Read The Masquerading Magician Online
Authors: Gigi Pandian
Tags: #mystery, #mystery fiction, #alchemy, #alchemist, #portland, #herbal, #garden, #northwest, #pacific, #ancient, #french, #cooking, #french cooking, #food, #masquerading magician, #gigi pandien, #accidental alchemist
Fifty
Dorian was so thrilled
with the new discovery that he was moved to experiment with new vegan recipes inspired by Paris. He handed me a long shopping list and pushed me out the door.
When I returned from the market close to lunchtime, Dorian showed me what he'd discovered in the news. The police had found Peter and Penelope with a whole stash of riches that had been stolen from several Oregon heists in the 1960s. Also in the magicians' possession was a letter from Franklin Thorne to an associate asking about selling his full “collection.” It looked as if Peter's father had been about to retire from the business. If only he'd done so one job sooner, multiple deaths could have been avoided.
Penelope claimed ignorance of the origins of the treasures. Having observed her intelligence, I wasn't inclined to believe her. But neither of them were killers, so I supposed it didn't really matter as much. Peter was arrested, and Penelope told a reporter that she was looking for a fresh start. She'd reinvented herself before, moving from a circus performer to a skilled magician, and I had no doubt she'd succeed in whatever she did next.
Reclusive Julian Lake consented to be interviewed by a television reporter, but the clip we watched online made it clear that he wasn't there to comment on the discovery of his family's lost riches. Instead, he was offering a
new
reward. This time, he sought the help of the public to find the mysterious French chef who'd visited him that week. It was the best meal he'd eaten in years, and he wished to hire the chef.
After Dorian saw to it that I ate every last bit of a roasted vegetable sandwich on fresh-baked sourdough bread with garlic hummus, I called Tobias to let him know what had happened, including my discovery that the illustrations in the book had pointed to Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. He again apologized for upsetting me by misidentifying the photograph of Ambrose in my alchemy lab. I told him it was all right. I surprised myself by actually believing it.
“One last thing, Zoe,” Tobias said. “I found an old tincture that never worked for me, but my notes say it helps with the symptoms you're experiencing from backward alchemy. I'll overnight it to you.”
“And let's not wait another 150 years before we see each other this time, okay?”
“It's a deal.”
Brixton made up with his friends. Veronica and Ethan came to the teashop while he was working behind the counter, and they brought him a peace offering: a wind-up gargoyle that Ethan had commissioned from a specialty shop.
Ethan confessed he'd been sneaking around the burned theater after the fire, for kicks, and thought he saw the Baby Bigfoot shown in the posters around town. It made him realize that there might be more going on in this world than he understood. Maybe there
was
a Bigfoot. Brixton went along with Ethan's version of the truth, and didn't give up Dorian's secret.
While the boys caught up at a table filled with Dorian's pastries, Veronica sat with me and showed me my new and improved website on her phone.
“This can't be right,” I said. “It looks like I've already sold two of my most expensive items in the last twenty-four hours.”
“You haven't checked your email or your bank account?” she asked.
“I've been a bit busy.” I'd need to pack up these items right away. I looked more closely, to see which pieces had sold. If what Veronica had showed me was right, I now had enough money to pay Ethan back
and
perhaps enough left over to hire someone to fix my roof. But first, I was buying myself a new wardrobe.
I settled back in my seat and enjoyed the convivial atmosphere. The painted blue sky on the ceiling and the live weeping fig tree in the center of Blue Sky Teas mirrored the sunny spring day outside. Two of Heather's water-themed paintings were now hanging on the walls. Though they'd been inspired by the winter flooding, the dramatic blues and bright whites were in perfect harmony with the spring flowers that filled the café.
“May I join you?” The voice startled me from my thoughts.
“Hi, Mr. Danko,” Veronica said. “How are you feeling? I heard you were in the hospital.”
“Much better, thank you.” Ivan sat down and set a Cyrillic newspaper onto the tree-ring table. He
did
look much better. Perhaps hope was breathing new life into him.
I couldn't say the same thing for myself. As I caught a glimpse of Ivan's newspaper, I felt as though the life was draining out of me. The sensation was surreal, like being in a dream.
I pointed to a grainy photograph in the newspaper. The focus of the image was a statue on Charles Bridge, the famous stone bridge that stretches across the Vlatava River in Prague. The bridge was lined with statues of saints, but this particular statue didn't match the rest. It was a gargoyle.
“What's this?” I asked, tapping a shaking fingertip on the newsprint image.
“Ah,” Ivan said. “That is an interesting story. It seems that a stone gargoyle was found this week on Charles Bridge.”
“Why is that weird?” Veronica asked. “Aren't there gargoyles all over Europe?”
“They don't usually appear without warning,” Ivan said, “especially not 150 years after they disappeared.”
I looked more carefully at the image. Though it didn't look like Dorian, there was something familiar about the style.
“This gargoyle,” Ivan continued, “was identified as having been stolen from Notre Dame around the time the Gallery of Chimeras was opened to the public.”
Like Dorian, this must have been a carving by Viollet-le-Duc. Was it another piece of the puzzle?
“Wasn't your gargoyle statue stolen, too, Ms. Faust?” Veronica asked. “There's, like, a gargoyle thief on the loose.”
“Mine reappeared under mysterious circumstances too,” I said, forcing a laugh.
