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

by Sarah Noffke

  “We maybe shouldn’t rush into that just yet,” the man answered.

  “Why not?” Paris fired back, finding her strength.

  “People don’t always respond well when they find out,” he replied.

  She threw up her hands. “I knew it. You’re the devil. I’m in Hell.”

  “Yes, Hell is an armory at the end of Roya Lane,” the man in all-black replied. “Award a Pulitzer Prize to this lampshade.”

  Paris pointed at the man. “What’s his problem?”

  The hippie elf shrugged. “Where do we start? He had a bad childhood. Years of neglect. Working as my assistant is a thankless job. Currently, I think he’s going through a quarter eternal life crisis. The last one was much worse.”

  Paris blinked, wondering if she was still sleeping. When her current reality didn’t clear, she let out a breath. “Again, will you tell me who you are?”

  “How about a drink? Something to eat?” the guy asked.

  “Her glucose levels are fine,” the man behind the counter stated matter-of-factly. “So is her hydration. Her hair could use a brush, but I suspect it always could.”

  “Seriously, is this a prank?” Paris squinted to try and see out the dirty front glass window. There was a street, but it was hard to make out much more or if it was Roya Lane.

  “Paris, this isn’t a prank,” the guy with stringy hair replied. “This is the biggest thing I’ve orchestrated in quite some time. It’s of supreme importance and it all hinges on you, which is why I’ve been reluctant to bring you on board. Despite my efforts, the timeline has been rushed.”

  “Which is more than ironic,” the man in black cut in.

  “Thanks,” the hippie elf said, not sounding like he meant it.

  Paris shook her head. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”

  The man before her took a step closer and offered a kind look. “I know this might sound crazy—”

  “You’d be surprised what I can digest,” she cut in.

  He nodded. “Well, get ready for the craziest because you’re about to get it. I’m about to tell you exactly what you want to hear. I’m about to tell you the truth about your parents and your past and everything else because I’m the only one who can.”

  Paris’ mouth fell open and hung that way for a long time. Finally, she recuperated and swallowed, her throat dry. “You are? Why and how and most importantly, my first question. Who are you?”

  The man before her who seemed so small and unassuming sighed in defeat. “I’m the one, the only, Father Time.”

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  “Fa-Fat-Father Time,” Paris stuttered, trying to understand how this man—man, she repeated in her mind—was the person who constructed all of time and was all-powerful. She’d heard rumors of him. Heard he was in hiding for one reason or another. Still, they were all rumors. Here he was in front of her. Or some looney-tune was and doing an excellent job of faking her out. How did she get Father Time to prove who he was without turning this whole thing into a side show?

  Paris leaned up against one of the cases and rubbed her eyes. “How…why…I…”

  “You’re Guinevere Paris Beaufont,” the man began in a bored tone. “You were born twenty years ago to Liv Beaufont and Stefan Ludwig. The details of that won’t convince you, but I’ll tell you that your first distinct memory is when your Uncle John pushed you on the swings at the park on the west end of Roya Lane. That’s when I allowed you to start having your memories, not erased or implanted, at age five. Other vivid memories for you would be waking up and demanding he make his famous French toast, which you both know came from a box. You used to sleep outside his door because you wanted to be close to someone but didn’t want to tell him you were too afraid to sleep on your own. You always hung outside that sketchy bar on the lower third of Roya Lane because you knew that’s where thugs who take advantage of the little guys hung out and you liked to make them pay.” The guy let out a breath and looked suddenly heavy and older. “Do you want me to go on with facts that will convince you that I’m Father Time?”

  “Not really,” the guy in black stated. “Talk about a bore-fest.”

  Paris pointed. “If you’re Father Time, who is that jerk and where do I deliver his knuckle sandwich?”

  The hippie nodded. “That’s Subner. He’s my assistant. Don’t worry. You’ll warm to him.”

  “I doubt it,” Subner contradicted.

  “Well, he and your mother had a rivalry, and they haven’t settled it yet,” the guy said.

