We both looked at them, then glanced at each other. I hoped he didn’t know how many things were suddenly making me think about almost-kissing him. About what it would be like to really kiss him.
He glanced at my lips.
I turned around before my flaming cheeks were too obvious.
Jack cleared his throat. “Right. We’ll just wait a minute, then—”
“Sure,” I said quickly. “Yeah.”
When they left, we edged our way toward the gargoyle, passing above the steepled roof of the main part of the cathedral. Jack searched the gargoyle and the area around it.
His shoulders tensed, and I leaned in close. “The symbol.”
It was drawn onto one of the gargoyle’s clawed feet in what looked like black marker, hidden well enough to escape the immediate attention of a cleaning crew. I squeezed Jack’s arm excitedly, but just as quickly let go.
“He can’t be telling us to steal the whole gargoyle,” I whispered. “Is there something hidden on it?”
For the next few minutes, we combed the area until a guard noticed and moved to stand just a few feet away, eyeing us suspiciously. I gave him a tense smile, like we were just another couple of interested tourists. “The clue said ‘watch over.’ What about his eyes?” I whispered.
When the guard turned his back, Jack picked up a pebble and heaved it all the way toward the other end of the tower, where it hit and rolled down a drainpipe. The guard perked up, and hurried away to investigate. The only other tourists nearby were three Japanese teenagers making peace signs at their camera phones. Jack climbed onto the ledge and stuck his arm as far as he could through the stiff metal mesh, reaching into the gargoyle’s eyes. He shook his head, and I deflated. Nothing. Not another clue, not another symbol, nothing at all.
“‘He watches over our lady above the coronation site. Where he looks, it will be found,’” I said under my breath once he’d hopped nimbly back down beside me. “‘Where he looks.’” The realization dropped into place with a jolt. “Jack. Where he looks, it will be found. Where is he looking?”
We stared out in the direction of the gargoyle’s gaze.
“Oh God,” I said. “The whole city looks exactly the same.” The matching cream-and-gray buildings weren’t quite as charming when they made it impossible to pick out anything. From the other side of the tower, the guard once again rounded the corner to watch us, a disapproving look on his face.
I got right behind the gargoyle and followed his line of sight as closely as I could. Jack came behind me and peered over my shoulder.
At that moment, the bells of the cathedral pealed out again, the chimes round and clanging and directly behind us. I gasped and jumped—straight back into Jack. He steadied me, and for a second, all I was aware of was the warmth of his body against the chill of the breeze, his hands secure on my shoulders. It was like I could ignore how much I wanted to touch him until it happened, and then I couldn’t think of anything else. I leaned back into his chest involuntarily. He didn’t stop me. In fact, unless I was imagining it, he drew me closer. It was dangerous how safe it made me feel. It was dangerous, period—we were in public, and someone could see us. I shook his hands off and stepped away, to the other side of the gargoyle.
And then I looked back up and saw it immediately.
“That white Ferris wheel.” I pointed. “That’s where he’s looking. Is there anything in that direction that could be significant?”
Jack grasped the railing and stared out over Paris. “Yes, in fact,” he said, a smile in his voice. “That’s the Louvre.”
CHAPTER 27
Luckily, the Louvre was a few short blocks away. Vendors were setting up their stalls of shiny Eiffel Tower postcards and dusty used books and vintage absinthe posters along the Seine, and the rush of traffic scented the air with diesel fumes.
We waited for a light to change, then crossed a busy street into the Louvre courtyard. The glass pyramid in its center gleamed blindingly in the morning sun, a modern contrast to the museum’s classic facade.
“Let me guess,” I said, my flip-flops slapping against the sun-bleached concrete. “The pyramid was put in by another family to spite the Dauphins.”
I laughed, but Jack frowned. “How did you know?”
I stopped, hands on my hips. “Seriously?”
Jack actually grinned. “Seriously,” he said over his shoulder.
I shook my head and hurried to catch up. A quick glance at the Dauphins’ wing of the complex showed that no one was watching, so Jack made a phone call. He’d gotten a new phone from the plane, and had grabbed me one, too, like there was a constant supply of extra equipment just lying around. While he talked to a security guard he knew, I called my mom again. Still no answer.
We sat on the edge of one of the courtyard’s many reflecting pools, waiting for the guard to get us—and Jack’s gun—past the metal detectors. I pulled up the Louvre website, hoping it would give us some kind of clue about what we were looking for. I stopped on a picture of the Mona Lisa. How ironic that we were this close to one of the most famous paintings in the world but wouldn’t have time to see it.
“It’s not that impressive in real life,” Jack said, like he was reading my mind. “It’s much smaller than you’d think. I have always wondered what she’s smiling about, though.”
I trailed my fingers through the reflecting pool, sending ripples across its surface. “She’s pretending,” I said. “That’s not a real smile. It’s what she wants people to see. It’s how she gets by.”
Jack looked at the phone for a long second. “Why?” he said. “Why does she have to pretend?”
“Because it’s easier that way,” I said. To me, it seemed obvious. “Then she doesn’t have to get involved with people.”
For once, Jack didn’t study the face of every person who walked by, or scan the crowd for danger. He kept looking at the phone, then cut a glance to me. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I think she knows being independent doesn’t always have to mean being alone.”
I became very interested in the tangled ends of my hair. “So you and Mona were friends?” I teased, hoping it sounded light. “You knew her well enough to know her deepest secrets?”