by Sarah Noffke
He nodded thoughtfully. “Which means you don’t know the questions to ask or where to look. Maybe that’s where I can help. What is it you want to know?”
She huffed. “Come on now. You already know that I need answers.”
Faraday shook his head next to her on the bed. “It’s an exercise, Paris. Go with it.”
“Fine.” She sighed. “I want to know what happened to my parents, which no one can tell me.”
“Why?”
“Why can’t they tell me or why do I want to know what happened to my parents?”
“Whichever you most want answered.”
“Well, I’d like to know what happened to my parents because I think that will tell me why no one can talk and why there’s something after me.”
“And they were…” He let the question hang in the air.
“Magicians.”
“Who were?” he prompted.
“Warriors for the House of Fourteen.” For the second time, Paris bolted upright. “Do you think I need to go to the House of Fourteen to investigate?”
“Do you?” he asked.
“Well, it makes sense. That’s where they worked, so I might find something about them there,” Paris reasoned. “I mean, everything else about them has been pretty much erased. The House of Fourteen, from everything I’ve heard, is pretty much cloaked in mystery and secrets so maybe there’s something hidden there. If only I can get in there somehow. Do you think you can sneak me in there like you snuck into the Serenity Garden?”
“I don’t think I’d have to,” Faraday answered. “I’m not certain about this, but my various studies have supplied me with information on many topics on magical organizations. The House of Fourteen is one of them. Only Royals or those who sit on the Council like the Mortal Seven can enter the House of Fourteen.”
“So you think I can enter?” Her heartbeats suddenly increased with excitement.
“It goes to reason,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Oh, but you won’t be able to come with me.” She deflated slightly. “You asked to come on the next adventure.”
Faraday shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll stick around and keep a lookout.”
“You’d do that for me?” she asked fondly.
“You returned from your first mission early, when first-years never get one, to save me so yes, I think I’d do that for you. And a lot more too.”
Paris smiled. “It wasn’t really a mission. Only investigations. Honestly, I think it’s because the fairy godmothers wouldn’t know how to sneak up on a comatose sloth. It’s not a part of their usual practices.”
“You’re changing all that,” Faraday pointed out.
“I’m only doing what Mae Ling told me to and being myself.” Paris felt a pang of emotion for the fairy godmother who had displayed great skill and power, sending all the AIs back to statue form. Paris still didn’t know how she did it and reasoned that no one ever might.
“Well, the headmistress seems to recognize that you have something to offer and is open to it,” Faraday stated.
“I think she doesn’t have anything to lose at this point, but I’ll take it.” Paris crossed her legs and sat up taller. “The only problem with this whole House of Fourteen idea is that I have no idea where it is. The rumor on Roya Lane has always been that its location is top-secret.”
“That’s true and not merely a rumor,” Faraday confirmed. “However, for those who like to research secret places with unique magic, its location might not be so secretive even if a certain squirrel hasn’t been inside the actual building.”
Paris leaned forward and looked directly at the talking squirrel. “Faraday, do you know where the House of Fourteen is?”
He nodded gleefully. “I’ll take you, but you have to take pictures once you’re inside.”
Chapter Sixty-Five
“Is this a joke?” Paris stepped through the portal to Santa Monica, California, and saw the Pacific Ocean crashing on the beach in front of her.
“If it is, then I’m confused on the punch line.” Faraday hopped through the portal after her.
“I just got finished telling you that I don’t like the beach. Then you lead me here, which is quite clearly a beach.” She held her arm up in the direction of the long stretch of beach and the pier in the distance.
“Right,” he chirped. “But it’s not like you have to dive into the water to get to the House of Fourteen.”
“I don’t?” she asked skeptically.
“Well, I’m not certain how you get in there, but it’s not on the beach,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“It’s not?” She glanced around the busy boardwalk where they stood. Tourists and surfers and girls in short skirts strolled by, all of them too cool for school. Paris was fairly certain she would create a school one day that was too cool for all these hipster types. Then what would they do?
“By my calculations, the House of Fourteen is straight down this boardwalk, approximately two-point-three kilometers away,” he stated.
“Can you be more specific?”
“Well, it’s… Oh, that was sarcasm again, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, and we’re continuing your education on the subject. Currently, you’re failing the course.”
He huffed and hopped after her as she started down the boardwalk paralleling the Pacific Ocean. “I’ve never failed a class in my entire life.”
Paris paused, looked down at the squirrel, and squinted at him. “Why would you fail a class that you couldn’t attend?”
“I meant the classes I pretended to attend when spying on them in squirrel form,” he said in a rush.
Paris nodded. “Yeah, fine. I’m not in the mood to dissect whether you’re telling the truth or a squirrel or an illusion so just tell me where this House of Fourteen is.”
“Down here, next to a taqueria,” he stated.
She nodded. “All-powerful magical governing agencies are located next to taquerias and on boardwalks clogged with overfed tourists.”
“I’m not sure,” he replied. “I’ve not been to many—oh, wait—sarcasm again.”
