them the details — alarm at me being scooped up backstage at the club, anger at the Shadows driving away with me, and astonishment at my terrifying turn around La Roue de Paris. They pressed me for everything I could recall about the Shadows’ car and their appearances. My revelation about the dark side of Luc Fiat seemed to surprise them, but I had the feeling they believed me. I wanted to talk about his twisted plans for the city and just what he might do, but these questions were pushed aside quickly by a wave of Rudee’s hand.
“Little Mac, none of this matters. Your adventures have curtains now. I promise to take all of this to Magritte. It’s time to get you back to your friends and home to your family trees.” Rudee read my disappointment and tried to offer some consolation. “Don’t worry, you have to come to the Bastille Day party. You must see the Hacks perform, of course, but then it’s back to hundred-watt California for you, little one.”
Sashay gave me a sympathetic look. “You know, Rudee’s right. Nothing will happen to our beautiful city, and it’s not worth taking any chances with you, ma cherie.”
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