Eden's Escape

by M. Tara Crowl

  “Camille!” Melodie whispered.

  “Who’s Camille?” The girl was heading for the door to Ladurée.

  “My sister.” Melodie pulled a few bills from her wallet and tossed them on the table. “Quick, let’s go.”

  “You have a sister?”

  “Oui. She’s in university.”

  “Melodie!” Camille stormed across the terrace. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re grounded! You should be at home!”

  Eden looked around nervously. People at the tables around them were staring.

  “We’re leaving!” Melodie’s chair scraped the ground as she jumped up from the table. Eden stood up too. “Please don’t tell Maman and Papa!”

  “Yeah, right! They’re going crazy worrying about you!” Camille scrutinized her. “What are you wearing?”

  “Nothing,” Melodie said defiantly.

  Camille ripped the orange wig off her head, exposing the brown hair underneath. Then she reached out and yanked Melodie’s nose ring right off her nostril.

  “Ow,” Melodie howled.

  “Oh, stop. It’s a clip-on, it doesn’t hurt! You know Maman hates it when you wear that.”

  Eden was relieved to know that Camille hadn’t ripped Melodie’s skin. But she also knew it wouldn’t be smart to stick around while their sisterly squabble unfolded.

  Camille’s gaze landed on Eden. “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “I—ah—” Eden stammered.

  Camille reached toward Eden’s brown bob. “Are you wearing a wig too?”

  Eden ducked to dodge her hand, and Camille’s eyes flared. “I’m calling Papa right now!” she announced.

  Eden backed toward the door. “I think I should leave,” she said.

  “That’s probably best,” Melodie murmured.

  Camille squinted at Eden. “Wait a second. You look familiar. Do I know you?”

  “Run!” Melodie yelled.

  And Eden did.

  Eden tore down the Champs-Élysées, shouting “Excusez-moi!” and “Désolée!” as she sideswiped other pedestrians. She veered a sharp right at the first corner she came to and jetted toward the river.

  Along the way, she glanced at a clock. It was 5:28 P.M. Three and a half hours to go.

  She hoped that Melodie wasn’t actually going to be grounded until she was twenty. She really had saved Eden. Without her guidance and the disguise, Eden would have been caught straightaway.

  It was too bad they hadn’t made it to her dad’s office. Eden was dying to learn more of the story behind Jane and Brightly. But for now, all that mattered was making it to her meeting with Pepper.

  She crossed a bridge to the Seine’s south bank, then followed a set of stairs down to the water’s level. To get to Shakespeare and Company, she just needed to follow the river all the way back there.

  It was very important to get there promptly at nine, because if Pepper arrived and Eden wasn’t there, Pepper might think she’d misinterpreted the message—or, worse, assume Eden had been caught. But it wouldn’t take three and a half hours to walk there—and it wouldn’t be smart to get there early and hang around. All the close calls had shown Eden that being around people was too risky. Her best bet now would be to find a hiding place and wait out the next few hours.

  Down here, there were far fewer people; she’d only passed a handful of joggers and passersby. She paused under a bridge and sat against the cool concrete that curved under it. Maybe this was as good a hiding place as any. She leaned back and closed her eyes, and fatigue came crashing down on her. It was crazy to think she hadn’t slept since the night before Tra La La Karaoke.

  As her body relaxed, Eden’s thoughts became calmer too. Even though she hadn’t hatched a brilliant plan yet, she and Pepper would come up with one once they were together. Together they’d save the lamp and the masters, and then they’d go back to New York. They could still see My Fair Lady. Life would be better than ever….

  “Excusez-moi, mademoiselle.”

  Eden blinked, and discovered that her eyes were heavy with sleep. She must have drifted off. The sky had grown dark, so she pulled off her sunglasses.

  The man standing over her was stout and rosy-cheeked, and he wore a navy uniform with a patch on the chest. On the patch was the word POLICE.

  “Shouldn’t you be at home?” he asked gruffly.

  “I’m just on my way there,” she said, standing up. Her arms and legs were stiff and achy.