  “W-W-Wait,” Paris argued, holding up her hands. “Did you say they haven’t settled it, as in present tense? Like, they could?”

  The man stating he was Father Time nodded. “Yes, but for that to even be a potential, we need to have a very important conversation.”

  “Which means you need to stop asking dumb questions,” Subner added.

  “It would be easier if you weren’t making me want to punch your face,” Paris said to him while looking around Father Time.

  “Just like her mother,” Subner grumbled.

  Father Time nodded. “Let’s hope.”

  Paris shook her head. “I really don’t understand. Can someone who isn’t a jerk tell me what’s going on?”

  “I’m Father Time,” the hippie began in a calm tone. “Those who know me well call me Papa Creola.”

  “Papa Creola.” Paris tried out the name.

  “Wow, good job,” Subner muttered. “Next, let’s have her master finger-painting.”

  “Is he really your assistant?” Paris pointed at the guy. “Like, I can help you find someone loads better. Or anyone else at all. He’s, like, the worst and that’s saying a lot.”

  Papa Creola nodded. “I’m pretty grumpy once you get to know me. Subner is a ray of sunshine in comparison. The job of time is a thankless one.”

  “You don’t seem so bad to me,” Paris observed.

  “I’ll admit, this reunion means a lot to me, and I’m something that I rarely am…”

  Paris remained quiet, waiting for the man before her to continue.

  “Paris, meeting you in person, face-to-face, marks a remarkable opportunity for us all. If you’re here, that means we might be able to start a new chapter and end the dark one we’ve lived. You being here, well, it simply makes me hopeful.”

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Paris only had one question. “Why?” She wasn’t sure she was buying all this, but what else could she believe at this point? This guy, well, he did know things he shouldn’t, and there was something timeless about him. He apparently could answer the questions that no one could. The test would be to see if he did.

  “‘Why’ is probably the last part that I can explain,” Papa Creola stated. “I think it’s better if we back up. You have a lot that you need filled in first.”

  “Should I put on the hot chocolate?” Subner asked. “I have some arsenic for yours, Paris.”

  “Thanks, but I take mine plain,” she chimed.

  He nodded. “Maybe you’ll try some of my special brownies.”

  “Can’t wait. Can you put them in a to-go container, then shove them up your—”

  “It’s remarkable how much like your mother you are,” Papa Creola said with a fondness in his eyes.

  “Yeah, why don’t we talk more about that and what happened to her and my father and that deadly wind that took yet another of my protective charms?”

  Papa Creola nodded. “Your mother worked for me on special cases. She was my right-hand field agent, ambassador, delegate, and—”

  “General pain in the ass,” Subner cut in.

  “Anyway, that doesn’t pertain to your situation,” Papa Creola stated.

  “No, it seems irrelevant,” Paris said dryly. “My mother worked for Father Time, which is totally normal.”

  “She does that one thing I can’t stand,” Subner grumbled.

  “Breathe?” she asked.

  “Joke,” he retorted.

&nbs
p; “I’ll keep it up then,” she fired back.

  “My point is,” Father Time began matter-of-factly, “Liv’s history doesn’t pertain to this. Your history started when your mother became pregnant with you. I’ll run through the facts fast, so pay attention.”

  “You’re asking a lot,” Subner jibed.

  Father Time drew in a breath and started talking at rapid speed. “Your father was a demon hunter who had been bitten by a demon. However, your mother, Liv, had helped to track down the demon and found the cure, ensuring your father didn’t turn into one too. Unfortunately, the blood of the demon was still strong in him, and they both knew it. When she found out she was pregnant with you, she knew she had to find a way to fix things. Otherwise, there was a chance you’d be part demon since your father’s cure might not work to fix their unborn child.”

  “This is not at all where I thought the story was going,” Paris said dryly.

  “Just wait,” Subner added. “It gets worse.”

  “Anyway, Liv sought out a genie’s lamp,” Papa Creola stated.

  Paris cut him off with a laugh. “We’re still telling a real story and not a farce, right?”

