Eden's Escape

by M. Tara Crowl

  Not long ago, Eden would have dismissed this as a typical move by dumb mortals. But at the moment, the idea of all those memories being torn down hit her differently. “That’s kind of sad,” she murmured.

  “Sad? Non,” said Melodie. “The whole thing was pretty stupid.”

  Up ahead, a majestic-looking tan building stretched along the river’s opposite bank. As they approached it, Eden realized that she recognized it. They were walking toward the Louvre Palace.

  They passed under an arch and into one of its courtyards. Once inside, she turned in a circle, gazing in wonder at each side of the palace. It was even larger and grander than the mental image she’d formed during Xavier’s lessons.

  Melodie was clearly unimpressed. She must have seen it countless times to be so immune to its splendor.

  “Come on.” She beckoned Eden to another arch on the left side of the courtyard. “Through here.”

  Eden could have stayed staring for hours, but she also didn’t mind moving ahead. After all, the adjacent courtyard was where the Louvre pyramid was located. Since she was no longer going to come here tonight, she was glad to have the chance to see it now.

  The pyramid looked like a spaceship that had made an emergency landing. It was unique, but not exactly pleasing to the eye. Its sharp lines and glass panes made it look jarringly modern next to the palace.

  It was also surrounded by throngs of tourists. Many of them queued up to get inside, while nearly as many others were using the one-of-a-kind backdrop as a photo op, standing on concrete blocks that stuck out of the ground with their arms held out. To their photographers, they would appear to be propped against the pyramid; but to anyone else, they looked ridiculous. Watching them, Eden had to laugh.

  Melodie giggled too. “Silly, right?” She held up her camera and snapped a photo.

  Just like in Times Square and the Empire State Building, people were speaking in dozens of languages. As they crossed the courtyard, Eden listened in on their conversations.

  “Are we going to see the Mona Lisa?” a little girl asked her mother in Japanese.

  “I’d like to have fish for dinner,” said an elderly man in Spanish.

  “They won’t be here until nine P.M.?” a deep voice asked in French.

  “That’s when they planned to meet,” a woman answered. “But we need eyes on the area all day in case she turns up earlier.”

  Abruptly, Eden turned toward the voices. Six men in suits were facing a petite woman whose brown hair was pulled into a low ponytail.

  Eden recognized her immediately. It took every ounce of her self-control not to scream.

  “Shouldn’t some of us wait at the airport in case the girl tries to skip town?” asked one man.

  “Didn’t you listen to what I said?” Jane snapped. “She doesn’t have money or a passport. Plus, we know for a fact that they’re meeting here. And anyway, if she did go there, airport security would stop her.”

  Thankfully, Jane was facing away from Eden, and the men seemed oblivious that their target was strolling by right in front of them.

  “Pick up the pace,” Eden hissed to Melodie. “Brightly’s people are here.”

  Melodie gawked. “You’re serious?”

  “Yes. Don’t look. We’ve got to move.”

  Melodie took Eden’s arm and steered them through purposefully. “Did they see you?”

  “I don’t think so.” Eden didn’t dare look in their direction again, for fear of attracting their attention.

  “Don’t worry,” Melodie said. Eden tried not to hyperventilate as they beelined across. They exited the courtyard and crossed into the Tuileries, a wonderland of foliage, flowers, and fountains.

  “Let’s keep up the pace for a little bit longer,” Eden murmured. “Just in case.”

  She’d learned about the history of the Tuileries in Xavier’s lessons. It was created by Queen Catherine de Medici in 1564, and opened to the public in 1667. But Xavier hadn’t told her about its amusement park rides. Up ahead was a Ferris wheel—and behind it, a ride with a long metal arm holding a carriage of mortals on each end. The mortals screamed as it rotated, spinning them up to the sky, then down to the ground.

  The sight and the sounds opened a floodgate of disturbing memories. The last time Eden had seen Tyler and Sasha was in an amusement park in San Diego. She shivered, trying to block out the screams.

