The Key (The Magnificent 12 3)

These did.

The centipede army backed slowly away, reversing down the tunnel.

Stefan looked at Mack, showed him the head, and said, “Can I keep this?”

“Sure,” Mack said. “As long as you carry it.”

Stefan stuck the head under his arm, much as a Frenchman might carry a baguette, and they marched, unhurried, toward the lit areas of the sewers and, hopefully, safety.

Rodrigo was next to Mack. “You know, I wondered what Stefan’s purpose was. I think I understand perfectly now.” He walked a few more steps. “And I think I am just the smallest bit afraid of him.”

Mack shrugged. “He’s much better to have on your side than against you.”

They emerged at last into the too-bright light of a beautiful Parisian day. After the dimness below, they blinked and shaded their eyes for a while.

“So, the Eiffel Tower is that way,” Dietmar said, pointing downriver. “Not so far. We can take a Métro or—”

“I think I’ve seen enough of underground Paris,” Charlie said. “I’m supposed to be here on a school tour. And I must say, this is the worst tour ever.”

“Let’s walk along the river,” Sylvie suggested.

“Should we cross back to the other side?” Xiao wondered.

“Over the same bridge with those giant things?” Dietmar said. “That seems like a bad idea.”

So they walked along in lovely fall sunlight next to the Seine. It was almost possible to forget the deadly nature of their mission. There are some good things about being twelve years old: you recover quickly from events that might destroy the mind and break the will of an adult. Adults are fragile and easily frightened. Try saying the word biopsy to an adult. Or tax audit. See? It’s easy to scare an adult.

But the effects of sunlight and the slow-moving river and the amazing beauty of the city around them restored their spirits more quickly than an adult could even imagine. The only off note was that some of the people they passed stared at Stefan’s giant bug head, which was now gnashing more feebly, but still gnashing.

Mack pulled out his phone to check for messages. There were about a dozen, including various spams, something from his school, two Facebook friend requests, and something from the golem.

He sighed. No, he was feeling good finally. It was not time to hear that the golem had burned down the house or whatever. Later.

They reached a pedestrian bridge. It was a sturdy thing, quite capable of carrying a car or two, but strictly for pedestrians. They crossed here, thinking it appeared giant-free. And from the middle of the bridge they could see the tower in all its magnificence. Not very near, but not very far, either.

They paused there for a moment for Stefan to throw the centipede head into the river. “It stopped moving,” he explained ruefully. “It was only cool as long as it was moving.”

A long bateau mouche was coming toward them, and a tugboat was chugging by below, going the other way. They watched the boats and therefore missed seeing the police car that pulled up very abruptly at the far end of the bridge.

Two blue-uniformed officers stepped out. More police cars arrived. More cops. Or flics, as the French would say.

Jarrah was the first to spot trouble. “Uh-oh,” she said.

There were now close to a dozen cops.

Mack shot an anxious look back the way they had come. A big police van had just pulled up, and guys in body armor carrying plastic shields were piling out in a very professional way.

“I can use the disappearing spell on them,” Jarrah said.

“No,” Xiao said quickly. “They are the legitimate forces of law and order.”

This brought a raised eyebrow from Jarrah, a snort of disbelief from Charlie, a sage head nod from Dietmar, and a shrug from Sylvie.

Mack said, “Xiao’s right. We don’t hurt the good guys. Let’s try talking to them.”

He stepped to the middle of the Passerelle Debilly. He held his hands out, palms open, and smiled. The intent was to show he was harmless and not looking for trouble.

But some things translate better than others in foreign lands. The palms and the open arms were fine. But Parisians have a different attitude toward smiles than Americans do. So to the flics, this looked mighty suspicious.