Ultimate Resolve (The Exceptional S. Beaufont Book 12)

by Sarah Noffke

  She eyed the old-style phone. “Does it involve pushing you into the twenty-first century with a cell phone? Because if so, I’ll happily teach you how to use one.”

  He rolled his eyes in that way he often did when he wasn’t really annoyed with her but rather was trying not to laugh and encourage her antics. “That place I called can only be reached by outsiders with a landline.”

  Paris’ eyes widened with horror. “Oh, for the love of God, are you sending me to Minnesota? I know I’ve got to be punished, but that just seems cruel. Please, Uncle John, I’ll totally pull the niece card. Whatever it takes not to be sent to the middle of nowhere and not have high-speed internet.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sending you to Minnesota, but I’m fairly certain this place doesn’t have high-speed internet.”

  “Wisconsin? Alaska? Montana?” she asked, running through all the remote places she could think of.

  Her Uncle John laughed. “No, but I have a feeling you’re not going to like the place for other reasons besides that it's considered to be stuck in the dark ages.”

  “Wow, you’re not selling this like you think you are,” she remarked dryly.

  “Pare, I can make you a deal that will clear your record,” he began.

  “And keep you from getting in trouble too, right?” she cut in.

  He nodded. “Yeah, I think so. It will probably buy me more than a few favors.”

  She leaned back, putting her hands casually behind her head and smiling. “This is sounding better. Go on, then.”

  The corners of his mouth turned upward. “Well, how do you feel about going to fairy godmother college?”

  Paris didn’t hesitate, although she knew little about the place. “You have yourself a deal.” She would do anything to keep her uncle from getting in trouble for something she had done. He was too good for that. He worked too hard and had protected her for too long.

  To her surprise, his smile faded.

  “You’ll have to wear a dress.”

  Her grin dropped too. “Deal’s off.”

  He sighed loudly and picked up her file. “I know attending a college that caters to women falling in love isn’t your style.”

  A laugh burst out of her mouth. “Not my style? I refuse to watch romantic comedies. Ballads give me hives. I slugged the last guy who hit on me. I think ‘not my style’ is a bit of an understatement.”

  “Well, as a fairy godmother, you don’t have to fall in love,” he explained. “Quite the opposite. You will be taught how to help others to find their one true love. You match them and help them to fall for each other, and the world is a better place.”

  “But I have to wear a dress?” she questioned. Skepticism was heavy in her tone like this was a real deal-breaker.

  “I think they are called gowns, but yeah,” he answered.

  “How am I supposed to throw a roundhouse kick in a gown?”

  He shook his head, opening the file in his hand. “That’s just the thing, Pare; you’re not supposed to. That’s what’s gotten you in so much trouble. It’s either fairy godmother college or jail.”

  She picked at the peeling vinyl upholstery of the chair. “Most of that stuff in my file is bogus.”

  Uncle John flipped through the pages. “It doesn’t matter. It’s stuck for one reason or another. Like this.” He pointed at a report. “Arson in the fashion district in Los Angeles.”

  “I was trying to put out the fire,” she argued. “Those fat gnomes who started it ran off, and I saw the whole thing, but instead of running after them, I tried to extinguish the shop.”

  He cut his eyes at her. “I might believe you, but the three witnesses there didn’t.” Flipping to another page, he indicated another report. “And here, you were found breaking and entering an abandoned warehouse on Roya Lane.”

  “I heard kittens calling for help,” she explained.

  He lowered the file. “No kittens were found.”

  Paris shrugged. “Turned out it was a demon who was trying to lure me into the warehouse. He disappeared when you showed up after getting the call.”

  His eyes fluttered with annoyance. “Then you assaulted a fae named Rudolf Sweetwater. How do you explain that one?”

  “Oh, I did that,” she admitted. “He was annoying me, so I clocked him.”

  Uncle John slapped the file down. “That’s the thing. You can’t hit someone just because they annoy you.”

  She leaned forward. “He said a little bit of makeup would make it so he could look at my face rather than my chest.”

  At that, her uncle almost laughed but controlled himself. “My point is that regardless of whether it’s your fault or not, these crimes are on your record, and I can’t keep ignoring them. I’ve got management breathing down my neck, and they’ve told me one more slip-up from you, and they are going to want justice.”

  “This was my last slip-up, wasn’t it?”

  Regret heavy in his eyes, he nodded. “I’m sorry, Pare. There’s nothing I can do. You can go to Happily Ever After College or jail.”

  She crossed her arms. “How long would I have to wear this gown and pretend to stomach romance?”

  He blew out a breath. “That depends on you. The program is one to four years. Then you’ll need to do your service, and I’m thinking that’s another few years.”

  “If I do it,” she began slowly, thinking about each word, “my record will be erased? We’ll be even?”

  Giving her a skeptical expression, he pursed his lips. “Well, until you’re free and start getting yourself into trouble again.”

  “I don’t get myself into trouble,” she argued.

  “No, it finds you,” he said, and he looked like he believed it. “Maybe there are benefits here. The fairy godmothers are known for their polite behavior. I’m hoping you’ll learn some things that will help you…act differently.”

