Breaking Magic

Chapter 21: Felix

I'm completely drained of magic, and Adam doesn't feel confident enough to use a spell to replace the mound of earth in Merlin's grave, even if there was a spell for that. We have to do it by hand, and it takes the remaining forty minutes we have left to get the spot looking at least similar to how it appeared before we came along and vandalized the place.

Sweaty and covered in dirt, we stamp down the last few freshly turned patches of earth, kick some sticks and small stones around to make it look more undisturbed, and survey out work.

"That'll have to do," I say, panting. "We're out of time, the next tour group will be here any minute. We should get out of here now, before they show up."

"Okay," Adam says, clutching Merlin's staff tightly in his hands as if he's afraid it might disappear if he lets it out of his grasp. "Let's go."

We hurry back towards the entrance of the cemetery, but when we make it to the gate, we suddenly hear distant voices, drawing nearer.

"Shit!" I hiss, and I grab Adam by the sleeve and start dragging him back the way we came.

"What—where are we going? Crap, they're going to catch us!"

"It doesn't matter if they catch us," I tell him, still pulling him along to the rear of the cemetery. "They can't prove we did anything, no one has any idea what just happened out here. There's no reason for anyone to suspect us of doing anything."

"Then why are we hiding?" he protests.

"We're not hiding, we're sneaking out the back way. And because, the less [i]reason[/i] anyone has to be suspicious, the better. I think France would have a serious problem if they knew we were taking a priceless historical artifact. Now come on, hurry up!"

We reach the wrought iron fence at the rear of the graveyard. It's just tall enough to make climbing over it extremely awkward and uncomfortable, but I'd much rather take off around the rear of the abbey than run into the tour group and risk getting asked lots of questions about why we were coming out of the cemetery looking so disheveled and covered in dirt.

The fence has ornately spiked tips and avoiding stabbing myself right in the groin isn't an easy task, but somehow Adam and I both get over in one piece and start half running towards the rear of the abbey, ducking low as we go even though there isn't any real cover to speak of.

We loop around the entire main building, and come out at the front around the opposite side. I peer around the corner of the stone wall, and see that there was no one in sight, no stray tourists, no employees to be found.

"All right, come on," I whisper to Adam. "And stand up straight—just walk normally, don't look suspicious. If you keep looking like that someone's going to suspect you're up to something right away. Just be casual."

"Casual, carrying this thing?" he gives the staff a wave, one of his eyebrows climbing skyward incredulously. "It's taller than I am!"

"If anyone asks, it's just a walking stick. Nothing weird about that. You're a tourist, you bought a walking stick somewhere, you brought it with you today because you're a giant dork who like to carry his French walking stick around with him everywhere."

"Walking stick my ass," he mutters under his breath.

"What, you think someone is going to see it and say to themselves, 'Hm, that looks an awful lot like Merlin's staff, I wonder if those guys just looted the wizard's grave to get it'? Even another magician won't recognize it for what it is as long as they don't touch it. Now come on, the sooner we're back at the hotel, the better."