“Ah, hello,ma chère,” said the boy.
“Who are you?”
The boy stood and bowed. “Hypnos.”
Laila lifted her chin. “Andwhatare you doing here?”
Hypnos laughed. “I adore you already! So imperious! I bet Séverin likes to be bossed around a little, doesn’t he?”
At Séverin’s name, Laila snapped upright.
“What did you do to him?”
Hypnos clapped his hands together and sighed.
“Oh, goodness, youcarefor Séverin! And why wouldn’t you? That boy looks like every dark corner of a fairy tale. The wolf in bed. The apple in a witch’s palm.”
He winked.
Heat rose to Laila’s cheeks. “I don’t—”
“I don’t really care one way or the other,” said Hypnos, waving his hand. His smile held all the danger of a pried-open secret. “And that’s not why I came, lovely. I’m here because if we don’t act soon, I’m afraid Tristan and Séverin will be dead within the hour.”
9
ZOFIA
Zofia chewed on a matchstick, her eyes fixed on the exhibition door. The Exhibition on Colonial Superstitions was a glass and steel enclosure the size of a large greenhouse. Inside it were examples of ancient Forging objects throughout France’s overseas empire. Any moment now, the security guard’s shift would end. After that, she and Enrique would sneak in, steal an artifact Enrique believed would neutralize the effects of verit stone, and meet up with the others back at L’Eden.
“God, this wait is miserable,” said Enrique.
At this time of evening, no one was left in the Champ de Mars but vagrants, beggars, and the occasional tourist trying to catch a glimpse of the Exposition before it opened. Over the past few months, preparations for the Exposition Universelle had transformed the city, pulling the skyline into new shapes every day. Colorful tents sprouted up overnight, and the trill of new languages joined the sonorous buzz of electrical lights.
But nothing captured Zofia’s attention more than the imposing Eiffel Tower, the official entrance to the 1889 Exposition Universelle. The papers said that, together, Forging and science would pave a new age of industry. But Zofia did not consider Forging separate from the sciences. To her, Forging was not some divine art bestowed by ancient objects, but a science not yet understood.
Zofia glanced at the forbidding Eiffel Tower. Some called it a Tower of Babel for the new age, for both had been built without Forging, and both marked the start of a new era. But the Tower of Babel had been built to reach God and the heavens. Zofia was not sure what kind of god the world sought to reach now.
“What is taking that security guard so long?” Enrique grumbled. “He was supposed to be out by eight o’clock. It’s nearly nine.”
“Maybe he doesn’t have a clock.”
He stared at her. “Are you finally making a joke?”
“I’m pointing out a gap in your observation.”
Enrique let out a low whooshing breath. “And to think I could’ve beendancingat the Palais des Rêves tonight.”
“They didn’t want you, remember? Séverin said your face was all wrong.”
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
Past the Forging exhibition loomed the points of stone temples, tops of palm fronds, and silk tents that marked the sprawling colonial pavilions along the Esplanade des Invalides. It was to be the largest attraction after the Gallery of Machines and the Eiffel Tower. According to the newspapers, it contained “a Negro Village with almost 400 Africans in their natural habitat.”
That word struck Zofia as wrong. “Habitat.” It sounded like it was meant for animals. People were not animals. It didn’t seem right that they were there solely to be seen.
“Ugly,” she said, not quite realizing she’d spoken until she heard her voice.
