Free Blue Moon Rising (The Patroness) by Natalie Herzer Page A

Paris and Paris is like you.”
    “Noisy?”
    “A mystery.” He looked at me with dark eyes, and his lips curved. “Speechless? That’s a first from you, at least since we’ve met. Maybe I should compliment you more often.”
    I just rolled my eyes, which made him laugh even more.
    We reached Pigalle at the foot of Montmartre. We stood at a traffic circle and not far away you could already see the bright neon signs and hear the hard beat of music announcing bars, sex shops and restaurants. This quarter drew the tourists like moths to the flame. But it was still too early to check out the club. Then I saw the little white tourist train and had an idea, so I grabbed Kylian’s hand spontaneously to drag him along. “Come on.”
    “”What are we doing?
    “A little sightseeing. The club’s still closed anyway.”
    As the sun was beginning to set , the Petit Train chug along, passed the famous red-winged Moulin Rouge, and up to the highest point of the city on the only road leading directl y to the top. Closer and closer to finally reveal the all white Sacré Cœur Basilica.
    We got out of the train and I led Kylian to the grand sta ircase in front of the basilica that offered a breathtaking view over Paris. As always the place was cramped with tourists, from all kinds of places, speaking all kinds of languages.
    We sat down on the stone steps, enjoying silently this magic moment as the sun set in the west, bathing the city in her tangerine glow. It was beautiful. As dusk was falling the lights in the street went on, spreading a warm blanket over Paris, the City of Light. As if the sun had left a part of her. Beneath my feet lay what I was fighting for, day after day. Sure if you lived here long enough this city was mostly noise and fumes, but also, if you looked, simply beautiful. Sometimes I wondered whether it was still worth it, and then there were moments like this, the city softly framed by sunlight, couples kissing, children laughing or even bickering. I’d see life and I’d know the answer: yes.
    After a while Kylian got up and offered me his hand to pull me on my feet. We stood face to face, close but not touching except for where he held my hand in his.
    “Thank you for this moment.” Neither of us moved. His gaze dropped to my mouth.
    Suddenly a drunken guy rammed into me, breaking the spell. I took my hand back, cleared my throat. “We’d better go.” And headed for the train without looking back.
    What had gotten into me to show him the hill? I had a problem to take care of and no time for either sightseeing, melodrama or slobbering all over this guy, no matter how fascinating he was. I had to get a grip.
    As soon as we were back at Pigalle I hopped out of the train. Note to self, avoid small confines, especially in combination with Kylian. I took a deep breath to get his scent out of my system and to calm down. This whole emotional yoyo thing just wasn’t me.
    It was dark now, so we went to the club. From the outside it looked like all the others along the street, promising not only music for the ears but something special for the eyes too, if not more. Most humans walking by wouldn’t even notice that something was off, but somehow, instinctively, they would avoid going there. The bouncer looked different, though. He was six-three and looked a lot like Vin Diesel, on steroids, with his shaved head. As Vin took a look at me he raised his hands, toilet lid sized, and shook his head. He had sniffed me out.
    “She’s with me,” Kylian said and after Vin took a look at him, we were in. Hmm, maybe having Kylian around wasn’t so bad after all.
    It was my first time in one of the famous shapeshifter hangouts. Even as the Patroness, or maybe because of it, I’ve never been allowed into one. Once inside we were greeted by dim light and slow rhythmic music promising sensual delights. Right what I needed. Not.
    The left wall was covered with shelves full of all sorts of alcoh ol and completed by an