Maison Plaisir (Spirit World 1)

“But love, we’re already here.”

What lay beyond made her jaw drop. Belle wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Usually, when she went down to her office building’s lobby, the sight of a surly old guard scrutinising everyone coming and going would be the first thing that greeted her. Instead, the elevator door opened to a busy old cobblestone street. Tall, majestic, gothic-looking buildings stretched as far as her eyes could see. Pedestrians in period costumes bustled among the street hawkers and horse-drawn carriages that parked under the city lamp posts. The air smelt of horse manure, sea air and, strangely, pine trees. Belle widened her eyes when a throng of chattering young girls swathed in lacy white outfits glided before her.

Glided!

Belle craned her neck, doing a double take. The girls’ legs and feet weren’t visible. They were a trailing white mist.

Good Lord.

Belle looked over her shoulder. The interior of the elevator had morphed into a dark storefront of an apothecary called ‘Bowerman and Schiff Co, importer of fine herbs since 227’. She blinked, and then rubbed her eyes. It felt surreal. The elevator had completely gone—the remaining link to the world she knew.

She caught Hervé’s eyes. “Is this Seventh Realm?”

“Yes.”

“How did you do that? We were just in my office building.”

“Simple magic. I actually could take you here while you were still at your office. But your friends would be frightened if you disappeared all of a sudden.”

“No kidding.”

“Shall we go? We’re blocking the door.”

Belle jumped when someone cleared his throat behind her. She quickly stepped into the street. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s quite all right, Miss,” the man replied in a thick British accent.

Her eyes widened again when she had a good look at the man. She knew staring was rude, but she just couldn’t help it. The person wasn’t exactly a man. He resembled an overgrown bird dressed in a conservative three-piece suit. His head was big, round, and covered with snowy white feathers. He had a sharp beak and two soulful eyes. A monocle was perched on the left side of his cheek. It was connected to a fine silver chain in his jacket pocket.

The birdman threw her an annoyed look from being blatantly stared at. He cocked his head upwards and called, “Good day to you too.” He then strolled into the street with a haughty gait. He had a cane in one hand and a small parcel in the other.

Belle was totally bewildered. “Who…what was that?”

“An owl spirit,” Hervé answered. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her in the opposite direction to where the birdman was going.

“Spirit?” Belle echoed. “I thought you were all fae.”

“Not all Seventh Realm citizens are fae. We have spirits, shifters, unseelies, dragons—”

“Dragons? Do they eat people?”

“Only when they’re hungry.”

Belle stopped dead in her tracks.

“Just kidding.”

“Are vamps and werewolves real too?”

Hervé laughed. “Curious, aren’t you? Want to meet some?”

All of a sudden, her neck pricked with cold shivers. “No, thank you.” Belle clutched on Hervé’s arm as they walked down the street. A surge of cold air breezed through them, making her chilled. Her thin blouse wasn’t adequate enough to shield her from the growing colder temperature.

Hervé noticed her shivering. He stopped and shrugged off his denim jacket. He helped her don it.

“Thank you.”

He kissed the top of her head and placed his hand on the small of her back, leading her to their destination. Belle looked around like a kid in an amusement park. A soft jacinth glow blanketed the horizon, painting the tips of century-old rooftops red. The day turned dark. She checked her watch. It was dead. The tiny arms were stuck at four-thirty, the time she left the office. Weird. She bet her cell phone wouldn’t work here either. Seventh Realm was so out of her calling plan.