Chapter 28 Maybe There Is Such a Thing as Too Much Chocolate
Maybe There Is Such a Thing as Too Much Chocolate
THE STRANGE SOUND OF SQUEAKS AND GROANS ECHOED throughout the musty tunnel.
“You think those are rats or ghosts?” asked Flora.
“Honestly, at this point, I’m kind of hoping for ghosts,” said Sylvie.
“Eee-ooo,” said Georgia.
Sylvie assumed she was saying, Me, too. It was hard to tell because Georgia was now plugging her nose.
“Last year, Belinda got a private tour of the competition arena, and a year’s supply of FizzleFott’s sodas,” said Flora. “I’m getting an abandoned metro station and the return of Josephine Flammé.”
“Sorry,” said Sylvie, feeling rather guilty.
Flora shook her head. “I still can’t believe Agnes was really Flammé… . After I searched her kitchen, I told Godard she was clean! I should’ve looked harder.”
“You can’t blame yourself. She fooled everyone,” said Georgia, finally unplugging her nose.
Sylvie turned her attention to Guy, who was quietly walking next to them.
“So, you and my mom still keep in touch?” She was still trying to make sense of Julia’s warning.
“It’s been a while.” He touched his eye patch. “After the accident, she thought it was best if I kept my distance. She worried more trouble would head my way if people knew I was associating with her.”
“You mean, my mom asked you to stay away?”
“Yes. One time, she made an exception, when I was in Los Angeles for a book launch… . Ironically, it was your birthday.”
“I remember,” said Sylvie, letting it all roll through her mind. She’d assumed so many things about so many people, but she’d been wrong. Maybe she was mistaken about Guy too.
A sign with silvery cobwebs clinging to it was posted in front of them.
DANGER! KEEP OUT!
Guy reached up and pushed it aside, revealing a large tattoo on his forearm.
Sylvie’s brows furrowed. “That’s the SIFT symbol… . You’re a member?”
“More than that.” Guy pulled down his sleeve, covering the tattoo. “I’m the president. They elected me last year.”
Sylvie stopped, her mind running through the implications. “You’re the one running the secret resistance?”
Guy grinned. “If I answered that, it wouldn’t be much of a secret anymore, would it?”
Gideon’s comment back in the greenhouse suddenly made sense. There‘s more to Guy Fabre than meets the eye. This made Sylvie want to ask more questions, like Where’s August Strange? Unfortunately, they were now standing at the end of the tunnel.
“Entrance is on the other side of this platform,” said Guy.
Sylvie eyed the burned-out compartment in front of them. Graffiti was splashed across the train’s scorched facade. Inside, the paint was peeling, and the seats had been worn down to metal stubs. “What happened to that thing?”
Georgia crinkled her nose. “It looks almost as bad as my mom’s meatloaf.”
“It’s not that bad once you give it a chance,” said Guy, pulling out his Blade and slicing off a burnt wedge.
Sylvie gaped at him.
Guy smiled slyly. “Remember. Anything can become an edible illusion.” He popped the shard into his mouth.
The door in front of them slid open. “Tempered chocolate mixed with dry ice for the train’s body, sugar glass for the broken windows, modeling chocolate for the rough insides.
Ladies first,” said Guy, ushering them inside.
“I can’t believe this thing is really chocolate,” said Georgia.
“Down to the nuts and bolts,” said Guy.
The girls piled into the compartment.
“It’s brilliant,” said Flora, eyeing the dilapidated structure.
Sylvie ran her fingers through the fine layer of dust on the seats. It looked like dirt, but she suspected it was actually … cocoa powder?
Guy shuffled in behind them.
Sylvie stepped over an empty FizzleFott’s shipping crate.
“Fernand should be waiting for us on the other side.” Guy waved his Blade in front of the door on the opposite end. “Hopefully, his team is already scouring the arena for Josephine.”
A groan echoed out. The door gave a weak tremble.
Guy shook his head. “I told him he needed to grease the hinges. It’s been sticking all week.” He waved his Blade again, but the door didn’t budge.
“Now what?” asked Sylvie.