  “Better,” she corrected, narrowing her eyes at him.

  “Pare, you can’t go around taking matters into your own hands,” he stated wearily, having had this conversation with her a hundred times. “Bullies are my job.”

  “Yeah, but usually because of the law, you can’t do anything,” she protested.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he replied. “Just because things fall out of my jurisdiction, it doesn’t mean you get to step in with this vigilante business.” They were silent for a moment, studying each other. Finally Uncle John sighed. “I just think learning decorum from the fairy godmothers might do you some good.”

  Paris sat up straight and forced a smile onto her face. “That’s fine. I’ll do it.”

  He blinked at her, surprised. “You will?”

  “Well, yeah,” she said. “I don’t like the gown business. The romance part might kill me. Learning manners is going to ruin my spirit. But if I can’t make positive changes on the streets, I might as well take on a position where I can. I mean, I don’t like the whole ‘making others fall in love’ part, but it helps the world to be a better place, right?”

  “That’s what it’s supposed to do,” he answered. “Love is important for creating peace and balance. You can be part of that.”

  “And you won’t get in trouble?” she asked, needing to be sure.

  Uncle John closed her file. “If you put in your time at Happily Ever After College, then I’ll be seen as doing my job, and it also will strengthen my ties with the school. Having a fairy godmother who owes me a favor or two is never a bad thing.”

  Paris nodded and stood. “Then you have yourself a deal. I’ll do it.”

  Chapter Eight

  It didn’t take long for Paris to pack. She didn’t own much. A slew of worn t-shirts. Two pairs of boots. A ton of holey jeans. And of course the essentials. She wouldn’t be able to take much, according to Uncle John, so she left it all behind. All but the silver locket her uncle had given her years ago.

  Ironically, she’d never been able to open the heart-shaped locket with her initials on it. Uncle John had sai
d it had been left behind in an evidence locker, and they were going to throw it out when they closed the case. He’d told her that it seemed like a waste to toss it when it was so pretty and seemed meant for Paris, having her initials and all.

  On the reverse side of the locket were the words: You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens. Paris knew that quote to be from the ancient poet Rumi, but she never understood the significance of it on the locket that she couldn’t open. Many times, she had considered taking a hammer to the locket just to see what was inside, but she reasoned that the quote wasn’t actually literal in this sense.

  She wasn’t sure about the locket being pretty as Uncle John had described, since it was heart-shaped, but she couldn’t argue with the initials part. Since he’d given it to her, she always wore it or at least kept it close. No spell she’d tried had opened the locket, and there didn’t appear to be a spot for a key, but she didn’t really care what was inside anyway. She’d just liked that Uncle John had given it to her.

  Clutching the necklace in her hand, she strode to the end of Roya Lane, where a portal would open for her in the next five minutes to get her to the fairy godmother college. Apparently, one could only get there through a portal. It wasn’t on a map, and only students and staff were allowed there.

  Paris had lingered in Uncle John’s office too long earlier, not being good with goodbyes. He wasn’t either, and after a bit, he’d waved her off and said he’d see her soon. She was going to college, not jail. Paris would be free to visit, so there was no reason to feel like this was a long-term thing, even though she was signing away the next several years of her life to erase her criminal record.

  The whole situation still felt surreal, but Paris was standing by her decision. She wasn’t going to allow her uncle to get into trouble for her mistakes. Trouble did follow her around, and she knew he didn’t want her in jail. She was willing to avoid it for his sake more than her own. Actually, Paris thought she could really put the smackdown on some jerks if she was in jail, but it wasn’t worth it. Uncle John would worry about her incessantly, and that was the last thing she wanted.

  Not only did Paris not have many possessions she needed to take with her, but she also didn’t have anyone besides Uncle John worth saying goodbye to. For as much as Paris defended the little guy, she never made friends with them. It would involve being nice to people, and that might make her throw up.

  Looking to the side, Paris pretended there were others around her, waving at her and sad to see her go. It wasn’t that she wanted a huge farewell, but it was sort of sad to realize she’d lived this whole meaningless life where no one even cared that she was leaving. Uncle John was probably right that this college business would be good for her, although she doubted it would soften her up much.

  “See you all later,” she said, glancing over her shoulder and not seeing anyone there.

  “See ya,” a small squeaky voice said.

  She froze, not having expected anyone to respond.

  Looking around, Paris didn’t see the source of the voice. Down the lane, there were elves strolling and gnomes congregating on the magical street only accessible by types like magicians and fairies and the like. Roya Lane was full of things devoted to magic, like the Fairy Law Enforcement office or the brownies’ official headquarters.

  She blinked and noticed a small squirrel flicking his puffy tail on the cobbled street beside her. It wasn’t unheard of to find a talking animal in the magical world, but it also wasn’t common.

  “Did you just say that?” she asked the squirrel, feeling like a weirdo for talking to it.

  He looked over his shoulder. “I think so. What did you hear? If it was ‘see ya,’ then that was me. If not, it was the voices in your head.”

  She couldn’t help but chuckle. “So far, I haven’t heard any voices, but that might change soon, based on where I’m going.”

