The Shatterproof Magician (The Inscrutable Paris Beaufont Book 4)

by Sarah Noffke

  “I’m not sure,” Paris answered, giving up on her hair and deciding to straighten her clothes instead. That was also a lost cause. There was only so much she could do to make her black-on-black ensemble look nice. “So quick question for you.”

  “If it’s about the electrostatic field inside the Bewilder Forest, the answer won’t be quick,” he replied.

  Paris turned to face him directly. “So this spell that made you a talking squirrel…” She watched as he tensed.

  “Yes,” he chirped, his tail flicking.

  “Did it have to do with you transforming into a squirrel rather than being one to start with?”

  He did that thing he did when nervous—his cheeks puffing out suddenly. “I wish I could say.”

  “So you can’t flick your tail once for yes and twice for no?” she asked.

  He flicked his tail three times.

  “Does that mean maybe?”

  He flicked his tail twice.

  Paris rolled her eyes. “Oh, you’re impossible.”

  “I told you I’m not allowed to say anything.”

  “Well, can you at least tell me if I’m close?” Paris questioned. “How will whoever you made this agreement with know?”

  “They’ll know,” he said at once.

  “Fine,” Paris reasoned. “How about you hear my speculation and not make any reactions if I’m totally off base.”

  “I don’t think this is a good idea.” His eyes slid to the side with obvious nervousness.

  “I don’t know who you’re worried about putting the smackdown on you, but I know some pretty important people who can keep you safe.”

  “Yeah, that’s the thing.” Faraday’s eyes slid to the side again.

  Paris tilted her head and regarded the squirrel. “Wait, are you saying the deal you made was with someone I know? Who? Is it Papa Creola?”

  “I’ve never met Father Time, but I hear he has a horrible bedside manner.”

  So it wasn’t Papa Creola. Paris needed to eliminate all the powerful people she knew. However, she realized that could be harder than she thought. Her connection with her parents made it so she now knew a lot of powerful people—like her aunt, a leader of the dragonriders, or her uncle, a Councilor for the House of Fourteen. Then there was King Rudolf Sweetwater—the leader of the fae. Not to mention Bermuda Laurens, the expert on all magical creatures. Lee, the assassin baker shouldn’t be underestimated in all this too.

  “If I find this person who has you bound not to tell, can I get them to allow you to share your secret?” Paris questioned, but the squirrel didn’t answer. “You know, the secret of how you transformed yourself into a squirrel, time-traveled, and got stuck.”

  His cheeks puffed up again, but he didn’t say a word.

  Paris sighed. “Fine, let’s continue to play the quiet game. I’m going to figure this out. I’ll find out who can tell me and I’ll put them in a headlock until they spill the secret or allow you to do so.”

  Faraday clicked his claws together nervously. “If anyone can figure this out, I’m sure it’s you. If you do, well, that’s the first step.”

  “The first step in what? A series of steps to do what?” Paris figuratively pounced on the clues Faraday was leaving for her.

  “The first step in undoing the past.” He hopped for the open window where he disappeared before she could question him any more.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Roya Lane always looked the same lately, but it felt different every time Paris entered it. She reasoned that she was the one who was different and not the magical lane full of shops and strange creatures.

  The vibrating in Paris’ chest returned as she strode down the cobbled road carrying the tray of chocolate fudge, chocolate chip cookies. Talking to Faraday had helped, although he gave her more puzzle pieces than answers.

  “You see, here is the monument of where they signed the Gettysburg Address,” a familiar voice said through a crowd of people.

  Paris stopped short. Not only because she recognized the voice and knew what they were saying was ludicrous, but she also had to admit she was stalling. She was maybe about to see her parents after the long wait and ironically she was putting it off. However, she knew it wasn’t because she didn’t want to see them. It was because she was afraid they were going to reject her or that she’d built it all up in her mind, and they wouldn’t have this beautiful relationship that she’d romanticized.