  “I should hope so. A nice girl like you shouldn’t be sleeping here.” The man’s expression was skeptical. “What’s your name?”

  Eden swallowed. “Uh…Marie.”

  “And do you attend the École Active Bilingue Jeannine Manuel?”

  Eden thought about the best way to answer. “How did you know?” she asked at last.

  “You’re wearing their uniform.”

  She forced a smile. “Mais oui,” she said, as if she’d only been joking around.

  “Then you must know my daughter, Nathalie Sauveterre.”

  “Who doesn’t? She’s a wonderful girl.” Eden cleared her throat. “Well, I’ve got to be going.” She started to walk away.

  “Wait a moment!” The policeman looked Eden over. “I’m sure I’ve seen you before. Have you been to our house?”

  “Non,” she said firmly.

  He shifted his weight. “You should be careful,” he said. “A girl your age was just kidnapped.”

  Eden tried to seem nonchalant. “Oh, really?”

  “Oui! The daughter of David Brightly! You know, from Brightly Tech.” He held up his phone to show the logo on the back.

  Eden swallowed. “That’s horrible.”

  “C’est tragique!” he exclaimed. “Kidnapping a young girl! I can’t imagine it. But the entire police force of Paris is searching for this girl.” He waggled his finger passionately. “We will find her, I promise you that.”

  “I’ve got to get home,” Eden said weakly.

  “Why don’t I escort you?” the policeman asked.

  “No! Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll be fine.”

  “I insist!” The policeman dipped in a little bow. “It is my duty. Besides, you’re a friend of Nathalie. Tell me, where is your home?”

  Desperately, Eden tried to think of a story to tell him. But she’d been telling lies all day, and she was fresh out of them.

  “Your home,” the policeman repeated. “Where is it?”

  Eden shivered. When had it gotten so chilly? She had no idea how long she’d slept.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  He checked his watch. “Eight fifty-six.”

  Four minutes until nine! Pepper would nearly be there!

  “Almost your bedtime, I’d expect.”

  “I really do have to go!” Eden exclaimed.

  “I told you, I’ll drive you. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  It seemed he really wouldn’t, which meant she didn’t have much of a choice. Plus, even if she were to take off this instant and run the whole way, she wouldn’t make it in time anyway. By the time she got there, Pepper might be gone.

  Eden took a deep breath. “Can you take me to Shakespeare and Company?” she asked. “I’m supposed to meet my mother there.”

  The policeman raised an eyebrow. “Late-night book shopping?”

  Eden shrugged.

  “Very well,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  As the police car pulled up to the bookstore, Eden saw Pepper standing outside. She was wearing a jacket and a newsboy hat and looking around expectantly. When she saw the police car, her expression became wary.

  “There she is!” Eden said. “Thanks for the ride!”

  “Not so fast,” said the policeman. He turned off the engine. “I need to have a word with her.”

  By now, Eden knew there was no point arguing with him.

  Please play along, she implored Pepper silently. We’re so close.

  When Pepper saw Eden climb from the car, the joy
on her face shone like a lantern’s glow. The wig didn’t throw her off for an instant.

  They rushed toward each other and embraced. “Oh my goodness, kid,” she said. “Am I glad to see you!”

  “You’re my mother, and my name is Marie,” Eden whispered in her ear. When she pulled back, she saw confusion in Pepper’s eyes—but it was quickly replaced by a keen look of understanding.

  “Bonsoir,” said the policeman as he approached.

  Eden hoped with all her might that Pepper’s French wasn’t rusty.

  “Bonsoir, monsieur,” she said smoothly. Eden felt a rush of relief.

  “Do you know that your daughter was sleeping under a bridge?”

  Pepper gasped. “Marie!” she exclaimed. “What were you thinking?”

  “Sorry, Maman,” Eden said meekly.

  “We are going to have a serious discussion when we get home,” Pepper assured the policeman.

  “I should hope so,” he said. “Did you hear about the girl who was kidnapped last night? The daughter of David Brightly.”

  “I did hear,” Pepper said, betraying nothing. “How awful.”

