Night of the Dragons. Michael Anthony Steele

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СКАЧАТЬ gave him a wink, then raised his saber high. When the first beams of the rising sun streamed through the large arched windows, Teddy froze in place. During the day, he was merely a wax figure—an ordinary museum exhibit like all the others.

      Nick caught up to McPhee and his father at the loading dock in the back of the museum. Four workmen in blue jumpsuits unloaded two large wooden crates from the back of a truck. One of the men handed McPhee some papers on a clipboard to sign.

      “Wait a minute,” said the director. “Is that it? There should be at least six crates. Not just two.”

      “That’s all we have,” said the workman. He extended a finger to the clipboard. “I think the others got delayed.”

      “Delayed?” asked McPhee. “How can they be delayed? And, more important, when will the rest of them get here?”

      “We just move ’em,” the other man said. “We don’t schedule ’em.”

      The director sighed. “Fine.” He scribbled his name across the top page on the clipboard. The men closed the back of the truck and drove off.

      “New exhibits, huh?” Larry said once the truck was gone.

      “Nothing gets by you,” said McPhee. “You’re wasting your time here as a night guard. You should be lead detective at Scotland Yard.”

      Nick barely paid attention to Dr. McPhee’s snotty remark. He was more curious as to what was inside the two crates. Both were a good foot taller than his father and very wide.

      Larry grabbed two crowbars from a nearby workbench. He handed one to McPhee and they began prying the front from one of the crates. Nick stepped back as the lid fell forward. Packing peanuts poured out, but there was nothing inside.

      “Wait a minute,” said McPhee. He reached to the top of the crate and swept away more foam peanuts.

      It only seemed like the crate was empty because the figure was shorter than the wooden box itself. As the director pulled out more packing, a young girl’s face appeared. The two men carefully pulled her the rest of the way out of the crate.

      Nick had always done well in history class. And since his father started working at the museum, he had done really well. However, he didn’t recognize the new mannequin at all. She was a young girl, about twelve years old, the same age as he was. She wore a plain brown skirt with a simple white apron. She had on a dark green blouse, and her long brown hair was pulled back into a simple braid.

      “Oh, this is all wrong,” said McPhee.

      “What is it?” asked Larry.

      “She wasn’t supposed to be ready until next month,” said the director.

      “I don’t get it,” said Nick. “Who is she?”

      The director swept a hand toward the mannequin. “This is Joan of Arc.”

      “Really?” asked Larry. “I knew she was young, but not this young.” He moved in for a closer look. “And I thought she cut her hair and wore shiny armor and all that.”

      “Yes, yes, and yes,” agreed McPhee. “But this is part of a special display I commissioned called …Destined for Greatness.” He waited for Larry and Nick to say something. When they remained silent, he continued. “You see, I wanted to inspire today’s youth with these new characters, showing that they, too, can be great.” He smiled at Nick. “Now … don’t you feel inspired?”

      “Uh … I guess so,” Nick replied.

      The director rolled his eyes. “Well, it doesn’t matter for the moment,” McPhee continued. “She’s early anyway.” He began to pry the other crate open with the crowbar. Larry rushed in to help him. “Hopefully, this will be part of the temporary exhibit I’ve been waiting for.”

      When the front was removed, packing peanuts spilled out like before. This time, they revealed a man’s face. Piercing blue eyes stared out of a gap in the foam nuggets. The director and Nick’s father excavated the large mannequin from the hundreds of foam bits.

      The man wore an elaborate military dress uniform. A dark blue coat matched pressed slacks. Several medals adorned the left side of his chest, and each shoulder bore a decoration made of tassels of gold rope. In his hand was a wooden cane. The bone handle bore two intricately carved dragons entwined around a large clear crystal.

      However, the mannequin’s decorative uniform contrasted against his facial features. The man, obviously very important, wore a black beard that seemed a bit too long and unkempt. The man’s hair was slicked neatly to one side but seemed greasy and somewhat dirty. Nick thought the man looked familiar. But even with his newfound interest in history, he didn’t recognize the new figure.

      “May I present, on loan from the Royal Belgium Institute, Czar Nicholas II of Russia,” said McPhee. He paused for a moment before thumbing through the shipment’s order form. “I was supposed to have the entire royal family,” he explained. “There should be eight of them total, including his most well-known daughter, Anastasia.”

      “Oh yeah,” said Nick. “We just read about them last year in world history. The royal Romanov family from Russia.”

      McPhee raised an eyebrow. “I’m almost impressed, Master Daley.” He brushed away a few more packing peanuts from the mannequin’s dress uniform. “Of course, having just one member of the royal family doesn’t make for such an impressive display, I’m afraid.”

      Nick gazed at the czar’s pale blue eyes, which for a split second seemed to move. Of course, that was impossible. Nick knew that the mannequin wouldn’t come to life until sunset. However, Nick felt uneasy as he stared at the new exhibit. He couldn’t decide what it was, but there was something that didn’t seem quite right.

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