The Independent Fairy (The Inscrutable Paris Beaufont Book 5) Read online

  Faraday hopped onto the window sill, his tail flicking. “Thanks. Try and stay out of trouble yourself, although I get that’s a lot to ask for.”

  Paris chuckled, opening the door. “Where would the fun in that be?”

  The squirrel flashed her a grin. “It definitely wouldn’t be your style. Call me if you need a hand—or a paw, as it were.”

  “Always.” Paris headed out the door, grateful that she had a partner in…well, hopefully putting crime to bed.

  Chapter Three

  “Bacon is the best thing ever invented.” Christine crammed a thick strip of maple bacon into her mouth and hardly chewed as she gobbled it down.

  Paris shook her head, tearing into a buttery croissant. “Wrong. Bread is the best thing invented. It is nothing without carbs.”

  Christine lowered her chin, regarding Paris from across the table as if she’d said something rather offensive. “It’s things like that which make everyone question your judgment. No wonder you’re constantly the talk of this place.”

  The group all laughed.

  “I think that’s more because she’s half-fairy and half-magician and was outed as having demon blood,” Hemingway offered through a bite.

  “Not to mention that rumors are spreading that you have a pet squirrel who can talk,” Chef Ash commented.

  “And fix computers,” Christine added. “I got a nasty virus on my laptop, and Faraday offered to look at it.”

  “Maybe stay off the free poker sites,” Hemingway suggested. “They’re full of stuff that corrupts.”

  “You’d know,” Christine sang. “No, I use my computer for typing up my assignments. I wish I could get onto websites at the college, but it’s locked down tighter than a bullfrog’s behind.”

  “I’m not aware of how tight that is.” Chef Ash buttered his muffin.

  “Tight,” Christine answered with certainty.

  Paris glanced at her phone sitting on the table beside her plate. “Well, maybe he can help you with that. Faraday somehow managed to get data on my phone.”

  Christine’s fork clattered loudly to her plate, making many around them look up. “Are you serious? You get a talking squirrel as a sidekick—”

  “Who tears up all my socks,” Paris cut in.

  “Badass parents,” Christine continued, ticking off a second finger as though making a list.

  “Who no one can know have returned to the world yet,” Paris added.

  “And an aunt who is a dragonrider,” Christine stated, holding up a third finger.

  All eyes looked at Paris as though expecting her to reply with a con. She shrugged. “Sophia Beaufont is pretty cool. There’s no denying that, although her dragon tells the worst jokes.”

  Christine sighed dramatically and slid down in her chair. “Do you want to know what my aunt does for a living?”

  “You’re going to tell us regardless,” Hemingway muttered. He pushed his food around on his plate with this fork, seemingly looking for something under the eggs and hash browns.

  “She works in quality management services in the Pegasus corrections office, reviewing learning outcomes for modifications in their behavioral therapy program,” Christine stated.

  “That sounds interesting.” Penny Pullman joined the conversation, although she’d been listening intently as usual on the sidelines.

  Christine shook her head. “It means she reviews spreadsheets all day. I can’t explain all this to you without getting sleepy. Spreadsheets. Meanwhile, Paris’ aunt is gallivanting off on majestic dragons named Caspian the Great and saving the world.”

  “Lunis,” Paris corrected. “But yes, to saving the world. I can’t argue with that.”

  Christine threw her head back. “It’s not fair. When there’s a rumor, it’s always about you. ‘Who is the first magical halfling in all of history?’ ‘Paris Beaufont.’ ‘Who saved the love meter?’ ‘Paris Beaufont.’ ‘Who killed that guy from FriendNet?’ ‘Paris Beaufont—’”

  “I didn’t kill Dash,” Paris interrupted.

  Ignoring her, Christine continued, seeming locked in her world as she stared at the ceiling. “‘Who killed Agent Opal?’ ‘I bet it was that halfling with the demon blood.’”

  “I hope you corrected whoever rumored that.” Chef Ash sipped his coffee.

