The Mysterious Lost Child (The Inscrutable Paris Beaufont Book 2)

by Sarah Noffke

  Faraday glanced up at Paris. “I think you’ll have some explaining to do.”

  “I think you’re the one who has things to explain, talking squirrel,” Paris said dryly and waved Hemingway over. “Can you please come and help? Mae Ling needs assistance. Can you carry her into the house?”

  Hemingway didn’t ask any questions about the destruction around them, the talking squirrel, or why Willow looked like she’d been through hell and back. He simply rushed over and scooped the passed-out fairy godmother into his arms. “Where do you want her?”

  “Third floor,” Willow stated and hurried after him, the groundskeeper not wasting any time taking Mae Ling to get help.

  Paris, knowing she wasn’t allowed on the third floor, stayed behind with Faraday. Willow and Hemingway would ensure that Mae Ling got the help she needed. There wasn’t much left for her to do except maybe clean up the Serenity Garden a little, although she wasn’t sure where to start. The place looked like a battlefield.

  She looked down at the squirrel and pursed her lips. “Did you get your curiosity satisfied?”

  He nodded. “You’re not supposed to come into the Serenity Garden on Tuesdays because that’s when the statues come alive.”

  “Nooooo,” she said sarcastically.

  He nodded and gulped. “They’re magitech AI servants that didn’t turn out right.”

  “What gave it away?” She kept up the mocking.

  “When they offered me tea with rust and salt and tried to boil me,” he stated seriously.

  “I guess you figured out why the fairy godmothers kept them around then?”

  He nodded. “I suspect they didn’t have the heart to terminate their projects so they tried to give them some sense of freedom, not realizing that they were programmed to serve and would never feel complete otherwise.”

  Paris sighed. “I hope they’ve learned their lesson now. Sometimes you have to end something out of kindness. Keeping it alive isn’t always for its own good.”

  Faraday shivered before looking up at Paris. “Thanks for coming to help me. I wasn’t sure if my communications would work.”

  “Whatever you did to send me text messages from here, well, it’s pretty impressive for a squirrel to pull off,” she stated proudly. “Or even a person.”

  “Thanks,” he chirped. “Maybe I can make your phone receive text messages while you’re in Happily Ever After College.”

  “That would be nice.” Paris headed for the exit, thinking she could use a shower and maybe a good night’s rest after the long night before and the day she’d had. “Are you going to tell me how you, a squirrel, were able to send me those text messages with whatever you had?”

  “Leftover magitech parts from the AIs,” he supplied. “And maybe, but not today. I’m hungry.”

  “Fine,” she acquiesced. “Then maybe later. Perhaps tomorrow night when I’m more back to normal.”

  “Maybe,” he chirped. “I was thinking of exploring the Bewilder Forest tomorrow night. You know it’s off-limits after sunset.”

  Paris sighed but smiled. She knew that even if the looney squirrel got himself into trouble in the Bewilder Forest, which he undoubtedly would, she’d still come to his rescue.

  That’s what friends did for each other.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Paris hadn’t been able to rest or shower, knowing that Mae Ling had passed out. Instead, she paced back and forth in front of Headmistress Starr’s office. The woman had to return at some point, and Paris could get an update.

  Footsteps in the quiet corridor made Paris spin to see Hemingway striding in her direction with a curious expression on his face.

  Paris rushed for him but stopped short. “How is Mae Ling? Will she be okay?”

  He nodded, immediately putting her at ease. “She’ll recover completely. She’s a tough one. Tougher than most fairy godmothers, I’d say.”

  Paris pulled in a breath, thinking of that spell she used to put the magitech AI servants back into statue form. She’d checked several times, and they were all like that, none of them moving again even though it was still Tuesday.

  “You want to tell me what happened in the Serenity Garden?” A crooked smile appeared on his handsome face.

