Harley
In a twist of time-zone wizardry, we technically arrived in what turned out to be the Paris Coven earlier than we’d left San Diego. It was the previous evening for them as Jacob opened a portal right below the beautiful architecture of Notre Dame Cathedral. I was sort of sad we wouldn’t actually get to see any of it, but at least we were on our way to finding the Librarian.
Back at the SDC, half an hour before we’d been due to leave, we’d received news that Garrett had been called back to LA and wouldn’t be coming. With no time to waste, we’d had to go on without him. If he didn’t like that, then it was his tough luck; he should’ve been there with us instead of running errands for LA.
I fumbled around in the darkness of the room that Jacob had brought us to, searching for a light switch. My Fire abilities were way too temperamental to use to light our way, and we didn’t want to draw attention with Wade doing the honors. A crash of metal made me freeze. I’d knocked something over, but I wasn’t sure what. A moment later, my hand closed over a string dangling from the ceiling. I pulled it, and an anemic bulb shed its sickly yellow glow on what appeared to be a broom closet.
“Really, Jacob?” I teased.
He shrugged shyly. “My destinations are still glitchy sometimes. I’m getting the hang of it, though. Just be grateful we didn’t end up in the Vatican instead.”
“What makes you think we haven’t?” Wade smiled and nudged Jacob in the arm. It looked like the relationship between them was thawing after the Quetzi incident, and I was glad to see it. Wade had been harder on Jacob than anyone since then, but I guessed all this portal stuff was bringing him around. Plus, he was staying with us this time in case we needed to make a quick getaway, and there was no room for grudges. Heck, there was no room at all in this tiny broom closet.
“Why am I thinking about sardines?” I grinned, moving toward the door. I opened it and peered out into the single most beautiful corridor I’d ever freaking seen. Gabled archways curved across the ceiling, an explosion of gilded craftsmanship embellishing every single surface, my eyes blinded by mirrors and gold. I wondered if we’d somehow ended up in Versailles, rather than Notre Dame. All it was missing was Marie Antoinette appearing in a fluffy wig and a dress as wide as a house, shouting, “Let them eat cake!”
With the coast clear, we tumbled out of the broom closet and dusted ourselves off. In the distance, people were walking the halls, dressed in head-to-toe couture. Givenchy, Dior, Louis Vuitton, Chanel—they had all the labels, apparently fresh from the runway. One woman was wearing a dress so outlandish—made from a patchwork of brightly colored brocade fabrics, with a near six-foot train flowing behind her—that I thought my eyes might pop out of my head. Most of the magicals were more understated, in ascots, neutral-toned garments that were perfectly tailored, and sharp three-piece suits, but each one screamed elegance and style… and huge expense.
Welcome to Paris. Wade looked like he belonged, in a smart white shirt and a dark gray waistcoat, complete with matching suit pants, but I… well, I looked like I’d been dragged in off the street, with my biker boots and leather jacket and a scruffy band t-shirt underneath. Jacob wasn’t exactly high fashion, either, in jeans and an old sports sweater.
“We’re going to get the whole ‘coarse Americans’ thing again, aren’t we?” I mumbled.
Wade smiled. “I told you, you should’ve dressed up.”
“This is me dressing up.”
“Come on, we need to be stealthy here. Just zip your jacket up and try to look presentable.”
I scowled at him. Easy for you to say. Jacob, on the other hand, was staring up at the architecture, his mouth hanging open. We definitely looked like tourists, but maybe that was a better excuse than the real reason we were here. I mean, the magical world had to have magical tourists, right? Why else would the Paris Coven have gone to all this effort?
“Follow my lead, and duck behind something whenever we see other people,” Wade said as he set off down the hallway. Jacob and I had no choice but to follow, since he seemed to know what he was doing. Each coven had a different layout, and this place was even more labyrinthine than the other ones I’d visited.
Obeying Wade’s instructions, Jacob and I darted behind walls, doorways, cabinets, and somewhat raunchy statues whenever magicals appeared in the corridors. Wade didn’t look so out of place, and since he was the only one who could speak French, he needed to do all the talking. A second text had come from Remington, stating that we needed to “find the Sacred Heart of healing within,” which we’d guessed meant the infirmary. I frowned as Wade caught the attention of a stunning French magical dressed in a sleek blush-colored dress that hugged her figure perfectly.
Don’t get jealous, or you might end up blowing these mirrors to smithereens. I struggled with my emotions, trying everything to force them down. I pictured Levi in his boxers, hoping it might make me feel sick enough to distract my attention away from Wade and the French belle.
“Bonjour Mademoiselle, excusez moi. Pouvez-vous m’aider avec un petit problème?” Wade’s smooth French accent, and the way he was rolling those Rs, made it very hard to concentrate on anything else.
The woman smiled. “Oui monsieur, j’ai un moment pour toi. Quel-est le problème?”