  She cut through the crowd, found the speaker, and confirmed she was correct. It was none other than King Rudolf Sweetwater. He was standing next to a lamp post covered in ivy and regarding it like it was a beautiful statue. “I remember when Abby Lincoln signed the address, I was standing right here.” The fae pointed at the stone where he stood.

  Unable to stop herself, Paris shook her head. “That never happened.”

  King Rudolf gawked at her, a sound of offense falling from his mouth. “Well, of course, it did. I was right here. Abby was sitting on the bench, and he asked me for a pen because the one he’d brought had run out of ink. I was like, ‘Oh, aren’t you happy I’m here to save the day.’”

  “Ummm…yeah, no, it didn’t happen.” Paris hid her laugh.

  Many in the crowd pursed their lips at the king of the fae and moved off, apparently thinking the show was over.

  “I told you,” a young magician said to his companion as they retreated.

  “It’s funny to hear what he comes up with,” another person said while trudging off.

  “Where does he come up with this stuff?” Someone shook their head as they strode for a magical candle shop.

  King Rudolf waved as the crowd dispersed. The only two people that stayed behind were Ramy Vance, the clerk from Heals Pills, and Paris. “The next tour will be tomorrow. Same place and time.”

  “You’re giving tours?” Paris tilted her head, thinking that couldn’t be a good idea.

  King Rudolf nodded. “Yeah, since I’ve been allowed to return to Roya Lane, you know, since you know your secretive past and Papa Creola can’t keep me out, as much as he’d like, I figured it would be good to offer my experience on the historical places here since I’ve seen them all.”

  “It’s fascinating stuff.” Ramy looked at the king with a dreamy expression.

  “It is?” Paris had to remind herself that the clerk might not be all there since he regularly died and could come back to life thanks to a fall into the Fountain of Youth.

  “Yeah, he was telling us about how the Gettysburg Address was signed here, right on Roya Lane. Can you believe that?” Ramy looked impressed.

  “I can’t,” Paris remarked dryly. “Because for starters, the Gettysburg Address was a speech given by Abraham Lincoln and not a signed document.”

  King Rudolf nodded. “That’s what they want you to believe.”

  “Who?” she questioned at once.

  “Them,” he said in reply. “He gave the speech here at this bench, then signed it.”

  “I’m so glad you’re back to educate me on such things.” Ramy batted his eyes at King Rudolf. “It’s been hard not having you here for all those years.”

  King Rudolf nodded and pointed at Paris. “You can blame her for that. I mean, it wasn’t her fault or anything, but if we are to blame someone for why I couldn’t grace Roya Lane with my presence, it would be because of her.”

  “Second, the Gettysburg Address is part of American history, so why would the speech be given here in London on Roya Lane?” Paris decided it was best to address concrete facts with the fae.

  King Rudolf shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Don’t you know, it’s always location, location, location.”

  “So the President of the United States gave an address after the Civil War here in London?” Paris questioned, hoping that some sense rang true.

  “Now you’re getting it!” King Rudolf sang delightedly.

  She shook her head, concluding that reason was beyond the fae. Thankfully he’s handsome and charming.


  “You don’t look like yourself.” Rudolf gave her a compassionate look.

  Paris remembered the weight on her heart about her parents and straightened, trying to force a normal expression on her face, which she realized probably showed lines of stress. She held up the tray. “It’s because I’m holding cookies.”

  “That must be it,” Ramy chirped, his eyes wide as he sniffed in the direction of the plate.

  King Rudolf put a hand on his shoulder and urged him back. “I don’t think it’s the cookies, Ramy-Cans. My observation, which is never wrong, tells me that something is stressing Miss Beaufont.”

  “Oooooh.” Ramy stepped back. “I see it now too.”

  “You do?” King Rudolf asked him.

  Ramy shook his head. “No, but I wanted to sound cool.”

  “You did.” King Rudolf returned his attention to Paris. “Now, tell Uncle Ru what’s bothering you. Is it Clark? I find that if I hum a tune in my head when he talks to me, I don’t fall asleep.”

