Chapter Thirty-Four
Marek and I access the Louvre through the Le Carrousel du Louvre entrance. He has the great idea to buy a notebook and pen at the gift shop. People crowd each other to view the Mona Lisa in the Salle des Etats room, snapping photos on their phones. Some older couples use actual cameras. Finally making our way to the front, we lean against the banister that creates a half circle around the painting.
The Mona Lisa is behind thick glass. There’s nothing that stands out. She’s in a gold frame, plain dress, hair down. Her face is lacking eyebrows and eyelashes. Staring off to the side with a half smile on her face that suggests she’s amused or distracted by someone other than the painter.
I lean closer to Marek. “Do you notice anything?”
“No.” He scratches the back of his head. “My grandfather was obsessed with this painting. He was in Europe with my grandma a month before he died. She said there were several times that he went off on his own for long periods. Must’ve been hiding the clues.”
I don’t say it, but if Adam Conte was hiding their Parzalis a month ago, he must’ve known he was going to die. When Marek lowers his head, seemingly in deep thought, I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.
“Do you remember what he said about the painting?” I ask.
A man, light hair, ruddy skin, bumps into me while trying to get closer to the Mona Lisa. His wife pulls on his sleeve and scolds him in what I think is German.
“He did say once that there’s always another story behind a painting. Not just what you see on the canvas.”
“Maybe the clues are hidden in the paintings surrounding her,” I say.
We stroll around the room, stopping at each painting and studying it intently. He couldn’t hide the Parzalis in the Louvre. There’s no way. The security is too high. Has to be a code somewhere.
Marek’s hand goes to my back as we’re studying The Animals Boarding Noah’s Ark by Jacopo Bassano, and my stomach does that fluttering thing that’s becoming a habit around him.
“It’s gotta be code,” Marek repeats my thoughts. “I need a restroom.”
“Okay, I’ll start making notes.”
He gives me the notebook and pen and rushes off, weaving around people on his way out.
There are twenty-five other paintings in the Salle des Etats room with my girl Mona. I jot down the title to all the works and the painter’s name for each. The restroom must be far. I only have one left, and Marek still hasn’t returned.
Footsteps sound behind me. I try to write the last painting’s title and artist—Portrait of a Man by Dosso Dossi—faster in the notebook so I can get out of the way.
“Think of my surprise when the Keres’ whispers are about you.” The voice belongs to Ares. He’s behind me, and I can’t move. “Paris. It’s my favorite city. Have you and your boyfriend been enjoying yourselves in the City of Light?”
I keep my eyes on the painting. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Who’s not?” Marek says.
I whirl around, searching over his shoulders for Ares. I don’t see him. He just disappeared. “Ares was here.”
He rushes into the crowd.
I chase after him. “Marek, wait.”
“The Keeper is getting closer to his prize,” Ares whispers in my ear, and I fling around, looking for him, but he’s not there. “Remember, you’ll give me his Parzalis. Willingly.”
“Where are you?”
A woman aiming her phone like she’s recording a video gives me a confused look and heads to the next painting over.
I hurry after Marek. The crowd slows him down, and I’m able to catch up.
“I don’t see him.” Marek turns to me. “What did he want?”
“Something he won’t get.” I hope Ares is still listening. Because he’s not getting what he wants. “He’s after your part of the talisman. Says I’ll give it to him willingly.”
Marek gazes down at me. “I say we find a quiet place for coffee and look over our notes.”
…
The sun is out and almost directly over Paris. Marek and I sit at a table at an outside café near the Louvre. Working the name of the painting or the artist or both, I try to figure out which one Adam Conte might’ve used for the next clue. Trying to find a code in one of them.
I stare at the Mona Lisa and Leonardo Da Vinci’s names. “The code isn’t in the other paintings. So it has to be here.” I stab the M with the tip of the pen.
Marek pushes back in the chair and watches the pedestrian road again. He hasn’t let his guard down since we sat at the table.
I’m not worried about Ares. He’s waiting for us to find something. I’m a pawn he’s playing to get what he wants.
I drop my head into my hands. “I just can’t figure it out.”
“My gramps wouldn’t make it this difficult,” Marek’s hand goes to my back, the warmth of it pausing me for a beat.
I recover. “What are we going to do? There’s nothing here. Are you sure you don’t remember your grandfather saying anything about the Mona Lisa?”
“Not said so much as…” Marek leans back again, his hand falling away from my back. “Well, he had photos of the painting in the basement. My grandma mentioned them having to push through the crowd to see her when they visited the Louvre. That’s all I got.”
I drop my napkin next to my plate and stand. “Then we have to go back. Take another look. Maybe we missed something.”
We return to the crowded room, and it seems like the Mona Lisa is never alone. I wonder how the real woman would feel to know she’s this popular. That so many people know her face.
Two hours pass, and we’re running out of time. My jaw is tense, and a headache is building behind my eyes. It’s time to give up, but neither Marek nor I want to admit it. So I give in.
“We have to get to the embassy before it closes.” Both of us need to sleep. I’m not sure what they’ll do to us. Are we runaways? Jane will be pissed when they contact her. I realize just now that I don’t know what Marek told his family.
“What lie did you give your parents? You know, where are you supposed to be?”
Marek pulls his stare away from the Mona Lisa and puts it on me. “My parents think I’m with my grandma, and she thinks I’m at home.”
There is no avoiding it, we’ll have to face the music sometime, as Dad used to say. But it’s Marek’s quest. I want him to decide when to give up. I don’t want him to resent me for forcing him to abandon our search. Stress tightens my neck and shoulder muscles, causes my stomach to sour. My lids weigh heavy on my eyes.
I just hope he will decide soon.
I catch a glimpse of long dark, curly hair just outside the doors, moving with the crowd, and my pulse quickens. It was a flash, so quick I’m not even sure it was a woman, but every time I see someone with that attribute, I’m going to think of her. Inanna.
It’s only a matter of time before she finds us.
Me. Finds me. Because she wants what I can do. I witnessed her kill Cain and that doorman. I’m guessing she’s on the wrong side of this immortal war. Maybe Ares is on the right one.
Maybe there’s no right side.
Marek checks the time on the GPS. “We should go. Walk-ins at the embassy end at two forty-five.”
There’s no need to correct him. But I’m pretty sure runaways fall into the emergency category and not regular business hours. Might as well go early, though, just to be safe.
I give the Mona Lisa one last look. No one knows for sure who she was. There’ve been so many investigations into her identity. She’s as elusive as that smile. It’s her secret.
Guess you’ll keep another one.