“Besides, you need to come. The primary purpose of our trip is to locate our next magnet item, for when you try again, Cinn. If you’re there, you might be able to help decide which item will be best.”
Julien had already decided what item they would leave with, but there was no need for Cinn to know that.
“And where exactly will your father’s birthday take place?” asked Cinn, but the way he tensed expectantly told Julien he knew the answer.
“Paris,” Julien said, with a flourish of his hands. “The most beautiful city in the world. According to delusional tourists. Don’t say I never spoil you.”
ten
Julien
The discord sown by the Arcane Purifiers attack on the Institute didn’t last long.
Life swiftly settled back into its usual pattern, with the added feature of heightened security around the Institute. This included extra guards on patrol around the campus, as well as the requirement to ‘sign in’ with a team of clipboard-wielding officers once you’d parked or arrived by bus.
As November trudged along, Julien’s daylight hours shrank but his workload grew. His team at work had been assigned the task of designing and manufacturing a simple register device that would allow the user to press their palm onto a salt-rock disk as they passed through a checkpoint.
Eleanor sent Julien regular fire notes, thinly veiled reminders for him to keep tabs on Cinn—but this particular task required very little effort or hardship. Cinn drove to Auri with them every day, and more often than not spent time with them whenever someone was free to be with him. Noir had set him an extensive library list, so Darcy would often march them all there for a couple of hours—although Cinn tended to listen to music and doodle rather than actually read the books they’d located for him.
However, Julien’s favourite times were when the four of them would end up back at Darcy’s for dinner, where the conversation often turned to finalising their Paris plans.
“Why can’t we at leasttryto get access to the Displacement Baths? Then we wouldn’t have to travel at all,” Elliot whined one evening.
“A weekend break in Paris isn’t going to get us the documentation to access them,” retorted Darcy. “You know that. Also, we couldn’t take our stuff with us.”
“We could ship the stuff and it could meet us there.”
“Likethat’sa sensible and practical idea!”
Cinn tapped a foot against the floorboards. “Is this that… transdimensional travel thing? Because I’m not sure I trust the concept of that, anyway.”
“Julien, weren’t you flirting with one of the staff who manages the Baths the other day?” A scowl flashed across Elliot’s face. “Surely they’ll let us in.”
Julien winced. “I… I think I burned that bridge when I didn’t return their call.”
With that method of travel out of the question, they debated the merits of driving—which Julien was primarily in favour of, as he’d enjoy driving Maz all the way there, and then they’d have her with them in Paris.
“The journey took over twelve hours when we drove there last year. Remember that hold up at the border? And then that massive traffic jam?” Darcy said.
“Plus, we can just use one of your father’s gazillion fancy sports cars,” added Elliot.
“It’s literally ninety minutes to fly there.”
And so Julien agreed to fly to Paris, which resulted in Cinn declaring he wasn’t coming, as there wasn’t ‘a chance in hell’ he was flying again. Apparently, he hadn’t enjoyed his one experience of air travel, but then again he had just been kidnapped…
After Cinn refused all of her offers of various drugs to help with the flight, Darcy pointed out if he ever wanted to go home to England again,flying would be much cheaper than the numerous train tickets he’d need to buy, including the astronomically expensive Eurotunnel. It was at this point Cinn had stormed out of her living room to bang around in her kitchen.
After ten minutes, Darcy went to check on him, coming back to inform them that Cinn was stress-baking.
“You’re actually letting Cinn use your kitchen?” asked Julien. “I’m impressed.”
“He wants to make cookies. How could I say no? Don’t worry. He’ll come to Paris. He’d miss us too much not to.”
Although it was true that Cinn had spent a lot of time with them since his arrival, weeks ago now, Julien suspected he’d be perfectly fine alone for a weekend. He’d probably end up hanging out with Eric, who he’d met up with at least twice. Not that Julien was keeping track, or anything.
Cinn burst back into the living room fifteen minutes later, covered in flour. “I don’t have a passport,” he announced proudly, with a grin.
“Eleanor is already sorting that,” Julien said cheerfully, which sent Cinn storming back into the kitchen. “You’ll get it way before next Thursday evening!”
