The Shatterproof Magician (The Inscrutable Paris Beaufont Book 4)

by Sarah Noffke

  “So you didn’t hear him speak then?” Dash must have just arrived and heard the last part of her statement.

  “I know who you are and what you’re up to,” Dash said, his eyes murderous.

  “I’m sure you don’t.” Paris sensed that something had suddenly changed since he’d been gone. “I’m sure whatever you’re thinking is a misunderstanding.”

  “So you’re not Paris Beaufont? A student for Happily Ever After College—a fairy godmother in training?” He pointed at the squirrel, indiscreetly still pecking at keys, trying to finish the operation to end the program breaking up people at FriendNet. “That’s not Faraday, a talking squirrel who is helping you to shut down the program that I have running to end relationships?”

  Paris glanced at Faraday before looking back at the hipster. “That was strangely accurate.”

  “The gig is up,” Dash stated. “You’re going to leave here right now and as quickly as possible, not telling anyone anything as you go. No phone calls. No talking to Rosewater or whatever her name is. No nothing.”

  “Wait,” Paris blinked, seeing Faraday press a key with his back foot, but ever so slightly so that Dash didn’t notice. She needed to buy them time. “You’re going to allow me to leave after all this?”

  “Well,” Dash said smugly. “It’s not like it matters. Make a phone call, and I’ll know about it. Talk to your friend, and I’ll hear. Once you do, well, let’s just say you’ll regret it.” He held up his mobile phone and shook it in the air, a threat in the gesture.

  Of course. This programmer controlled everything. He probably had figured Paris out because he had spy software on everything. The moment she left here, he’d use his resources to watch her, do something to come after her if she didn’t cooperate. He was probably coming after her regardless of what she did. Still, she had no intention of cooperating, even if it would keep her safe. She was shutting down FriendNet and getting love back on track. A stupid hipster wasn’t destroying all the efforts of fairy godmothers.

  “Fine, I’ll leave and won’t tell anyone,” Paris began, knowing from reading Faraday’s expression that he needed her to buy a little more time. He was very stealthily pressing keys unseen by Dash. “You wanted to break up relationships using FriendNet. Help me to understand why? Was this a scheme to get back at an ex-girlfriend that got out of control?”

  “My reasons aren’t your concern.” He rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt.

  “Was someone behind this?” Paris remembered that Handlebar Mustache had mentioned another consultant in a black suit with a bowler hat.

  His dark eyes skated to the side as a gust of wind trespassed into the open office, making his beard sway. Paris sensed his tension.

  “If someone threatened you, we can protect you,” Paris said. “I have people who can ensure that whoever forced you to do this doesn’t get away with it.”

  “They didn’t force me!” he exclaimed.

  “But you aren’t working alone,” Paris guessed. “Look, I’m going to leave here as you asked. I won’t say a thing to anyone. Just tell me who put you up to bringing down love?”

  “My source is none of your concern,” Dash stated bitterly.

  So he was working for someone. Paris glanced down at Faraday, who was still trying to complete the sequence to stop the programming. She hadn’t had a chance to get evidence about this. Since she didn’t think that whipping out her phone right then to take pictures was a good idea, she hoped Saint Valentine took her word for it. Now she still needed to stall Dash a little longer.

  Her eyes flickered to his diploma on the wall to correct for her looking at Faraday. “So your name…can you please enlighten me?”

  He sighed. “I want you out of here!”

  “Sure, but so I know, do I address you as raz-eight-period-dash? Is that right?”

  Dash shook his head. “My name is raz8.dash.”

  “Is that a family name?” Paris asked.

  “No,” he grumbled. “My parents named me John. John…”

  “The savages,” Paris said sarcastically.

  He nodded as if she were serious.

  “So is raz the first name? Dash the last? Where does the eight fit in?”

  The hipster looked close to losing his temper. “It’s easy. My name is raz-eight and pause for the period and dash.”

