know we prize it—and that we fear their possession of it. Of course, it was a hazardous endeavor to
unearth the treasure at all. We had to find someone who could protect it. And so we entrusted it to one
of our most illustrious contacts in New York City, a powerful and wealthy woman who vowed to
serve our cause.”
A look of pain flickered in Celestine’s expression.
“Mrs. Rockefeller was our last great hope in New York. I have no doubt she took her role
seriously. Indeed, she was so adept that her secret has remained hidden to this day. The creatures
would kill every last one of us in order to discover it.”
Evangeline touched the lyre pendant, the gold warm against her fingertips. At last she understood
the significance of her grandmother’s gift.
Celestine smiled. “I see you understand me. The pendant marks you as one of us. Your grandmother
was right to give it to you.”
“You know my grandmother?” Evangeline asked, astonished and confused that Celestine should
know the precise provenance of her necklace.
“I knew Gabriella many years ago,” Celestine said, the faintest hint of sadness in her voice. “And
even then I did not truly know her. Gabriella was my friend, she was a brilliant scholar and a
dedicated fighter for our cause, but to me she has always been a mystery. Gabriella’s heart was one
thing nobody, not even her closest friend, could discern.”
It had been ages since Evangeline had last spoken with her grandmother. As the years had passed,
she began to believe that Gabriella had died. “Then she is alive?” Evangeline asked.
“Very much alive,” Celestine said. “She would be proud to see you now.”
“Where is she?” Evangeline asked. “France? New York?”
“That I cannot tell you,” Celestine said. “But if your grandmother were here, I know that she would
explain everything to you. As she is not, I can only try, in my own way, to help you to understand.”
Pulling herself up in her bed, Celestine gestured for Evangeline to go to the opposite side of the
room, where an antique trunk sat in a corner, its leather trim scuffed. A brass-plated catch gleamed in
the light, a padlock hanging from it like a piece of fruit. Evangeline walked to it and held the cool
lock in her hand. A tiny key protruded from the keyhole.
Checking to be sure that Celestine approved, Evangeline twisted the key. The lock popped open.
She unhooked it, set it lightly upon the wooden floorboard, and pushed open the trunk’s heavy
wooden top the brass hinges, without oil for many decades, creaked with a sharp feline whine and
gave way to the earthy smell of stale sweat and dust mixed with the more refined, musky smell of
perfume that has begun to soften with age. Inside, she found a layer of yellowed tissue paper placed
neatly over the surface, so light it seemed to hover above the edges of the trunk. Evangeline lifted the
paper, careful not to crease it, and found pressed stacks of clothing beneath. Taking them from the
trunk, she examined them one by one: a black cotton pinafore, brown jodhpurs stained black at the
knees, a pair of women’s lace-up leather boots with the wooden soles worn down. Evangeline
unfolded a pair of wide-legged wool trousers that seemed better suited to a young man than to
Celestine. Running her hand over the trousers, her nails catching upon the rough fabric, Evangeline
could smell the dust trapped in the material.
Digging deeper, Evangeline’s fingers brushed against something velvety soft at the bottom of the
trunk. A mass of satin lay crumpled in a corner. When Evangeline unfurled it with a flick of the wrist,
it opened into a fluid sheet of glossy scarlet fabric. She draped the dress over her arm, examining it
closely. She had never touched material quite so soft; it fell across her skin like water. The style of
the dress was like something in a black-and-white film—bias cut, with a plunging neckline, a tapered
waist, and a narrow skirt that fell to the floor. A series of tiny satin-covered buttons climbed up the
left side of the gown. Evangeline found a tag sewn into a seam. It read CHANEL. A series of numbers
were stamped below it. Holding the dress close, she tried to imagine the woman who wore such a
dress. What would it be like, she wondered, to wear this beautiful gown?
Evangeline was returning the dress to the trunk when, nestled in a fold of old clothing, she found a
bundle of envelopes. Green, red, and white—the envelopes were the colors of Christmas. They had
been fastened together by a thick black satin band, which Evangeline slid her finger over, the slick
track soft and smooth.
“Bring them to me,” Celestine said softly, the extent of her weariness beginning to weigh upon her.