“Oh?”I gaze at the Eiffel Tower behind him in the distance.“It’s the city of love, you know.All this romance…”
It’s unclear, but his subsequent smile seems half-uncomfortable and half-flattered.
“You, uh…never struck me as the romantic type.”
“There’s a lot you may not have known about me.”I shrug, and the gravity between us grows stronger.“I have a couple of campy romance novels in my shop, so I’ve read my share of the genre.”
“Really?That’s right, I heard you own a bookshop.”
“Yup.It’s where I sell my hex-breaking guides.”
He scratches his neck.“Well, I’m glad you’re here.To uh, break any hexes that might…occur.”
The man is rattled, so I decide to push it further.“Is that the only reason you’re glad I’m here.With you.In the city of looove?”I say, teasingly extending that last syllable.
He opens his mouth, but before he can say more, a bicyclist zooms by, ringing their bell.I hold Luther to stop him from crossing into traffic, then we both smile when we notice my hand is on his muscly chest.With a chuckle, I smooth out his shirt, letting go all too soon.
“This way,” he says, pointing to the intersecting street, and the moment is lost.
After another minute of walking, I announce, “Wait a sec.”He stops at my words, and I turn to watch the sun setting over Paris.“It’s a gorgeous view.Not too close to the tower, with all the tourists, but the streets are aligning just right.”
I point out how the tower fits perfectly in our vantage point.It’s corny, but I feel the romance of the touristy city, especially with the guy I’ve been catching feelings for.I quickly snap a pic with my phone and notice him get closer.
Without overthinking or losing my nerve, I ask Luther, “How about a selfie of the two of us?”
He rolls his eyes.“You’re ridiculous, Devries,” he says with a playful half-smile.Most noticeable, however, is that he moves closer to me.Luther’s down to share a picture with me, a moment I refuse to squander.He smells so good right now with his shoulder touching mine, and I resist the urge to crane my neck and kiss him.After taking a few snapshots, I put away my phone, and we continue our journey.Our sunset in Paris moment is over, but I’ll cherish these photos for years to come.
It’s almost dark by the time we make it to the address.The store is on an unassuming street sprinkled with cafes and a small hotel.Hardly anyone is around, but the store appears not to be closed if the open door is any indication.The sign above it isn’t in French, though; it’s in Chinese symbols.The only English reads, “Antiques.”
Luther nods at me, and we walk into the dimly lit store.My nose wrinkles at being assaulted by the smell of tobacco, but in moments, I get used to it.The store is bloody cluttered, with barely any space in the one corridor that leads to what must be the front desk.The cramped space makes sense since rent is never cheap, but I assumed it would be more organized.Instead, wares, shelves, and random objects litter our left and right.
When I focus on the far wall in front of us, a tiny glimmer of gold catches my eyes.“Westbrook,” I whisper.After tapping his shoulder, I point forward, and he looks to the far wall.
Above the desk hangs a piece of a silvery gauntlet.While the debrief images were hardly photos, all of my instincts tell me this is le gantelet des ténèbres.Luther waves his hand, and we both witness the faint pulsation of his magic bouncing right off it.
We nod at each other, wordlessly satisfied at a job well done, but fearful at how dangerous this relic is.Before we can formulate a game plan, the curtain behind the desk opens up.
An older Chinese woman with silver hair strides up to the desk while smoking a pipe.“Gentlemen,” she says in a British accent.“Good evening.”Her confidence is unnerving, but I’m glad I don’t have to bumble through my mediocre French.
“Hello, we’re uh…” Luther glances at me.
“Tourists!And we’d like to buy something special.”I point up at the hanging piece of gauntlet.
“Interesting.”She looks between us and takes two drags from her pipe.“You seem to really know what you want.”
I exchange a nervous look with Luther, and he says, “We…do.”
“Knowing what you want is important.”She studies us as if to observe something invisible between us.“Saying what you desire is equal parts thrilling and…dangerous.”
Her confidence and cryptic words lead me to believe she has more power than she lets on.Before I can try to subtly do magical detection on her, she swiftly moves around the desk.
“We’re closed,” she says decisively.
“What?”Luther asks as the pipe-smoking woman all but pushes us out of her shop.She’s not literally shoving us, but when someone confidently shoos you away, you move.
In moments, despite our protests, we’re outside her shop.“But we need?”
“I know what you need,” she says, interrupting Luther.“Come back in the morning, and I’ll sell it to you.”