“I’ll have to put some muscle into it,” said Guy, wedging his Blade into the gap. “But the enchanted chocolate may not take kindly to this. So, when the doors open, get ready to run. Understood?”
The girls nodded.
Guy worked his knife back and forth. Sylvie squinted into the small crack. On the other side was a glistening room, bustling with activity. An enormous sign floated past: WELCOME TO THE GOLDEN WHISK.
“There it is!” said Flora breathlessly.
Georgia squeezed in close and gave the air a sniff. “What is that smell?”
The scent of neglect in the compartment was suddenly replaced with something delicious. Cinnamon. Cherries. There was something else too. Sylvie tried to place it. Dried orange peel? Anise?
“It’s the beignets,” said Guy. His face turned red as he pressed his weight into the trembling door.
Snap! Crack!
The door finally broke open.
Sylvie and Georgia tumbled backward as the compartment gave a violent shudder. The Fire Wands dug into Sylvie’s wrist as she and Georgia slid apart.
“The enchantments have been activated,” said Guy. “The compartment is melting.”
“Now what?” cried Flora.
Guy pushed Flora—staring wide-eyed—out the door. “Get to safety! I’ll grab Sylvie and Georgia.” Slicks of chocolate slapped at the soles of Guy’s shoes as Flora vanished.
Sylvie tried to pull herself up, but it wasn’t easy. Pools of chocolate, sweet and fragrant, were gathering on the ground. The Fire Wands jerked as she and Georgia struggled to get in sync.
“Tempered chocolate shouldn’t melt this easily,” cried Sylvie. But like every other recipe touched by magic, typical rules didn’t seem to apply.
Guy grabbed hold of them. “On three, you stand up.”
Sylvie and Georgia nodded.
“One. Two. Thr—”
Snap!
Sylvie felt the tightness that had been clinging to her wrist finally release. She and Georgia tumbled backward again, pulling Guy with them. He sailed up, enrobed in a sticky slick.
Sylvie reached out, but she wasn’t strong enough.
Guy flew over her. “Just get yourselves out!”
The walls around them groaned. The doors twisted inward like bent Tootsie Rolls.
“The compartment is going to collapse,” said Sylvie. “We have to move.” She trudged forward. The exit wasn’t far, but the floor was now full of sinkholes.
Every few steps, bits of solid ground collapsed.
Thick sludge wrapped around Georgia’s ankles. Her fingers dug into a melting post. A chunk of chocolate sloughed off, like hot wax dripping from a candle.
“Maybe there is such a thing as too much chocolate,” cried Georgia. She tried to steady herself on a metal rail, but it was like watching a giraffe trying to surf. It’s only a matter of time before she falls.
Sylvie had to do something.
The empty FizzleFott’s crate floated toward her.
Sylvie’s eyes narrowed. Almost empty.
She stretched out her arm, grabbed hold of the crate, and yanked out a box of Rocket Blast candies.
“Now really isn’t the time for a sugar fix,” yelled Georgia.
But Sylvie wasn’t listening. The crate was wider and heavier than any skateboard she’d ever used. Plus, the ground wasn’t even solid now. Still … it’ll have to do. Sylvie pounded the candies into her fist, mixing melted chocolate in with the sugary dust.
“What are you doing,” cried Georgia.
“Making a ganache to blast us out of here,” shouted Sylvie. The ball of chocolate in her hands started bubbling.
Yes!
Sylvie jumped onto the crate. “Get on.”
“But I don’t know how to ride—ahh!”
Sylvie yanked her up. There was no time to argue. Sylvie launched the fizzing globule into the melting floor. A spray of chocolate shot up, hurtling them toward the door. Sylvie felt her body turn weightless.
Every time she sailed down a half-pipe, she felt like she was flying. But this time, the sensation was real.
Sylvie grabbed the straps on her backpack and firmly planted her feet. The cookbook pressed against her back as they sailed toward the melting doors. The Golden Whisk was on the other side.
“Duck your head,” cried Sylvie.
Whoosh!
The last remnants of the train compartment vanished as they soared into the arena.