Page 9 of Hawk & Sparrow

She resented him for that most of all.

A frigid gust of wind ripped Vesper back to the present, and a shiver ran the length of her body. She stopped. Anger had powered her footsteps for the last few minutes, but now her head was clearer. She should have made it back to the maze’s entrance by now. A troubling thought crossed her mind. She’d taken her hand off the wall during her interview with Maximilian. What if she’d accidentally gone deeper into the maze instead of toward its exit? Her steps quickened. It had to be nearly nine o’clock, and she had no desire to spend the night in here. She turned another corner, and the tension in her muscles eased. Up ahead, she could make out a light, another way out. She gathered her skirts and picked up her pace. The cold was settling into her fingertips, stinging her nostrils every time she inhaled. If she had time, she might be able to return to the museum and ask Francis Gladwell the rest of her questions before she headed home.

She reached the opening, then stopped.

The grassy courtyard before her was small, furnished only with a large stone fountain at its center. There were three other arched entrances, one placed on each side of the courtyard. Something clicked in Vesper’s mind.

This was the center of the maze.

A piercing shriek shattered the quiet, and she looked up, alarmed. Above, a ribbon of bright light was streaking across the night sky like a comet. She tracked its progress as it soared higher and higher, then exploded into fizzling pink and green pellets.

Fireworks.

That must have been the special surprise Maximilian had alluded to before. Vesper watched as the fireworks exploded in a brilliant ensemble, one after another.

A movement in her periphery caught her attention. Vesper glanced right, then frowned. On the other side of the fountain, something was moving across the grass, large and low to the ground. She inched around it, wishing again that she had something other than a satchel and a notebook with her. Another massive firework suddenly detonated overhead, casting the entire courtyard in eerie red light. That was when Vesper saw it, saw him.

Francis Gladwell was on all fours, his eyes glassy and bloodshot. His mouth was open in a long scream, though no sound left him. He lifted his hand as though reaching for something, then began to violently seize. Vesper tensed.

“Help!” she shouted. “Someone help!”

Time slowed as she closed the gap between them, but she wasn’t fast enough. Vesper watched in horror as the inventor convulsed a final time, then collapsed in a heap on the grass.

FOUR

FRIDAY, 4TH OF NOVEMBER—9:23 P.M.

Faint indigo light traced the side of Francis Gladwell’s face. For several seconds, Vesper could only stare.

It didn’t make sense. An hour and a half ago, the inventor had stood tall and proud on a stage, presenting his groundbreaking machine. Now he was lying prone in the center of a maze. Vesper pursed her lips.

Why was Mr. Gladwell here, and what on earth had happened to him?

Her gaze ran the length of his body, zeroing in on the details. The inventor’s cheeks were red; spittle wet the corners of his mouth. His gold silk cravat had been loosened and, despite the evening’s chill, a sheen of sweat slicked his forehead. His breath came slow and deep, and there was a fruity scent of alcohol in the air mixed with something sweeter that reminded Vesper strangely of licorice. She put the pieces together.

Francis Gladwell was … drunk.

She sighed. The inventor had seemed perfectly fine when they’d spoken before his demonstration, but a few quick drinks to calm the nerves paired with a few more drinks after his onstage success could explain his current condition. Her eyes found what looked to be a half-filled champagne bottle nearby, confirming her suspicions. She tilted her head.

“Uh … Mr. Gladwell?”

The inventor didn’t stir.

Vesper took a deep breath, then tried again, louder. “Mr. Gladwell, I know that you’re … indisposed, but I think it best you sit up. It’s quite cold out here, and—”

A rustling sound to her right cut her short. Vesper glanced over her shoulder, eyeing the surrounding hedges.

“Hello?”

Only a howling wind answered, but a sense of unease lingered.

She and Mr. Gladwell were the only ones in the courtyard, but it still felt like someone was watching them, just out of sight. She returned her attention to the inventor. He was losing color. Vesper knelt beside him and gently pressed two fingers against his inner wrist. He was still warm, but his pulse was faint. She weighed her options. The temperature was dropping, which put him at a higher risk for hypothermia and dehydration, but she wasn’t strong enough to carry him back to the museum on her own. That left one remaining option.

She stood and brushed the grass from her skirts.

I’ll come back. I promise.

She glanced over her shoulder a final time before heading toward the archway through which she’d first come. This time, she placed her right hand on the wall. She’d need to find the way out quickly, and she’d also need to remember how to get back to this place. Every time she turned in a different direction, she tried to commit it to memory.