  And yet, she reminded herself, good things had happened in the amusement park too. She envisioned the photo of her and Tyler on the roller coaster, now stuck on Pepper’s refrigerator. It was also where they’d been when Tyler had wished that Eden would know how special she was.

  That memory burned inside her like a fire’s ember. When she focused on it, the fire gained strength. It soothed her soul and melted her panic away.

  She peered over her shoulder. “Okay. We should be fine.”

  “Phew!” said Melodie. “Gosh, that was scary!”

  “You’re telling me,” said Eden.

  “Are you sure it was them?”

  “Definitely. One of Brightly’s top people was talking to a group of men about finding me. They’ve already staked out the pyramid.” She shook her head. “I should have known not to go near it.”

  “They’re really desperate to find you,” said Melodie in awe.

  “No kidding.” It was alarming to think about. It also reminded her how hard it was going to be to get the lamp out of Brightly Tech. “We’ve got to get to that Kiwi store.” She looked at Melodie. “Are you sure you don’t want to go home?”

  “No way.” Melodie’s grin shone radiantly under her bright orange wig. “Even if I’m grounded till I’m twenty, it’ll be worth it. This is the best day of my life.”

  The Champs-Élysées was a very wide street, lined with trees on both sides. As the girls strolled along the pedestrian-covered gray stone sidewalk, they passed large stores, multiplex movie theaters, and cafés with outdoor tables where people drank big glasses of wine or tiny cups of coffee.

  Once again, Eden was struck by the contrast to New York. The buildings here were softer and lighter than Manhattan’s skyscrapers, in shades of cream and rosy white. You could tell they’d been here longer, and that they were created to be looked at and enjoyed.

  Along the way, Melodie asked a gray-haired gentleman in a lavender suit and top hat if she could take his photo for her blog. He agreed, and posed stoically for a few photographs. Eden made sure to stay out of the frame.

  “Hey, she’s got a nice outfit on,” Eden said, pointing out a woman in a green silk blouse and black slacks.

  “Eden,” Melodie said admonishingly, “come on. She looks like a mannequin at a department store.” Her eyes lit upon something ahead. “Now they have style.”

  About thirty yards ahead, two women were walking in their direction. One wore a loose, short-sleeved dress in maroon, and on her head was a tan hat with a wide brim. Her hair was long, limp, and colored a dull shade of turquoise. The other woman wore a red-and-blue-plaid blazer with black leather shorts. Her complexion was caramel-colored, and her hair was cut so short that she had almost none at all.

  Eden was so focused on their clothes that she almost didn’t look at their faces. When she did, she realized that she knew these women.

  Their names were Monroe and Athena, and they were genie alumni who happened to be key members of Electra.

  “Let’s talk to them,” said Melodie, striding forward.

  Frantically, Eden turned to her left and saw a store with sportswear in the window. Quick as she could, she darted through the door and ducked behind a mannequin decked out in tennis gear.

  Peering around the mannequin, she watched Melodie approach the Electric. She introduced herself and indicated her camera, but the women barely even slowed their pace. Melodie trotted alongside them as she continued her explanation, but Monroe and Athena didn’t even acknowledge her.

  Eden’s heart was pounding, and she was squeezing her fists so tight that her fingernail
s cut a row of curved impressions into her palms. She couldn’t believe it. Paris had a population of more than two million people. How did she keep running into the ones she most needed to avoid?

  Of course, Eden knew Electra was based here. Sylvana had tried to lure her here with beguiling descriptions of Paris’s beauty and glamour. But Eden had gotten the impression that most of the Electric lived in other parts of the world, searching for the lamp in every corner they could cover.

  She sincerely hoped that Monroe and Athena being here didn’t have anything to do with her.

  Finally, Melodie gave up. Wistfully she watched the Electric walk away, lifting her camera to snap a consolation shot from behind. Then she put down her camera and looked around in confusion. She was searching for Eden, of course.

  Eden took a breath to regain her composure. Even though she was in disguise, she had to stay on high alert. Monroe and Athena might not have been fooled by a wig and a school uniform. Maybe no one would be, if they were looking hard enough.

