“What are you doing to them?” I asked her. The room had the same air as when Bollard arrived at The Cracked Kettle and then the following night.
“Me? Nothing. Right, Tivoli?” She gazed at Doc from under her eyebrows.
He said nothing.
“I said, right, Tivoli?”
Doc said nothing.
“Enzo?”
As she waited for a response, my ears picked up a hum like a television turned to the blue screen, faint but there.
“I suffer from fits sometimes.” Enzo’s words clipped short, and he shivered in his seat. He was lying. “I have for years. How silly. Claudette has nothing to do with it.”
“It’s fine. I’ve seen enough.” Claudette nodded. “See you around, cousin.” And as fast as she had arrived, she left.
Doc shook his head. “Come, Enzo. I should check you out.”
“I am fine, Doctor. I really am.” His head swayed, and he added, “Cakes. Let‘s talk about the cakes.”
Doc waved his hand to Rudolf, and when he came over, Doc whispered in his ear. Rudolf nodded.
Manon stood, her eyes rolled back, and she swayed on her feet. Rudolf caught her before she hit the ground. “I must attend to her as well.”
One guard pulled Enzo from his seat.
“What did she do to them, Doc?” I asked.
Two other guards helped Enzo to his feet. While Doc examined his eyes, he replied, “Nothing. They need water, some medicine. They’ll be as good as new by the morning.”
“What happened to them? Did Claudette do this?” It had been such a pleasant evening before she showed up. It had to be her.
“Exhaustion. I’m sorry, but I must get them into bed,” Doc said, and he signaled to the guards that it was time to move the patients.
“No, my uncle did the same thing,” I said, and this time I demanded an explanation, so I added, “I will go find my cousin.”
Doc came over and whispered in my ear, “Your friends are sick. Please, go to bed. This can only get worse for them.”
“How?” I asked, but my senses returned to me. This was not the time or the place. Both Enzo and Manon were ill. I nodded, and they left.
Back in my room, my thoughts flooded with images. Manon’s face contorted in pain. The sweat pouring off Enzo and his words failing him.
This was more than Enzo being afraid or sick. Enzo couldn’t speak. Like Dad at our dinner with Uncle Bollard. Dad had wanted to say no, but my uncle wouldn’t let him. Well, I had just witnessed the same thing at dinner. I didn’t understand how she did it. Was it the look she gave Enzo or something else? Could my family hurt people by looking at them? I recalled the marble carver. She had mentioned the eyes. Could my family control people with their eyes? Rationally, I understood humans couldn’t do that, and yet Claudette and Bollard had some power beyond the average person.
People believed I had power too. How many times had I been called an untrained Merric? Well, if what I saw was an example of my family’s powers, I wasn’t interested. Dad, Manon, Enzo. If Bollard wanted me trained in hurting people, he had another thing coming.
This was far more complicated than I had thought. Grandma. I began to understand why she’d come home. She’d never be able to stand people like Claudette or Bollard. Her book was right next to me, and I leafed through the pages. All the pictures showed her as a happy woman with many adoring people around her.
I got up and went to the bookshelf. This time I grabbed an encyclopedia on a woman name Beatrix Wently Priscilla Lynn Merric. All her pictures were happy; the public had loved her. If I read another volume, I doubted it would be different. What had Dad taught in class? Those who win history, own history. The Merrics owned history, so this book wouldn’t tell any darker truths.
But what were those darker truths? Could my family control people? Could they hypnotize others? Cause pain, sweating? Or was the sweating a side effect of something else? Could someone else’s hot temperature cause others to sweat?
It reminded me of Grandma’s high temperature, and yet sitting next to Grandma it never radiated off her. Perhaps Claudette or Bollard had the Tennabris, but worse. No wonder Doc had put me in the freezer. If that was the normal Merric temperature, they were lucky they didn’t fry all their internal organs. They didn’t appear sicker than Grandma, but what did I know? Perhaps the disease affected people differently. Like some people had higher temperatures, others had worse delusions. Diseases weren’t like blueprints.
This was also scary because if the disease was this different between these relatives and Grandma, chances are that my or my mother’s symptoms for the illness might be completely different.
I had so many questions about the disease and about the Merrics. No one working for them would tell me anything unfavorable. In fact, only one person in the entire place had told me the truth about the Merrics, and the marble sculptor had been absent since my first morning.
Outside my room, Claudette and her friends cackled and carried on.
Torn between wanting very much to cancel the dinner and needing to meet my grandma’s prince, I pictured both Lothaire and Grandpa. Lothaire was lanky, dark hair, brown eyes. He looked nothing like Grandpa. Leo had been the opposite. Short, blue eyes. Grandma had truly loved my grandpa—she was utterly lost without him—but there was something about Lothaire that had stuck with Grandma even after she became sick. I just knew her prince was the key to finding the necklace and ultimately finding the cure for Grandma. I needed to go. Canceling wasn’t an option. I was going to meet Grandma’s prince. I needed to talk to him about Grandma.
Chapter 17
A Walk in the Park
My stylists put me in a boring black dress. They didn’t bother to do my makeup or hair, which was confusing. More times than not I didn’t even look like me when they finished and that was to sit around the