  Paris scratched her head, strode over to the diploma, and pointed. “I don’t really get it. It’s raz-eight.” She paused for a moment. “Dash.”

  “That’s right,” he said. “But the first initials aren’t capitalized.”

  “Why?” Paris asked, still stalling and hoping that by moving, she’d taken any attention off Faraday.

  “Because I don’t want to inflate my self-importance,” he answered.

  “You have a number and punctuation in your name,” Paris argued.

  “That’s so that I can set myself apart and help people to remember to pause between names,” he stated.

  “Right.” Paris drew out the word. “Because nothing says high-maintenance like having to pause when saying a name.”

  “Do you think I’m stupid?” Dash’s gaze was full of anger.

  She shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t call you the smartest organic biscotti in the cookie jar.”

  He pointed in Faraday’s direction. “I know that the squirrel thinks he’s shutting down my program. It’s not going to work. When you leave here, I’m certain that the bus you meet will keep you quiet.”

  Paris narrowed her gaze at him. That was a threat if ever she heard one. Dash was planning on mowing her down using his techno devices. Paris had just about enough of this guy.

  She held up her hand, preparing a combat spell. “Two can play at that game, but only one of us has magic here.”

  Paris tried to throw a stunning spell at the hipster, but nothing happened. She glanced at her hand, wondering if it had cobwebs on it or whatever would prevent her magic from working.

  Dash laughed wickedly. “I have wards on my office. Ever since the last magical creature was in here, I decided to protect myself, in case.”

  “Other magical creature.” Paris still looked at her hand. She’d been able to use magic in the lobby, but it appeared it was blocked there, which was no good for her attempts to escape. She and Faraday might be screwed.

  Dash rounded on her, pushing her back several feet. Faraday took this opportunity to jump off the desk and run out of the office. She hoped that meant he had what he needed. She also hoped he would grab Christine wherever she was, especially because Dash was marching forward, forcing Paris back toward the open wall that led to the ground below—twenty-six stories down to the pavement.

  Chapter Sixty

  Paris realized that since she couldn’t rely on magic, she would have to pull up her first defense—her fist. She balled up her fingers and charged up as she usually did before a fight. In a flash, Paris shot forward, throwing a punch through the air.

  Having fought giants, gnomes, elves, and many other magical creatures, Paris had experienced a lot of reactions when she threw the first punch. However, she hadn’t seen a grown man put his hands over his head and cower as he begged for mercy. “Please don’t hit me in the face!”

  Sidestepping, Paris exchanged places with Dash, staring at him in disbelief. “Dude, relax.” She pulled back her hands. “I won’t hurt you. I never wanted any trouble. I don’t want you using FriendNet to break up relationships. Maybe we can come up with a deal?”

  Dash straightened, shaking his head, a sinister look on this face. “Yeah, right.”

  This was one hot and cold psychotic piece of work, Paris observed, watching as a smile transformed his face. “I didn’t want to get hit. I bruise easily. Now get out and walk slowly down the road or fast. Doesn’t matter. You’ll meet your death either way.”

  Paris sighed, realizing that she wouldn’t be able to compromise with the guy in skinny jeans. Unfortunately, she was going to have to deliver his demise, but she defi
nitely wasn’t going to dirty her hands to do it.

  She smiled at him, which put him on guard immediately. Pointing at his shirt, Paris said, “Hey, where did you get that lovely plaid shirt? I want one for my boyfriend.”

  “You don’t have a boyfriend,” he replied rudely.

  “Not on FriendNet,” she retorted. “You know, people can have a life not controlled by social media, and you can’t do anything to them.”

  “I can,” he threatened bitterly, standing in front of the open window wall, the wind making his beard move.

  “So, the shirt? Was it at Gap? Or Nieman Marcus? Or Amazon?”

  He scoffed. “I’d never shop at any of those places.”

  “Oh, a thrift shop then?” Paris teased, knowing that the best defense was to get under someone’s skin and make them their own worst enemy.

