Chapter Three
GENEVIèVE
Roux was right. My sister was furious, and hiring Claudette was a bad idea. But even Mina had reluctantly agreed that we had to give her a chance.
“This is the thing, Claudette,” Mina said in her fair but firm way. “We’re happy to have you back, but we need you to be punctual. Reliable. And to…um…well…” Mina stirred the air with her hands, looking to me for help.
Keep your hands off the men? was the best I could come up with.
Mina grimaced. “You need to be discreet. Professional.”
Claudette’s eyebrows knitted together.
“Mindful of boundaries,” Mina tried next.
“No flirting,” I finally blurted.
Claudette’s mouth formed an Oh. Then she grinned. “I’ll be a nun.”
Hard to imagine, given her tattoos and piercings, but hey. One shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.
Then her grin stretched, and she added, “I’ll even take a vow.” She hooted. “You get it?”
She and I laughed ourselves silly, and for a moment, it was just like old times, when we were kids and life seemed so simple.
“Excellent,” Mina murmured, though she looked doubtful.
Claudette, to her credit, managed to stick to those guidelines for a full week. Her only flaw was a few batches of burned toast.
Mina caught me on my way to another efficiently served breakfast days later, whispering, “Wow. Claudette really seems to be turning over a new leaf.”
Bene wasn’t making it easy for her, though.
“Bonjour, everyone.” Bene entered cheerfully, as he did each morning. The main difference was that he was no longer the last to appear, as he’d been B.C. — Before Claudette.
“Bonjour, Benedict.” Claudette’s voice dropped suggestively, and she stopped to drink the man in.
We let that slide, because even a nun would stop to ogle his cover boy good looks. His unruly blond hair and fluid stride hinted at his lion side, and his sunny disposition was infectious — er, in a good way.
“Best eggs ever,” he announced, then winked. “Eggs Benedict. Get it?”
Everyone groaned, including Claudette, though I caught her winking back.
Mina met my eyes, sending worried thoughts into my mind.
As for me, I calculated the probability of those two hooking up at ninety-five percent — and rising fast.
“Oh! Let me help with the dishes.” Bene jumped up eagerly.
Roux grabbed him before he made it two steps, though. “Too bad you have other work to do.”
And off he hauled poor Bene to work at eight thirty on the dot.
The man was definitely a stickler for the rules, and not just because they were counting down the last few weeks of their contract with Gordon.
I didn’t know the details, but apparently, the guys had gotten themselves into hot water and had been forced to work for Gordon to clear their records of past indiscretions, as Mina put it.
They all seemed plenty reformed to me, though. Especially now that they were keeping busy with renovation work until Gordon assigned them a new mission. He hadn’t since I’d arrived, but everyone expected him to squeeze in another assignment or two before their contracts ended in a few weeks.
“Thanks, Claudette,” Mina said, then turned to assign the rest of us jobs.
“Henrik, can you please continue helping Bene and Roux with the upstairs bathrooms?”
His expression suggested such things were beneath him, but he didn’t actually complain.
I found him creepy as hell, as did Mina. Still, there was merit to the old adage, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
“Marius and I will continue plastering the corner room.” Heart emojis practically fluttered between them as they locked eyes, as was the case ever since they’d gotten married a week ago.
Yes, married. I was still getting over my surprise at my sensible sister’s spontaneity. We’d staged a fake wedding to snap promotional photos of the chateau, but my sister and her hot dragon shifter had gone all out and decided to tie the knot for real.
Only because we’ve gone to all the trouble, Mina had explained a little defensively.
She’d tried to play it cool, but inside, she’d been squealing with glee. I could hear it. I could hear a lot of things, actually. More and more, ever since I’d moved in to the chateau.
Ten long seconds later, I nudged Mina, and she blinked. “Oh. Sorry. Are you good to continue in the ballroom?”
“Yes, but it’s bigger than two theater stages combined, and I usually have an intern or two helping me. Can’t we spare someone?”
She pursed her lips. “We’ll see how it goes, but finishing the guest rooms is the priority.”
She was right, but that didn’t make renovating the vast ballroom any easier.
Everyone split up, and their voices receded down corridors and stairwells, while I made the shorter “commute” to the ballroom.
Huge double doors led to it from the dining room, though we kept those closed against the cold.
I used the adjoining hallway instead and paused at the first of five arched doorways opening onto the ballroom. Yes, five. The ballroom was that long.
