Chapter 26 The Doppelgänger
The Doppelg?nger
SYLVIE EYED THE TWO WOMEN, TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHICH one was the real Godard.
One was bickering with Belinda. The other was staring at a slice of half-eaten pie.
Sylvie stepped deeper into the tent, pulling Georgia along with her. “Sorry to interrupt.”
The three faces looked up.
“What are they doing here?” asked Belinda.
Sylvie’s gaze traveled between the doppelg?ngers. What’s going on? More veiled lady spells? “I need to speak to the headmistress.”
The woman with the slice of pie looked up. “Sorry, Sylvie dear. I haven’t finished reading. You’ll have to wait.”
“But it’s urg—”
“Shh!” Godard traced a line in the air above the trail of crumbs.
Sylvie really didn’t want to tell Godard what had happened in front of Belinda. But this couldn’t wait. She tried deciding—on a scale of one to ten—how rude it would be to interrupt again. Probably no worse than a five. “Excuse me … Madame Godard?”
“We don’t need that stupid pie. I’m telling you Flora is cheating,” interrupted Belinda.
Flora? Sylvie stared at the doppelg?nger who was now glaring at Belinda.
“I wasn’t cheating! The contest rules are clear. Spells may include a mother sauce … and that’s exactly what I used.”
Sylvie eyed her. It’s … Flora?
The headmistress Sylvie now suspected was Flora folded her arms across her chest. “I prepared a velouté infused with veiled lady mushrooms and a hint of skullcap. Both the recipe and ingredients are fair game. You’re just being a sore loser!”
“I’m not sore about anything!” Belinda snapped.
Even Sylvie could tell that wasn’t true.
The doppelg?nger stuffed her fingers into the bag by her feet.
She pulled out a chef’s knife with a glossy cocobolo wood handle.
Delicate hibiscus blossoms were etched into the shimmering blade.
“I’m winning fair and square. But if you don’t believe me, here’s my Blade.
Check my spells.” She rested the knife on the table. “You’ll see.”
“There’s no need to get the CCS involved with checking spells,” said Godard. “I’ve seen all I need with the transparent pie.” She pointed to a small cluster on the edge of her plate. “That bit has to do with you, Sylvie, and we’ll discuss it in a moment.”
Sylvie stole a glance at the half-eaten slice, still trying to figure out how a bit of egg, butter, and flour knew so much.
Godard turned her attention back to Belinda and the doppelg?nger.
“Voting ends in ten minutes. Flora dear, you’re—you’re”—Godard eyed her twin—“I’m sorry. Your spell is impressive. I can see why the kids were enthralled with it. But also … quite distracting. Please do change back.”
“Yes, Madame Godard.” Flora stuffed her hand back into the bag at her feet and pulled out a vial. The grayish-white contents looked just like the elixir Josephine had chugged down. Flora pulled out the stopper and took a swig.
Her skin shifted, turning back to the shade of a glistening dark pearl. The soft wisps of white hair twisted into a mane of ebony corkscrews.
Sylvie opened and closed her eyes a few times. Now that it wasn’t Josephine Flammé unfurling before her, she could appreciate the spell. Spectacular!
Godard gave a satisfied nod. “Now, as I was saying. We only have nine minutes left … make that eight. Flora is leading by twenty-three votes. We’ll wait for the final count, but I think it’s safe to say we have this year’s champion.
Congratulations, Flora. You’ll be the commis representing Brindille at this year’s Golden Whisk. ”
“What?” Belinda’s hands clenched into fists. “Impersonating the headmistress isn’t fair. When Madame Godard asks for your vote, who will say no?”
“As I said at the assembly, spells that impress and entertain win the day. More importantly, Flora didn’t break any rules. But if you’d like to discuss this further …” Godard pointed toward another morsel stuck to the plate. “Your puppets have been coercing votes from students.”
Belinda grew quiet.
“Remember our motto. We are all stronger when we work together. Now, do you have anything you’d like to say to your classmate, Belinda … perhaps a token of goodwill?”
Belinda turned to Flora. “Congratulations on”—she looked as if she’d swallowed a fly—“the … win.”
Godard clasped her hands together. “Doesn’t that feel so much better than bickering?”
Judging from the look Belinda gave Flora, the answer was no!
“Flora, please go and tell Chef Amaury to get the mise en place ready for the rumbledethumps,” said Godard.
“Once the final count is done, I think you’ll be heading to Paris.
Oh, and Belinda, let your father know I’d like to give him a tour of our gardens.
I just need a quick word with Sylvie first”—she glanced at the Fire Wands wrapped around Sylvie’s wrist—“and I suppose Georgia too.”