  “She’s the same age as Marie and my daughter Nathalie, who’s in her class. But don’t worry. We will find her!” For someone so clueless, he sure was enthusiastic.

  “Marie and I should get home,” Pepper said. “Thank you for bringing her to me.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replied. “Can I drive you?”

  “Non, merci. Our car is right here.” Pepper indicated a black sedan parked in front of the police car.

  “Très bien. Have a good night—and a safe one!”

  “Merci!” they said. Pepper blew him a kiss.

  “Marie, I’ll tell Nathalie you said hello!” the policeman called.

  As he drove away, Eden let out a huge sigh of relief. “Sorry about that,” she said. “You were incredible.”

  “Hey, we got through it,” Pepper said, hugging her again. “Gosh, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  “And I’m so happy you’re here!” Eden said.

  “Listen,” Pepper said. “I’ve got to tell you something. I’m not here alone.”

  Eden pulled back. “Not alone? What do you mean?”

  Just then, the dark-tinted back window of the sedan rolled down. When Eden saw the person on the other side of it, her jaw dropped in disbelief. She was looking at someone she’d believed—and hoped—she’d never see again.

  “What is she doing here?” Eden cried.

  “Hello to you too,” said Bola dryly. “And you’re welcome, for putting my life on hold once again to come clean up your mess.”

  Eden glared at her. In San Diego, the sharp-tongued leader of the Loyal alumni had bullied and intimidated her. She’d even utilized the magical powers of another genie alum to give Eden the most terrifying experience of her life. Eden knew she’d done it all to protect the lamp and its masters—but still, she couldn’t help disliking Bola.

  Why on Earth had Pepper brought her here? Eden hadn’t even thought they were friends.

  “Can we go?” Bola snapped. “Or are we going to sit here and wait for the rest of the Paris police force to show up?”

  Pepper put an arm around Eden and steered her to the car. As they climbed in, Bola scooted over so Eden was sandwiched between the two of them.

  “To Montmartre,” Bola said to the driver in French. “The address I gave you.” She slid the partition closed and sat back.

  “Montmartre?” Eden asked. “Why there?”

  Lessons in Parisian geography had taught her that Montmartre was an area perched across a large hill in the north part of the city. Through the years, it had come to be known as a haven for artists. Some of its esteemed residents had been Claude Monet, Pablo Picasso, Salvador Dalí, and Vincent van Gogh (who’d apparently been a nightmare during his granting with a genie named Bambi). The neighborhood had a reputation for being colorful and offbeat.

  “A Loyal alum named Delta owns a house up here,” Pepper said as the car began to climb the steep roads. “We’re going to stay with her—at least for tonight.”

  Eden remembered Delta, a genie who’d been in the lamp from AD 211 to 309. In her portrait in the genie course guide, Delta had a small heart-shaped face and a gap between her two front teeth. But Eden didn’t know anything about her except what she’d learned in Lamp History. She didn’t think the masters exchanged messages with her.

  “Let’s get down to it,” Bola said impatiently in her crisp British accent. She brushed her bloodred dreadlocks behind her shoulder. In San Diego she’d worn her hair in a bun high on her head, but now it hung long and loose. “Pepper filled me in on what happened after San Diego—how you’re living on Earth now, et cetera. Everything up until the night when you were summoned. This morning you messaged her asking for help, and then, shortly after, David Brightly issued a statement claiming that you’re his kidnapped daughter. And tonight, you were escorted to us by a policeman. What happened?”

  Eden told her story as swiftly as possible, starting with Brightly Tech, then moving on to Melodie, the Sorbonne Library, the Louvre, what she’d learned about Jane Johnston, the close call with Camille, and the policeman.

  As she spoke, Bola’s face twisted up tighter and tighter, as if she had to physically restrain her words from breaking through. Finally, when Eden finished, they erupted.

  “This is a dire emergency!” she burst out.

  “Bola,” Pepper said, “let’s stay calm.”

  “Calm?! We’re in a veritable state of disaster!”