  Christine sighed. “What’s the point? Then these gabbing girls were like, ‘Did you see that handsome guy who carted Agent Topaz away for the murder of Agent Opal? I heard it was Paris Beaufont’s uncle. He’s so dreamy.’”

  Paris laughed at the idea that Uncle John was considered dreamy. She guessed that to others he had a sophisticated look. “I’m still not convinced it was Agent Topaz,” she whispered, conscious that Becky Montgomery was sitting close by and always snooping.

  Chef Ash shook his head. “It’s pretty much an open-and-shut case, I’m afraid. If they found topaz laced into the potion that created the poison that killed Agent Opal, then we have our killer.”

  “As if someone can’t have gotten hold of that gem and used it to frame Agent Topaz,” Paris argued quietly.

  “I’m afraid it’s not that easy,” he replied. “There will be a unique brand of topaz linked to the agent’s magical instrument. It’s only a matter of proving that it came from his pocket watch. Then the whole thing is signed, sealed, and delivered.”

  “Someone could have stolen his pocket watch,” Paris countered.

  Hemingway shook his head at this. “You don’t understand. Fairies, especially agents, don’t leave their magical instruments lying around. It would have been difficult for someone to take Agent Topaz’s pocket watch and use it.”

  “Difficult, but not impossible.” Paris leaned forward, her head low. “I’m telling you, I saw Agent Ruby with a silver ballpoint pen as Dash at FriendNet described. He’s the one who orchestrated that whole debacle.”

  “So he went to FriendNet.” Chef Ash shrugged. “He could have had several reasons. Maybe he was starting to get suspicious about the social media company before things went haywire. He could have been on the cusp of figuring things out before you did.”

  Paris shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think he’s behind it.” She looked around the dining room, which was starting to empty as students made their way to their first classes of the day.

  Since Agent Opal’s murder and Agent Topaz’s subsequent removal, the other agents from FGA had left the college, making it feel more normal once more. “Something tells me that man is behind all this. I can’t prove it, but I’m not going to rest until I get to the bottom of it.”

  Hemingway stood, staring down at Paris with a soft smile. “Well, in between trying to solve mysteries and all, try and focus on your magical gardening studies. There’s a test coming up.”

  Chef Ash joined him, stretching to a standing position. “While you’re at it, ensure you memorized all the magical herbs in your textbook. I heard there might be a pop quiz today in Magical Cooking and Baking.”

  “Man, that professor is a real jerk,” Christine joked, dramatically sighing.

  “The very worst,” Chef Ash agreed with a wink.

  Paris let out a breath, not worried about her upcoming quizzes, which she thought she’d ace without studying for, although she wouldn’t tell Christine that. Her friend had to work hard to retain information, much like most fairies. Thankfully they were pretty, which made up for their lack of brains. And also, mostly very loving.

  The frustrating thing about FriendNet was that all the information about the corruption it had done to relationships had been wiped clean after Dash’s death. It was almost as though someone had known and covered it up before FLEA could investigate.

  Now Saint Valentine’s office, Matters of the Heart, was calling the whole thing a fluke of frustration created by a bitter hipster who was working alone. Paris knew better. She knew that Agent Ruby was behind it. She had to find proof.

  Somehow, she believed it would also link him to the murder of Agent Opal, but pr
oving that would take a lot of work. Thankfully she had time to devote since she didn’t have to study for her upcoming tests.

  Chapter Four

  Paris wasn’t sure what Faraday had done to her phone. She thought he’d enabled it to allow data, but it felt different somehow—like it was constantly calling to her, demanding her attention. As she sat in Art of Love class, waiting for the professor to arrive, Paris could hardly pull her gaze away from the device.

  She suddenly felt like an addict, needing to check her email, updates on social media sites, news, and anything else she could access with her phone. It was strange and unexpected. Paris didn’t know why she had this new obsession. It wasn’t like she was an addict to it before she had data. She’d only had Faraday enable it so she could do research more easily. Now, she felt as if she wasn’t looking at her phone, scrolling through options, checking on things, that she was incomplete.

