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

by Sarah Noffke

  “So that took care of two of my only blood relatives on the Beaufont side,” Paris stated.

  “Yes,” Papa Creola affirmed. “John was a Mortal Seven for the House of Fourteen, and in being one, he was powerful and just. He had certain advantages that protected you that even a member of your father’s family, the Ludwigs couldn’t offer. Finally, he was the person your mother had left you with last when she and Stefan went after the Deathly Shadow, thinking they were taking it down for a final time, so I felt that was who she wanted you with.”

  For the very first time, something occurred to Paris. “You cared about my mom?”

  “He didn’t,” Subner stated.

  “Very much so,” Papa Creola said at the same time. “I never told her, and I’m not sure I would ever, but she was unlike anyone I’ve ever met, and I’ve met them all.”

  “So you put me with Uncle John because my mom liked him,” Paris mused on the notion. “A family friend…”

  “Her first employer,” Papa Creola corrected. “You’ve already guessed it. He owned the electronics repair shop below Clark’s place, which was actually Liv’s place.”

  Paris’ eyes widened with satisfaction at the idea that she guessed that one right. “It makes sense that Uncle John repaired electronics because he’s always tinkering with stuff around the place. But wait, you said that Uncle John was a Mortal Seven. He’s a fairy.”

  Papa Creola shook his head. “I’ve had to do a lot more work on this than others to make it work. It was crucial that the Deathly Shadow not find you and to do that, we needed to hide you. So you became a full fairy. Not associated with a Beaufont or Ludwig or the House or anything connected to your old life. We moved you and John to Roya Lane, and he became the detective for the Fairy Law Enforcement Agency, which didn’t exist before that. It was to police magic on Roya Lane, and from that moment forward, no House members could step foot there.”

  “So I’d never meet Clark or Sophia,” Paris guessed.

  Papa Creola nodded. “I didn’t do it to be cruel. I did it because I needed you not to know who you were. The spell is very simple and very complex. The moment you knew who you were, the Deathly Shadow would as well. Until then, you could waltz right in front of him, and he wouldn’t know the difference.”

  “But one hint of my real life…”

  “And it would all come rushing back to you.” Papa Creola finished her sentence. “Which is why I spelled you not to wonder who you were, where you came from, want to read, care about your heritage, or a whole host of other things.”

  “Wow, I think it’s my turn to say you really freaked up my life,” Paris remarked.

  “Waah! Give the baby her bottle,” Subner said with no inflection.

  Ignoring him, which was getting easier, Paris focused on Father Time. “Again, Uncle John isn’t a fairy. So how did he get this new job on Roya Lane?”

  “He’s a mortal,” Papa Creola stated. “This next part I have to tell you is a little harder because it illustrates how everyone reconstructed their lives for you. For me. For the world. For your parents. To make things better. To stop the Deathly Shadow. To bring Liv and Stefan back. It’s all a part of the same mission, believe it or not. You and your parents and me and even fairy godmother college all share a common thread in this.”

  “I don’t know about you all, but I’m bored,” Subner stated. “Anyone up for takeout?”

  “Go on,” Paris urged.

  “Chinese, maybe?” Subner offered. “Maybe Greek. I don’t know….”

  “Shut your face,” she scolded, then refocused on Papa Creola. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Uncle John was the right person to raise you. As a Mortal Seven he could get onto Roya Lane,” Papa Creola stated. “Also he was with Alicia, a magitech scientist and magician. She helped to construct his fairy wings, which are magitech when and if you ever see them.”

  “Wait, but she’s married to Uncle Clark,” Paris stated.

  “Because when Liv disappeared there were no more Beaufonts left to fill her spot,” Papa Creola explained. “So it was either have the Beaufont name leave the House of Fourteen or have Clark marry someone. We didn’t know how long Liv and Stefan would be gone. We hoped that it would be a few days, then a few weeks, maybe a few years…”

  “Spoiler alert,” Subner cut in. “Fifteen years later…”

  “So Alicia, Uncle John’s girlfriend, married my real uncle to keep the Beaufonts in the House of Fourteen,” Paris filled.