  Paris hesitated. “I’m not sure what I can tell you…”

  “You mean about the Wilfreds that went wrong and were only allowed to be free on Tuesdays or the part where the talking squirrel came into the mix, and you were obviously involved?”

  “Yeah, pretty much all of that.” She leaned against the wall, feeling hungry and tired and especially torn in several directions.

  “Well, I care for the Serenity Garden, so Headmistress Starr had to tell me why I couldn’t go in there on Tuesday,” he explained. “So I’m one of the few privy to the facts about the magitech servants, who I hear are nutters.”

  Paris laughed. “Yeah, they were certifiably crazy.”

  Hemingway studied her for a long few seconds and finally pointed toward the dining room. “Want to grab something to eat? Dinner is going on.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not much in the mood for a bunch of chatting people.”

  He understood and offered a caring smile. “Then let’s go scrape the pans in the kitchen. Chef Ash always makes more than an army can eat, and there are always leftovers. He won’t be in to clean up for an hour or so.”

  Before Paris could protest, Hemingway grabbed her by the arm and hauled her toward the kitchen. He didn’t release her until they were in the chef’s domain, where he made a beeline over to the stove and peered into the various pots and pans. “We have mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and creamed spinach. What would you have, madam?”

  Paris grinned. “I’ll take the mashed potatoes.”

  He nodded, pulling a spoon from the tasting cup and handing that with the pot to her. Hemingway took the macaroni and cheese and another tasting spoon and joined her at the kitchen’s central workstation, where they leaned over their warm pans and ate directly from them.

  “So, Mae Ling?” Paris asked. “She really is okay?”

  “She’ll be fine,” Hemingway stated. “She exhausted herself. The question is how.”

  “She turned all the crazy magitech AI servants back to statues,” Paris answered.

  “That would do it.” He shook his head, impressed. “Now the question is why were you all in there when the Serenity Garden is off-limits.”

  Paris took a bite of the creamy mashed potatoes, wanting to dive into them and away from her problems. However, she knew the answers weren’t in the velvety spuds, even if that felt like the way to save the world.

  “My talking squirrel snuck in there.” Paris covered her mouth to obscure her words.

  Hemingway leaned on his elbows, angled in her direction. “Sorry, I missed that. Did you say that your ‘smocking quarrel tucked hair?’”

  Paris laughed. “My talking squirrel snuck in there,” she said more plainly.

  “Oh, this wouldn’t happen to be the little guy leaving footprints in and around the Enchanted Grounds?”

  She shrugged. “How am I supposed to know? I can’t keep up with all the woodland creatures in this place.”

  He nodded. “I’ll assume it’s the one that belongs to you. So, a talking squirrel, eh? Who sneaks into places? Did he know the Serenity Garden is off-limits on Tuesdays?”

  “Why do you think he was there?” she countered and took another bite.

  “Not a dumb talking squirrel then.”

  “I’m sorry about the Serenity Garden,” Paris apologized, realizing what a big job it would be to clean up. “I’ll help you put it back together.”

  He waved her off. “First off, students don’t do chores. Second, despite what you think, my job isn’t onerous. I like working with my hands and getting things done. There’s a sense of completion to that kind of work. Third, Headmistress Starr didn’t say much before she sent me down to talk to you, but she did tell me that the Serenity Garde
n wouldn’t be closed on Tuesdays anymore, so I have an extra day every week to get things done.”

  “She sent you down to talk to me?”

  Hemingway nodded. “She knew you’d be worried. Said I could probably find you pacing in front of her office, and she was correct.”

  “Well, Mae Ling…” Paris left the rest of that thought unspoken. “How could I not be worried? It was quite the eventful afternoon. Is the headmistress okay?”

  A laugh burst from Hemingway’s mouth. “Yes, but I’ve never seen her look so disheveled. There was rock in her hair. What did you all do?”

  “We fought a small army of magitech servants,” Paris answered. “The headmistress was pretty good at it. She has some combat potential.”