  Something wasn’t right, and she knew it deep in her core.

  Forcing herself with every fiber of her being, Paris put the phone in her leather jacket’s pocket as Headmistress Willow Starr strode into the classroom. Paris was grateful to see the fairy godmother in her long blue gown with its pink ribbon around the collar and grayish-blue hair pinned into a neat bun on top of her head. If she was in the classroom, that meant an uptight FGA agent wouldn’t be teaching Art of Love. Hopefully, things would return to normal, although Paris couldn’t convince herself of that entirely.

  Agent Topaz might stand accused of trying to murder Saint Valentine, but the fact remained that there was conflict among the ranks in the Fairy Godmother Agency. It had been growing for quite some time, according to Headmistress Starr. The board was constantly critiquing the way the current leader of the fairy godmothers did things. The attempt on Saint Valentine’s life seemed like only a result of more problems that might follow. There was a divide between the old ways and the new at FGA, and it was constantly growing wider.

  “You all were assigned to read part of an untraditional book for today’s lesson,” Headmistress Starr began, turning to the class with a light smile. She held up a rather worn hardback book. “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance is—”

  “Not a story about love,” Becky Montgomery interrupted. “Mother says that it’s a travesty to subject us to such literature and that the board is questioning why this is assigned reading.”

  Paris sighed, wondering if she should pop the fairy in the face first or tell her off before that. She let out a breath, quelling her urge toward violence.

  Headmistress Starr, ever the picture of poise and patience, smiled politely. “Rebecca, although I understand that this isn’t the usual curriculum you’re used to studying in this class, I contend that it holds merit for your education as a fairy godmother. Under the current administration of Matters of the Heart, we are encouraged to use materials that are outside our previous range of subjects.”

  Willow’s eyes briefly connected with Paris before returning to Becky. “Saint Valentine has said to be inspired by a different way of approaching love that will be more fitting for the modern world. I think this book gives us a different perspective that we hadn’t considered before when only studying purely traditional romantic literature.”

  “We shall see how long this push for new curriculum lasts,” Becky remarked, a hint of a threat in her voice. “My family has made their position on this quite clearly known to the board.”

  Paris couldn’t take it any longer. Based on the look on Willow’s face, she knew that Paris had hit her threshold. The fairy godmother sighed, seemingly resigned to what was inevitably going to happen next.

  Spinning around in her chair, Paris scowled at Becky Montgomery, who wore the blue gown uniform, the same as everyone else and also a hostile glare. “You do realize no one cares that your family seems to think they run this place, right?”

  “Actually, my family does have a strong influence over Happily Ever After College,” Becky fired back. “My mother advises the board often and is in the know when it comes to what’s happening behind the scenes at FGA. For that reason, I know that Saint Valentine’s rule is very much under question, and taking his advice to use a different range of learning materials isn’t something that’s required at this point and probably not a good idea.”

  Paris narrowed her eyes. “How very bold of you to question the headmistress’ judgment directly in front of her. I thought your usual style was to badmouth people behind their backs.”

  Becky’s gaze narrowed as well on Paris. “Following the advice of a man the board is heavily scrutinizing is questionable.”

  “You know, it doesn’t sound like you approve of Saint Valentine very much,” Paris replied, a mischievous quality to her tone.

  “Many don’t,” Becky fired back.

  “Another bold choice, admitting to not liking a man someone nearly murdered recently.” A sideways smile flashed on Paris’ face.

  Becky gasped and pressed her hands to her chest, offense written in her every action. “How dare you insinuate such a thing. I didn’t have anything to do with that. Everyone knows that Agent Topaz was behind that unfortunate incident.”

  “No, he’s on trial,” Paris corrected. “We’re not to convict people of crimes until they’ve had a trial, you realize, right? There are laws although I’m sure the Montgomerys don’t think they apply to them. Since you’re so helpful, saying that many don’t like the current leader of FGA, I think that means there could be others who wanted him dead.”