  “I’m not telling you where I got this. Or anyone else.” Dash regarded her with evil eyes.

  Paris shrugged. “That’s fine. I can ask anyone on the street below. When we were coming in, I saw, like, ten people in the city wearing that same shirt.”

  His mouth fell open, total offense written on his face. “Shut up!”

  “Oh, it’s true.” Paris pointed at a roll of mints on his desk. “I used to love those candies.”

  “Stop talking,” Dash warned, grabbing the edges of his shirt, trying to pull it up.

  “Of course,” Paris continued like she hadn’t heard him. “I don’t have those mints anymore since I learned that they have so many preservatives in them.”

  “They don’t!” Dash struggled with his shirt, trying to pull it over his shoulders and nearly tripping on his feet.

  Paris nodded. “Oh, it’s true. Too bad. But you know what song always makes me feel better?” She pulled out her phone and scrolled to her favorite playlist on Spotify, picking a song she knew would kill the hipster.

  A moment later, and Oops I Did it Again by Brittany Spears started playing.

  Dash gasped in pain. His hands tried to shoot for his ears as if they were suddenly bleeding, but they were still still tangled in his shirt. The effort sent him backward, and he stumbled on his feet and tripped. Paris realized what was going to happen and rushed forward, but it was too late. She wanted to subdue the guy until she had backup, but she never wanted him to die. However, as he fell over the side of the building, down twenty-six floors, she knew that the hipster’s death was inevitable.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  “That was intense.” Christine sipped hot cocoa in the headmistress’ office. “I had to stomach an entire conversation about suspenders for an hour.”

  “Christine.” Headmistress Starr gave her a pointed look. “I think there are other things to attend to.”

  “An hour,” Christine repeated, bringing the hot cocoa to her mouth.

  “How are you doing?” Headmistress Starr asked Paris with a consoling look.

  Before she could answer, Faraday cut in, bringing his doll-sized cup of cocoa to his mouth. “I’m okay. The pressure to perform was a lot. But I pulled through and got the results, saving the day as only I can do.”

  Paris sighed, realizing that with a bunch of divas around her, she was never going to get her moment in the limelight…not that she wanted it.

  “Paris witnessed someone’s death,” Mae Ling stated calmly. “I think she deserves our attention right now.”

  “I’m okay,” Paris urged, not wanting any extra attention. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Good, because it sounds gross.” Christine winked at her friend, knowing she wanted her deflection.

  “I didn’t see anything,” Paris admitted, looking at Willow and Mae Ling. “I didn’t want to kill him.”

  “You didn’t,” Mae Ling stated.

  “He killed himself,” Willow added.

  “Yeah, but although Faraday was able to stop the programming, we don’t know who at FGA was behind it,” Paris continued, having explained so much of what had happened during her time at FriendNet and what she’d learned.

  “Not yet,” Willow stated. “We should when the report from Bep comes back about the poison meant for Saint Valentine. That should tell us who was after him and sabotaging love from within.”

  “It’s so weird that an agent would try and destroy love when that’s the whole purpose of FGA,” Christine related.

  “The purpose of an organization isn’t so straightforward,” Faraday related, finishing his tiny cup of hot chocolate. “You see, it might behoove someone gunning for power to make the love meter plummet so the current administration looks bad. Then they are abolished, making room for good blood.”

  “Although I appreciate you as a squirrel and a programmer,” Christine began, “please leave these matters of power to the humans with big pants.”

  “He’s right,” Mae Ling stated.

  Everyone looked up at her. “Those who want power have the best chances of gaining it by discrediting those who have it.”

  “So someone is either trying to kill Saint Valentine or make his efforts look bad by sabotaging love with antics?” Christine asked.

  Mae Ling nodded. “Our job is to explore and keep our eyes open. I don’t think this one will be easily gunned down.”

  “’Gunned down’ is a strong phrase for a fairy godmother,” Christine observed.

  “Shot with an arrow?” Mae Ling countered. “How is that one?”