  Hemingway whistled and shook his head. “I swear, you’re shaking things up, making our headmistress fight AIs and bringing a talking squirrel onto our campus. Tell me about this curious little guy.”

  Paris smirked. “Maybe I’ll bring him by to meet you at some point. For now, he’s been grounded to my room, although I should fetch him a cheese sandwich.”

  “And therein lies the reason you collect a midnight snack each night.” Hemingway winked.

  “Faraday is a long story, is all,” Paris stated.

  “With a name like Faraday, he’d have to be.”

  “You’re one to talk, Hemingway.”

  He smirked at her. “Same to you, Paris Beaufont. Have you thought about my offer to accompany you on your adventures to discover who you are?”

  “I have,” she said simply. “But I have a protective charm.” Paris pointed at the angel pin on her jacket. “Honestly, it’s a lot more dangerous than I thought. I wouldn’t want to drag you into anything.”

  He lowered his chin and regarded her with hooded eyes. “That’s exactly why I offered to help. Because of the danger aspect.”

  She shook her head. “I can handle myself, although I appreciate it.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” he countered. “Sometimes it’s nice to have help when you’re doing something as complex as digging up secrets from a hidden past or dealing with a mysterious danger.”

  “Thanks.” Paris finished the last bite of mashed potatoes and felt perfectly full. She could eat that for dinner every night. “I’m good for now, but I’ll let you know.” ‘

  He gave her a skeptical look. “Excuse me if I think you’d rather wrangle an army of giants on your own before you asked for help.”

  “I asked the headmistress and Mae Ling for help with the Serenity Garden,” she argued.

  He threaded his fingers together and stretched them in front of his face. “That’s good. It shows that you know when you’re in over your head. I suspect, from the little time I’ve known you, that the water is going to keep rising in your land. If it gets to be too much and you want a life raft, you can always call on me. I’m no fairy godmother, but I think I’d be helpful in a pinch.”

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Paris awoke early, hoping to get a chance to check on Mae Ling somehow before classes started. However, an envelope with her name on the front in flowery handwriting lay on her bedside table, next to the fairy alarm clock that hadn’t gone off.

  When she sat up in bed, Paris noticed Faraday staring straight at her. “It appeared a few moments ago,” he said, sensing her question.

  “Any clues as to how?”

  “Magic,” he guessed.

  She shook her head, the tiredness in her brain making it hard to think. Still, she opened the letter and read the beautiful penmanship.

  Dear Paris,

  I knew that you’d be concerned about Mae Ling and wanted to assure you that she continues to make progress. She drained her magical reserves, but all she needs is rest to recover. Worry no more. You’ll see her soon. She asked about you when she awoke briefly, and I told her that you were also fine.

  In that regard, I want to thank you for…well, being an influence on me without maybe realizing it. I’ve never been in any battle or used any magical spells to protect myself, and it felt…good. I must reflect on the feelings more, but for now, that’s all I have to say on the matter. I don’t know that combat magic is right for fairy godmothers, but before, I firmly believed it wasn’t. Now, I’m not sure…

  Last, I think you’ve been through a big ordeal. It’s impossible to keep the chatter about the Serenity Garden from the college since it’s off-limits now on a Wednesday while Hemingway does repairs. Therefore I think it would be better for you to take another much-needed break to avoid the questions and speculative gossip. Please take this time to do what you need to for your health and wellbeing, whatever that might be.

  Christine has returned from the investigative mission in London and reported but said that she thought you had more ideas on how we could use the information. I’ll wait for your full briefing on the matter tomorrow. Until then, please rest, recover, and do whatever will help you to feel more focused.

  You may not realize this, but the college needs you. Fixing the Serenity Garden, which has long been a source of brewing problems, is an example of that, even if you brought a talking squirrel into the college to do it. I still look forward to meeting Faraday properly, but until then, I hope you two take care of each other.

  Sincerely,

  Headmistress Starr

  Paris lowered the letter, unsure what to make of it.