I told everyone that my missing gargoyle statue had been dropped off on my porch during the night. The same “anonymous donor” had returned the murder weapon to the steps of the police station. A security camera video showed only a hunched figure under a black silk cape.
Max was unsettled by the fact that they hadn't caught the thief, but when he found me in my garden the following day, his response surprised me.
“If I had to choose between catching the guy who broke into the evidence locker,” he said, “and having your gargoyle returned to you, I'm glad it turned out this way.”
“I do believe you're learning to unwind, Max Liu.”
He started to speak, but was interrupted by his cell phone. “Damn. I'm sorry, Zoe.”
“I know, you have to go.”
I had more to worry about than a complicated love life. And also more to celebrate. Dorian was safe from police scrutiny and could go back to being his usual self.
My Tea of Ashes remedy was still taking a toll, so I had opened the package from Tobias with anticipation. I lifted the carefully wrapped dark blue glass jar. The label was faded with age. As Tobias had said, the notes indicated this preparation could help with shriveled skin and hair loss. An accompanying note from Tobias said he'd held onto it for sentimental reasons, because the small man who had given it to him shortly after he met me in 1855 had been another kind soul during that dark time. The tincture hadn't worked for him, which is why he'd never used it up, but because my symptoms were identical to those described, he hoped it might work for me.
I looked from Tobias's note to the label on the glass jar. They had been written by different people, but the writing on the label looked familiar. I found a magnifying glass to examine the label. Was it my imagination, or did a tiny scribble at the bottom of the label say
N. Flame
l
?
I sniffed the tincture, then put a drop on my tongue. I'm not sure whether it had a placebo effect or whether it was real, but I felt more energetic than I had in months.
Maybe it was hope that filled me with a renewed energy. I had my first solid lead on Dorian's book. Ivan might be of even more assistance, now that he believed alchemy was real. Now that I knew the book was tied to Notre Dame, I realized something must have changed at the cathedral. What was it that had set in motion the gold statues crumbling into dust and Dorian turning to stone? It had been months since I'd been in Paris. It was time for a trip back. This time with purpose.
I doubted the French customs officers would allow me into the country in my current slovenly outfit, but I was about to remedy that problem. Heather and I had made a date to go to the mall together. The huge department store again overwhelmed my senses, but I allowed Heather to lead me inside. The perfumes, the bright lights, and the endless rows of clothing struck me as unnatural. But on this visit, with a little bit of help, I learned that if you went beneath the surface, you could find the pieces that fit your own unique shape
and
personality. Two hours later, I emerged a new woman. I walked out of the mall wearing the first pair of comfortable jeans I'd ever owned, a green cotton sweater over a tailored white blouse, and silver flats.
I dropped Heather off at her cottage that sat at the edge of a wild field. There in the untamed meadow, the first leaves on the rosebushes were beginning to unfurl.
Brixton came outside before Heather reached the door.
“Hey Zoe, you promised you'd cook me that new dish you're perfecting,” he said, giving me what he assumed was a surreptitious look. “Is tonight good?”
“Right. That new dish.” Brixton must have been in touch with Dorian.
Heather said she wanted to work on a new painting, but asked if I would send Brixton home with leftovers.
The scent of caramelized onions had thoroughly permeated the house by the time Brixton and I walked through my front door. Dorian cooked a bountiful spring feast for the three of us, and after dinner, he put on a living room magic show with illusions his “father,” Jean Eugène Robert-ÂHoudin, had taught him a century and a half ago. Illusions that relied on sleight of handâor in his case, sleight of claw.
the end
Recipes
chocolate elixir
Drink your chocolate in 2 ways:
Hot Chocolate or Chilled Chocolate Smoothie
Serves: 2
Cook time: 10 minutes
Ingredients:
Directions:
Place all the ingredients in a blender and puree until smooth. For hot chocolate, warm the blended mixture on the stove. For a chilled smoothie, add 8â10 ice cubes to the blender and puree.
Variations:
cashew cream mac & cheese
Serves: 4
Cook time: 40 minutes
Ingredients for pasta:
Ingredients for onion mixture:
Ingredients for sauce:
Directions:
Preheat oven to 375. Start a large pot of boiling water and cook pasta according to package instructions.
While the pasta is cooking, sauté the garlic and onions with
1
â
4
tsp salt for approximately 10 minutes. When the onion mixture is translucent and slightly browned, remove from heat and set aside.
Combine sauce ingredients in a blender. Add half of the cooled onion mixture to the blender mixture. Blend for a few minutes, until creamy.
In a large bowl, combine the cooked pasta and sauce. Add the pasta and sauce to an oven-safe baking dish (a 9-inch glass baking dish works well). Sprinkle the remainder of the onion mixture on top for a flavorful topping that will crisp in the oven. Bake for 15 minutes.
Variations:
roasted asparagus & brussels sprouts
with tarragon avocado sauce
Serves: 4
Cook time: 20 minutes
Ingredients for roasted spring vegetables:
Ingredients for sauce:
Directions:
Preheat oven to 425 and prepare a baking sheet with parchment paper. Cut off the tough ends of the asparagus, and cut the remaining spears into 2-inch pieces. Quarter the Brussels sprouts. Toss the vegetables with 2 tsp. olive oil, then spread evenly on the prepared baking sheet. Roast for approximately 15 minutes.
While the asparagus is cooking, prepare the sauce. Put all the sauce ingredients into a blender and puree until creamy. Toss the roasted vegetables with sauce.
Variations: