“Charlie . . . or should I call you Chuck or Charles?” the man asked. “I don’t want to assume.”

“Charlie is fine.”

“Charlie, my name is Cornelius. It’s nice to meet you.” He turned to Meng. “Would you mind leaving us for a while?”

Meng let himself out without a word.

“I trust that Agent Meng treated you well?”

Charlie nodded. “He was nice.”

“That’s a good way to put it,” Cornelius said. “Agent Meng is what we draconists call a salamander—a slimy, disgusting waste of God’s good dirt that only is good for the smallest of errands, the tiniest of tasks.”

“Did you say dragonist?”

“Draconist,” Cornelius corrected. “A member of the Order of the Dragon.”

“I thought you were with the FBI.”

“Agent Meng is with the FBI. And there are many departments of the government—both here and abroad—that contain people from our membership. I, however, have no time for such petty organizations. You’re so young, you have no idea how hard it is to get anything done in this world.”

Charlie sank in his chair.

“I’m sorry,” Cornelius said. “Does it frighten you to hear that I’m a draconist?”

Charlie nodded.

“I heard that one of our men visited you at your house. It sounds like he made quite a mess. Please accept my sincerest apology. I can tell you that he acted against my direct orders,” Cornelius said. “He was sent to save you, not hurt you.”

Charlie stared into his eyes. He still hadn’t seen Cornelius blink. “Really?”

“Cross my heart,” Cornelius said, doing so with his long forefinger. “But let’s move on. You can’t change the past, but you can change the future,” he said, drumming the words out to a full march.

Charlie perked up. “That’s true.”

“I’m so glad you agree. So. The future.” Cornelius stood and flipped a switch on the wall. The table in the middle of the room lit up, the entire top becoming a pool of white light. He left the room, a second later returning with the three pages Charlie had ripped out of the Gutenberg. He placed them side by side on the table in front of Charlie. “I was told you tore these out.”

“I did,” Charlie said with caution, not sure if he was accepting blame or praise.

“Excellent job,” Cornelius said.

Charlie breathed a sigh of relief.

“Agent Meng probably would have made a mess of these pages. But not you. You respect the book.”

“My mom won’t think so,” Charlie said. “She’s going to kill me.”

“Your mother will do no such thing. I can assure you of that,” Cornelius said. “How could she be mad at you for something she’s done herself?”

Charlie cocked his head to the side, puzzled. “My mom would never ever rip pages out of the Gutenberg. She’d rather be eaten by wolves.”