It was a beautiful day for jet lag. Not.

The plane landed without much ado (by that, I meant no magical flaming creatures chasing me around the city) and I wheeled out of Charles de Gaulle Airport with my brand new suitcase courtesy of Jacqueline. I caught a cab with the little bit of French I searched through Google translate. Through a hazy Google Maps search, I chose the first road from de Gaulle I noticed and told the driver to get me there.

That's how I ended up in a fancy bed space in Rue François Ory in Montrogue, a few kilometers from the Eiffel Tower. Now, as I sipped macchiato in a nearby cafe, my barely-out-of-the-box laptop sat on the table, ignored. The word processor's cursor blinked at me almost like a ticking clock.

A groan rumbled in my throat. I didn't want to work on this current journal. My head pounded; my focus was out of the window running marathons with crocodiles or something. I tried searching for the cause but all my phone showed me were websites written in French. I shut it off and let the phone clatter against the table.

I sipped my coffee, the flavor blending with the spoiled saliva in my mouth. A pang of nausea slammed through my temples. I gripped the edge of the table and blinked repeatedly, waiting for the spell to pass.

"Do you know anyone called Jacqueline Shaw?" a voice asked.

I whirled to find a boy not older than fourteen standing next to me. It's like he just popped up like an errant fungus. I blinked at the freckles splashed across his nose and at the reddish hair sitting in a tangled mop on this head. Why and how did he know about a person I met twenty hours ago?

"You're doing it again," the boy said in an accent that sounded Irish. I blinked again. Okay, I wasn't hallucinating. "You're thinking of her."

I set down my cup and dragged my eyes towards the boy's uniform that reminded me of those fancy British prep students I only see in Western movies. "Kid, don't make it sound so romantic," I said. My voice slurred for some reason. I wasn't not drunk. I swear. "I don't do that kind of thing," I waved my hand with a frown.

"Kevan, did you find something?" an older boy, probably around seventeen, stepped between me and the Irish boy. He looked like he was the oldest one in the bunch. He crossed his arms and trained his dark eyes on me. A frown etched across his lips like I wasn't what he wanted but he was willing to deal with me just to get it done.

Hmm. Maybe I should have combed my hair a bit. I shrugged. Eh.

"Markel, what are you doing?" a girl probably the same age as the older boy sauntered into the cafe, followed by another boy with earphones stuck in his ear and another girl with wild black hair.

The older boy, Markel, frowned as he turned to the girl with light brown hair coming towards us. "Jocasta, I told you to wait outside with Ji-yeon and Alon."

Earphone boy looked up at the mention of his name. The girl swore in Korean as she raked at her long strands with pale, bony fingers. Jocasta arrived at my table and narrowed her eyes at Markel. She looked like she was the same age as him, anyway. "We should stick together. We don't know what that monster has planned for us. It's too risky to split up."

My nerves perked up at the mention of the word "monster". Did these kids possess magical journals, too? I sighed. Let's hope that it was a different kind of monster than what I had in mind. I barely made it to Paris! I cleared my throat and raised my eyes to Markel who still glared at me like I stole his candy. "Do you need something?" I turned my cup against its saucer and took another sip. "This banter is kind of hurting my head."

"You're jet-lagged," Jocasta shook her head. A faint British accent crept into her tone. I raised an eyebrow. Fancy, if I should say so. "You shouldn't be drinking coffee."

"Oh, this?" I held up the cup before taking another sip. My forehead pulsed. "This is une noisette. Hardly coffee. If you want real coffee, kape barako should do," I smacked my lips and jerked my head towards my cup. "This thing is too creamy."

Earphones boy tugged his device off his ear. "You're from there?"

"Born and raised in Manila," I smiled when the boy gasped.

Markel slammed his hand on my table. I flinched. The barista from behind the cashier stopped polishing the counter to cast a glance at us. Well, if I would be honest, this felt like an interrogation that I didn't want to be part of. "Where's Jacqueline Shaw?" Markel's tone was deep. Scratchy. Desperate.

I swallowed. Again, the mention of the person I met twenty hours ago sent shivers in my spine. Who were these people and why were they looking for Denny's girlfriend? Was she a renegade?

"She's Denny's girlfriend," the Irish boy, Kevan, had his fingers pressed to his temples and his eyes closed in concentration. He opened his eyes just to turn to and blink at me. "Who's Denny?"

