On the other hand, the person who had almost certainly taken them might not appreciate interference. There was even some question as to whether you could call him a “person,” given that he’d had horns growing from his head and then changed into an owl in moonlight. In fact you could go further and say he had made it extremely clear he didn’t want interference in whatever was about to happen.

If the joke in that underground corridor—and that is what both men seemed to consider it—was over now, would it be interfering to report that the objects stolen from the museum could be found under the baptistry in the cathedral? He didn’t know. How could he know? He needed to talk to Kate. Or his aunt.

His aunt, all by herself, was another subject—object, person—that needed thinking about, big time.

The good news for the moment was that Melanie seemed preoccupied too, not in her chatty tour-guide mode, which he’d feared. She sat down on a grassy mound and took out a long green guidebook, but didn’t open it. Nor did she seem unhappy to be left alone when Ned wandered away among the random pillars and what was left of the original theatre, which wasn’t much. This site wasn’t as well preserved as the arena was; grass growing among the ruins, and the quiet, made for a different sense of the past.

He glanced back at Melanie. He wondered if Oliver Lee’s comments had upset her. Maybe she’d felt she was being teased, the only woman among five men—or four men and a kid.

Ned didn’t think Oliver Lee had been teasing. He thought he’d meant the compliments, but these things were still a mystery to him.

So was trying to figure out last night.

AFTER THE WOLVES and the owl had gone away, he and Aunt Kim walked back from the tower to her car. Ned had kept his branch, but nothing troubled them on the path. He heard an owl as they approached the fork in the trail and it made him jump, but his aunt touched his arm.

“Not ours,” she said. “That’s a real one.”

“How do you know?”

“Different sound. I live in the country, remember?”

He looked at her. It was hard to see clearly in the night, but her hair was really pale in the moonlight. He gestured to it.

“My mom colours her hair.”

“I know. I’ve seen lots of pictures. She’s lovely, Ned. She always was.”

“Would it be like yours if she didn’t? Colour it?”

She hesitated. “I doubt that.”

They walked a bit farther. Ned saw the barrier and her car.

Aunt Kim stopped. “I’ll drive you back, but first…Ned, listen to me, it would be unfair to you and to your mother for us to meet like this again. I don’t want to put you in a position of having to keep secrets.”

“Um…you think I don’t keep secrets from my parents?”

She smiled faintly. “I’d worry if you didn’t, but not this large, dear.”

Ned was silent. He’d been thinking the same thing himself, actually, about everything here. “You going to leave? Go home?”

They were at the barrier. Her car was on the other side, but this seemed a conversation better suited to the night.

“Not immediately,” Aunt Kim said. “I’m going to try to find out more about what’s happening, if I can. For a day or two. Is my phone number on yours now? On callback? If you need me?”

He nodded. “Am I going to need you?”

Her turn to be silent. He had a sense she was dealing with real emotion. He felt it himself: this was his mother’s sister, and he’d never seen her in his life and might never see her again. It seemed they shared something, too. Something complicated and difficult.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “I hope you don’t need me in the way you meant. I’m pretty sure he’ll keep his promise, leave you alone.”

“Pretty sure?”

She looked up at him. “What do you want me to say?”

“Um, ‘absolutely positive’ would do.”

She laughed. “Your parents have done a good job, Ned.”

He felt embarrassed suddenly. “Yeah, well, don’t tell them.”

He saw her smile, but she didn’t reply.

Ned thought of something. “I should have asked before. Do you and Uncle Dave have kids? Have I got cousins in England I don’t know about?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I never could have children.”

Ned looked at her a moment. He might be young, but he knew enough to change the subject. “Ah, you really think my mom would be unhappy if…you called her, or wrote?”

Not the best subject change. “She always has been, Ned. It wouldn’t be the first time I tried. Which is why she’d be so angry if she knew I’d called you.”

That made sense. An end run, going around her.

“She’d spit?” he guessed. He was a bit fixated on that image, actually.

“Maybe not,” Aunt Kim said, managing another smile. “Let’s go. You need to be home before your dad gets worried.”

“He’s not the worrying type, except about my mom.”

“I think I know that.”

They walked around the barrier to her car. She started it up, switched on the headlights. He looked at her in the glow of the dashboard panel. She really did look an awful lot like his mother, but her hair, he now saw, wasn’t silver or grey, it was entirely white.

“Do you colour it that way?” he asked.

“It’s been like this since I was very young.”

“Really? Must have been pretty cool, back then.”

“I suppose. Your uncle liked it.”

“I guess he must have.”

She turned the car around and they wound their way along the narrow, twisting road back to the fork where Chemin de l’Olivette branched away. Ned had pointed and she’d stopped.

“I should walk up,” he had said. “They’ll see headlights from the house.”

“I know. Tricky questions. You’ll be fine tonight, but from now on, Nephew—and pay attention—you stay with the others after darkfall. Don’t go wandering. I can’t give you that ‘absolutely positive,’ so don’t do silly things, okay?”

He’d thought of a joke, but didn’t make it. Not after what had happened.

“I promise. But will you…if you figure anything out, will you at least let me know?”

His aunt had smiled at him. “You know I will. I’ll call before I go home, regardless. Keep my number, Ned.”

Ned had cleared his throat. “You know I will,” he said.

He’d leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. She brought a hand up and touched his face. Then he got out of the car. He’d stood in the darkness and watched her drive away. Started walking up their road and found himself working hard not to cry.

It had been a hell of a day, really.

He’d heard a grunting sound from the trees off the upward path. That would be the wild boars, sangliers, that came out to feed after sundown. Veraclean had told them about those. They didn’t scare him. Other things might.

No one had asked any questions when he walked into the house. It wasn’t all that late and he was fifteen, after all, not a kid any more.

THERE WASN’T THAT MUCH to see around the theatre of Arles. It was peaceful, though, in the sunlight and shade. You could imagine the past.

Ned wondered if that was the trade-off here in Europe: the major sights were impressive, and overrun with people. The smaller ones you could have to yourself.

He and Melanie were alone here except for three cyclists who had chained their bikes to the railing outside and were huddled over a map on the far side of the three columns left standing.

He walked back to Melanie. She’d put her guidebook down, had her knees up and her arms around them. She looked relaxed, but he wasn’t sure she was.

“Did you match the streak in your hair to your eyes?” he asked, sitting beside her on the grass. He plucked some sprigs and tossed them up to blow away. It was windy now.

She looked at him from behind sunglasses. “Don’t tease me, Ned.”

“I wasn’t. Real question.”

She shook her head. “A dumb one, then. Of course I didn’t. You think I’m too old to just like punk as a look?”