  “Try and keep up, Blondie,” Subner scolded.

  “Liv believed that if she asked a genie to fix her baby, she could avoid you becoming a demon,” Papa Creola explained. “It did work, in theory. However, your mother, suspecting that the tricky genie had played a trick, as genies tend to do by granting wishes but causing other complications, investigated. That’s when she found out right before your birth that you weren’t a demon, thankfully. To everyone’s surprise, you were part magician and part fairy.”

  “That’s how I became a fairy.” Paris nearly gasped. It made perfect sense.

  “Yes, but that was only the beginning for your parents and you,” Papa Creola resumed. “You see, as you’ve learned, halflings are rare. They’re powerful. Maybe what you don’t know is they have a huge life source that certain entities crave. Once you were born, one of the most powerful prophecies to ever be told was recorded. It spoke of a child who was the first fairy and magician ever to be born. I can’t tell you all of that since it includes you, as I’m certain you realize. What I can say is that it told of an evil entity who we call the Deathly Shadow. The prophecy stated that from the moment of your birth, it would come after you and that if it ever got you, our planet, time and space, humanity, peace, and love would all hang in the balance.”

  “The Deathly Shadow is bad,” Subner muttered. “It’s like Wednesdays.”

  “Thanks,” Paris replied. “I think we’ve met.”

  “Not entirely,” Papa Creola corrected. “But close. It’s gotten way too close to you for comfort. Your parents, having learned that the entity wanted you—”

  “Why did it…does it want me?” Paris asked.

  “The Deathly Shadow is an evil entity that sold its soul long ago, and through many transgressions, lost its body,” Papa Creola explained. “In its current form it is powerful, as you’ve witnessed.”

  Paris shivered while thinking of the howling wind cutting through Santa Monica and stealing her protective charm.

  “However,” he continued, “if it ever got a body again, the Deathly Shadow would be a force that could challenge me in the worst ways. I fear I might not survive that battle.”

  “And if something happened to you?” Paris asked.

  “Night-night for you and all the world, sweetie,” Subner stated.

  “Thanks.” Paris didn’t mean it. “So the Deathly Shadow needs its body back.”

  “Not only that,” Papa Creola corrected. “It needs someone who can give it back its body and better, which requires a halfling such as yourself. Not just any halfling, but half-magician and half-fairy. Two magical types that are part of two wholes. Then it will have a body and mind more powerful than ever before.”

  “Okay…” Paris didn’t know what to say. She knew that she needed to protect herself from what was after her but never had any idea that it was on a scale this size.

  “Your parents,” Papa Creola continued. “After learning of this prophecy, the consequences, and knowing you were in danger, hid you away from the beginning. No one knew what you were. However, it soon became apparent that wasn’t enough, so they decided to create a plan to go after the Deathly Shadow and destroy it once and for all. That was the only way to protect you since a life of hiding wasn’t what they wanted for you.”

  “Wow.” Paris’ heart suddenly ached. “So that’s how they died? They went after the Deathly Shadow…”

  “She’s an awful listener,” Subner interjected, not reading his book at all anymore.

  “I’m great at giving black eyes,” she retorted.

  “Your parents did go after the Deathly Shadow,” Papa Creola confirmed. “When you were five years old, they left you with a family friend who often watched you, deciding this was a mission that would require both of them. I reviewed the plan myself and thought it was a good one. However, the Deathly Shadow was one step ahead of all of us.”

  “This is the part of the story I can’t stand the most,” Subner grumbled.

  “Good, let’s care what that guy doesn’t like,” Paris complained.

  “Your parents followed the Deathly Shadow, thinking they were about to trap the monster,” Papa Creola explained. “They jumped through what looked like a portal to chase after the creature. Even then, we didn’t know much about the thing—which is hardly a man anymore. We didn’t know that it was as formless as it was. You see, the Deathly Shadow didn’t go through the portal, which wasn’t a portal. It only appeared to. Instead, it stayed in this realm.”

  “If it wasn’t a portal, what was it?” Paris asked.

