I vaguely waved towards the Rue des Beaux Arts in the 6th arrondissement.
“So it’s nearby.” He frowned. “We could be followed.”
“It’s our job to make sure we aren’t. Hence why we’re not supposed to bring attention to ourselves.”
Cas snorted. “Better not scream in the street again then.”
I levelled him with a glare. Dick.
“Is that why you didn’t dye your hair?” he wondered.
I wrinkled my nose. “I forgot to pack dye.”
“Why do you use washable dye rather than something more permanent if you do it daily?”
“It is permanent dye,” I said with a sigh. “It fades in a day at most. Washable wouldn’t last an hour.”
My hair defied reason, just like the rest of me. I’d learned to stop questioning it over the years.
“I meant that you could change it magically rather than using human methods,” Cas said, making me feel a bit foolish.
I’d never tried. There were magical hairdressers in town, but they were expensive. Kleos had offered to pay for it, but I always said no, disliking the idea of being a charity case.
Another problem that could be solved by throwing money at it. “I didn’t know I had piles of gold until last weekend,” I reminded him. “I didn’t have the spare cash to do that sort of things.”
I expected Cas to fail to understand the concept of not having enough cash for a hairstyle, but he nodded and dropped it.
“Well, I’d better shower. Down to reception in fifteen?”
Cas, of course, was staying in L’Apartment, the most expensive room in the tiny boutique hotel. Given how gorgeous and unique my suite was, I was half tempted to ask him to see it, but I’d chickened out each time I tried. Maybe I’d find an excuse to snoop before we left tomorrow morning.
We made our way to the building opposite the location, and observed the comings and goings. The club was closed during the day, and we saw several deliveries being let in in the afternoon through a side entrance. Drinks, mostly. At seven, a group brought in what looked like musical instruments in boxes.
Cas tapped my shoulder, pointing to one of the boxes, too small to contain anything of note. The shape was wrong for mostinstruments I could think of. “Iron,” he pointed. “I can sense lead too, to dull the magical signature.”
I groaned, watching the group close the side door behind them. “If you’d spotted it earlier we could have just grabbed it.”
“At least we know what to look for.”
“And who brought it,” I added.
The club opened at nine, so we headed back to the hotel to get changed.
“Might as well have dinner,” I said. “No point arriving too early—no one goes dancing early in the evening, and stays until past midnight. Do you have—erm—date clothing?”
I should have bought him a shirt as well as a jacket.
The corner of his mouth curved up. “Date, huh?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “That’s what we’re pretending to do. Two idiots on a date, wanting to try exciting magical stuff.”
“How would you say I should dress for the privilege of a date with you, pretty doll?”
I wanted to kick his shin for mocking me, so I did.
But he genuinely didn’t seem to be certain, so I explained. “A fitted shirt—long sleeves in December. A good fabric, whatever color you want.”
I grabbed my phone, searching for examples. Spotting a nice one, I brought the screen up to his eye level. Cas nodded, staring down at the cotton T-shirt I got him. I watched the fabric stretch and switch to imitate the example.
