A Grimm Warning (The Land of Stories, #3)(51)

Conner and Bree were both bubbling with excitement.

“That must be it! That’s the lion we need to find!” Bree said.

Conner looked over the map at all the bridges crossing over the River Thames. “I found Westminster Bridge!” he said. “It’s right by Big Ben and it’s walking distance from here.”

“Great,” Bree said. “Let’s go see the lion!”

The duo finished in the library just before wearing out their welcome. They collected their luggage and walked briskly through St. James’s Square and followed the map to Westminster Bridge. They passed countless statues and sculptures of lions as they went, each looking more regal and ferocious than the last one. Conner grew anxious thinking about meeting the thirteen-ton, thirteen-foot-long South Bank Lion. He hoped the lion wouldn’t be too frightening to approach—enchanted objects were always unpredictable.

Westminster Bridge began at the Houses of Parliament, at the base of Big Ben, and stretched across the River Thames to just below the giant Ferris wheel known as the London Eye. The bridge was busy with hundreds of tourists and citizens alike. Multitudes of cars and red double-decker buses continuously drove across the bridge as well.

Conner and Bree reached the end of the bridge and looked across the street. In the midst of the pedestrian chaos just below the towering London Eye, they found the South Bank Lion. He was massive and pale gray and stood on top of a tall pedestal. Something about him was different from all the other lions they’d seen in the city, and Conner and Bree picked up on it as soon as they laid eyes on him. Rather than a vicious and threatening scowl on his face, the South Bank Lion had a genuinely concerned expression. His eyes were wide and his mouth was open.

“That’s got to be him,” Conner said.

“What makes you so sure?” Bree said.

“Because I make that face whenever Mother Goose tells me a secret, too,” Conner said.

Bree looked around at the crowds. “Are we supposed to walk over there and talk to him in front of all these people?” she asked.

“No, we’ll have to come back later when they’re all gone,” he said. “We might have to wait until after midnight.”

They left the bridge and got a bite to eat at a local pub. Bree insisted they have an authentic English experience and forced Conner to order fish and chips with her. After they were done eating they camped out in St. James’s Park and waited until after nightfall before returning to the bridge.

They lingered across the street from the South Bank Lion until the traffic of cars and people was almost nonexistent. Then they crossed the street and stood directly below the lion.

“Say something to him,” Bree said. She nudged Conner.

“What am I supposed to say?” he asked.

“I don’t know, aren’t you used to these kinds of things?”

“Enchanted statues in the middle of crowded cities? No, I can’t say I’m an expert,” he said.

“I have faith in you.” Bree smiled at him.

Her smile made his rosy cheeks a bit rosier. He figured he had nothing to lose, so Conner took a deep breath and addressed the lion like he would anyone else.

“Hello up there!” he called. “I don’t mean to disturb you, but my friend and I were wondering if we could speak to you.”

The lion didn’t say a word or move an inch. There was nothing to indicate Conner was anything but a crazy person talking to a statue.

“You must be exhausted,” Conner called. “You’ve been on your feet for, like, what, a century and a half?”

Buttering up the statue didn’t help. Knowing what an idiot he must look like talking to this statue didn’t help matters, either.

“So, you like London?” Conner asked. “We just got here today and whoa—what a neat place!”

Bree grew impatient with both of them and stepped closer to address the lion herself. “Listen, * cat,” she hissed. “We’ve got questions for you! We know you can talk, we know you’re friends with Mother Goose, and we’re not leaving here until you give us the answers we need!”

“What are you doing?” Conner whispered. “You think he’s going to talk to us if you treat him like that?”

“We’re playing good cop, bad cop,” she whispered back. “Trust me; it works every time in my crime novels.”

Conner rubbed his fingers through his hair, convinced this strategy was a dead-end. But when he looked back at the lion, he could have sworn the lion’s face had changed; he looked more concerned.

“Bree, do you notice anything different about the lion?” he whispered.

She looked closer and her eyes lit up. “Yes.”

“Say something else about Mother Goose,” Conner instructed. “I think he’s afraid of her.”

Bree nodded and spoke to the lion again. “Hey! Mother Goose told us that you would talk to us, but if you’d rather talk to her yourself, she can be here in five minutes.”

There was no doubt about it: The lion was moving! They watched the South Bank Lion’s face grow more fretful the more they mentioned Mother Goose. Eventually the statue couldn’t take it anymore and shifted from its solid position.

“No, please don’t call Mother Goose!” the lion begged, coming to life before their eyes. It startled Bree and she jumped behind Conner. It was her first magical sighting. Conner was used to seeing magic at its finest, but it never got old. He stared up at the lion with an amazed smile.