“Ma tante est malade, et je ne sais pas où se trouve l’infirmerie. Ou l’hôpital? Pardon, je suis Irlandais et mon français n’est pas très bon. En plus, je ne sais pas comment décrire les choses.” It sounded like fluid poetry coming from his lips.
Focus, Harley. Remember the mirrors!
“Tu te trompes, Monsieur. Ton français est excellent!” She giggled, prompting a spike of jealousy to jolt through me. “Comme pour l’infirmerie, c’est là. Suivez les indications pour la Sacre Cœur, et tu trouveras ta tante.”
There’s a mouthful. Not that I had a clue what they were saying. I guessed he was asking for directions and making up some kind of cover for why we needed to go to the infirmary here.
“Merci, Mademoiselle. Tu es trop gentil.” Wade flashed her a polite smile, and I wanted to punch them both in the face. Either that, or I wanted to walk over and pull him away in my usual elephant-in-a-china-shop fashion. My Suppressor was doing the talking, but I didn’t mind giving it the reins for this. I guessed it was sort of how Raffe felt with his djinn, now that Levi was around all the time.
“De rien, Monsieur,” she replied coyly. “J’espère que ta tante va bien.”
“Merci, Mademoiselle. Moi, aussi.”
We came out of our hiding place as the slinky woman left, to find a very smug Wade watching her go. Heck, even I was watching her leave—it was impossible to take my eyes off her. It was like she wasn’t even made of flesh and bone but some kind of liquid substance instead.
“Did you enjoy that?” I asked coldly.
“It’s been ages since I’ve used my French. I thought I’d be rusty. Turns out I’m okay.”
I frowned. “When it counts, right?”
“What did she say?” Jacob cut in, clearly worried I was going to start shooting sparks out of my eyes or something.
“She said to follow the signs that read ‘Sacred Heart’ and it’ll lead us to the infirmary.” He pointed up at one of the gilded signposts, which were covered in French words I couldn’t understand. Still, as long as he understood, we’d be okay. It looked like the sexy French girl had jogged his memory enough to get us there, as well as a few other things. Not that I was jealous. Yeah, right.
“You know, that French girl was pretty hot,” Jacob said suddenly as we followed the signs for the hospital. “They’re just going about their ordinary days, and they look like supermodels. Don’t you think that’s funny? It’d be so weird if Harley suddenly started wandering about in some expensive dress.”
I shot him a look. “That’s hilarious, Jake.”
He blushed. “I didn’t mean… I just meant you wouldn’t look like you if you were dressed like them.”
“Word of warning to you, Jacob, never get involved with a high-maintenance girl. I prefer the more natural kind of girl, though I suppose it’s personal taste.” Wade glanced at me with a sweet smile that made my jealousy melt away. Smooth, Crowley. I practically buzzed with happiness as we walked the rest of the way to the infirmary, even when another cluster of daring, sexy-as-heck French girls giggled and swooned over him.
Every hallway was like something out of a museum or a stately home, with random chairs of cream and gold that looked too fancy to even sit on. Huge paintings hung from the walls, showing Renaissance scenes of biblical tales alongside ballet dancers in sharp brushstrokes. There even seemed to be an original of Delacroix’s “Liberty Leading the People,” presumably to remind the Paris coven what they were always fighting for—Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité. I remembered the painting from art class in school, with the powerful image of Liberté as a bare-breasted woman waving a French flag atop a pile of dead bodies. “Haunting and beautiful” didn’t even begin to describe it close up, and I paused for a moment to properly admire it.
“I prefer these ones.” Wade pointed to a painting nearby showing three beautiful, red-headed women, their skin like peaches and cream. The one in the middle was playing a harp, while the two above her were staring away with a sad wistfulness. “Rossetti, I think. This one reminds me of you.” He pointed to the girl with big blue eyes and tumbling red hair in the top-left corner.
“She looks so sad.”
He smiled. “So do you, sometimes.”
“I hate art.” Jacob broke the tension with his blunt commentary. “We used to get dragged around galleries at school. Didn’t like it then, don’t like it now. I don’t get how you can read so many things in a picture, you know? I always thought people were just making it up, saying whatever to make themselves sound smart.”
A laugh burst out of my throat, and a broad grin spread across Wade’s face. Way to kill my vibe, Jake. Then again, it was probably for the best—now wasn’t the time for flirting and games. We had the Librarian to track down, preferably before anyone else got to her.
Fifteen minutes of awestruck admiration later, we found ourselves at the door to the infirmary. It was just as impressive as everything else, with carved wooden vines climbing up the frame and branching out across the ivory doors. The winged specter of the medical symbol—the caduceus—had been embossed into each panel, with the customary snakes twisting around the central staff. There was no denying we were in the right place; we just had to hope Odette was here. I’d be having a stern word with Remington if she wasn’t.