  Paris shook her head, not wanting to go into what was bothering her. “I’m fine. How is Captain Morgan after the abduction? Has she recovered?”

  “She’s fine.” King Rudolf waved her off. “The whole thing has given her a new lease on life.”

  “Oh, that’s nice,” Paris remarked.

  “You’d think, but do you know how hard it is to source only organically raised mink coats?” King Rudolf asked. “Plus, she refuses to eat anything but pistachios, but they must be free-range. She has such a big heart, my lovely daughter. She doesn’t want anything that goes into or onto her body to be harmed beforehand.”

  “A real saint,” Paris muttered.

  “Anyway, don’t think that I’ve forgotten that you look like my wife Serena after she’s looked at the calorie count on a box of bonbons.” King Rudolf snapped his fingers at her. “Out with it. What’s got you down?”

  Realizing that she couldn’t keep denying it, Paris slumped. “Papa Creola summoned me or whatever you want to call it. I’ve been waiting to hear when my parents awoke. It might not be now, but I don’t know. Something in my gut tells me that it is. If I’m honest, I’m nervous because, well, I’m getting to meet my parents for the first time, really. The whole thing is nerve-wracking.”

  “Oh, I hope that Liv has awoken,” King Rudolf cheered. “I need her to settle a bet between Serena and me. She insists that you can do a blood transfusion with a coconut because she saw it on a supposed reality show. I insist that it’s impossible. We’re going to attempt it and need an impartial judge. Liv is the only objective option.”

  “Please don’t attempt this,” Paris begged, realizing he was serious.

  King Rudolf held up his hand. “Now, I understand about being worried about getting to know your father. That will undoubtedly involve long, boring conversations where he will fail to meet expectations, disappoint you with his lack of a sense of humor, and make you hope that you’re the mailman’s baby.”

  Paris blinked at the fae. “I don’t think we had a mailman, being magicians and all.”

  King Rudolf shrugged. “Well, then you might have to face the fact that you’re Stefan Ludwig’s legitimate child. I mean, if it’s any consolation, you’re pretty, and therefore, there’s a chance that Liv had a side thing with a fae.”

  “Did you forget that whole part where I became a fairy because I inherited my father’s demon blood and the genie was trying to fix me?” Paris questioned.

  “I always try to forget anything that includes your father. He truly is the worst. Clark is, of course, second to him.”

  “Well, I think this is our opportunity to make Paris feel better.” Ramy stepped forward.

  “Great idea, Ramy-Cans,” King Rudolf remarked with a broad, toothy grin. “What do you have in mind? We can go bar-hopping. Tie a gnome to a giant’s back and watch him do that turn around number, trying to get the rascal off. Or, of course, there’s the old standard morale booster.”

  “Balancing things on our head and seeing how long we can go for?” Ramy questioned.

  King Rudolf scowled at him. “I don’t ever put anything on my head that will mess up my hair.”

  “Oh, well, then I’ll go big to make up for it,” Ramy said excitedly. “Paris, I have just the thing to make you smile and take your mind off your problems. Watch this.” He waved his hand at a large metal trash receptacle that was full to the brim while muttering a spell. It wavered before lifting magically into the air, teetering back and forth, looking like it was close to spilling over at any moment.

  “Really, that’s not necessary,” Paris urged, waving her hands back and forth. The stone-encased trashcan had to weigh a few hundred pounds by itself. Then with the trash, it was really heavy.

  King Rudolf waved her off. “Oh, Ramy-Cans loves to do this kind of stuff. It gives his life purpose. He’s like our resident clown.”

  “Watch as I balance this impossibly heavy structure on the top of my head,” Ramy said proudly. “Don’t try this at home, boys and girls. I have incredibly strong neck muscles and have been practicing this stunt for days.”

  Paris gulped, wanting to close her eyes but knowing that she couldn’t since the show was on her behalf.

