The Shatterproof Magician (The Inscrutable Paris Beaufont Book 4)

by Sarah Noffke

  “The fact that I can talk isn’t the issue,” Faraday chimed in.

  “I think it’s more the fact that he’s a squirrel,” Paris added.

  “Of course, that’s the issue.” Hemingway nodded but wasn’t cynical about the whole thing. “The talking squirrel ironically can’t tell you why he’s an animal, how he got that way, what we’re looking for, or anything of use to help fix him. Do I have all that correct?”

  “You forgot that he time traveled, and Papa Creola requires that I put him back on his timeline,” Paris explained.

  “I didn’t, actually,” Hemingway replied. “I’m still digesting that part. You have the strangest friends.”

  “Coming from the guy whose mother haunts the Bewilder Forest, that doesn’t hold much weight,” Faraday imparted.

  Hemingway held up his hands. “Hey, I’m not saying I don’t have strangeness. I’m a magician disguised as a fairy, and my oldest friend is a magitech AI.”

  “What do you think would make Wilfred laugh?” Paris cocked her head to the side.

  “Have you tried tickling him?”

  “Do you think that would work?”

  “No, but it would make me laugh to see you try.”

  “Fine, I’ll keep working on ideas.” Paris let out a breath, realizing that they were all stalling, each for different reasons. Hemingway didn’t want to have another confrontation with his ghost mother. Faraday seemed reluctant about this whole thing since Paris explained what they had to do to fix him—which she didn’t understand. She thought he’d be excited to be whatever he was before a squirrel. If she was honest with herself, Paris knew she’d lose her friend when he returned to his timeline. However, all three of them had to face their demons.

  She forced a smile and looked between her two companions. “Well, shall we enter the haunted Bewilder Forest to find something that we don’t know what it is?”

  “Well, when you put it that way…” Hemingway swallowed and turned his attention back to the dark forest. “Let’s get moving. Stay close to me.”

  Paris and Faraday nodded, starting for the forest. Hemingway hunched his shoulders and led the way.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  As soon as the three entered the Bewilder Forest, darkness cloaked them. It took Paris’ eyes a moment to adjust.

  “Watch where you step. There are bewitched vines at night. They have just been popping up,” Hemingway murmured over his shoulder.

  Paris froze. “What are bewitched vines?”

  “Think of them as regular vines, but they come alive and wrap around you.”

  “Then what?”

  “They keep doing that.”

  “Until…”

  “Until they cut off your circulation.”

  “What a fascinating plant,” Faraday mused.

  “Killer,” Paris corrected. “You meant killer plant. Why do they do that?”

  Hemingway shrugged. “That’s their thing. They’ve been springing up more and more, which is another reason that the Bewilder Forest is off-limits at night. There are a few plants that have been making a sudden appearance lately.”

  “Like the deadly nightshade,” Paris offered.

  “Yeah, and I’ve been pulling it up when I find it in the forest, worried that the woodland creatures would eat it,” Hemingway explained, carefully stepping along the path.

  “Well, if the bunnies had the diet of my friend here, that wouldn’t be a problem,” Paris joked, indicating Faraday.

  Hemingway paused to get his bearings. “Yeah, but most bunnies don’t eat nuts.”

  “He’s allergic to nuts,” Paris remarked.

  “You’re kidding,” Hemingway said.

  “She’s not,” Faraday answered. “I prefer soup and sandwiches.”

  “You’re a very strange animal, or whatever you are.” Hemingway continued down the path.

  “How are we supposed to avoid these strangling vines?” Paris couldn’t see where she was going in the blackness of the Bewilder Forest.

  “Keep going,” Hemingway urged.

  “Isn’t it cute how he says, watch out for these killer plants, but we can’t see anything in here, and his answer is to keep going?” Paris asked Faraday.

  Paris could hardly make out the worried expression on the squirrel’s face, but she sensed his trepidation.