  Papa Creola nodded. “Similar concessions happened to fill your father’s role as Warrior with Fane Popa-Ludwig. That’s what we had to do.”

  “Then none of them could talk to each other or tell me anything because then I’d know the truth,” Paris stated, but it all felt like a lie at this point.

  Papa Creola nodded though. “Paris, it was complex magic, meant to keep you safe, but please know this has never been about you.”

  “How can I think such a thing?” she retorted.

  He shook her off. “If the Deathly Shadow absorbs your unique essence, it will be powerful enough to overpower me and this world. Your parents sacrificed everything to protect you and in doing so, protect our planet. I only hope you’re as careful since you know the truth. And know what’s at stake, now that you know the entire truth, as only I could tell you.”

  “I only want to know one thing at this point,” she said with determination.

  “What kind of side sauces they serve with the fries?” Subner cut in.

  Paris shook her head. “How do we go about taking down the Deathly Shadow and getting my parents back? You say it relies on me, and I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

  Papa Creola nodded, looking pleased although calm. “I’m glad to hear that. Now that you know the truth, we can start to lay the groundwork, but I’ll warn you it takes time.”

  She sighed. “Why? Why can’t we just kill him and be done?”

  “Because it’s not a video game,” Subner retorted.

  “Because the Deathly Shadow will take precision and strategy to take it down,” Papa Creola answered. “Your parents thought they had the answer and he deceived them. This time, we have to be even farther ahead of him or pay the price.”

  “Then,” Paris began, excitement building in her voice although she hadn’t allowed it. “Then we can bring back my parents?”

  “We will see,” he cautioned. “They’re in a different place. I can’t assure you that they’ve aged the same as us. I know nothing of it. But yes, if we can do this right, we can defeat the Deathly Shadow and bring Liv and Stefan back.”

  Paris smiled and looked up at Subner for the first time. “Order some nachos. We’re celebrating an inevitable win.”

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Nothing made sense to Paris anymore. Yet, everything suddenly did. She knew who she was and why she was a halfling—because of a genie. That was stupid, but she’d deal with that part later. She also knew why an uncle she wasn’t related to had raised her, why her blood family couldn’t talk to her, and why Alicia asked strange questions.

  Still, none of it answered the question she really wanted to know. How was she like Liv Beaufont? Everyone kept saying that, but Paris couldn’t understand it. Not until she met this mother of hers, and that wouldn’t happen until she brought her and her father back. All of that would happen, but not until she figured out how to defeat a baddie who scared Father Time, who she’d met—none of that was computing quite yet, but it would. Or it wouldn’t, and she’d go and live in the Serenity Garden as a deranged AI. That was an option, right?

  Paris’ world had turned upside down again, but she wasn’t giving up. Not even close. She was going all-in. Not only would she sign on to defeat this Deathly Shadow and bring back her parents, but she would also fix this love problem at Happily Ever After College because as far as she was concerned, it was the same.

  Love was always the problem. Not enough of it and you got this black hole of evil. Too much of i
t and you got a bunch of Beaufonts. Oh, what a problem to have, she mused as she stepped through the portal that Papa Creola had created back to Happily Ever After College.

  She’d expected to find Faraday there or somewhere nearby but he wasn’t, and Paris worried for him. She knew he didn’t belong at fairy godmother college, yet she missed him already.

  Shrugging this off, she made her way to the headmistress’ office, remembering that Willow wanted a meeting with her to review the Rose and McGregor case.

  To her surprise, Mae Ling was there and looking like her old self. So was Christine, looking like her usual self, which meant no red hair since she was wearing the blue gown.

  “Oh, Mae Ling, how are you—”

  “Recovering from that stomach bug?” Mae Ling supplied. “I’m fine.”