“You’re failing my class.” She took a moment to soak in all the strange sights, smells, and sounds around her. Paris had seen a ton of new things in the last couple of days. She’d ridden in her first car, seen her first dragon, walked the streets of West Hollywood, and watched magitech AIs come alive. Still, walking down the boardwalk in Santa Monica might have taken the cake. There were just so many…freaks.
Everything seemed to be vying for her sensing. There was the cart of fried funnel cakes asking for her taste buds’ attention. Then the musician playing drums in the sand, not to mention the acrobats playing on the rings. Paris felt as if she could be lost in this area for the rest of her life and not see it all. Yet, she wasn’t there to take in all the uniqueness of this strange new world. She was there to learn about the world she came from—the House of Fourteen.
“I think this is it.” Faraday suddenly interrupted her reverie.
Paris halted and looked around. “What? Where? Here?”
Not much had changed about their surroundings. There was something called a taqueria and a souvenir shop and another store that looked like a closed-up palm reading shop. However, Paris expected to find a huge skyscraper for the House of Fourteen like the headquarters for Rose Industries and McGregor Technologies. This only seemed like more of the same.
“Yeah, according to my research, the House of Fourteen is in the palm reading shop,” Faraday answered.
Paris pointed at the run-down store that was two stories and had a palm printed on the front of the door and a faded sign in the window. “That? That’s the House of Fourteen?”
“According to my research,” he repeated.
Paris shook her head. “I’m not sure if I should be more concerned that everyone is watching me talk to a squirrel or that I’m taking advice from said squirrel.”
“If you look around, I think you’ll notice that
talking to a squirrel is about the most normal behavior down here,” he stated.
Paris glanced around. A guy with a large albino python on his shoulders was letting women pet it. Another character very poorly pretended to be a statue but chased tourists when they turned their backs. She didn’t appreciate the statue aspect after her last adventure.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Paris centered her attention on the palm reading shop. “So do I just go in and ask to see the person in charge of the House of Fourteen?”
“That seems a little too straightforward,” he muttered. “I thought you were the sneak in type.”
“I usually am. Maybe I’ll go in and pretend to get my palm read and get the lay of the land.”
“Good idea,” he agreed. “Only Royals can enter, so you should be good.”
“Okay.” She exhaled. “Here I go.”
Paris strode forward with determination, grabbed the door handle, and pushed, but it was locked.
She glanced back at Faraday with defeat. “They’re closed.”
“Try knocking,” he suggested.
She nodded. “Okay, I’ll knock.”
Paris lifted her fist and rapped hard a few times, making her presence known.
Nothing happened.
She looked back at the squirrel. “Any suggestions?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but the crowd on the boardwalk suddenly parted as a howling wind shot down Santa Monica Boulevard. Paris didn’t have to wonder where it was headed or who it was after.
Chapter Sixty-Six
She jerked around and looked straight at Faraday, hoping that he had advice for her as tourists screamed in the distance and food carts flipped over.
He did, and it was explicit. Faraday jerked his head to the side, taking in the barreling wind, and shot Paris a look. The squirrel’s tail straightened and his eyes widened with alarm. “Run! Run and don’t look back, no matter what!”
She didn’t hesitate, sprinting in the opposite direction of the howling wind that sounded like it was causing havoc in her wake. She hoped that Faraday got away, but something told her that the crafty squirrel was resourceful enough to escape it.
If Paris was honest with herself, she knew what this unique wind was after. It had a feeling to it as if branded. She never thought that wind or any other element could feel unique, but this did. It wasn’t any usual wind. It felt like a person or a spirit—and evil. Paris could almost hear a voice on the wind’s current. She felt something yearning to reach out and grab her.
She pushed her arms back and forth, her feet hitting the pavement hard as she maneuvered around the distracted tourists on the boardwalk. They spooked when she ran past them, then the wind racing after her assaulted them. It was gaining on Paris.
Although Paris didn’t know where she was headed, she knew she had to keep moving. That had been Faraday’s advice, and she trusted it. The wind had found her, maybe knowing that she’d go to the House of Fourteen or prowling around that area for whatever reason. However, it had found her, and she had to flee from it. She had the protective charm attached to her shirt, but she knew that wasn’t enough.
Maybe if she got far enough ahead, she could open a portal back to Happily Ever After College and jump through and escape. There was also the very real possibility that she’d bring through whatever was racing after her now. Then she’d endanger the school and be trapped there with it. No, her best option was to get far enough away to escape. Maybe open several portals if that’s what it took.
Paris ran like she never had before. Sadly, the wind was pushing at her back and sending her hair all around her head. It had caught up with her. She felt like she’d already lost this race that she’d never signed up for.
The wind started to slow her down, and Paris felt out of options. She wasn’t sure what to do. Then her shirt tore slightly around the angel pin. Paris slapped her hand over it, securing it in place. She couldn’t lose that. The last time, she’d felt that blackness. The evil. The doom everywhere. That’s when whatever was following her could do what it came for…
In front of her, the boardwalk was still busy. As Paris raced toward Venice Beach, she didn’t take in her surroundings, simply swerved when she encountered tourists or darted into the sand when someone was unwilling to move although she was yelling.