  Pepper eyed her warily. “True, there is a lot to figure out—but at least Eden is safe.”

  “Is she?” Bola barked.

  “For now I am,” said Eden.

  “For now—exactly! And what about the lamp? You left it there, with that horrible mortal!”

  “What else was I supposed to do?” Eden cried. “I told you, I couldn’t take it!”

  “I’m sure you could have thought of something!”

  “Like what?”

  Bola eyed her menacingly. “I can’t believe you’d let something like this happen to your masters. After they gave you exactly what you wanted! They changed the rules for you!”

  “Excuse me.” Pepper leaned across the car’s backseat to get a good look at Bola. “I am Eden’s guardian, and no one’s going to get away with talking to her like that. Not while I’m around.”

  Eden tried to hide her glee. Clearly, the masters knew what they were doing when they chose Pepper as her earthly guardian.

  “Now listen to me,” Pepper went on. “I asked for your help because Xavier and Goldie advised me to. But if you’re going to antagonize Eden, you can go right back where you came from.” Pepper paused for emphasis. “Anyway, Eden didn’t let anything happen. There’s nothing she could have done to prevent this. And she’s been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours. Now, you can help us figure out how to fix this, or this gentleman can drive you right back to the airport. What’s it going to be?”

  Bola exhaled slowly and lowered her eyes. “You’re right. I apologize.” Eden could barely believe it. As shocking as Pepper’s speech had been, seeing Bola back down was even more unreal.

  “You’re going to help?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you need to work with us, not against us.”

  The car’s partition slid open, and the driver peered through at them.

  “Is this it?” he asked in French.

  They hadn’t even noticed that the car had stopped. All three of them turned toward the window. Outside it were three buildings, snug up against each other with no space between, as if huddled together for warmth.

  Two of them were well-kept and friendly-looking. The one on the left was cream-colored with green shutters, and the one on the right was pale blue with gray shutters. Each had five rows of four windows across.

  But the building in the middle was different.

  It only had three rows of w
indows, so it was dwarfed by its two taller neighbors. It looked like perhaps it had once been white, but time had turned it a muddy light brown. And it was covered with brittle, dead-looking ivy.

  Eden shuddered. It reminded her of stories she’d read about haunted houses.

  “Oh dear,” Bola murmured. “She’s let it get even worse than the last time I saw it. Yes, just here,” she said to the driver. She slipped some cash through the partition, and he got out to help Bola and Pepper unload their suitcases from the trunk.

  Eden stood staring at the house uneasily. “This is where she lives?”

  “For the past hundred and fifty years,” Bola said through her teeth. “Let’s get inside.” She strode up to the door, dragging a chic black alligator-skin suitcase on wheels, and struck the brass knocker against the door.

  Behind her, Pepper took Eden’s hand.

  Bola hit the knocker again, but still, no one came. Montmartre was silent—at least, outside of Delta’s door. Inside, there seemed to be some sort of commotion.

  “Are those birds?” Eden asked.

  Grumbling, Bola took the doorknob and pushed the door open.

  If the outside of the house was run-down, the inside was downright dilapidated. Crimson-and-gold wallpaper was peeling off the walls. There were gaps between the floorboards. A smell of mothballs and mildew hung in the air. And something else…

  “Ahhh!” Pepper shrieked, ducking. There was the sound of flapping wings, and a gust of air.

  “What was that?!” Eden cried.

  The flapping thing flew in circles around them in a blur of gray.

  “Frederick!” screamed a voice upstairs. There was the sound of quick footsteps as a woman ran down the worn red-carpet-covered stairs.

  Delta would have been nearly ninety years old when she retired. (In the early days, genies’ careers had lasted longer because fewer mortals populated the Earth, meaning the lamp was found less frequently.) She certainly didn’t look that old now; her face lacked the deep lines of old age. Eden would guess that she’d wished to look middle-aged—perhaps somewhere around fifty. But she was gaunt and haggard, with wiry brown hair in the shape of a bird’s nest. She wore a ratty pink terry-cloth bathrobe and slippers.