milady’s stare. And now that Greg thought about it, he could almost feel her mind working on his, Milady trying to worm her way into his consciousness. His eyes flicked to the Devil’s Stone. It seemed to be pulsing in her hand somehow. If he concentrated, he could feel the energy f
rom it.

  Could the Devil’s Stone let you control people’s minds? Greg knew this piece had powers by itself. Or maybe it could just enhance a person’s normal abilities. After all, his mother had worn it plenty of times—but then, she’d never known that the stone had any powers and thus would never have tried to use them. Milady, on the other hand, was determined to harness the stone’s strength. Without it, she was already the most manipulative person Greg had ever met. With it, she seemed almost impossible to refuse. That would explain how quickly she’d bent King Louis to her will, how smitten he’d become with her. . . .

  And she planned to betray him.

  The same went for Condé. He, too, was willing to do anything for her, and now Milady was confiding to Greg that she would happily toss him aside as well.

  Which meant that if Greg accepted Milady’s offer, she’d most likely betray him, too. Milady didn’t care about him. She didn’t care about anyone except herself. All she wanted from Greg was his help finding the other half of the Devil’s Stone. Once he did that, he’d no longer be of any use to her. In fact, the only reason he was still alive was because Milady thought he knew far more than he actually did about where the other half was.

  Realizing this, Greg suddenly felt immune to Milady’s power. He would use this situation to at least save Catherine and his parents. And he’d try to leverage his new “alliance” to get more information about Condé’s plans. He looked back into Milady’s eyes. He no longer saw her as beautiful and enticing, but as the cruel and calculating person he knew she was.

  He didn’t let Milady know this, however. Instead, he acted as though he’d been completely entranced by her. He tried to mimic the smitten expression he’d seen on King Louis. “You’re right,” he said. “Ruling an empire does sound better. Especially with you by my side.”

  Milady smiled coyly and batted her eyes. “I know we’ve had our differences in the past,” she said. “But I’ve always thought you were very handsome.”

  “Just to be clear, though,” Greg said. “If we do this, my parents and Catherine don’t get hurt. You’ll let them go right now?”