“Yeah, I discovered it when I met your kindred at La Maison. I practically electrocuted them all the first time we gave each other the bises. Bran told me that when he met Jean-Baptiste, the contact knocked him out. That’s actually how he became the Victor Seer: the Flame-finger connection with the head of France’s revenants awoke it in him.”

“Do you not feel it?” I ask.

He gives me a curious look. “Not usually.” But before I can figure out whatever the hell that means, he turns to walk toward the Vespa.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps it. “Oui, allô? Sure—I can drop by. Perfect timing, in fact. See you in a minute.”

He straddles the scooter and flips up the kickstand. “That’s Liv—the one helping me with the Flame-finger database. She wants me to stop by.”

My heart drops, and I realize how much I was looking forward to the Vespa ride. “That’s okay,” I say. “I can take the Métro.”

“No, come with me,” he says. “I mean, if you want to. You guys can speak Klingon together, or whatever techies speak.”

I open my eyes wide, fake-offended. “Hey, I’m slightly techie, but not a fully-qualified geek.”

His lips quirk up on one side. “Then answer me this...Star Trek or Star Wars?”

“Star Wars IV, V and VI,” I say, without missing a beat. “Forget about I, II and III. And everything that came after is just a nostalgia-bait money grab.”

He pats the seat behind him. “You’re cool,” he concedes. “You can ride.”

I climb on and, feeling too awkward to put my hands around his waist, grab on to the seat behind me. Even so, when my knees press his thighs, I’m electrocuted again, but this time I’m expecting it.

“Ready?” he yells through his visor.

“Let’s go!” I yell back.

We shoot off down the maze of tiny one-way streets, the motor whining like a mosquito on steroids. My chest is so full of joy that I feel like whooping. I close my eyes and feel the excitement buzz around inside me.

I was thirteen when I left Paris. I always took the city for granted. It was where I was born and raised. Until this moment, I never understood what people meant when they called it magical. But now, speeding through the streets on a sun-soaked May afternoon, I feel like we’ve broken through a barrier into an alternate universe. The air seems to pop and spark with sorcery.