  Melodie spotted her through the window, and her face relaxed with relief. Eden waved and came out of the store.

  “There you are!” Melodie exclaimed. “Why’d you run off?”

  “I don’t think I should get up close and personal with people.” These people in particular, she thought.

  “You’re probably right,” Melodie agreed. “Well, they blew me off anyway. They weren’t nice at all.” Her expression went a little dreamy. “But they were cool. So, so cool.”

  To Eden’s relief, the Kiwi store was only a little farther. The façade was clear glass, so you could see straight through to the interior. Inside, everything was either silver or lime green: the floor, the walls, the long display tables, and the computers that sat on them. Shoppers swarmed the computers on display. The thought of being around so many people made Eden wary, but she wasn’t going to back out now that they’d made it here.

  Melodie went to a free computer and waved her over. “I’ll log in to my account,” she said quietly. “Then I’ll be the lookout while you use it.”

  Once Eden had taken her place in front of the computer, it took no time to find the profile for Quincy Abbott. She started a message.

  It’s the kid from the street where you live, she wrote first. That would let Pepper know it was her, but if Brightly, Jane, or anyone else from Brightly were to check Quincy Abbott’s incoming messages, they’d assume the message was from Melodie.

  But where should she say to meet her?

  Eden closed her eyes and ran through a mental catalogue of the places she’d seen in Paris. Suddenly it hit her.

  Tonight I’ll be at the place named for the person who showed you the second part of your destiny.

  Pepper would know that meant Shakespeare and Company, but no one at Brightly Tech would guess it. And Eden knew exactly how to get there.

  She was counting on Pepper checking her messages, but Eden was pretty sure that she would. Brightly’s announcement was all over the news in Paris, so Pepper would probably see it in the airport when she landed and wonder what was going on.

  Eden logged out of Melodie’s account and surveyed the store. No one was paying attention to her. Melodie gave her a thumbs-up.

  Time for research.

  First, she did a search for David Brightly and found a short bio about him. It said that he’d grown up in a tiny town in Kentucky. His father was a miner who regularly gambled away his earnings.

  And probably lied about it, Eden thought.

  David had started working to support his family when he was fourteen. In high school he won a full scholarship to Stanford University and studied there for one year, but then he dropped out and started Brightly Tech at the age of nineteen.

  Eden bit her lip and thought. Brightly’s upbringing probably would have caused his trust issues. And because he’d grown up poor, it made sense that he was so proud of having built his own company.

  But how did Jane come into play?

  Eden searched for Jane Johnston. Immediately she found an article dated four years earlier announcing that Jane had been named vice president of Brightly Tech. Apparently the hire had been a surprise for many, because she hadn’t worked for the company previously.

  “I’ve known Ms. Johnston for several years, and I have full confidence in her abilities,” read a quote from Brightly in the article. “Brightly Tech will benefit greatly from her leadership.”

  Eden went back and looked at the other search results. The next one that caught her eye was a piece on a news Web site. The title was: WHO IS JANE JOHNSTON? THE MYSTERY BEHIND BRIGHTLY’S NEW HIRE.

  Eden clicked it and started to read.

  Last week, Brightly Tech head honcho David Brightly stunned the tech world with the announcement of his new vice president: a newcomer named Jane Johnston. Although Ms. Johnston allegedly has a background in computer science, attempts to verify her past employment, education, and even her birth have been fruitless.

  “Hey,” Melodie said from next to Eden. “That’s Papa’s story.”

  Eden turned to her in confusion. “What?”

  Melodie pointed to the story’s byline. “Christopher Laurent. That’s Papa.”

  “You’re kidding.” Eden had nearly forgotten that Melodie’s parents were journalists. “Do you think—”

  “Mademoiselle.” A salesperson in silver had sidled up to Eden. “Are you interested in buying this computer?”

  Startled, Eden looked up at her. “I’m…not sure yet. I was testing it out.”

  The woman glared and tapped the lime-green watch on her wrist. “You’ve been testing it out for quite some time.”

