by Sarah Noffke
“Then you can’t date me because I have two tats,” Christine admitted.
“Let me guess. You got the first one when you were eighteen to rebel against your parents who wanted you to be a good little lady and attend fairy godmother college,” Paris guessed.
Christine grinned. “It’s as if you can look into me and see my soul.”
“You’d have to have a soul for that,” Chef Ash joked, amused by their banter.
“Nice one, Chef Ashton.” Christine grinned, glancing at Paris. “Yes, I got a tattoo on my eighteenth birthday to upset my parents.”
“Did it?” Paris asked.
Christine shook her head. “No, because they thought the two sparrows I got tattooed on the side of my stomach were to represent them.”
“Was it?” Chef Ash inquired.
She frowned. “No, I got them because I thought they were cute when I saw them on Pinterest. I don’t like birds.”
“Is it because of the killer doves that Professor Shannon Butcher released on Valentine's Day?” he asked.
Christine shook her head. “No, this was before that. I’ve been afraid of birds most of my life.”
Paris blinked at her with confusion. “How are you afraid of pretty little sparrows?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just am. And bunnies. They scare the hell out of me.”
Paris and Chef Ash laughed. “You’re so very weird, Christina.”
“Bunnies seem all cute and innocent—”
“Because they are,” Paris interrupted her friend.
“Yeah, but their teeth never stop growing,” Christine continued. “That’s just wrong.”
“So no to birds and bunnies,” Paris stated. “Anything else on the list of deadly animals that aren’t deadly that scare you?”
“Maybe ladybugs or butterflies,” Chef Ash supplied.
Christine shivered with disgust. “Yeah, that’s a big no thank you to those bugs. Although I happen to like bees. I’m thinking of keeping a hive at some point if Hemingway allows it.”
Paris shook her head. “So no to fluffy bunnies, sweet sparrows, and flitting little butterflies. But you want to keep something that can sting you?”
“Not only something,” Chef Ash added. “She wants to keep several hundred of them.”
“Go big or go home,” Christine sang. “Now make me look like one of those guys on the cover of a steamy romance novel.”
Paris lifted her finger, thinking of the right look for this disguising spell.
“But have her wearing a shirt,” Chef Ash insisted.
“Nothing with long sleeves,” Christine stated. “I want to show off my sleeve of tattoos.”
Paris nodded and flicked her finger at Christine. The redhead immediately disappeared, replaced by a tall guy with a broad chest, a dashing smile, and slicked-back hair. He wore a tight-fitting t-shirt that showed off his muscles and two sleeves of various tattoos.
“Nice.” Christine admired her arms. “I think I’ll say my name is Colt. That sounds like a romantic lead in this steamy romance book I’ve jumped out of.”
“Great, Colt. You’ll be Michelle Bordeaux’s new assistant since I decided that I needed to fire my deadbeat son.” Paris flicked her finger at herself, taking on the appearance of the short and chubby designer she’d used the first time she met Grayson McGregor.
“You’re great at disguising spells,” Chef Ash gushed, impressed.
“Thanks,” Paris said. “My Aunt Sophia gave me some tips. She’s really good with them.”
Christine crossed her tattooed arms over her muscled chest. “Another benefit of being you. You have the magic of a magician and the looks of a fairy. It simply isn’t fair.”
“Did you forget that whole part where she hasn’t known her parents her entire life?” Chef Ash asked.
Christine rolled her gorgeous eyes. “That’s the perfect setup for an interesting life. Everyone knows the most awesome characters are orphans. Harry Potter, Superman, Daenerys, Annie, Cinderella, Peter Pan—”
“Your sympathy on this whole thing is overwhelming,” Paris said dryly.
“I mean, I’m sorry that your parents are stuck in another dimension,” Christine said. “Mine are stuck in their youth, and my dad wears shorts that are too short, and my mother still has bangs. Bangs! Can you believe it?”
“I can’t.” Paris giggled.
