“Hilarious. Sometimes I forget how amusing you are, Raya. Until I’m stuck with you for more than five minutes.”
Raya hailed a taxi like she’d done it a million times, when in fact she’d only seen it done in movies. “They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, Phoenix. Why don’t you try it?”
“Or what? Are you going to banish me?”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
A taxi pulled up to the curb.
“That’s what your witch friends would do.”
Raya took the suitcase from him and handed it to the cabbie. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Good to know where I stand, then,” said Phoenix.
Raya slid into the backseat. “See you later, Phoenix. Try to stay out of trouble.”
“No promises.Au revoir!”
He slammed the taxi door shut before she could fire off a comeback.
2
From the back seat, Raya handed the taxi driver a slip of paper with the name and address of her hotel. “Hotel, please. You understand?”
The driver nodded and said something in French that sounded reassuring.
Raya hugged herself and bounced her knees up and down in excitement.
Paris! The dream of a lifetime finally coming true. She resisted the urge to blow kisses out the cab window to the people on the sidewalks. She settled for drinking in the sights as they sped past the Louvre and over the Seine into the 7tharrondissement, or district, of Paris.
What a view Phoenix would have from the air, thearrondissementslaid out like the chambers of a nautilus, spiraling out from the center of the city.
She almost envied him. In fact, she did envy him. Not that she’d trust him to fly her around, of course. He’d probably drop her just for fun.
The driver pulled the cab over and gestured toward a nearby building. “L’hôtel.”
“Merci.” Raya gathered her things and hopped onto the sidewalk. She looked up and down the street in the darkness, searching for an open restaurant.
Not that a restaurant was even an option while lugging her bags.
She threw open the hotel door with more force than necessary and approached the front desk. Raising her index finger in the universal sign for “wait,” she scribbled her name on a piece of paper and handed it to the clerk manning the desk.
Bemused, he took the paper and glanced from the writing to her face and back again. He smiled. “You are checking in?”
Raya beamed. “You speak English?”
“Of course. I speak English, French, and Arabic.” He handed the paper to Raya and tapped the keys of his keyboard. “How do you like Paris so far?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Much of it. And the night has its own charm, yes?”
Raya nodded, relieved beyond words to leave the phrasebook in her bag.
“Here we are.” He handed a key across the desk. “And if you need anything while you are here—I am Ahmed.”
“Thank you, Ahmed.” Raya shouldered her bag.
