Chapter 24 Faye
FAYE
Faye didn’t think she had ever slept so well.
The crisp, fluffy white duvet was like sleeping on a cloud.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to leave this bed,” she said the next morning, stretching her arms above her head and noticing the cherubs carved into the white corners of the high ceilings.
“Careful. I’ll get jealous,” Peter said, setting up breakfast on the balcony.
“I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep with all the excitement, but after dinner I could barely keep my eyes open.
” She patted her stomach, sure she was still digesting.
She had felt delightfully underdressed at the Michelin-starred restaurant, but had been too caught up in the sumptuous food to care.
With their appetites sated, they’d retreated to the suite, intending to linger over the city’s shimmering lights from their balcony and savour a cheese board and an array of desserts.
Between the breathtaking architecture and the glittering Eiffel Tower, she didn’t want to shut her eyes in case it vanished.
But despite her determination to stay awake, sleep had claimed her the instant she settled onto the giant poster bed.
“Travelling by Reaper doors is tiring and heightens the appetite, but you did exceptionally well for a magless. After a good night’s sleep, you should have your energy back now to explore.
” His jeans hung low on his hips, and Faye admired his toned physique.
She hadn’t known soul collecting was such physical work.
He was her second favourite thing on the morning menu, but he didn’t need to know the pastries came first.
He walked over to the bed, holding out a fluffy white robe. Kneeling on the bed, Faye let him put it on her, then wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his. He swept her off the bed, his lips never leaving hers until he placed her on the chair on the balcony.
“Eat,” he ordered, kissing the tip of her nose.
“I was.”
He rolled his eyes and sat across from her. She pouted, but her mood was quickly improved by the pastries, fresh juice and coffee.
After breakfast, Faye and Peter left the hotel to find two bikes waiting for them.
“Are these for us?” Faye asked, admiring the pale blue bike with a woven basket on the front.
“We’ve a lot of ground to cover, and this is the best way to see the city,” Peter said, securing her helmet before fastening his own.
“Do I look beautiful?” Faye joked, pulling at her short pigtails, caught under the helmet straps.
“Gorgeous,” Peter replied, kissing the side of her helmet. She rolled her eyes, but somehow he always made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
He was right; exploring the streets in the morning sun as the city came alive felt perfect. It was shaping up to be the best day of her life, and it had barely begun.
Following Peter down a cobbled street, she parked her bike when he did, arriving at a tall double door with an intimidating arch adorned with worn motifs of ancient creatures.
She could see more faded colours beneath the chipped blue paint on the doors and wondered how often they had been repainted.
Other people on the crowded street didn’t seem to notice the door, but Faye found it hard not to.
Gargoyles, like those above the library in Foxford, guarded the entrance. Peter placed his hand on one’s shiny bronze head, and a smaller door opened, granting them access.
“After you.” Peter smiled.
Faye stepped over the threshold, expecting to find a house or hotel inside. Instead, creatures and magless bustled up and down a crowded street. She even spotted a dragonia flying freely above them, along with other winged creatures she didn’t recognise.
“Welcome to the Arrondissement Enchanté,” Peter whispered in her ear.
Faye was frozen by the sight of a sanctuary within Paris, a place she had never imagined could exist. The vibrant magic and bustling creatures left her in awe; she couldn’t believe such a place could thrive so close to the outer world.
“How is this possible? How has it never been discovered?” she asked, feeling more at home surrounded by magic. It was as if a piece of Foxford had come with them.
“This is one of the oldest sanctuaries in the world. Sometimes, the best place to hide is in a crowd. There are many others in cities, but none as protected as this,” Peter explained, taking her hand and leading her down the busy high street.
Faye saw a mermaid in a giant aquarium in a shop window.
“Elia’s Exotic Fish Shop,” she read from the banner above the door. The mermaid waved at her. Faye held her hand up in greeting, in awe at her beauty, especially as her tail shimmered in the sunlight. She had never seen a mermaid before.
Leaning closer to the glass, the mermaid rested her hand against it.
Faye placed her hand over it, mesmerised, but then the mermaid’s smile turned mischievous; fangs protruded from her mouth, her skin turned an ashen grey, her eyes black as pitch, and a shrill cry echoed through the glass, making Faye fear the tank might shatter.
She withdrew her hand, and the illusion disappeared, revealing the beautiful mermaid with her bright smile and kind eyes again.