“So things could be worse,” Christine continued. “At least you have a chance of recovering your parents. No matter how many times I drop subtle hints about how no one should have bangs ever, my mother insists they frame her face. You know what else frames someone’s face? A bonnet. You don’t see those coming back, do you?”
Paris and Chef Ash laughed.
“Well, I think I’ll leave the fashion advice up to you. I’ll pretend to be a designer.” Paris looked at the guy beside them, not in disguise. “You’ll be my architect and carpenter. Are we ready to go build an escape room and break up a relationship of a failing CEO?”
“Absolutely,” Christine sang. “Let’s go make Grayson McGregor’s life even worse.”
Chef Ash grinned with a nod. “Then we’ll make it better than ever.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
As Paris had expected, Grayson McGregor’s fiancée Tee had barged into the meeting, her overly made-up face red with fury.
“I can’t believe you’re still going along with this stupid escape room,” she fumed, making everyone in the empty basement look up suddenly. The area was as it was the first time that Paris and Christine had visited it with the CEO of McGregor Technologies.
Grayson stood from the makeshift table that he’d set up for Chef Ash to show off the blueprints he’d put together. “Tee, we discussed this. If the company goes down, I’ll start another one. However, replacing employees isn’t as easy, and that’s who the escape room is for.”
“It’s for you, and you know it,” Tee accused, crossing her arms, her eyes flicking to Christine disguised as a cowboy-rebel type. “Well, and who are you?”
“My name’s Colt, sweetheart,” Christine said with a flirtatious smile and a southern drawl, completing the cowboy disguise. “What’s your name?”
“Tee,” she replied, quickly putting her hand with her engagement ring behind her back. “Tee Sharon.”
Colt, also known as Christine, held out his hand for her and when Tee extended her non-ring hand, he lifted it and kissed the back with a heated look in his eyes.
Grayson shook his head. “This is Michelle’s assistant. He’ll be around a lot as we work on the escape room. I bet you’re okay with it now, huh?”
She shot him a scolding look. “Apparently, I have to get over it because of that contract you signed.”
“A contract is a contract,” Paris chirped, tapping the documents they’d had Grayson McGregor sign right before they leaked the information about his products, sabotaging the company and making the stock plummet.
“Even if McGregor Technologies files bankruptcy?” Tee questioned.
“It’s not that serious, is it?” Paris asked Grayson, trying to keep any hint of victory out of her tone.
He nodded and pushed his hands through his hair. “I’m afraid it could be. It will depend on how the lawsuits go, which doesn’t look like it’ll be in McGregor Technologies’ direction.”
“Which means that constructing a dumb escape room isn’t a good idea,” Tee said smugly. “Not now or ever. When this company fails, we should turn the office building into a Pilates studio.”
“Are you a Pilates instructor?” Colt asked. “You look like one.” He ran his eyes mostly over Tee’s chest, which a tight vest framed.
“I am.” She batted her fake eyelashes at him.
“I’m not turning the building into a fitness studio for snotty socialites who are more concerned with the size of their waist than making the world a better place through advanced technologies,” Grayson spat and glanced down at the blueprints again, seemingly to shake
this off.
“Maybe if you spent more time concerned with yourself, the company wouldn’t be facing litigation,” Tee argued boldly. “Really, does making the world a better place involve starting fires?”
“Get out!” Grayson exclaimed loudly, his face flushing red.
Paris and Chef Ash tensed, but Christine used this to her advantage. She, as Colt, held out her arm to Tee. “Would you mind showing me the first floor? I need to get an idea of what’s above here for planning the escape room.”
“You don’t.” Paris pretended to be annoyed by her flirty assistant. She then gave Grayson a pointed look, feigning confidence. “Still, it would be good if we could concentrate on these plans, and these distractions aren’t helping. My time is very valuable.”
Grayson sighed. “Tee, why don’t you take Colt up to the first floor and tell him all about how you want to redesign the laboratories into spin rooms.”
