by Sarah Noffke
“Well, I tried…”
“Also, if it weren’t for you, I never would have survived the Deathly Shadow,” she stated. “You fixed the device just in time.”
He turned his head up, smiling at her. “I’m glad I could help.”
“Yeah, so, of course, I’ll miss you, although it will be nice not to have a bunch of torn-up socks,” she teased.
“I’ll replace them,” he offered.
Paris shook her head. “That’s okay. I’ll be happy to return you, Edison, and Curie to your real lives. I’m sure you’re excited.”
Again the squirrel averted his eyes. “Excited isn’t the word I’d use.”
“Well, you are a master of picking the right word,” Paris stated. “Hey, were you an author in your previous life? Is that why you’re always spouting off definitions?”
He opened his mouth, but again, nothing came out. Finally, he shook his head. “It appears I can’t tell you who I was.”
She shrugged. “That’s okay. We only need one last piece of the puzzle. Then you and I can have a cup of coffee, and you can tell me everything before I send you back.”
“I don’t know this,” Faraday began, “but I’d suppose that we have to travel back in animal form.”
“That makes sense,” Paris related. “Because animals can time travel more easily.”
“We’ll have to consult with Curie, but I think she’ll know the process,” Faraday said.
Paris nodded. “That’s what Edison said. So I guess we won’t have coffee but rather an overdue heart-to-heart where you tell me your story before I send you home.”
He nodded. “I look forward to sharing with you.”
Paris stretched to her feet, noticing the sun retreating over the horizon through her open window. “Well, since it’s almost night, you want to go have another adventure in the Bewilder Forest? I think Hemingway will be down to help.”
“Yes.” Faraday sprang for the open window, intent on taking his usual path to the Enchanted Grounds. “I’ll meet you beside the woods.”
“Okay, and this time, don’t get lost,” Paris warned, heading for the door. She hoped they’d find Curie that night and also she slightly wished that they didn’t, buying her a little more time with Faraday.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“I think I know what we’re looking for,” Hemingway said as they set off for the Bewilder Forest.
“A talking animal,” Paris offered sarcastically.
“Well, I haven’t met one of those.” Hemingway pointed at the squirrel scurrying beside them. “None besides him.”
“I can introduce you to a talking stag or a lynx or dragon,” Paris bragged.
“Do you ever start to question your sanity?” Hemingway teased.
She nodded. “Every. Single. Day. More and more with each passing day.”
“You should,” he offered. “I don’t know if I believe half the stuff you tell me regularly.”
“Well, if I were telling tall tales, they definitely wouldn’t paint me as a halfling with demon blood whose best friend was a talking squirrel,” Paris related.
Faraday halted in the grass and looked up at her. “I’m your best friend?”
Paris paused and regarded the squirrel, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, you do sleep in my sock drawer.”
“Which isn’t weird at all,” Hemingway teased. “Especially if you were once a man, which is what I’m supposing.”
“I wasn’t that type.” Faraday crossed his tiny arms over his chest.
“It’s not weird at all,” Paris argued.
Hemingway chuckled. “Yeah, a girl and her squirrel.”
“Well, some of us don’t have angry horses who charge first and ask questions later,” Paris joked.
“I don’t think they ask questions at all,” Hemingway retorted.
Paris laughed and continued to walk. “Well, my demon blood does more than turn horses into my foes. According to my father, who I inherited the demon blood from—”
“You do get how statements like that make Christine envy you?” Hemingway interrupted.
Paris shot him a mock look of offense. “Christine is ridiculous and knows it. Anyway, according to my dad, I have increased speed, strength, longevity, and an irresistible craving to hunt down evil due to my demon blood.”
Hemingway stifled a fake yawn. “Have you considered taking up a hobby to make yourself sound more interesting?”
An abrupt laugh fell out of her mouth. “Maybe I’ll take up arranging complex mysteries for others to solve. That’s Papa Creola’s and Plato’s hobbies, apparently.”
“Again, you’re not interesting at all and know the dullest people,” Hemingway pestered. “Maybe you should get on FriendNet.”
“Yeah, no thanks. I avoid drama at all cost,” Paris replied.
“Good call,” Hemingway said as the three entered the Bewilder Forest.
“Do you think that we’ll have another confrontation with…” Paris trailed away, not knowing what to call the ghost of his mother.
He shook his head. “I put up some wards earlier. They won’t last long, but they should keep her corralled to a small section of the Bewilder Forest. Hopefully, your talking animal won’t be in that area.”
“Yes, the wolf is definitely in this part of the woods.” Paris glanced sideways at Faraday, looking for a reaction.
He shook his head.
She shook her head at Hemingway. “It’s not a wolf we’re looking for.”
“Good thing,” he said with exaggerated relief. “As I said, I think I found evidence of what we’re looking for.”
“Oh?” Paris was curious.
“Yeah, I found droppings that I haven’t seen before.”
“Velociraptor?”
“Surprisingly, I don’t know what those dinosaur’s droppings look like.”
“Well, it’s never too late to learn,” Faraday chimed from the ground where he was hopping along beside them.