My grandmother had been legendary for hosting huge parties for a mix of supernatural guests — shifters, witches, warlocks, and so on.
Once, a dazzling mermaid/merman couple had attended, or so my mother claimed.
My sister, cousin, and I had only witnessed my grandmother’s last few gatherings, but even those had been amazing.
There’d been string quartets. Glamorous dresses. Dancing. Champagne. Fireworks.
Now, a bird chirped outside one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, and that was it.
Then a faint sound reached me from the left.
I glanced at the artwork hanging there — an oil painting my father had made after one of my grandmother’s grand parties.
He’d used quick brushstrokes to echo the motion of dancers, waiters, and ladies fluttering fans, resulting in a work straight out of Monet. My grandmother had loved that piece.
Me too.
Listen. Listen carefully, and you will hear, my grandmother used to say. Especially when the artist has poured emotion into their work.
I closed my eyes and held my breath, hoping to hear more.
The magic at Chateau Nocturne must really have been flowing, because the faint notes of a violin reached my ears, growing gradually more distinct. A cello joined in, along with background sounds. Laughter. The clink of champagne glasses. Shoes scuffing over the floor.
All that seeped out of the painting and into the vast, empty ballroom, bringing the entire scene to life, not just the fraction captured within the limits of the frame.
A dozen couples stepped and twirled. Waiters made their rounds, offering drinks and hors d’oeuvres. Candles flickered, and logs crackled in the massive fireplaces.
I found myself humming the bright, swirling melody of Emile Waldteufel’s “Les Patineurs” and swaying in place.
More details waltzed out of the fog of my memory as the scene continued to play out. The jangle of my grandmother’s bracelets. The tuba-honk of my great-uncle Toby blowing his nose. The creak of the parquet floor, and my mother’s chuckle — the special one reserved for my father.
A tear slipped over the contours of my smile.
The music rose, swelled, and drew to a close. So did the scene playing out in my mind. Guests showered my grandmother with mercis and au revoirs before heading home. Then, one by one, the lights in the ballroom were extinguished.
Slowly, I opened my eyes on the empty ballroom.
Mina was right when she’d said, The walls may have been stripped of wallpaper, but the memories are still there. They always will be.
But, whoa. Those weren’t just memories. That was an entire scene replayed to me by a painting.
I turned to it, whispering, “Thank you, Dad.”
Another tear slipped down my cheek.
Then real footsteps sounded and I whirled.
“Reporting for duty,” Roux announced, not all too enthusiastically. Then he cocked his head. “Everything all right?”
I tossed my hair, using the motion to dry my cheeks.
“Of course. I guess Mina decided she could spare you?”
He nodded glumly.
Well, yay to you too, I nearly said. And thanks for chasing away the most magic I’ve felt in years.
Not much of my ancestral magic had worked its way down to me, but it did pop out from time to time — especially since I’d moved here a few weeks ago.
Mina said the longer she stayed at the chateau, the more magic she felt — and the more she mastered. Was that happening to me too?
I chewed the thought over while explaining the task at hand to Roux.
“We need to clean the grime off the molded plaster on the ceiling.” I pointed up.
Goodie, his glum expression said.
I jutted my jaw. Next time I asked Mina for help, I would be more specific. Couldn’t she have sent Bene instead?
Roux was a good worker but taciturn as hell, and he didn’t have an artistic bone in his body, let alone a funny bone.
I found myself overcompensating on his behalf, cracking jokes and singing along with whatever song came on the radio.
I picked a station that played upbeat music because it was hard to listen to mopey breakup songs around a guy like Roux.
He didn’t so much as hum a note of any song, though. Not even the Caribbean tune of Sting’s “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic,” for Pete’s sake!
On the plus side…those eyes were beautiful. Arresting, even. Every time I caught sight of them, it was hard to tear myself away.
“So glad to be putting my college education to work,” I joked at one point. “But I guess cleaning ceilings beats cleaning toilets.”
“Have you ever actually cleaned toilets?” Roux muttered.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s a figure of speech. Have you?”
He nodded. “Latrines.”
I snorted. “Let me guess. Your drill sergeant didn’t appreciate it when you caught him miscounting the number of sit-ups your unit was supposed to do.”
His mouth cracked open, proving my hunch correct.
I shook my head, chuckling. “Oh, Roux. Honesty isn’t always the best policy.”
“Honesty is the only policy,” he grunted, going back to cleaning. “And sticking to your principles.”