  “Is there a time limit?” Melodie piped up defiantly. “I haven’t seen a sign about a time limit.”

  The woman eyed them suspiciously. “Are your parents here?”

  Melodie turned up her nose. “That’s none of your business.”

  The woman’s nostrils flared.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Eden whispered. Causing a scene wasn’t going to help anything. She closed out of the Internet and took Melodie by the arm. “Merci, au revoir!” she said to the huffy saleslady as they left.

  “I can’t stand people like that,” Melodie grumbled as they emerged back onto the Champs-Élysées.

  “I know. But at least I got some information.” Eden adjusted her beret.

  “Why do you need to learn about your uncle’s vice president?”

  “I’m trying to understand their relationship,” Eden explained. “From what I can tell, she’s the only person who has any influence on him.”

  “Are you thinking you could get her to help you?”

  “I doubt there’s any chance of that,” Eden said. “I just want to know more. It’s hard to explain.”

  “Too bad we can’t ask my dad,” said Melodie. “It sounds like he wanted to know more about her too—and he would have done tons of research for that article. He probably knows way more than what was printed.”

  “Would he have notes?” Eden asked. “Maybe he would have kept them somewhere.”

  “Well, sure. In his office at the university.” Melodie’s eyes lit up with that mischievous glow. “Let’s go find them!”

  “Could we?” Eden asked excitedly.

  “Oui! But first…”

  She’d stopped next to a storefront that was decked out in gold and sea-foam green. There was a glassed-in terrace with green and gold trimming, and green iron curled between the panes of glass. Gold letters spelled out the word LADURÉE.

  But Melodie wasn’t looking at the façade. Her eyes were on a glass display window. Inside it were rows of macarons, organized by their vibrant colors: hot pink, pistachio green, brown, yellow, purple, and creamy white. Eden couldn’t even imagine what flavors some of them could be.

  Macarons were one treat Goldie had never made in the lamp. In fact, Eden had only learned about them recently, in New York—but she hadn’t tried them yet. Seeing the display, she was overcome by a
strong urge to change that.

  “Maybe we should stop here first,” Melodie said. “For sustenance.”

  “Good idea,” Eden agreed.

  They sat at a table on the terrace and ordered an assortment of macarons. From the first bite, Eden was in love. They were light, fluffy, and delicious.

  After trying a few different flavors, she bit into a yellow one and closed her eyes in rapture. “I know I keep changing my mind,” she said, “but now it’s officially official. Lemon is my favorite.”

  “But you haven’t tried hazelnut yet!” Melodie pushed a light-brown one toward her.

  Eden grinned and accepted it. “All right, let’s get down to business. How are we going to find those notes?”

  “Papa’s office isn’t far from my apartment.” Melodie picked up a pink macaron. “So we’ll have to keep an eye out for him and Maman. But I seriously doubt they’ll be out looking for me. They’re more likely to be sitting at home, plotting my punishment.”

  “Close to your apartment,” Eden said. “Does that mean it’s close to the library?”

  “Well, it is part of the university too. But it’s a few blocks away.” She pushed some of the wig’s fiery-orange fibers out of her face. “Do you think they’d still be waiting for you at the library?”

  “I don’t know,” Eden said. “Will it be hard for us to get into the building?”

  Melodie shrugged. “I don’t think so. The building won’t be locked. Papa’s colleagues know me, so if any of them are around, I’ll say I’m picking something up for him.”

  “Do you think it’s safe for me to go with you?”

  Suddenly, Melodie’s face went pale. “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.”

  “Okay…” Eden said uncertainly. “I’ll wait outside or something.”

  “It’s too late.”

  “Too late?”

  But Melodie wasn’t talking about their trip to the office anymore. Instead, she was staring at something behind Eden. “She saw me,” she uttered dramatically.

  “Who?” Eden whipped around to see. Standing on the sidewalk outside was a girl who appeared to be in her late teens. Her face looked like Melodie’s, but her hair was long, and she wore a sensible black linen dress and flats. Her arms were crossed, and she was glaring at Melodie.