  “It was a vortex,” Papa Creola said heavily. “To another parallel dimension, usually unreachable from this one.”

  Chapter Seventy

  “Wait, my parents jumped through a vortex?” Paris was surprised by the words coming from her mouth.

  “They thought they were chasing the Deathly Shadow,” Papa Creola added. “But he never went through since he couldn’t without a body. With his remaining power, he closed the vortex behind them.”

  “Trapping my parents in another dimension,” Paris added, then exclaimed, “Oh my gosh! My parents are alive!”

  “Your parents are in another dimension,” Subner stated, always the bearer of bad news.

  “Wait, but we can get them back, right?” Paris looking between Papa Creola and Subner.

  Father Time gave her a less than reassuring look. “Opening a vortex to another dimension isn’t something even I will try. The Deathly Shadow was powerful and risked a lot to attempt such a thing. We’ve tried to duplicate it. To bring back Liv and Stefan. It simply isn’t possible. Only the Deathly Shadow can open the vortex to that specific dimension.”

  “So what does that mean?” Paris felt lost and confused.

  “It means that we’ve been waiting a very long time for you to mature, Paris,” Papa Creola explained. “Your parents kept you safe and protected because the Deathly Shadow wanted you. It still wants you. Ironically, the only one who could ever defeat it is you. Now that you’ve matured, you’re the only one who can get rid of it and open the right vortex, retrieving your parents from where they hopefully still are.”

  “Bu-But-But,” Paris stuttered, having a hard time putting everything together.

  “Oh good, she’s not making sense,” Subner stated blandly.

  “I have to defeat the Deathly Shadow? I have to open the vortex that gets my parents back?”

  “Yes,” Papa Creola answered. “I’ll warn you. I suspect wherever they are, time has moved differently than here.”

  “Differently how?”

  “Differently,” he simply said.

  “There’s the Papa we all know and love.” Subner sounded happy for the first time.

  Paris shook her head. “Can we back up a bit? How did I become Paris Westbridge instead of Guinevere Par
is Beaufont?”

  “That’s the cleanup we had to do after Liv and Stefan disappeared,” Papa Creola explained. “You see, we didn’t know how long they’d be stuck in the other dimension. One, two, three days, weeks, or years.”

  “I was voting for decades,” Subner added.

  “You’re a very unhappy person, aren’t you?” Paris needled.

  He nodded.

  “Anyway, the vortex was new to us then, so we simply made a contingency plan,” Papa Creola stated. “We had a child that the Deathly Shadow wanted, and it had taken two Warriors from the House of Fourteen to protect it. We had a family and set of friends who would do anything to help, but the whole lot were blabbermouths. So I did the only thing I could—”

  “You silenced them with a spell,” Paris guessed.

  “I had to,” he answered. “Otherwise, they could have let a ton of things accidentally slip. Or they could have looked you up, checked up on you, done anything to ruin the witness protection program I put you into.”

  “Tell me more about that,” Paris urged.

  “Well, I knew that the Deathly Shadow was looking for a child who was born to two Warriors for the House of Fourteen and was both magician and fairy,” Papa Creola stated. “That had been your parents' problem all along. They didn’t deviate from the prophecy.”

  Seeing the look of offense on her face, Papa Creola waved Paris off. “Oh, come on. I can criticize.”

  “It’s why I like him,” Subner stated.

  “Shocking,” Paris remarked.

  “Anyway, if your parents would have changed from the prophecy, I think the Deathly Shadow might not have been able to find you, but that’s not entirely supported,” he explained. “You see, I had to orchestrate a lot to keep you protected all this time, and as soon as it broke down, the entire house of cards fell at once, making you vulnerable, so I’m not sure there was anything your parents could have done differently.”

  “Why did I live with Uncle John?” Paris asked.

  “Well, he was your mother’s closest living non-blood relative,” Papa Creola answered. “I knew that I needed to hide you, but not with a House of Fourteen family where the Deathly Shadow would expect to look for you. And not with another Beaufont like Sophia.”