  Becky scoffed loudly. “My family may not agree with how Saint Valentine is ruling, but we’d never condone murder.”

  All eyes in the classroom turned to Paris, wondering how she’d reply to this. Becky was visibly flustered, her freckled face flushed pink with frustration. “No, you make threats and publicly voice your disapproval about how the college is managed.” Her typical sarcasm made an appearance when she added, “You’re definitely not stoking a fire that creates more divide rather than helps the FGA to come together during this time of unrest.”

  “Are we supposed to sit back and watch as centuries of tradition wash down the drain?” Becky nearly yelled, her anger evident.

  Paris remained calm, turning back to face the front of the class. To her surprise, Willow also appeared rather at peace despite the current argument going on in her class. “No, you should hold on fervently to the old ways that don’t work and are supposed to create love for the few instead of trying to evolve in a world that’s ever-changing.”

  Becky sounded like she jumped to her feet. She stomped down the center row and arrived in front of Paris’ desk, shaking with anger. “You know nothing about FGA or this college and how it should run. New isn’t better. Our services are for royalty. We aren’t to waste our time on commoners. Their relationships have little effect on the world, and if you knew anything, you’d know that.”

  Paris blinked at Becky, hiding the glee that she’d flustered her so much. She calmly glanced at Willow. “Sorry for the interruption, Headmistress Starr. I’d love to discuss Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.”

  “No!” Becky exclaimed, her fist balled up by her side. “We aren’t done talking about this.”

  “I’ve finished,” Paris sang casually, smiling at Willow, who also seemed to be hiding her satisfaction over how this was all playing out. Becky losing her temper was making her look unprofessional and irrational, whereas Paris was the picture of confidence.

  “You can’t start an argument and be done when you want!” Becky yelled, shaking her head erratically.

  “Well, of course, I can,” Paris stated. “We aren’t arguing. You made a threat, and I told you that no one gives a damn.”

  The curse word seemed to fluster Becky more. “We are arguing. And I’m right. You’re backing down because you know I am. Saint Valentine is ruining the integrity of FGA. I can prove it.”

  Paris yawned. “I don’t care. Also, I refuse to argue with you.”

  “Becau
se you know I’m right!” Becky stuck her shaking hands on her hips.

  Paris shook her head and glanced at Christine beside her as if they had been having a conversation. “As Mark Twain said, ‘never argue with a fool, because onlookers may not be able to tell the difference.’”

  At this, the class erupted with nervous laughter. Christine’s reaction was anything but nervous as she slapped the surface of her desk. Willow appeared to be having trouble restraining a grin.

  Becky looked on the verge of crying as she stormed from the classroom, her long hair catching as she ran for the door, muttering a series of hostile words.

  Chapter Five

  “Some people are such drama queens,” Christine sang when the laughter in the classroom had died.

  Willow drew in a breath, relaxing a little with Becky gone from the room. “I do apologize for that interruption. I think that it would be unwise to ignore the fact that some don’t approve of some of the curriculum changes we’re entertaining at Happily Ever After College or that Saint Valentine doesn’t have the full support of the FGA board. I encourage all to voice their opinions in productive ways, but at the end of the day, I’m the headmistress of this college and will run things the way I see fit, regardless of what donors and alumni think.”

  Paris smiled proudly at Willow, glad that she showed such calm confidence and stood by her principles. She knew it wasn’t easy for the headmistress to take this stance when so many were casting judgmental eyes on her. Still, she had proven to be open to what was best for the college, rather than simply doing what the old families advised and approved of.

  “I think you’re doing an excellent job of trying to balance new ways with the old traditions,” Penny said from the other side of the classroom.

  Willow smiled with gratitude and nodded. “Thank you. Your endorsement means a lot.”

  Unfortunately, Paris knew that Penny’s endorsement didn’t have the same weight as the Montgomery family. They were powerful and had a lot of influence due to their money and various positions. Conversely, Penny was on a scholarship at Happily Ever After College. She didn’t come from an affluent family.