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Raphael stretched out full length on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “Okay like this?”
Once I was back in jeans and T-shirt, and I’d drunk a few sips of water, I felt rather better.
“What was it like meeting your … I mean, meeting Lucy and Paul?” asked Lesley quietly when we were sitting on the sofa again.
Raphael looked sympathetically at me. “Must be gross to have your own parents basically the same age as yourself.”
I nodded. “It was rather … weird and … and upsetting.” And then I told them all about it, beginning with the butler’s greeting, going on to our confession that we’d already closed the Circle of Blood with the stolen chronograph. “It left them reeling to know that we actually had the philosopher’s stone in our hands—or the glittery salt, as my gargoyle friend Xemerius calls it. They got terribly worked up, and when she’s worked up, Lucy talks even more than I do, can you believe it? They didn’t stop saying what a dreadful thing we’d done until I told them I knew about the … er, the exact way we were related.”
Lesley’s eyes were wide. “So?”
“So then they shut up. Until we all burst into tears again a moment later,” I said, rubbing my tired eyes. “I guess all the tears I’ve shed over the last few days would irrigate a drought-stricken field in Africa.”
“Oh, Gwenny.” Helplessly, Lesley stroked my arm.
I tried to grin. “Yes, and then we gave them the good news that, as it happens, the count can’t kill me because it seems I’m immortal. Of course they couldn’t believe it, and time was running short, so we couldn’t prove it to them by getting Stillman to try a quick strangling act on me or something. We had to leave them looking stunned and run, if we were to get back to the church in time to travel back.”
“So now what?”
“Tomorrow morning we’re going to meet them again, and then Gideon will tell them his brilliant plan,” I said. “The only trouble is that he still has to work it out overnight. And if he’s half as exhausted as I am, he won’t even be able to think straight.”
“Well, that’s what coffee is for. And what I’m for as well—the brilliant Lesley Hay.” Lesley gave me an encouraging smile. Then she sighed. “But you’re right, it’s not that simple. I mean, it’s great that you two have a chronograph for traveling in time under your own steam, but there are limits to the amount you can use it. Especially when we remember that you have to go and see the count again tomorrow, and that’ll leave you only two hours or less of your quota of time for elapsing.”
“What?” I said blankly.
Lesley sighed. “Didn’t you read that bit in Anna Karenina? You can’t elapse for more than five and a half hours a day, or there are side effects.” Lesley acted as if she didn’t notice Raphael’s admiring expression. “And I don’t know that I like you having that salty stuff. It’s … it’s dangerous. I hope at least you’ve hidden it somewhere no one can find it.”
As far as I knew, the flask was still in the pocket of Gideon’s leather jacket, but I didn’t tell Lesley so. “Paul told us at least twenty times we ought to destroy it.”
“And he’s no fool!”
“No!” I shook my head. “Gideon thinks it could turn out to be our trump card.”
“Gross,” said Raphael. “You could always auction it on eBay for a joke. Immortality powder, to be taken once only. Minimum bid one pound.”
“Apart from the count, I don’t know anyone who wants to be immortal,” I said, rather bitterly. “I don’t like the idea of staying alive when everyone else around me will have to die sometime. I’d sooner throw myself off a cliff than be left all alone in the world!” I suppressed another sigh at this idea. “Do you think this immortality thing could be a kind of genetic defect in me? After all, I have not just one time travel line in the family, I have two of them.”
“There could be something in that,” said Lesley. “And the Circle does close with you—in every sense.”
For a while we sat lost in thought, staring at the opposite wall. It had some words in Latin painted on the plaster in black lettering.
“What does that say?” asked Lesley at last. “Don’t forget to fill the fridge?”
“No,” said Raphael. “It’s a quote from Leonardo da Vinci, and the de Villiers family stole it from him to use it as their motto.”
“Then I expect that in English,” said Lesley, “it means something like ‘We’re not just showing off, we really are wonderful.’ Or ‘We know everything, and we’re always right!’”
I giggled.
“‘He who is fixed to a star does not change his mind,’” said Raphael. “That’s what it says.” He cleared his throat. “How about I find some pens and paper? To help us think better?” He grinned awkwardly. “Maybe it’s kind of sick, but I must say I’m enjoying your mysterious game.”
Lesley sat up straight. A smile slowly spread over her face, and the freckles on her nose began to dance. “Me too,” she said. “I mean, I know it’s not really a game, it’s a matter of life and death, but I’ve never had such fun before as these last two weeks.” She cast me an apologetic glance. “Sorry, Gwenny, but it’s megacool to have an immortal time traveler for a friend. Much cooler, I guess, than actually being one.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “You’re right. I’d be having more fun myself if we could change places.”
When Raphael came back with paper and colored pencils, Lesley immediately began drawing little boxes and arrows. “It’s that stuff about an accomplice of the count among the Guardians that really gives me a headache.” She chewed the end of her pencil for a moment. “Although that’s only an assumption in itself, but never mind. Basically, it could be anyone, right? The minister of health, that weirdo the doctor, nice Mr. George, Mr. Whitman, Falk … or that red-headed idiot, what’s his name again?”
“Marley,” I said. “But I don’t think he’s the type for that kind of thing.”