She held her nose high into the air, narrowing her eyes at her fiancé, no affection in her gaze. “I’d love to. It’s a perfect space for it and wouldn’t be a failing business.” Tee took the arm that Colt had extended, and the pair trotted across the basement's concrete floor, disappearing a moment later.
Grayson’s jaw flexed as he shook off the stress. “My apologies. Tee and I don’t see eye-to-eye on certain things. We obviously have different ideas of what to do with this building, but I’m creating this escape room.”
Chef Ash, who was going by Ashton for this mission, offered a consoling look. He glanced around the blank space. “You know, David Allan Coe said, ‘It is not the beauty of a building you should look at; it is the construction of the foundation that will stand the test of time.”
Grayson looked out on the empty basement with a heavy expression. It seemed evident that the carpenter wasn’t talking about the foundation of McGregor Technologies.
“So the plans?” Paris asked, recapturing Grayson’s attention. “Do they look good to you?”
The CEO nodded. “Yes, let’s start construction right away. Ironically, I have a feeling that soon I’m going to need a place to escape to and not out of.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Paris wasn’t granted a moment of rest after returning from McGregor Technologies before she received a series of messages. Everything was falling into place for the Deathly Shadow’s showdown, which filled her with dread. Whether she was mentally and physically ready for this fight, it was going to happen. It needed to be soon because every day was one where Captain Morgan was held captive. However, there were a few key pieces to complete and they couldn’t be rushed. The good news was that it appeared that King Rudolf knew his daughter’s location.
Thankfully there wasn’t any assaulting wind when Paris hurried to the Crying Cat Bakery where the fae said he would meet her. She entered the magical bakery to find the strange assassin baker and King Rudolf arm-wrestling at a small table in the corner. Lee was barely trying while the fae’s face was pinched and red. He was using what appeared to be all his strength to press the baker’s wrist back on the table, but it wasn’t budging.
“Do you want me to end this?” Lee asked Rudolf.
“I…won’t…be…defeated,” Rudolf said between breaths.
Cat, who was carrying a tray of rainbow-colored scones, shook her head. “I was defeated this morning trying to get dressed.”
“I was today years old when I learned that I could in fact put my pants on one leg at a time,” Rudolf offered, putting his shoulder into the effort, but it wasn’t working to his advantage.
“Before today, were you jumping into your pants?” Lee appeared bored by the arm-wrestling contest.
The king gave her a look of offense. “I don’t put on my pants. I have people for that.”
Lee nodded and glanced at Paris. “Are you here to collect census information? I’m a legal citizen, and my wife is illegal and should be arrested and deported.”
Paris laughed. “I’m here because King Rudolf told me he’d found his daughter’s location and we need to discuss the plan.”
“So you can’t have my wife arrested?” Lee asked, still easily holding King Rudolf’s arm up.
Ignoring her, Paris glanced at the fae. “Uncle John was able to find the location from where Captain Morgan sent the text?”
“Yes,” he grunted. “He wants you to meet him at the Fantastical Armory after this. Apparently, there’s a problem with the vortex-thingymajig.”
Paris sighed. “Okay, well, I should get to that quickly. That’s important. Where is Captain Morgan?”
“Strangely enough,” Rudolf said through clenched teeth. “She’s in Paris. We’ve narrowed it down to a few potential buildings.”
“Oh, I’m guessing that the Deathly Shadow has his reasons for that location,” Paris observed, watching the pair continue to arm wrestle.
“There’s significance in names and locations,” Cat said in her thick French accent. “If I were going to absorb someone’s power, I would choose a place that had a strong relation to them to strengthen the whole thing.”
“You never seem to care where you are when you’re sucking out my soul,” Lee commented over her shoulder to her wife.
Cat batted her eyelashes at Lee and strode for the back. “Try not to die when in Paris. I happen to like that city and don’t want you dying there ruining it for me. Actually, that might be the way for me to like it more, so maybe do die there.”
Lee chuckled, amused by the threat.