  The large trashcan lowered onto the brown curls on Ramy’s head, mashing them to his forehead before settling onto his head. He held his arms out wide, his face tentative at first before lighting up with a wide grin. “See there! It’s an art form! I can—”

  The trashcan tilted one way, then the other. His eyes went wide, and he stepped sideways, trying to correct his balance to keep it steady. Paris was about to spring into action, but King Rudolf pushed her back, away from the collateral damage. There was a lot. In an instant, the heavy trashcan crashed down and crushed the man underneath it. There was hardly time for a scream or much else.

  Paris turned away, not wanting to see the sight. Thankfully when she turned back to check if there was a Ramy to rescue, trash covered the scene and she suspected he hadn’t survived. Also thankfully, he’d recover and come back to life soon.

  King Rudolf shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Such a senseless and totally avoidable death.”

  He held out his arm. “Well, let’s not let him ruin your afternoon. Shall I accompany you to the Fantastical Armory?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Paris declined King Rudolf’s offer to escort her to the Fantastical Armory. Although Ramy intended to make her feel better, she was more on edge than before she’d arrived on Roya Lane. Witnessing a death usually did that to most people. She knew he’d come back to life and be fine…well, as fine as he ever was. However, she thought that some solo time might be what she needed before entering Subner’s shop.

  She had paused to ask King Rudolf if he knew anything about a talking squirrel. He explained that he didn’t do hallucinatory drugs anymore, not since he realized the paperweight he’d carried around for a quarter of a century wasn’t a talking duck. Paris reasoned he wasn’t the one who knew Faraday’s secret and decided she’d look more into it later when she wasn’t potentially about to see her long-lost parents.

  The tension was starting to feel overwhelming in her chest as she neared the Fantastical Armory.

  “You know what I find to be the best thing to calm my nerves?” another familiar voice said close by her.

  There weren’t many people in that area of Roya Lane, and no one was nearby. Paris glanced around, looking for the source of the voice, and finally down to the cobblestones, where she found none other than the black and white cat known as her mother’s familiar.

  “Plato.” Paris smiled, relieved to see him there. She glanced around and noticed that suddenly there was no one around and they were alone on that part of the road—toward the end of Roya Lane where the Fantastical Armory was.

  Whereas seeing King Rudolf and Ramy had been weird, entertaining, and unnerving, something was relieving about seeing her mother’s familiar.

  “What calms your nerves
?” Paris smiled down at the lynx.

  “Being timeless and having no known predators,” he remarked.

  Paris pursed her lips. “Well, that helps me none.”

  “Yes, I guess it wouldn’t since magicians become disarmed by emotions and relationships and all that stuff that goes on in your psyche.”

  “Were you this helpful to my mother as her sidekick?” Paris still held the tray of cookies.

  “Even less so,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  “Thanks for your honesty.” She paused and looked between the cat and the Fantastical Armory in the distance, realizing that once more she was stalling. “So what gives me the pleasure of your visit?”

  “You’re going to see Liv,” he stated rather than asked, nodding in the direction of the Fantastical Armory.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. I’m not sure.”

  “You brought Subner cookies,” he argued.

  “So?”

  “Well, the only reason that grump would want those is to cheer himself up because Liv has awoken.”

  “Oh, that makes sense. He’s eating his feelings, then?”

  “I guess so,” Plato replied.

  “So it’s true then…I’ll get to see my parents…They’re finally awake.” She didn’t sound as excited as she thought she should.

  He sensed her tension. “Don’t be nervous. She will love you. She loves you. Nothing you could ever do will change that.”

  “I know but so much time has passed,” Paris reasoned. “I’ve changed so much.”

  “Another hundred years can pass,” he reassured her. “That’s the thing about those you love. Time means nothing to two hearts that are connected.”

  Paris smiled. Those were the words she needed to hear.

  “Thing is,” he continued. “Papa Creola won’t let me see her yet…”

  “I thought rules didn’t apply to you,” she challenged.

  “They do if it means that breaking them would harm Liv.”

  “Oh, that makes sense.”

  “I don’t know when I’ll be allowed to see her. I hoped that you’d give Liv a message for me.”