Ji-yeon, the Korean girl with the wild hair, slapped Kevan's hands off his face. "Oppa warned us not to use our powers on normals. Unnie will have your head later. "

My eyes widened. Whoa, whoa. Back-up. "Powers? Innocents? What are you, people?" I drummed my fingers on the white surface of the table. My laptop had long switched to that tacky screensaver slideshow.

The kids stared at each other like they were conferring. Jocasta mouthed something to Markel. The oldest boy scratched his head. Alon, the Filipino boy, simply put his earphones back on. Mm. I liked that guy. Chill. Cool. Unlike these tense people.

Finally, Markel turned back to me and pulled a chair from the nearby table. The others snapped into action and each took their seats around me. "We're...complicated. All I can say is that Jacqueline Shaw can probably save our lives," his face darkened as he leaned back against his chair. "Or what's left of it."

I took a sip. The coffee was cold and halfway to oblivion now. I raked my eyes at the kids haggling me for information apparently only I can provide. I was no stranger to these people, though. Ever since I took the job of au pairing a bunch of journals, I know how important it was to keep your story short and concise to avoid suspicion and to get what you want without too many questions. And I know not all people wouldn't understand everything I know.

These kids...I'm sure they have some wild story behind them—one that I didn't intend to know. I was hiding things from them just as they're hiding from me. It should stay that way. Avoid asking questions that you would soon regret knowing the answers to.

"Why do you think she could save you?" I shut my laptop with a resounding click. After this, I probably wouldn't be able to work for a few hours. I was sleepy. "All she could do was wave her Givenchy Antigona around and give you tickets to France."

Alon knitted his eyebrows and shook his head. "Given-what?"

Markel hissed to shut the boy up. "She's the only link that would get us to stop what happened to us from happening to other children."

"Which is?" I licked my lips, tasting the coffee in the dried chaps of skin.

"Human experimentation," Jocasta sighed and drove back her gorgeous wavy hair off her forehead. Man, she sure was pretty. "She's the only lead we have since we escaped her father's lab."

Remember what I said about asking too much? There, my world just got a whole lot more complicated. I shook my head as my brain lurched to process what Jocasta said. "Are you planning to hurt her? How would she fit into your scheme?" I folded my hands on the table—a sign of non-aggression. "I have to make sure I'm not putting her in any danger."

"We just wanted her to tell us what she knew about her father's empire," Ji-yeon tapped her finger on the table to some rhythm. I knitted my eyebrows. Empire? Was Jacqueline a renegade princess? Was that why she's so rich? A royal? I shook my head. Nope. Don't go there.

"As for the danger," Jocasta crossed her arms with a frown on her face. She met my eyes, though. "We can't promise you anything. But we'll do our best to keep her alive."

I ran a hand over my face. "I don't know, guys," I sighed. "She kinda has her own life there. I don't want to intrude on that."

"We have no choice," Markel shoved his fingers into his hair and tousled it. "Her father's obviously planning way more than we know."

I closed my eyes and massaged the bridge of my nose. This was their fight. I have my own. I shouldn't meddle too much. "She's in New York."

They looked at each other once again. My fingers ran circles on my temples. Yes, go ahead. Leave me alone. Chairs scratched against the tiles as they all stood up...like a well-oiled machine or as if they were part of an army. I wouldn't know. I shouldn't strive to know. Alon stepped around the table and threw his arms around my neck. "Thank you, ate," he said almost like how my friends back home would. "You're a big help."

I smiled through my twinging heart and turning stomach. "Any time, iho."

The cafe's door slammed shut in a few seconds as they piled out in a single file. Through the cafe's glass windows, I watched them tackle the street and disappear into a corner to who knew where.

I rubbed my face yet again. My hair came out of a hasty bun before tumbling in a webbed mess to my waist. The barista cast a curious glance at me and I drove her away with a grim grin. She went back to wiping the countertop that she had been attending to for a whole while. How long do baristas even wipe counters?

A heavy sigh heaved off my chest. I grabbed my laptop and the Jacqueline-given purse and made my way out of the cafe. I should get back to my temporary room. I stared at the direction which the kids disappeared in and shook my head as I went the opposite way, back to where I stashed my luggage. When would my life start making sense?