CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Oliver stirred. His head was pounding. With a groan, he opened his eyes.
He discovered he was lying in the adjoining living quarters of Leonardo da Vinci’s hidden workshop. He was on the same couch his friends had been taking turns sleeping on, and someone had taken the care to cover him with a scratchy woolen blanket. He sat up and looked about himself, blinking.
The room was dark. A small candle burned on the mantelpiece. Through the small window above his head, Oliver could see that the sky had turned pitch-black. Little white stars twinkled in the distance.
Head spinning like he was in a boat on a particularly rough sea, Oliver stood. The blanket slid from his lap to the floor as he rubbed his sore head.
He strained to remember what had happened. One moment he’d