  “Did she mention me?” Faraday asked at once.

  “Did who?” She played dumb.

  “Well, I assume based on deduction that the note is from Headmistress Starr. The note from your Uncle John had different penmanship. I suspect that Mae Ling is still recovering. I don’t take Hemingway as having bubbly writing. Who else would send you a letter?”

  Paris rolled her eyes. “She wrote of nothing else but you.”

  “Oh.” He hopped off the dresser and arrived at her feet on the bed. “Do you think she wants me to interview for a professor position?”

  “Not just yet,” she teased. “I think a formal meeting happens first. Then we pick out your blue gown, and before too long, you’re teaching the science of attraction.”

  He tapped his chin, thinking. “There is a lot of science to the chemical reactions that go with love. First, you have lust, which is supposed—”

  “Please don’t make me toss you out the window so early in the morning.” Paris threw herself back on the pillow. “My aim is probably off, and I’ll launch you into the wall. Then there will be a squirrel stain on the stone.”

  He grimaced. “You’re not a morning person, are you?”

  “I’m not a ‘manage a talking squirrel’s ego first thing in the morning when I have my own problems’ person,” she countered and put down the note. “I’ll remind you that you created a lot of problems for me already.”

  Faraday quickly scanned the note. “It sounds like I did you some unknowing favors. The college, too. The Serenity Garden has long been a problem that the fairy godmothers didn’t have the guts to deal with. You gave the headmistress courage.”

  Paris grabbed the note but soon smiled. “He talks. He reads. Do you do math too?”

  “What kinds?” he questioned. “I’m not a fan of geometry, but in a pinch, I can get by. Trig, algebra, calculus, statistics—those are where I really shine.”

  Paris shook her head on the pillow. “Seriously, how did I get so lucky to have the illusion of a talking squirrel who does the most ridiculous things as a roommate?”

  “Oh, no,” he disagreed. “You know I’m not a figment of your imagination. Others have seen me now. The headmistress isn’t going to kick me out. She wants a meeting. Wilfred and I are associates.”

  “Friends,” Paris corrected. “In the real world, where weirdos like you don’t live, we call the people we talk to friends, usually.”

  “Says the person who didn’t have friends until recently,” Faraday retorted, but there was a fondness in his voice. “It sounds like you have a day off. What are you going to do?”<
br />
  “Work on my base tan,” she instantly responded. “Take up surfing at the beach. Maybe take one of those cool online masterclasses. Oh, perhaps do a puzzle if I start to hate my life and want to feel bad about myself.”

  “I’m excellent at puzzles,” he offered. “Do you think that’s the best use of your time with everything going on?”

  “Well, there’s always teaching you how to pick up on the subtle hints of sarcasm,” Paris stated blandly.

  “Oh, so you weren’t planning on going to the beach, then?”

  “I can’t stand sand in my clothes,” she muttered.

  “I thought you’d never been to the beach because you’d never been away from Roya Lane,” he argued.

  “Well, there was a beach shop on Roya Lane that had virtual, magical experiences that they guaranteed felt one hundred percent real, and man, one day at a virtual beach or otherwise is enough for me.”

  “I’m not much of a beach-goer either,” Faraday admitted.

  “Because you can’t swim?”

  “Because I burn like a lobster.”

  She shook her head. “I guess I need to take my day off to do some more Beaufont family investigations. I just don’t know where to look next. I’ve met Clark, Alicia, Sophia, and her dragon. There aren’t any more living Beaufonts. I don’t know where to look next for clues about what happened to my parents or this evil following me.”

  “Oh yes, the whole where to look conundrum,” Faraday agreed. “It’s always hard to know where to find answers before you even know what you’re looking for. I mean, you know you need answers, but you’re not even entirely sure what all the questions are. You don’t know what you don’t know.”

  Paris sat up, struck by his words. “I said something similar to my Uncle John. I mean, there’s not knowing what I don’t know. Then there’s not knowing what I don’t even know.”