  “It’s only a little farther.” Hemingway moved swiftly now, his posture straightening with confidence.

  “A little farther until wha—”

  Paris was interrupted when the flowers with tiny bulbs illuminated across the forest, making her startle. Remembering that the twinkling flowers had turned on the last time she was in Bewilder Forest, she relaxed, grateful that they provided light for them. They were mesmerizing to look at, tiny twinkling bulbs like fireflies strewn for as far as she could see.

  “Twinkling flowers are another plant that only comes out at night in the Bewilder Forest,” Hemingway said proudly, looking out at the now bright woods.

  “Yes, but they’re harmless, right?” Paris questioned.

  He nodded. “Yes, and if we stay on the path, we’re most likely safe from the bewitched vines.”

  “Stay on the path.” Faraday ground his teeth with obvious nervousness.

  “I wonder why deadly nightshade has been sprouting up around the forest lately,” Paris mused, moving at the same pace as Hemingway now.

  “I have a theory on that.” He searched the forest.

  “Which is?” she inquired.

  Hemingway shook his head. “It’s only a theory. I need to keep working on it before sharing.”

  “Theories is Faraday’s middle name,” Paris joked.

  “It isn’t actually,” the squirrel answered quite seriously.

  “Thanks,” Paris chirped, shaking her head at him. “So, the deadly nightshade. Do you think it has to do with the college remaining stuck in the Dark Ages?”

  Hemingway glanced at her, a hesitant expression on his face. “Like I said, I’m still working it out. But strangely enough, I had some in the greenhouse go missing recently.”

  “Say what?” Paris nearly exclaimed. “That stuff is lethal. Did you report that?”

  He shook his head. “The headmistress has enough to worry about with Agent Topaz poking around. I’m sure that Wilfred threw it out or something. He gets on cleaning sprees and goes a little nuts. One time he threw away a bunch of depours I had in a bucket, thinking they were loose rose petals meant for the trash.”

  “Depours?” Paris hadn’t heard of them.

  “Depending on the color of the depour, it can create different elements,” he explained. “You know, fire, rain, snow…”

  “Oh, they sound helpful.” Faraday hopped along the path.

  “They are and are especially nice when we want to have a winter wonderland at Happily Ever After College for Christmas,” Hemingway stated. “However, the AI didn’t know any better.”

  “It seems that’s exactly what he should know,” Paris countered.

  “Well, he probably thought the deadly nightshade was a weed,” Hemingway declared.

  “Guys.” Faraday’s voice vibrated.

  “Yeah?” Hemingway turned to look at the squirrel.

  “If the twinkling flowers turn on when someone enters the Bewilder Forest—”

  “Humans,” Hemingway interrupted. “They turn on when humans enter the forest, which is why you didn’t activate them the first time you came in here alone at night.”

  “My point is, doesn’t that alert a certain someone to our presence?” Faraday asked.

  “You mean the ghost who haunts the forest?” Paris looked around the illuminated woods.

  The squirrel nodded.

  “Yeah, but as long as you’re with me, you’re okay,” Hemingway imparted.

  Again the squirrel nodded roughly. “Good, good. Then we don’t have to worry about that?” He lifted his paw, indicating the glowing figure soaring in their direction from across the Bewilder Fores
t.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Protectively, Hemingway stuck out his arm, holding Paris back. “She probably won’t hurt you.”

  “Probably?” Paris questioned with doubt in her tone.

  “This is untested territory,” Hemingway explained. “She doesn’t bother me, but…”

  “You’re her son.” Paris filled in the blanks. She watched as the ghostly figure streaked through the trees in the distance, her strange howling rising in volume. Before, the ghost of Hemingway’s mother seemed to beeline for them. However, she was taking a more zigzagging approach now that they’d halted.

  “Maybe we’ll go this way.” Hemingway pointed at a fork in the path ahead that led away from the direction of his ghostly mother.

  “Well, since we don’t know where we’re going or what we’re looking for, any path could get us there,” Paris offered.

