Sylvie hurled treats toward the heavily fanged mouth. She was preparing to kiss her flame-broiled butt goodbye when a hand reached down and grabbed her.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you? It’s not nice to play with your food,” said a familiar voice.
Winner! Winner! Chicken Dinner!
FERNANDLEGRANDE GAZED ATSYLVIE WITH HIS EMERALDeyes. “Stay low, all of you.” His voice was just as it had been in Godard’s memory, like the pattering of rain—soft, yet powerful.
Sylvie crouched on the stairs.
The dragons pushed back up, chasing after the last rooster.Crunch!Another cloud of feathers erupted before dissolving into chocolaty pools.
Fernand waited until the dragons circled back around. He pulled out a curved blade with a chartreuse deerhorn handle and tapped it against a cwtch. “Dragons Carcerem!”
The dragons vanished into it.
A woman with cat-eye glasses teetering on the brim of her nose rushed over.
“Camille, please return the dragons to Ewald,” Fernand said.
“Oui, Monsieur.” Camille scooped up the cwtch and dropped it gently into her pocket.
Fernand pulled out a handkerchief and tried to wipe the splattering of chocolate off his sleeve. “Caron’s showpiece is ruined… . France won’t even get on the podium now.”
“S-sorry about the mess … and Caron’s roosters,” said Sylvie.
Fernand gazed at all three of them. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused? The damage! The delays!” He blotted at the chocolate. “The dry cleaning!”
“It was an emergency,” said Georgia.
“We didn’t have a choice,” added Flora.
Sylvie appreciated the support.
“There’s always a choice,” said Fernand.
“You’re right, Monsieur LeGrande,” said Sylvie. “And … I hope I made the right one.”
Fernand continued to try and remove the stain. “Monsieur LeGrande was my father. Call me Fernand.”
“Right … Fernand. I had to stop the competition, before it was too late,” Sylvie said.
Fernand paused. “Too late for what? Some dreams may be dashed today, but the world isn’t coming to an end.”
“Well, maybe not the world.” Sylvie did her best to fill Fernand in on the important details.
He pressed his fingers together and rested them underneath his chin. “Josephine is planning to makeVindicti-au-ventand destroy the competition.”
Georgia tugged at a chocolaty feather that was tangled in her hair. “Winner! Winner! Chicken dinner!”
Based on the look Fernand gave her, the phrase didn’t translate.
“Err … what Georgia is trying to say is, yes. If we don’t stop her, Josephine will release a curse that will destroy everything. She’s set on revenge and prepared to take out everyone in the stadium to get it.”
“Ouf!” Fernand turned back to Camille. “Send a team over to Platform Three. Let them know there’s a melted compartment, and Guy Fabre is trapped inside. Then, gather up as many CCS agents as you can.”
Camille pulled a pen from behind her ear and started jotting notes.
“For the counterspell, we can use pastels. CCS agents can hand out as many as we have. I’ll handle getting Sylvie’s mom safely out of the competition.”