  The look on the fairy godmother’s face told Paris to shush her face quickly, and that word shouldn’t spread that she’d been injured.

  Paris simply nodded. “Well, I’m glad, and thanks for your efforts in the fight.”

  “Against deadly stomach bugs.” Christine held up a victorious fist. “Anyway, shall we discuss the Amelia Rose and Grayson McGregor case?”

  “Yes.” Paris finally felt confident.

  “After doing the investigation,” Christine began, “I have absolutely, positively, no idea how to get these two together. They’re completely at odds. Engaged to other people. Going in opposite directions.”

  Paris held up her hand and offered her friend a polite smile that she hoped said, “Shut up.”

  “I think what Christine is saying is that things look bad,” Paris began. “We wouldn’t know where to begin, but the investigation told us three important things.”

  “It did?” Willow said.

  “It did?” Mae Ling repeated.

  “It did?” Christine echoed.

  Paris nodded. “We know how to do everything critical to get those two together, which we all agree is crucial.”

  “Definitely,” Willow agreed. “So what is it?”

  “We have to,” Paris began, “take down both their corporations, ruin their engagements, and lock them up together.”

  Christine laughed as if this was brand-new information to her. “How hard can that be?”

  “Not hard at all,” Paris stated with confidence. “I have a full plan and have detailed it here, but it will take time.”

  She passed out a report to the three, and as they reviewed it, she reveled in the way they nodded and smiled, seeming to enjoy the convoluted strategy she’d put together. It required many moving parts, but Paris thought that was necessary because Amelia and Grayson were past the stage of being thrown together at a train station. They needed something that made them stick together.

  Willow lowered her report first. “I think this is edgy and different and something we’ve never attempted.”

  “I think we should do it,” Mae Ling stated on the heels of that.

  “Does that mean I get to participate?” Christine asked.

  “Absolutely.” Willow smiled, making Paris’ plan a real one that would see the light of day…as soon as she got some real sleep.

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Paris tucked into bed, feeling satisfied, full of answers, and also really lonely. Lying in her canopy bed, she threw her arms down at her sides and sighed.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll share my cheese sandwich with you,” a squeaky voice said from her sock drawer.

  Paris bolted upright in disbelief. “Faraday, is that you?”

  The squirrel poked his head from the drawer, his familiar brown eyes blinking at her. “Of course. Who else would it be?”

  “How did you get there?” she asked. “I left you in Santa Monica.”

  “Honestly, I don’t remember. An hour ago, I was rummaging through a museum’s exhibits, and this guy with stringy hair materialized and was like, ‘you need to be there when she goes to sleep.’ Then I showed up here.”

  Paris snuggled more into her blankets. “That was Father Time.”

  “Oh?” Faraday mused. “I always pictured him taller and with a beard and probably not wearing a graphic t-shirt.”

  “His assistant is the worst,” Paris offered.

  “The best always have the worst assistants,” Faraday agreed.

  “So you’re back?” She grew excited.

  “And ready to help,” he confirmed. “What all have you learned?”

  “You have no idea,” Paris replied. “It’s a lot. It changes everything. It means we have a lot of work to do on multiple fronts. Are you up for it?”

  “Is that even a question?” He sounded sincere. “Can I get a nap first though? I had a big day running from that wind thing in Santa Monica.”

  Paris giggled. “Yeah, I could use a nap too.”

  “Oh good, did you have a fun adventure too?”

  “I’d say.” Paris felt giddy about the prospects of rescuing her parents and fixing love and helping Father Time and finally having a life when all the adventures were over—if they were ever over. First, she would sleep and rest up for the experiences to surely come.

  “Good night Faraday. Thanks for going along with me and telling me to run.”

  “You’re welcome, and thanks for running and surviving,” he stated. “The world is a better place with you in it.”