  Hemingway glanced down at Faraday. “Any chance you can give us a hint about what we’re looking for?”

  Faraday, as before in Paris’ room, opened his mouth as if he was going to say something. After a moment, he shook his head.

  “He’s spelled and can’t say,” Paris offered.

  Hemingway gave her an annoyed expression. “You have the weirdest friends. Like, why can’t they simply tell you?”

  “Because it’s part of my journey to figure things out on my own,” Paris answered. “Apparently, if I knew what to do, I’d screw it up with anticipation, according to Papa Creola.”

  “Well, since the only person who puts me on quests is Chef Ashton when he asks me to forage for truffles, I’ll take your word for it.” Hemingway pointed in the direction of the fork they were going to take.

  Paris glanced over her shoulder at the ghost, who hadn’t gotten any closer. Hopefully, she’d leave them alone. “So your mother…”

  Her words trailed away, unsure how to say what she was thinking.

  Hemingway glanced sideways at her and read her uncertain expression. “You wonder why I don’t have her released, don’t you?”

  “Well, the fairy godmothers could do it, right?” Paris asked.

  He nodded. “Of course. They’ve offered. No one has pressured me, and Headmistress Starr says it’s my decision, but…”

  “Then you’d have to let her go,” Paris guessed.

  Hemingway chewed on his lip. “I never knew my mother. Not when she was alive. Now, it’s hard to know a ghost. Obviously, I never knew my father. I don’t even know life outside this place.” He motioned around, referring to the entirety of Happily Ever After College and its grounds. “So yes, it’s hard to let her go. I know she’s not alive, but she’s also here.”

  “She’s an imprint of who she was,” Faraday imparted, scurrying beside them, having to move fast to keep up. “She’s a frozen moment in history.”

  “That’s true. It’s like a picture, and we keep looking at it, thinking that it’s reality, but it’s not. It’s a snapshot of a past reality.” Hemingway shrugged, walking faster now as if spurred on by the words. “I know I have to let her go, but I haven’t found the proper motivation to do so.”

  “Well, as you said,” Paris began. “You don’t know life outside of Happily Ever After College. Maybe that’s the motivation. Maybe her being here is keeping you stuck here.”

  He halted, a sobering look in his eyes.

  “I’m not saying you’re stuck,” Paris nearly stuttered. “I was saying—”

  “It’s true though,” Hemingway cut in. “I am stuck. The idea of leaving this place is unfathomable. That’s why no one can know that I’m a magician. They’d kick me out, and I’d have to find a life away from Happily Ever After College. I don’t know what that would look like.”

  Paris nodded. “I get that. I’m not judging you. I’ve never been in your situation, so how should I know how I would deal with this.”

  He offered her a sensitive smile. “You should not judge. You should understand. Those are the words from the famous Hemingway, but they’re relevant because that’s what Paris Beaufont does. She tries to understand. Most don’t…”

  Paris blushed. She shrugged to cover the expression. “I try to understand. I mean, I had never lived or been anywhere before Roya Lane. Coming here was scary.” She glanced down at the squirrel moving beside her. “Then I found a friend, and it’s amazing how you can overcome fears when you have someone by your side.”

  “I was happy to be that for you,” Faraday squeaked.

  Hemingway flashed them a grin before taking off again. “You two are cute. I might miss you, Faraday, when you become whatever you are.”

  “I bet he was a short giant who made a wish to be shorter on a genie’s lamp all so he could fit in a proper-sized bed,” Paris joked. “Because genies are crafty and deceptive little creatures, he made you into a squirrel.”

  “Yes, that’s what happened,” Faraday remarked dryly.

  “You know firsthand how genies are crafty with their wish fulfillment,” Hemingway said to Paris.

  She nodded. “Apparently, if you ask them for something, they give it to you but while blowing a raspberry of sorts.”