  “Oh?” the squirrel asked, his cheeks puffed out like they were full of nuts. “Are you going to the fae kingdom? That place would drive anyone crazy.”

  Paris shook her head, having been to Las Vegas a time or two. “Thankfully, I don’t have to go there and lose my brain cells by hanging out with a bunch of fae. If so, I’d invite the voices into my head. No, I’m headed to Happily Ever After College.” She glanced at the end of the alley. “As soon as they open the portal for me, that is.”

  When she turned back, the squirrel was angling his head. “Oh, I’ve heard of that college. What a fascinating place to study.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Paris grumbled. “I mean, I want to learn how to help the world be a better place, but learning about etiquette and all is less than appealing.”

  He grimaced. “Etiquette isn’t my thing, but I meant it would be fascinating to study at the school. No one but fairy godmothers are allowed there. It’s in a bubble, from what I’ve deduced from conversation. So stepping foot there, from a scientific standpoint, would be interesting.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re a very strange squirrel.”

  “You have no idea,” he agreed with a nod.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing,” he answered at once. “Anyway, my name is Faraday. You can call me Faraday.”

  Paris laughed. “Usually, when someone says my name is this or that, then, you can call me blank, it’s different from the original name.”

  “I don’t do things how people usually do,” he replied.

  “Is that because you’re not a people?” she questioned.

  A shadow passed over his face before disappearing. “What about you? What do you go by?”

  She glanced at the wall of bricks. Still no portal. With a sigh, she turned back. “My name is Paris, and you can call me Pare…Paris.” She couldn’t think of anyone but Uncle John who called her by the affectionate nickname “Pare.” She was going to miss hearing him call her that.

  “Well, Pare-Paris, it’s nice to meet you,” Faraday said, bowing slightly.

  She shook her head. “No, my name is Paris. Call me Paris.”

  He pursed his mouth. “Usually, when someone says my name is this or that, then, you can call me blank, it’s different from the original name,” he repeated verbatim.

  “Ha-ha,” she said, not meaning it.

  “I’ve deduced that you don’t want to go to this fairy godmother college,” he remarked.

  “What gave it away?”

  “Your demeanor for one, which is lacking enthusiasm,” he began. “Your regret about not having anyone to see you off reinforced the idea.”

  “Those were a lot of words I didn’t expect squirrels to say,” she observed.

  “That you expect squirrels to say anything says a lot,” he fired back. “You must have really strange friends.”

  “None, really,” she confessed.

  “Yes, hence the lack of people here to send you off.”

  “Again, ‘hence’ isn’t a word a woodland creature should use.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t spend much time in the woods if that helps.”

  “It doesn’t,” she stated dryly. She noticed a small glow starting at the end of the alley. The portal was opening. Paris gulped. “Well, I’ve got to go. They are opening the way to the college.”

  “Okay.” Faraday hopped after her as she walked toward the light, which was growing bigger and brighter several yards away.

  Paris froze and looked down at the strange squirrel. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” he answered at once, his eyes sliding to the side.

  “Cool,” she replied. “Well, catch you on the flipside, Faraday.”

  “Sounds good, Paris,” he said.

  She took another step while saying a silent goodbye to Roya Lane, the place she’d spent most of her life, living in a flat alongside Uncle John.

  The squirrel’s tail lay flat as he took several steps to keep up with her.

  Paris halted and spun to face him. He froze, his chin tilting downward. “Ar
e you following me?”

  “It might appear like that,” he answered.

  “Why would that be?” she asked.

  “Because I’m following you.”

  She laughed. “Why?”

  “Well, first, because I’ve always wanted to go to a place like a fairy godmother college that operates independently, and this seems a perfect opportunity to sneak through a portal to get there,” he began. “Second, my research could be aided by learning new magical practices such as those taught to fairy godmothers.”

  She fastened her arms across her chest. “Is there a third reason?”

  “Well, naturally,” he chirped. “All good arguments are constructed of three solid points.”

  “Again, you don’t speak like a squirrel,” she stated, realizing how ridiculous this notion was.

  “And third, you seem like you could use…a friend.” He said the last bit sheepishly.

  “You want to be my friend?” She felt suddenly embarrassed.

  “Well, I don’t really have any friends either,” he remarked. “You don’t want to go to this place and leave behind your world. I do want to go. Neither of us would prefer to go alone because that’s scary, so it makes logical sense to me to go together.”

  “But I don’t know you,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

  He copied her expression. “And I don’t know you.”

  Paris laughed at this. “You can’t sleep in my bed.”

  “How presumptuous of you,” he said, sounding offended.

  “Do you prefer trees?” she asked.

  “I prefer not to sleep,” he answered. “But when I do, I like bamboo sheets with a high thread count.”

  Paris blinked at him. “Now I know I’ve lost my mind. I’m talking to a high-maintenance squirrel with a large vocabulary.”

  “If that’s making you think you’re losing your mind, just you wait,” he told her, sounding very mysterious.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Paris asked.

  “Nothing,” he said in a rush, angling his head toward the portal. “So, what do you say? Your portal won’t be open for much longer. Want company for this adventure you’re being forced into?”