“You’re going to help to rescue Captain Morgan?” Paris was grateful that the king would have help—he appeared to need it.
“I’m going to help him if he can beat me in arm wrestling,” Lee corrected.
Paris pointed her finger in the direction of the pair and used a simple combat spell. A second later, King Rudolf’s arm overpowered Lee, sending her hand down on the other side of the table.
Triumphantly, Rudolf thrust his fist into the air and rejoiced. “I’m the winner!”
“That was cheating.” Lee rolled out her wrist and narrowed her eyes at Paris. “I like you more than I did before, which wasn’t that much, but still.”
“I think that two people rescuing Captain Morgan is better than one,” Paris stated. “I’m going to draw the Deathly Shadow away before then, but there could be a trap. I suspect there will be.”
“I sure as hell hope so.” Lee stretched to a standing position beside King Rudolf, who still looked quite proud of his win even if he didn’t earn it.
“So you two will narrow down where the location of Captain Morgan is,” Paris affirmed. “Then I need you on standby, ready to go when I have everything in place to fight the Deathly Shadow.”
Lee glanced at Rudolf and pursed her lips. “She’s a bossy little thing, isn’t she?”
He nodded proudly. “Yep. Just like her mother.”
Chapter Fifty
Paris found Uncle John and Subner with their heads together, bent over the counter, working on something when she entered the Fantastical Armory. They both looked up when she came through the door. One of them smiled fondly at her. The other scowled.
“You know if you keep that look on your face, it will stick like that,” Paris said to the angry elf, repeating what Uncle John often said to her when she frowned.
“That’s the idea,” Subner answered. “I’d prefer not to give off a welcoming appearance.”
“Is that the vortex opener thingy?” Paris pointed at a metal claw-looking thing sitting between them.
“Yes.” Uncle John sighed in frustration. “Rory sent me the plans he’s using to create the container for the Deathly Shadow. The idea is that once you trap it, you fit this onto it and pull on the Shadow’s energy, finding the right location for the vortex.”
“That’s key because you can open over a million different vortexes,” Subner muttered.
“Which is why no one has been able to keep trying to open them and get back my parents,” Paris guessed.
“Well, a
nd your mother is a pain in the ass, so if it requires only having to try and open one vortex, then I wouldn’t do it,” Subner stated.
Uncle John chuckled, apparently used to the unhappy man’s sour disposition toward Liv. “We’re guessing that the Deathly Shadow hasn’t opened another vortex since he tricked Liv and Stefan so pulling on his energy, you should be able to open the last one he created. I’m not going to lie, it’s very unstable magitech, and I’m not sure that I can get it working properly.”
“Which means we should forget about this whole bring back Liv and Stefan thing and focus our energy on something more worthwhile,” Subner grumbled.
“I’m missing something with the coding,” Uncle John continued, ignoring the hostile elf beside him. “Subner and I have been trying a few things, but I don’t think they’ll work.”
“Is it possible that I contain the Deathly Shadow and when you have the vortex locator thingy working, then we use it to get my parents back?” Paris asked.
Uncle John shook his head. “Rory says that the way the container will work, there will be a small window when we can harness the Deathly Shadow’s energy to find the right vortex location.”
“Figures.” Paris groaned.
“Don’t worry,” Uncle John consoled. “Papa Creola says he has a solution that should work.”
“Oh, that’s hopeful. Where is he?” Paris looked around the large shop as if expecting the father of time was hiding behind one of the glass counters. He wasn’t.
“He’ll be here,” Subner answered.
“When?” Paris was antsy to get things going—nervous energy building in her chest.
“Now,” Papa Creola answered, striding through the door at the back. His hair was unkempt as usual, and he looked grumpier, although he was wearing a t-shirt that said, “Being happy is what life is all about.”
“Oh, good timing,” Paris joked, earning a laugh from Uncle John and two scowls from the elves.
“You need more information to make the vortex opener work,” Papa Creola answered. “I’m sending you to the Great Library.”
