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Ms. Helga put the kettle on even before the flurry of explanations had concluded. “Sit,” she said to Ivan and Mylene. “Take deep breaths.”
Ivan and Mylene wedged themselves into a smallish loveseat. As the other chairs were taken by the two elderly witches and Max’s mother, Max and Kagami sat on the floor.
“It’s about time you came,” said Ms. Margaux earnestly. She took Ivan’s hand and squeezed it. “You’ve been doing marvelous work, dears!”
“Yes,” Ms. Helga agreed. “Now, how does everyone take their tea?”
After the tea was passed around, Ms. Margaux fetched out a tin of biscuits. A period of contented chewing followed. Ivan and Mylene visibly relaxed.
“We want to do more,” Ivan said at last.
“Especially if Hawkmoth manages to unmask the community,” Mylene put in. “Brightwing and Destroika need to be symbols of hope for everyone. If that means revealing our identities, I’m ready.”
Ms. Helga and Ms. Margaux exchanged looks.
“Quite a heroic spirit,” said Ms. Helga.
“Yes,” said Ms. Margaux. “Which is precisely why we chose you to wield your miraculouses, of course.”
Everyone else stared at the witches. Markov gave off a faint whirring noise for a few moments as he processed this news.
“We’re far too old for such things,” said Ms. Helga. “When Hawkmoth stole the butterfly miraculous right out from under our wards, we knew it was time to bring in fresh blood. We located suitable candidates with a simple scry and hired a young 186-year-old city witch to arrange deliveries.”
Mylene looked down at her lap. Her heart was racing, but she did her best to push down the terror for Ivan’s sake. He was next to her, and that made it all easier. “We thought we were alone,” she said. “It was terrifying.”
Ms. Margaux leaned forward. “I am truly sorry,” she told Mylene. “We needed you to learn to trust each other without too much of our influence. Now that you are here, we can plan your next moves.”
Max’s mom raised her hand and waited patiently until all eyes turned to her. “I believe that the identity reveal is a sound plan, within certain security parameters,” she said. “Hawkmoth stole his miraculous from you. Was it housed at the farm?”
“In our bedroom,” said Ms. Helga.
Max’s eyes widened. “Then Hawkmoth is a member of the community?”
Markov’s propeller buzzed as he lifted into the air. “Analyzing…” Numbers danced across his viewscreen. “Conclusion: there is a 99.2% chance that Hawkmoth is a magical creature, and a 64.7% chance that you already know him, Ms. Helga and Ms. Margaux.”
Mylene saw what Markov meant. “How else would he have known where to find the miraculous?” Something else came to her, and she froze. “Markov, do you have FearScape access?”
“Indeed,” Markov chirped.
Mylene rubbed her chin. “If you had to guess, how many of the akuma victims so far have had accounts there?”
“I avoid guessing wherever possible,” Markov told her. “Analyzing. It appears that 100% of past akuma victims have FearScape accounts, though only one, Aurore Beauréal, posts under her legal name.”
“100%?” Max looked stricken. “Check again, please.”
“Analyzing. First result is accurate.”
“Most people aren’t on FearScape,” Max’s mother said. She looked to be thinking very hard. “Perhaps that’s why so many teenagers have been akumatized. If he needs them to have an account…?”
Markov’s cooling fans hummed for a moment. “Interesting,” he said. “FearScape does gather metadata regarding its users’ locations and identities, but I can’t view it without admin access. Given the level of security, it would be difficult to bypass the system directly. It seems more likely that Hawkmoth has used social engineering to access this data.”
Ms. Margaux and Ms. Helga made guilty-looking eye contact. “There’s only one person with admin permissions on FearScape who would also have known where the miraculous were kept,” Ms. Margaux said at last. She dropped a sugar cube into her tea. “Our ex-girlfriend, Nathalie. Before you children were born, at a time when the Internet was young, the three of us built FearScape together.”
Mylene’s eyes widened with dawning horror. Ivan beat her to the punch.
“You don’t mean that Mayura is… evil?” he asked.
“I don’t want to believe it of her.” Ms. Helga closed her eyes.
Ms. Margaux squeezed her wife’s hand. “We’ll give you her address,” she told Mylene. Grimacing, she added, “And a protection spell. When I last knew Nathalie Sancoeur, she was the most powerful witch in a generation.”
“I’ll drive you home,” Max’s mother told Ivan and Mylene. Before they could protest, she added, “I’m not sidelining you. For whatever reason, you children are the heroes Paris needs. But it’s getting late, and I’m sure your parents would like to know where you are.”
“Probably,” Ivan admitted.
“Suggestion,” Markov bleeped. “Tomorrow afternoon, the six of us rendezvous at the Kanté home and devise a plan to proceed.”
Mylene’s stomach twisted at the thought of her friends putting themselves in danger to help her, but she knew she couldn’t say no. “Thank you,” she said instead.
“Thank you.” said Ms. Margaux, showing the group to the door. “Perhaps one day you will be able to forgive us for giving you this burden.”
Kagami had been quiet all through teatime. Now, as they piled into Ms. Kanté’s car, she suddenly spoke. “What does Hawkmoth really want?” she asked. “If it was your miraculouses, wouldn’t he have stolen them instead of the butterfly?”
“I wish we knew,” said Ivan from the passenger seat. “Maybe then we could really fight back instead of reacting over and over to attacks that just feel random.”
“I will analyze all recorded footage of akuma behavior,” said Markov. “Perhaps that will provide some level of insight.”
“Sleep mode first,” said Max’s mother. “Here comes the barrier.”
“Of course,” said Markov. “Apologies.” He curled up in Max’s lap, eyes dimming.
Max squeezed Kagami’s hand and looked out the window at the green fields blurring past. In that moment, life was almost normal. It wouldn’t last, of course. Tomorrow, they were going to war.