“I can’t leave you for a moment,” Peter chuckled, holding her in his arms as she instinctively tried to back away. His embrace was warm and comforting, making her feel safe.
“What the hell was that? I thought it was a mermaid!” Faye gasped, covering her eyes with her hands, afraid to lower them again.
“She’s a water demon – powerful, enchanting, and mischievous. Most are harmless, but they aren’t afraid to drown their enemies. It can show you what you fear most,” Peter explained.
“Why is she in there? She isn’t for sale, is she?”
“No, she’s not for sale,” Peter assured her. “She’s the owner, and puts on a show twice daily to entertain passers-by. All water demons have a wicked sense of humour.”
“The fangs, the ashen skin, the black eyes were like Ian’s when his bloodlust got the better of him,” Faye admitted.
“I promise no one here will hurt you. They protect their territory, but she wouldn’t harm you. I think she just wanted to frighten you for fun,” Peter reassured her.
When Faye dared to glance back at the window, the water demon had returned to her beautiful form, grinning mischievously. Faye waved at her tentatively, and she winked in response.
“I’ve made a reservation at the best patisserie in the sanctuary for us to start our tour,” Peter said, leading her down a narrow alley.
“I can’t believe how much thought you’ve put into this,” Faye said, taking his hand. “When did you have time to plan all of this?”
“I had to do something while in the doghouse,” he teased.
“You were never in the doghouse.” She nudged him playfully. “But I really appreciate it. This is the best date I’ve ever been on.”
“So this is a date?” Peter asked, resting his hand on her hip.
“Of course it’s a date.”
Peter beamed at her, and she couldn’t believe how happy he was just to hear her say it. Had he really doubted her feelings for him?
“Is this the place?” she asked, recognising the pastries from her mood corkboard that sat on her desk with countless images of all the recipes she loved or wanted to try.
The mint-green shopfront was nestled on a quiet corner of the cobblestone street, protected by an emerald-green awning that sheltered patrons from the hot sun as they smoked and sipped their espressos.
Spiralling gold lettering spelt out Maison des Desserts across the window, with a trio of macarons illustrated on the door.
“You can’t get a reservation here for months!” Faye squealed happily, jumping into his arms.
“I might know the warlock who owns the place,” Peter said, escorting her inside.
She tried to compose herself as she stepped inside the Michelin-starred patisserie, glad she had worn her sundress and put on some make-up.
The rich smell of butter, almonds, and vanilla felt like coming home.
A waitress removed the gold ‘Reservé’ plate from their table, and they took their seats.
They didn’t even have to choose what they wanted.
“We’ve prepared a selection of desserts for you today, and you will also be given a kitchen tour as part of your special reservation,” the waitress said, taking their coffee orders.
Faye admired the shelves and glass cases overflowing with elegant confections that seemed too beautiful and perfect to eat.
“It all looks so good.” Peter asked, looking at various pastel selections of macarons. “They should be in a museum instead of on a plate.”
“If you don’t eat them, I will. Look at the éclairs with their perfect layer of glossy chocolate.
” Faye was sure she would be able to see her reflection in it.
The staff behind the white marble counter threaded with gold looked exquisite in their stainless pale pink chefs’ coats.
She felt like they put her skills to shame, but at the same time, she desperately wanted to hop behind the counter and watch them work.
“This is a miniature layered gateau Opera: an almond sponge soaked in coffee syrup, silky ganache, and buttercream that melts in the mouth. Next, we have for you a Framboisier: a raspberry mousse and biscuit topped with an edible sugar-spun petal that dissolves on your tongue…”
As they sampled cake after cake, time slowed, and Faye felt like she had died and gone to heaven.
The chatter of the other guests, the bright floral wallpaper, and the glow of the waterdrop chandelier slipped away, and all she could focus on was each sweet bite.
She dabbed her fingertip against the plate to savour every last crumb.
After their kitchen tour, which was awe-inspiring and fascinating, they were given a box of samples from the secret menu to take with them. It gave her many ideas for organising Stoker’s kitchen back home, and new techniques she was desperate to try.
“So many cakes in so little time. I don’t think any other meal will be able to live up to that tasting menu,” Faye sighed, patting her tummy.
“They won’t be mourning for long. We’ve another stop to make for lunch across the city, so I hope you have room,” Peter said.
“Hmm… I think I can find some,” she laughed as they unlocked their bikes.