The sand always slowed her down. On her last detour, it sought to destroy her. Paris tripped on something in the sand and fell face-first, rolling over from the momentum and landing on all fours. She really, really hated sand now as she spat some out of her mouth. However, what she loathed more was the wind, which was all around her now.
On all fours, unprotected and having lost any head start, the wind ripped at her, taking what it wanted most at that moment before it took the real prize—the protective pin that Mae Ling had given her ripped off and flew into the beach area, burying itself deep in the sand.
Paris instantly decided against trying to find the charm. She was out of options. Instead, she hauled herself to her feet and sprinted faster than before, remembering how the darkness tried to suck out her soul last time. She couldn’t allow that to happen—not again. And she couldn’t rely on a black and white cat to save her.
No, Paris was on her own. That meant that she might be about to die on her own.
Tears of fear ached in her throat, but she pushed forward around crowds. The blackness started to take over the boardwalk and blot out the lights—blotting out everything and sending the tourists screaming to unseen corners. Everything was a blur.
That’s why Paris was surprised when the portal materialized right in front of her. She had an impromptu decision to make. Run around the mysterious portal that she didn’t know where it led or who created it. Or use it to run from something she was pretty sure she couldn’t otherwise escape.
In the end, there was only one decision. Paris dove forward and launched herself through the mystery portal, unsure what she’d find on the other side.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
“Is she dead?” a raspy voice asked from the distant corners of Paris’ consciousness.
Someone else sighed with annoyance. “Of course she’s not.”
“Well, do you want me to throw you a sword to finish her off?” the first voice asked, making Paris fight to regain full consciousness. Coming through the portal had done a number on her.
“Would you stop it?” the second voice urged. “She’s stirring.”
Indeed she was. Paris could feel her body move, although her limbs weren’t doing exactly what she was asking. Still, it was close enough if flailing her arms was what she intended.
She expected to open her eyes and find herself in a death chamber about to be eaten by a dead ten-headed beast. What she didn’t expect was to find a weird elfin hippie staring back at her. She blinked several times, wondering if she saw Satan in the wrong form—or maybe the right one—maybe hippies were really forms of Satan.
“Oh, there you are.” The man shook his head and stood from his crouched position.
Paris put her hands down, finally having control over them, and felt the floor under her. It was a grimy thin carpet. She blinked up at the dusty lights overhead and smelled the tobacco in the air. Turning over, she coughed, waiting to be attacked. When she wasn’t, she pulled in a breath and turned her head to the side, taking in the stranger next to her.
He had stringy brown hair and an unreadable expression. Even stranger than finding this hippie standing next to her was that he was wearing jean cut-offs, cut way too short, and a t-shirt that read, “My other ride is a hookah.”
“Who are you?” she sputtered. “Where am I?”
“Oh, good she can talk,” the first voice said. It was unseen.
Paris pushed back onto her bottom, glancing around. She was in a shop of sorts. Sitting behind a nearby countertop was a sullen-looking man with a black ponytail who was reading a book and appeared completely disinterested in this whole situation, although she was sure he wa
s the one full of insults.
“You’re on Roya Lane,” the hippie elf in the ridiculous t-shirt said.
Paris nearly jumped to her feet, wondering how she’d gotten back there. Then she remembered the portal. That led her to wonder where this shop was that she’d never seen. She stared around at all the strange weapons and artifacts in glass cases.
“Where am I on Roya Lane?” Paris asked.
The man sighed. “Specifically, you’re in the Fantastical Armory.”
She closed her eyes, thinking. “That one shop at the end of the eastern side of the lane? It’s been closed down for…well, ever.”
The guy nodded. “Yeah, well, I had other business to attend to.”
“With no concern for my business,” the man behind the counter chimed.
“Your business is my business,” the man said sharply.
Paris shook her head, trying to push up to her feet, but discovered her muscles were shaky. “What did you do to me?”
“Saved your butt,” the guy with the black ponytail answered bitterly. “You’re welcome. Or maybe we should drop you back in Santa Monica so you can die?”
The guy with brown hair shook his head. “She’s staying here. At least until we talk. Then she’ll go back to Happily Ever After College.”
“You know about all that?” Paris again tried to make it to her feet and finally did but had to steady herself on the counter.
“Yeah, I know about Happily Ever After College,” he replied.
“Is Faraday okay?” Paris asked, all the recent events rising to the forefront of her memory.
“Oh, cute,” the man behind the counter grumbled. “She cares about the squirrel. Just like what’s-her-face.”
“You know her name,” the guy in the t-shirt griped as his face flushed red. He turned back to Paris, his demeanor shifting. “Faraday is fine. The more important fact is that you are fine.”
Paris pulled in a much-needed breath. “Okay, then my first question is, who are you?”