  Paris smiled, feeling like she needed to make sure that statement was forever true. Her parents had sacrificed everything for that one idea, believing the world was better with her in it. Now she needed to prove it and bring them back. Then bring love back. But first, she needed to sleep.

  Tomorrow she’d save the world…quite literally.

  The Story Continues with Unsuspecting Trouble

  Coming May 14, 2021.

  Pre-order today to have your copy delivered as soon as it publishes!

  Sarah’s Author Notes

  April 5, 2021

  Thank you a ton for reading! Your support means more than I can ever say. Ever. However, you know that I’ll try and put it into words. Your support is the axis to my Earth. Your support is the wind carrying seeds, spreading them across lands. Your support is like a sturdy branch and I’m a sloth napping upon it. Told you’d I’d try and put it into words, you just didn’t know they’d be really bad metaphors. Anyway, thank you!

  So we all know from the last author notes that Mike doesn’t know what the square root of pie is, according to me. I hope you all had a nice laugh at his expense. I often do. It’s all fair. He had a big laugh at my expense recently (and often too) when we went to lunch. I know! I finally got an Anderle lunch. He didn’t make me pizza, but we will get there, once he improves his skillz.

  So we’re at lunch and I’m telling MA’s lovely wife about how I wouldn’t drive to West Hollywood for a date but will now fly across the globe for the Scotsman and Mike is crying with laughter, pointing at me across the table and saying, “This is not the girl from a couple of years ago.”

  That’s true.

  And then Judith is like, “I don’t blame you. West Hollywood is far.” She’s right…

  That wasn’t the only time that Mike laughed at me during lunch. He and Judith bought a Cookie Monster milkshake and shared it with Lydia. It was huuuuge with donuts and cupcakes and syrup. I’ve played that trick before on people, buying their children indulgent treats and then waving goodbye as I hightailed it away before the sugar rush hit. In all seriousness, it was really fun and it’s always nice when we can get together. Usually it’s in Bali or London, so Las Vegas seemed so normal.

  Let me tell you about the hilarity that was me, writing this book. You get to laugh. I might still be crying but in time, I’ll laugh…surely. So on the current release schedule I have four weeks to write these books . Sounds easy, right? Well, despite what you all think, I have a life, sort of. My daughter is homeschooled through next August. It’s March currently. She’s 9 and common core math is stupid. I’m pretty certain educators got together (keep in mi
nd my original profession was in education and curriculum) and they were like, how can we really make hard working parents stress the freak out? Let’s teach math in alien ways. Cool.

  Thanks jerks…

  And to further support the idea of me having a life, I have the Scotsman in Scotland and then friends and then a hobby or two. Just kidding. I don’t have a hobby. That’s cute that you think I could have one. I do Pilates but that’s more like a bad relationship where I keep coming back for punishment and abuse.

  Anyway, my point is that I usually slack and take care of stuff/people I’ve neglected for two weeks on my deadline, giving me two more weeks to write a book. I only need two weeks to write a book, I’ve found.

  I had over two weeks to write this book, and therefore took Lydia, my daughter, on a hike. We are walking down a steep slope and I’m like, “be careful and don’t slip.” Can you guess who actually slipped? Me… And even though I know better, as I was falling on my butt, I put my hand down to save my backside. And I didn’t know until later that I tore the tendons in my wrist. So I go to Urgent Care and the doc says, “you can’t type for two weeks…”

  I had to inform this deranged doc that I had only two weeks to write a book. And so I did. Wine might have helped. I couldn’t wear my brace when writing, so I had to muster through the pain. And that’s what I do for you all. And also for me.

  I love this book more than the first. That never happens. But the evolution and the characters were really fun. And I guess, my own experiences of overcoming challenges played into it. I wasn’t late turning in this book. I was one day early. And as I write these notes I’m headed to the airport to fly to see the Scotsman who I haven’t seen in five months. My friends are great. But if one more person says, “Have fun on your trip” as I set off to collect a piece of my heart, I might come unglued.