Belinda stood up and muttered something about justice. Godard waited until both girls departed and the sound of footsteps vanished. She turned back to Sylvie.
“A forbidden recipe! What have you done?” The sugar lanterns floated toward the table. Shadows flitted across Godard’s face.
Sylvie swallowed the knot in her throat and tried to figure out what to say. How much did the transparent pie tell her?
“The trail of crumbs ended with you making the Devils on Horseback and Agnes … er … Flammé jumping into the oven,” said Godard.
“I didn’t realize what the recipe would do,” said Sylvie. It wasn’t much of an explanation, but it was the best she could muster.
“You didn’t find it odd? A member of my staff encouraging you to make a recipe no one should be making, let alone a Pip?”
Sylvie stared at the ground. “She said she wanted to help.” “Besides, we’d already caught Bass’s mole,” added Georgia.
Godard paused. “You mean … Ms. Honeycut?”
Georgia sucked in her lips and nodded. Madame Godard pulled a familiar envelope out of her pocket and waved it in the air.
“Well, at least now I know who gave me this. You two were correct. Ms. Honeycut is the CamouflagedOyster. Although, I’m not sure I want to know how you figured that out.
But what you failed to realize is that she was using that platform with my knowledge and at the request of”—Godard leaned forward, her voice barely a whisper—“August Strange.”
Sylvie looked up. “Strange asked her to write that stuff?”
Godard’s eyes traveled between the two girls.
Then, settled on Sylvie. “Last week, August paid me a visit. He told me something terrible was happening at the CCS but refused to give me any details, said it wasn’t safe because Bass had planted a spy at the school.
” Godard rubbed her temples. “I knew it couldn’t be Ms. Honeycut.
Before coming to Brindille, she ran the archives at SIFT. She’s still a highly trusted member.”
Sylvie let the implication of Godard’s words sink in. Ms. Honeycut is part of the resistance?
“So, I enlisted her help. I had spells, and a few trusted students and staff, searching for the spy, but the spy had done a good job covering their tracks. We thought we might be able to smoke the culprit out online.”
Sylvie took a deep breath. “I’m sorry … I didn’t know.”
“Be that as it may, this is a disaster!” Godard shook her head.
“I tried my best not to give anything away in front of Belinda, but I don’t see how I can keep this hidden from Jack.
Oh, he’ll be thrilled. Only a few hours ago, I bluffed and told him I’d received a letter revealing the name of his spy.
I had hoped to plant a seed of fear and catch him in a misstep.
Instead, you two helped Flammé get away and handed him a powerful weapon! ”
“It’s my fault, not Georgia’s.” Sylvie’s mistake was about to hurt so many people. She didn’t want Georgia going down for her mess too. “Georgia didn’t exactly have a choice.”
Godard glanced at the Fire Wands connecting their wrists. “Fair enough. Belinda can deny it all she wants, but she’s responsible for you two being glued together. I’m sure her father won’t want the truth to come out. So that should clear her … but I don’t see how I get you out of this one, Sylvie.”
Godard’s words hung in the air.
Sylvie suddenly felt as if she were being squeezed into a sweater three sizes too small. “So that’s it. I’m done.” Bass won. “But what about my mom and everyone at the Golden Whisk? They have no idea Josephine is making Vindicti-au-vent. We have to save them.”
“Yes.” Godard brushed the crumbs off her lap and stood up. “You two go and wait for me in my office. I’ll send word to Guy Fabre. He’s planning to pick up the Commis Contest winner in Paris and deliver them to your mom.”
Sylvie took a moment to digest this. “Fabre? Are you sure you can trust him?”
Godard turned rigid. “Don’t tell me you suspect he’s working with Bass too.”
Sylvie felt the tips of her ears grow warm. “Well … yeah … maybe. In your memory, I realized he had a copy of Eglantine Easton’s book in his pocket. Why would he—”
“Eglantine was at the competition that year doing a book signing,” interjected Godard.
Sylvie’s mind wandered back to the picture she’d seen online with Eglantine’s name listed under special guests.
“We’ll discuss everything later,” continued Godard. “Sylvie, you remember the way to my office?”
Sylvie nodded.
“Good. We’ve given the security steps some blackout cake … acts as a bit of a tranquilizer. So, you shouldn’t have any issues with them tonight.” With that, Madame Godard hustled out.
Sylvie stared after her. There was a finality in the headmistress’s departure. One way or another, Bass would soon know the truth. Then, the trajectory of Sylvie’s future would be decided. Once that happened, it couldn’t be taken back.