“Actually, I think it is,” Hemingway replied. “No, I think it’s—”
The loud hooting of an owl cut through the air, interrupting him.
All three halted and looked up as the twinkling flowers turned on, illuminating the Bewilder Forest. Paris tensed, watching as the bird of prey swooped down from the canopy of trees and soared in their direction.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Protectively, Paris jumped in front of Faraday, knowing the owl diving in their direction was looking to feast upon the small woodland creature. However, he was fast and ducked under some ground cover—hurrying away unseen.
Having lost its opportunity for a snack, the bird of prey swooped back up toward the tree branches, flapping its expansive wings.
“Owl,” Hemingway said simply.
“Thanks,” Paris muttered dryly. “Even if I grew up in the center of London on Roya Lane, I still can identify my birds.”
He shook his head. “No, the animal who is new to the Bewilder Forest is an owl.”
Paris’ eyes widened. “Oh…I mean OH! The owl is Curie!” She craned her head to search the dark canopy of tree branches and leaves overhead for the large brown owl. There was some rustling in various spots, but it was hard to make out anything. Yanking her chin down, she stared around the forest floor. “Wait, but why did Faraday run? Didn’t he know that his friend or whoever she is, turned into an owl? Or doesn’t she know that her key to freedom is a talking squirrel?”
Hemingway shrugged. “This is all brand-new territory for me. I know you’re shocked, but this is my first ‘reunite magicians-turned-animals and stuck in the future’ case.”
Paris knelt, searching the ground cover for Faraday. “Really? What have you been doing with your life? Have you considered getting a hobby?”
“Maybe I should.” Hemingway studied the trees for the owl. “I only garden, fish, take care of the stables, tend to the grounds, forage the woods, and teach.”
She yawned this time. �
��Sorry, I dozed off there for a bit. What did you say?”
Hemingway shook his head at her and pulled something from his pocket. Straightening, not having caught sight of Faraday, Paris looked at him. “Are you hungry? Is that a snack?” She watched as he pulled a piece of beef jerky from some wrapping.
“Yeah, I decided I’d take a break and gnaw on some jerky,” he retorted. “What else is there to do than protect your squirrel from the owl we’re supposed to befriend? No, I thought what better way to lure a hungry bird of prey down from the canopy.” He waved the beef jerky in the air.
Paris nodded. “That could work. Or we could try my approach.”
“What’s your approach?” He looked at her curiously.
She cupped her hands to the sides of her mouth and angled her head toward the canopy overhead. “Hey, Curie! My name is Paris. Edison and Faraday sent me to recover you. I can reunite the three of you, which is what you need to get back to normal.”
She lowered her hands and waited, listening to rustling in the trees. Remembering something, Paris cupped her hands to her mouth again. “Oh, and Father Time gave me the way to send you back to your timeline.”
Immediately, the branches swished overhead, and a large dark owl dove in their direction.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Instinctively, Paris covered her head, worried that the clawed bird would attack her like she thought Edison was going to. To her surprise, Hemingway also covered her, grabbing her and putting her swiftly behind him, blocking her with his body.
However, both were relieved when the large brown owl landed on a low branch, blinking at them as she settled her wings into place.
“You know my name,” the owl said in a female’s sophisticated voice and hooted softly.
Hemingway pulled his arms away from Paris, allowing her to come around beside him to face the bird staring at them.
Paris needed to take a moment to catch her breath so she took in the appearance of the large owl. She was beautiful with her dark feathers and wise eyes. She revolved her head around, taking in her surroundings from her new perch on the low branch.
“You’re Curie?” Paris asked.
“You know my name,” the owl repeated. Her eyes opened and closed in long blinks as she spoke.
“I also know the names of your friends,” Paris said.
“I wouldn’t call them friends,” the owl replied. “More like associates.”
“Wow, a talking owl.” Hemingway shook his head next to Paris. “Now I’ve seen it all.”
“No, for that, you have to see the talking stag,” Paris remarked.
“That’s Faraday’s shape?” Curie asked. “He’s a stag?”
“He’s a squirrel,” Paris answered.
“Oh…” Remorse edged into Curie’s tone.
Paris nodded and looked around at the ground cover again. “I think you nearly ate him.”
“You can’t fault a woman for being hungry,” Curie replied.
“Edison is the stag,” Paris continued. “How is it that you don’t know what shapes your associates took?”
“Everything that got us to where we are was very fuzzy for a long time,” Curie answered. “I don’t understand it now. We shifted. Time traveled. Performed the spells, and then I lost a lot of my memory. It got more complicated recently when I awoke in this strange place.” She revolved her head. “Where am I, and how did I get here?”
“The Bewilder Forest at Happily Ever After College,” Hemingway replied before Paris could. “It’s where we educate fairy godmothers.”
“Fascinating.” Curie hooted again.
“It sounds as though someone transported you here for this reunion, much like Edison,” Paris imparted. “Faraday made a deal so that you all could come together and return to your real lives.”
Curie glared at Paris for a long moment, a very calculating expression before she said, “That was very selfless of Faraday.”