  “Well, maybe it wasn’t a genie,” Hemingway joined in the speculation. “I bet he was a gnome—”

  “I’m allowed to tell you what I wasn’t,” Faraday interrupted. “I definitely wasn’t a gnome.”

  “A man with an aversion to being cool?” Paris mused.

  He shook his head.

  “A fae with a fascination with his shadow?” Hemingway questioned.

  “Nope,” Faraday answered.

  “How about a magician who—”

  A loud howl cut through the air, interrupting Paris. All three turned and froze. The ghost was close. Really close. Also, she was speeding in their direction. Her mouth was open, making the horrible sound emanating through the Bewilder Forest. Her hollow black eyes were ominous, and her clawed hands outstretched like she was about to grab one of them.

  Hemingway spun to face Paris, an urgent expression in his eyes. “Run! Run and don’t look back! Don’t stop until you’re far away. I’ll take care of her!”

  Paris jerked her head down and gave Faraday a fevered look. He didn’t need any more encouragement. The squirrel took off, sprinting down the path ahead. Paris launched after him, speeding far away from the angry ghost, leaving Hemingway to deal with her, and hoping that he could.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Paris’ feet moved faster than ever before, spurred on by self-preservation. She didn’t know if a ghost could do anything physically to harm her, but she didn’t want to find out. She also knew that the worst traumas were often emotions.

  Although Paris didn’t like abandoning her friend, she also suspected that Hemingway would be fine facing his mother. She wasn’t going to harm him, and he had to deal with the traumas his mother had left him with when she abandoned him. That was his ghost to deal with—both figuratively and literally.

  Paris looked down and was shocked to find that Faraday wasn’t right beside her. Sensing she’d put distance between her and the ghost, she slowed, turning to look over her shoulder. She was right, and Hemingway and the specter of his mother were far down the path, hardly noticeable even with the twinkling flowers. However, Faraday was nowhere in sight. She didn’t understand how she’d lost him. He had taken off before her.

  “Faraday,” she whispered, squinting as she looked around the forest for a small creature. Something rustled in the distance. Honing her attention on it, she tried again. “Faraday?”

  Something moved. Something large. Something that couldn’t possibly be Faraday. A giant animal with hooves and antlers and a menacing glint in its dark eyes emerged from the shadow and the trees—and it charged straight for her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Paris didn’t wait to find out if the giant stag charging in her direction would weave around her or take a detour or wasn’t after her at all. She took off running. Something in the stag’s eyes told her that it
was trying to mow her down, and she trusted nothing at night in the Bewilder Forest.

  She didn’t know where Faraday took off to but hoped he was all right. Trying to avoid exchanging one danger for another, Paris ran in the opposite direction of Hemingway’s ghostly mother. Behind her, she heard the stag’s thundering hooves.

  When she glanced over her shoulder, she didn’t have to question if the beast was after her. It was charging straight for her. Paris didn’t know if, once again, it was her demon blood that made the stag come after her. She also didn’t much think it mattered why the animal was racing in her direction.

  Another glance over her shoulder told her that she was about to lose the race. The giant deer had its head down, the large rack of sharp antlers pointed in her direction. Its hooves shook the ground under Paris’ feet, which were moving so fast she thought they’d come out from under her. Several times she nearly tripped on the path, eating dirt. Then the chase would surely be over, and she didn’t want to see what happened next.

  Knowing that she needed a different strategy, Paris made an impromptu decision. She did the thing that Hemingway had told her not to. Paris veered off the path, jumping over ferns and bushes and into the thicket of the Bewilder Forest.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Weaving through the dense vegetation, Paris tried to make it difficult to follow her. However, the stag had gone off the path with her and made quick progress through the Bewilder Forest. It was now undeniable that the angry creature was after her. Before, she could have reasoned they were both using the path to travel through the Bewilder Forest. Now that she was in the crowded woods, zig-zagging around the trees, it was clear the animal was following her. She couldn’t fathom why.

  Damn demon blood. She made a mental note to ask her dad about this later…if she lived that long.