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Zoé was beginning to run out of cheap magical knickknacks to purchase from her crush’s workplace. The man behind the counter today, a tall, plump gentleman in a white apron, raised his eyebrows at her as she presented him with her latest find.
“I had no idea we still stocked these,” he admitted, looking at her through the hole in the polished stone. “Do you expect to run into many faerie glamours in the heart of Paris, young lady?”
Zoé knew she was blushing. “You—you never know!” she said bravely. “It’s nice to be prepared.” Great. That made her sound like a doomsday prepper.
The man shrugged. “I suppose it is. Now, will that be cash, credit, or memories?”
“Credit,” said Zoé, handing over her card.
She knew magical law required this shop to accept memories as a valid form of payment, but it didn’t stop the nasty little shiver from creeping up her spine every time she made a purchase there. What would it be like to sell a memory? When it was over, would you remember the feeling of part of your past draining away?
The man coughed, and Zoé realized he had been holding out her receipt for quite some time. “You have a fascinating energy signature,” he said in a tone that suggested that he thought this was a perfectly normal thing to say. “Have you bonded with a familiar?”
“Yes,” Zoé said, raising her chin. “He’s a canary.” Valentine was the only piece of New York she had brought to Paris with her. His perch in her bedroom was gilded and ornamented with tiny metal roses, but Zoé knew he felt just as out-of-place in the hotel as she did.
She waited for the usual chuckle—the Bourgeois family did not tend to go for cute and fluffy familiars—but it never came. The man behind the counter studied her face with deep seriousness. “May I scoop ice cream for you?” he asked at last. “On the house, naturally.” Something in his tone told Zoé that this was not a request he made very often.
“Okay,” she said, swallowing her nervousness. Ice cream would give her an excuse to linger in the shop for just a while longer. Not that Zoé wanted to linger. She was just… interested. Magic ice cream was interesting. “What does it do?”
The man winked. “It allows me to read your heart,” he said, flourishing an ice cream scoop with great ceremony.
Zoé felt the telltale shimmer of magic in the air as whatever charm the man’s ice cream scoop held activated. She shivered. Nothing about this felt malevolent, but unfamiliar magic was always slightly unnerving. It didn’t help that she had a powerful mother who was in the habit of using glamour spells to alter her childrens’ clothing at mealtimes if it didn’t pass muster. Sometimes it took hours to wash the reek of nonconsensual magic out of her hair.
As if sensing her discomfort, the man stopped short, turning to look at Zoé. “Are you all right?”
“Of course,” said Zoé quickly, wanting to be polite. She bit her tongue. When had she gotten into the habit of lying to make others comfortable? “No, actually. Can you stop, please?”
The man set down the ice cream scoop at once. “Certainly,” he said, smiling as if Zoé hadn’t committed a horrifying faux pas by refusing his gesture. He gave Zoé a knowing look. “Hmm. It is nearly time for the night shift, and I could use an extra set of hands in the back. Would you mind moving a few boxes, young lady?”
“Sure,” said Zoé gratefully. Physical labor was exactly what she needed to ground herself. As she followed the man into the back room, she found the courage to ask, “Is Marinette working this evening?”
“Indeed,” said the man, holding open the door for Zoé.
Coldstone Charmery’s back room was half again as big as the shop itself. Zoé was interested to see a small cot tucked away in one corner, surrounded by a few personal items. Who slept here?
“These belong on shelf G, on the left-hand side,” said the man, indicating a stack of rectangular boxes. Each one was stamped with the words postcard album, twenty count in large block letters.
The boxes were just heavy enough to be distracting. Zoé waited until her third trip to ask, “Why do you sell these? Are they magical?”
The man propped open the back door before answering. “Oh, yes. They’re imbued with low-grade teleportation charms. Very useful for brief vacations. My partner and I have limited time together, so we always keep plenty in stock for the occasional outing.”
Zoé absorbed this information. Her heart rate had returned to normal, and she could breathe again. “I’m sorry I panicked about the ice cream.”
The man waved this off. “You have every right to choose whether others use magic on your person. Mine is a simple divination spell, but that does not negate your discomfort.”
Zoé took a deep breath. “No,” she said softly. “It doesn’t.”
“My name is André Glacier,” said the man as Zoé set the last box of postcard albums on the shelf.
“Zoé Lee,” she told him.
“Zoé Lee,” André repeated. “I take it that you are not a doomsday prepper. Why have you taken such pains to outfit yourself with magical equipment recently?” His expression told Zoé that he already had a theory.
Zoé blushed. “Well—” She shrieked as a pigeon hurtled through the open door, landing clumsily on the ground.
“This is a friend,” said André quickly. He closed the back door and herded Zoé out into the shop. “Marinette will be here soon. I’ll see to this weary old bird.” With that, he closed the door.
Alone in the shop, Zoé studied a tank of leeches for several minutes until the bell over the front door rang.
“Sorry I’m late, Xavier,” called a familiar voice. “The doctor dilated my pupils. It made it hard to read the bus schedule.”
Zoé straightened up as Marinette hurtled into the shop, trying not to look suspicious or odd.
At the sight of her, Marinette broke into a smile so beautiful and pure that it swept all of Zoé’s insecurities away. “Zoé! It’s always good to see my favorite customer. How have you been?”
“Good,” said Zoé. “I’ve been good.” Only then did she register what was different about Marinette. “Bwuh. Um, I like your new glasses.”
Marinette beamed. Her pink-framed glasses made her eyes seem enormous. Zoé wanted them to swallow her. “It’s kind of embarrassing. Until I tried these on, I had no idea my vision was as bad as it is!” She laughed. “The doctor didn’t understand why I’d never had an eye exam before. It’s hard to explain that I don’t remember anything before about two months ago.”
“I bet.” Zoé shuffled her feet. This was probably a bad time, but maybe there would never be a right time. Besides, André had all but instructed her to ask Marinette on a date. “Hey, I know you usually work nights, but would you like to go out for breakfast with me sometime? I’d really like to get to know you better.”
In that moment, Marinette’s face could easily have launched a thousand ships. “I’d love to.”