Before she could protest further, he hurried her on at a quick clip, out from the fine neighborhood, down through the tangle of posh streets. They emerged at last onto King Kybald, and Nigel pointed out the little shelter of the trolley stop. They took seats, glad for a chance to catch their breath as they awaited the trolley’s arrival. The only other occupant was a little old lady at the end of the bench, firmly ensconced behind a copy of theBally Daily, who offered them not even a disinterested glance.
“Well, Mr. Grimm,” Luna said, stretching her legs out in front of her and rolling her ankles, “I must say, I never would have guessed working at a flower shop would prove so adventurous!”
“Indeed, Miss Talbot,” Nigel replied and, trying very hard not to look at Luna’s ankles or think about how her feet had felt in his hands when he boosted her up the wall, pulled at his tie. He’d removed his torn jacket already, as it wasn’t doing much good flapping open behind him, and only made him look like a lunatic. It draped in sad folds over his elbow.
Suddenly, Luna turned to him. He felt the intensity of her stare on the side of his face, but couldn’t quite bring himself to meet her gaze. He cast her a hasty sidelong glance instead. “Mr. Grimm,” she said, dropping her voice so that little old ladies, who might be listening from behind newspapers, couldn’t hear, “I have to ask you something.”
Nigel tried to ignore the way his pulse jumped. “Yes, Miss Talbot?”
“That . . . blast you used to open the gate. Was that sorcery?”
He swallowed and pulled at his tie again. Then offered a short nod.
“Wow.” Luna leaned back on the bench, blowing out a huff of air through her lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seenpropersorcery before. Sorcerer Biddercombe back home, he could sometimes, when conditions were right, and the fee paid upfront, summon rain from a sunny sky. Auntie Aurora didn’t approve, but hewas quite a favorite with Auntie Apolonia. For the garden, you understand. He sold her a lot of sudden showers during the dry season. And there were rumors that he turned himself into a black cat on occasion, and prowled the streets of Greater Snoring, though I never much believed it. Still, he seemed to fancy himself something of a Master of Darkness, back before . . . before . . .” Her right hand unconsciously moved to tug her left cuff more firmly into place. “He couldn’t do anything likethat, however,” she finished.
Was that a trace of awe in her voice? Warmth stole up Nigel’s neck. He wished he could tell her that, compared to the wonders he once wrought, a simple blasting spell like that was a mere trifle. But he didn’t want to brag. Besides, truth be told, he’d only intended a littlebumpto nudge the gate open,not such an expulsion of power. He’d drawn more energy from the tree than he meant to and was unprepared for the force of the transfer. It had been a few years, after all. He was a bit rusty.
He was still trying to settle on an appropriate response, when Luna turned to him again. “We faced our first true crisis, though, didn’t we, Mr. Grimm? And we pulled together in the end.”
“We make a good team, Miss Talbot.”
“I think we do!” Her face lit up with a smile, bright in the light from the trolley stop lantern. Nigel spared half-a-thought wondering if she smiled like that for Officer Ward, before sternly reminding himself that it didn’t matter.Thissmile was for him.
Luna’s gaze flicked suddenly to fix on something beyond Nigel’s shoulder, past the trolley stop. Her face paled; her smile melted away. She reached out and, much to Nigel’s surprise, gripped his hand tightly. She looked as though she’d seen a ghost.
“What is it?” Nigel asked, turning to look over his shoulder. He couldn’t see anything—his awareness was far too taken up with the sensation of her fingers clutching his. He gave his heada quick shake and tried to focus. There was nothing much to see: just regular folk on their way home after busy days, going about their business. He saw a tomcat slip down an alley, and a discarded newspaper tumble into the street to be crushed under the wheels of an automagic mobile. Nothing to inspire such a look of dread.
“Oh,” Luna said, sitting back against the bench and staring down at the lily in her lap. “Oh, it’s nothing. Nothing at all, I just . . . I thought I saw . . .” She swallowed then, seeming to realize that she was clutching Nigel’s hand. Hastily releasing her hold, she began to stroke the lily once more. Nigel flexed his fingers, warm from her grip. She was still distressed. Might he reach out and take her hand again? Just to offer a little comfort or . . . something?
Before he could decide, a great rattle and clatter sounded at the top of the street, and the trolley appeared. It rolled down the line and came to a clanking stop in front of the shelter. The old woman popped to her feet immediately, folded her newspaper, and flashed a pass to the conductor as she climbed the little stair, nimble for her age.
The trolley conductor turned an eye on Nigel and Luna. “Got a pass?”
“No, I’d like to purchase . . .” Nigel hesitated, searching in his tattered coat pocket for coin. His fingers found one, but it turned out to be no more than half-a-crown. “One fare, please.” He held out the coin to the conductor, who slipped it into his little box.
Luna turned to him with surprise. “Aren’t you coming too?”
“I prefer to walk,” Nigel lied. “It’s a lovely evening.”
As though to emphasize the falsity of his words, a chill wind blew down from the top of King Kybald, carrying the first sharpness of autumn with it. He grimaced, but made a valiant effort to turn it into a smile. Luna peered up at him, brow puckering, teeth gently worrying her lower lip.
“On or off, miss?” the conductor growled.
Dropping her gaze, she took a swift step forward and pressed the tiger lily into Nigel’s hands. For a moment, her fingers brushed his. He felt again that warmth he’d experienced when she took his hand so tightly, and . . . oh gods! Why did each little touch have to affect him so violently? What happened to the cool master of his fate he once fancied himself to be?
“Thank you, Mr. Grimm,” Luna said softly. “Um . . . enjoy your walk.”
With that, she hastened up the trolley steps. Nigel backed away, watching through the windows as she found her seat. She chose a spot on this side and waved to him, though her brow was still wrinkled slightly.
Then, with a series of clanks and rattling gears, the trolley trundled on down its thaumatically-charged line, leaving Nigel behind. He breathed out a heavy sigh. The tiger lily echoed the sound. He looked down at the sorry little blossom with its singular petal. “I hope it was worth it, you blighter,” he said, before adding, “and I hope you took a good bite out of that man’s offensive backside.”
The lily managed to flutter its remaining petal and purr.
“Good.”
Nigel strode back down through the evening streets of Ballycastle, denuded perennial in his hand, sore heart in his breast. He had plenty of time to consider every aspect of the evening’s events in torturous detail. But while there were embarrassments aplenty on which he might dwell, his mind insisted on revisiting that moment when Luna’s shapely leg slid over his shoulder, and . . . He could have died right then, a happy man.
Perhaps he should have. Then he wouldn’t have had to see the way she keptlookingat Officer Ward.