  “Either works for me,” Christine stated. “I like my fairy godmothers with a bit of edge.”

  Mae Ling winked at her. “Me too.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  “Wow, a full moon makes the Enchanted Grounds look different.” Paris gazed out at the Bewilder Forest, realizing that she was stalling.

  Hemingway gave her a reassuring look. “It’s fine. I put up wards again to ensure that my…the ghost doesn’t come near where we’re going. Don’t worry.”

  Paris swallowed and nodded. She didn’t know how to tell him that she wasn’t afraid of the ghost of his mother…well, she was…who wouldn’t be. What Paris was really afraid of was losing her friend, Faraday. That was how this whole thing ended, and both she and the squirrel knew it. That’s why he hadn’t looked at her once since they’d set off on this mission from the mansion.

  Everyone had worried that she was upset about witnessing the hipster’s death or that there was a killer loose in the fairy godmother mansion who had tried to murder Saint Valentine. None of that bothered her as much as losing her very first friend.

  Paris had her Uncle John her whole life. She’d been loved by her family even if they couldn’t be there for her. It wasn’t until Faraday that she’d felt lovable. He had loved her without obligation—or at least she thought. Later she learned it was a part of a deal, but she didn’t know that at the time, and his companionship had been her strength during the hardest transition of her life. She felt as if she lost it now, that it would retroactively take away her power.

  Paris tried to breathe through the pain in her chest and pretended to act strong. “Which way to the sharp bend in the river?” she asked Hemingway.

  He pointed to the left of the Bewilder Forest. “Just a ways through here.”

  Paris nodded. “Let’s get going and turn on these twinkle lights. I, for one, don’t like to be left in the dark.”

  She started forward fast, feeling the guy and squirrel standing confused at her urgency behind her.

  “Pare,” Faraday said, hopping after her. A moment later she heard Hemingway trudging after her.

  Paris didn’t care. She didn’t want to stop until this mission was over. It had gone on too long for her.

  In the weight of her backpack, she felt the stones that Papa Creola had given her. They felt as if they carried her future of more loneliness and solitude, but Paris tried to remind herself that she had other friends now. She had Christine and Penny. Wilfred and Chef Ash. And there was Hemingway. Of course, always Uncle John. Most importantly, her parents and her family. Losing
Faraday, well, it felt heavier than she would have thought.

  Paris was charging forward when Hemingway caught up to her, almost breathless.

  “Hey, I didn’t realize you knew where you were going,” he said to her, hurrying to keep up.

  Paris pointed ahead. “It’s up there.”

  “How do you know?” he asked.

  “Because I can hear the water,” she admitted and paused, surprised by her answer.

  “That’s true.” He was also shocked. “Then why did you ask me along?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Maybe I thought I needed you here. Maybe I wanted you here.”

  Hemingway let out a long breath. “I know you’ve been through a lot lately.”

  “Everyone keeps worrying about me,” she began.

  “But no one is allowed to care,” he cut in.

  “No.” She continued to hike, getting closer to the stream. “They can…but I’m fine.”

  “I’m guessing Paris Beaufont is always fine,” Hemingway stated. “She was born fine, and even when she sees death and her secrets are exposed and has her world turned upside down, she’s always fine. My question is, when is Paris not fine?”

  She halted, blinked at him, and swallowed. “I’m not sure. I haven’t found what breaks me yet, and I hope never to.”

  He toughened himself from the inside out, the same as her. Hemingway nodded. “Yeah, let’s hope you don’t.”

  “Guys,” Faraday said, capturing both of their attention.

  Paris looked at the squirrel behind them and followed his gaze. It led ahead to a ray of moonlight in the clearing next to the babbling water where two majestic animals stood waiting.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Paris was the least reluctant to approach Edison and Curie, having met them both before. Hemingway had obvious hesitations, halting a safe distance away and watching as Paris closed the distance.

  Faraday, on the other hand, seemed less hesitant and more perplexed, as if he couldn’t remember the two animals.