Wade pushed open the door and ushered us inside. A strange hush blanketed the cavernous room beyond, which looked more like a five-star hotel than a hospital. Most of the beds were empty, the same as at the SDC, but this put our poky little infirmary to shame. A doctor was doing her rounds at the far side of the room, but she turned as we entered. She looked just as elegant as the rest of the coven’s inhabitants, wearing a cream silk suit that buttoned all the way to her neck. No Crocs here. Instead, she wore cream loafers, with the interlinking Cs of Chanel on the tongue. I wondered how she’d react if anyone dared to bleed all over her designer gear.
“Bonjour, Madam. Tu parles en Anglais?” Wade asked as she walked toward us.
She frowned. “Oui, pourquoi?” I guessed that kind of defeated the point of being asked if she spoke English. I was starting to admire the spunk of these French folk.
“We’re looking for a friend of ours, and we have confirmation that she’s here. Odette de Salignac?” Wade replied. “I’m Wade, and these are my… uh, associates. Harley and Jacob.”
She dipped her head. “Bonjour. Je suis Dr. Fenélon.”
Are you sure you speak English?
“Is Odette here?” I jumped in. Now that we were here, I was all too eager to get Odette and get out again.
“How do you know of her?” Dr. Fenélon asked stiffly. “You should not know zat she is here.”
“We’re friends, like my associate here said,” I lied. A movement in the adjoining room, which could be seen through a gilded archway, caught my eye. Garrett was creeping across the gap, heading for a door in the passageway between the two rooms. He hadn’t spotted us, or at least I didn’t think he had. And that wasn’t the worst of it—it was definitely Garrett, but dressed in a nurse’s outfit, sleek pencil skirt and all. I’d caught him mid-Shift, his clothes having switched, but his body still catching up.
What the…
He was up to something. He said he’d been paged to go back to the LA Coven, but here he was.
“Where have you come from?” Dr. Fenélon asked, drawing my attention away from Nurse Garrett.
Wade cleared his throat. “We’re from the Houston Coven. My full name is Wade Crowley. You can call the director there to confirm; just ask for Director Crowley—she’ll confirm.” He was lying so blatantly that I knew he’d never be able to forgive himself. Name-dropping his parents didn’t come easily to him, but I figured he was taking the lead so I didn’t end up putting Dr. Fenélon in some kind of Empathy coma. We didn’t want a repeat of what had happened to Mallenberg.
Dr. Fenélon took out her phone as Wade handed her a business card from the top pocket of his waistcoat. I caught a glimpse of his parents’ names—Cormac and Felicity Crowley—with their direct lines written underneath. Felicity? It had the elite flavor I’d expected, but it still came as a surprise. I guessed Wade got his Irish side from his dad, judging by the name.
“I know ze Crowleys well,” Dr. Fenélon said, and she seemed impressed. Beside me, Wade paled. I guessed he hadn’t anticipated his parents knowing the physician here.
She dialed the number and put the phone to her ear. Aside from the intro, where she told Wade’s mom what was going on and who she was dealing with, we couldn’t hear what was being said. There were just a couple of nods and several Oui, Madam’s. Eventually, she hung up and returned her attention to us.
“I am sorry for ze inconvenience, Monsieur Crowley. You must understand, I have to check zese things to avoid impostors.”
I realized that Wade’s mom had just lied for us, without a heads-up. I had to admit, I was a little jealous; I would’ve given anything to have a family like that, who’d get my ass out of trouble without hesitation. He’d probably get a phone call later asking what he thought he was playing at, but for now, Felicity Crowley had saved us from a whole heap of trouble.
“I completely understand,” Wade replied. “You’re just doing your job. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“Odette is through the door over there, in one of our private suites.” She pointed to the gold door in the middle of the adjoining passageway. The same door that Garrett had just gone through a few minutes ago.
He smiled politely. “Merci, Docteur Fenélon.”
Leaving her behind, we headed for the door she’d pointed to.
“Your mom is going to kill you,” I murmured on the way.
He grimaced. “My phone just buzzed. It’s a text, but she’s going to want a very detailed call once we’re out of here. That little stunt is going to cost me.”
“By the way, Garrett’s already in there.”
He frowned at me. “In where?”
“In Odette’s room. I caught him creeping in. He’s… uh, well, I’ll let you find out for yourself.” I couldn’t ruin the delicious surprise Wade was about to get.
We pushed through the door to find Odette sitting on the windowsill, her face turned up to the sunlight. She was mumbling quietly and tracing her fingertips across the glass in a strange pattern. Her body was bruised and battered, and it seemed like she was out of it. A nurse stood close to her, trying to get her to look in their direction.
“I don’t see him,” Wade whispered.
I grinned despite the trouble we were in. “Well, well, well, that’s one hot pair of legs you’ve got on ya, Nurse Kyteler.”