“Thanks!” the squirrel chirped, popping out of the ground cover, his little head the only visible part of his body.
The owl rotated her head smoothly, taking in the squirrel and blinking at him. “Faraday, is that you?”
He nodded. “Curie, it’s…well, right now I see you. That’s what I’m doing.”
“Usually, most say, ‘It’s good to see you,’” Hemingway whispered in Paris’ ear.
The owl spun to face him at once. “We aren’t friends.”
“You’ve mentioned that in so many words,” Paris remarked.
“Associates,” Faraday echoed.
Paris watched as the squirrel jumped out of the ground cover, arriving beside her. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Sorry, my protective instinct took over.”
“As it should have,” Curie announced. “I was going to eat you.”
“Then you would have regretted it because I think you all three have to be reunited to go back to your lives,” Paris stated.
Curie nodded. “That’s correct.”
“Edison said that you’d have the spell for returning to your original forms,” Paris continued.
“Yes, but we can’t do it until we return to our timelines,” Curie said.
Paris glanced at Faraday. “As you suspected then.”
“We can’t go to our timelines without magic,” Curie stated. “Which means we can’t go to our timelines. That’s been the problem all along.”
“Well, and that we were separated and needed to be together for the spells to work.” Faraday sounded surprised. He put his paw to his mouth. “I can say more than before.”
Paris nodded. “Yeah, as I recover the puzzle pieces, you all can share more. The more I learn, the more I can learn.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Hemingway offered in awe.
“So you three have to be reunited for the spell to work to transform you?” Paris asked the owl.
“For us to start the transforming spell,” she explained. “As I said, it has to be completed when we time travel to our original timelines, which are all different. Also, like I said, we can’t do magic, so we can’t do the transforming spells.”
“Well, maybe I can help with that,” Paris offered. “I’m a magician. Well, and a fairy…and more.”
Hemingway held up his hand. “I can help too.”
The owl didn’t look impressed. “Although that’s nice of you two, all the magic transforming us won’t help if we can’t move to our timeline. That’s where the final transformation can take place, and the last time I checked, simple magicians can’t do that type of work.”
“Simple magicians can’t,” Paris offered. “But Father Time can. He gave me three stones that he said would put you on your timelines. If I give them to you, do you know what to do with them?”
The owl bobbed her head suddenly. “Time rocks. Yes! That’s exactly what we need. You got those from Father Time? That’s perfect.”
Paris beamed, looking between Faraday and Curie. “Then we have everything we need. We only have to meet Edison at the sharpest bend in the river.” She turned to Hemingway. “You know where that is?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I can take you there now, if you’d like.”
“Not now,” Curie interrupted. “We can only do the spells on a full moon due to the gravitational pull on the Earth, which is needed for the transformation to work.”
Hemingway sucked in a breath before looking at Paris. “The full moon is in three nights.”
She smiled. “Then we have a date. We’ll all meet then.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Thankfully, Paris was able to finally sleep, having returned to Happily Ever After College at a reasonable hour that night. She awoke still groggy and slept in a little, thinking that her extracurricular activity warranted an excuse.
She was surprised to find Faraday still snoozing in her sock drawer when she awoke. Thinking that he was exhausted from the excitement of being able to return to his old life, she got ready and tip-toed out of her room, c
areful not to wake him.
Having missed breakfast, Paris grabbed a protein bar from the kitchen and hurried to ballroom dancing. She didn’t regret missing Art of Love the way she would have if the headmistress had been teaching it. She assumed that Agent Topaz was grateful not to have to deal with her contentious remarks.
With her stomach rumbling from missing too many meals, Paris slipped into ballroom dancing class. Wilfred was at the front, explaining how to do the rumba.
Using the opportunity to stay at the back of the group, Paris unwrapped her protein bar carefully, trying to sneak bites. Many of the students caught the noises and gave her punishing looks over their shoulders.
“Sorry, I missed breakfast,” Paris whispered when given a particularly scathing look from some hippie student.
“Rumba is the dance of love,” Wilfred said from the main part of the floor while rhythmically gyrating his hips.
“I thought that was the tango,” Poppy said.
“No, that’s something else,” Chef Ash corrected.
“What is the tango then?” Lilly Pad asked.
“It’s the dance that you must have two for,” the chef builder answered.
“But don’t you need two to dance?” another student questioned.
“Not necessarily,” Wilfred cut in, stepping forward. “Dancing is about mastering the steps on your own so that you complement your partner. The next part is pairing those steps together to create something beautiful.”
Paris held up her hand. “Yeah, quick question.”
“Yes, Miss Paris Beaufont.” Wilfred pointed at her as she crammed a bite of the protein bar into her mouth.
“How is this relevant to creating love?” she asked through the food.
The magitech AI butler sighed, starting to get annoyed by her “act.”
“The rumba is a romantic dance that can both encourage love and also be part of a discipline,” Wilfred explained. “I think you’ll find that when you master the grace that goes along with ballroom dancing, you’ll understand a lot more about the heart than you thought.”
