Luna waited for a short count of breaths. Then, with a little, “Oh!” she stormed past him, her shoulder brushing his, and flung open the shop door once more. She paced out into the sidewalk, turned first one way, then the other, before marching opposite the way she’d gone before. She took five paces, crouched. Her fingers shot out, reaching for another button, this one a little black boot button, completely innocuous, and deeply embedded in the bricks. Much to Nigel’s surprise, she ripped itright out—which was not something a mere tea witch should be able to do.
“Miss Talbot!” Nigel cried, leaping forward and grabbing her by the shoulder, propriety be damned. He pulled her to her feet. “People canseeyou! You’re putting yourself at risk!”
“No,” she snapped. “Youare putting me at risk, Mr. Grimm. Me and this shop and yourself and Garden and all of the flowers!” She shook the ensorcelled button at him, dispelling more motes of Dire Matter into the air. “Tell me what this is!”
He ground his teeth so hard, he feared they might crack. Then: “It’s a ward spell.”
“A what?”
“A ward spell.”
“As in . . .” She frowned. “As in Officer Ward?”
“No!” Nigel sucked a breath through his nostrils. “It’s to . . . ward off certain parties.”
“Which parties?”
“Well, in this specific instance . . .”
“Yes?”
“Wardsmen.”
“Wardsmen?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a ward spell to ward off wardsmen?”
“Yes.”
Luna narrowed her eyes. “The only wardsman to come around this shop is Officer Ward.”
“Yes.”
“So, it’s a ward spell to ward off Wardsman Ward?”
Nigel dampened his lips. “Yes.”
And Luna burst out laughing.
She laughed so hard, in fact, Nigel was obliged to grab her by the arm and drag her bodily back to the shop. There, he pushed her inside, stepped in swiftly after her, and shut the door fast,all while she, still laughing, wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. She did not resist when Nigel pried both buttons from her hands and tossed them into the stove behind the counter. They exploded in littlepoofsof anti-glitter.
“I don’t see that it’s worth losing your mind over,” he muttered as he faced her once more.
But she went on laughing. Not quite with amusement, he realized, as he offered her a handkerchief. There was a hint of hysteria in that sound and almost as much sorrow as mirth.
“Thank you, Mr. Grimm,” she sighed at last, followed by a little hiccup.
“Thank you?” he queried.
“It’s been such a delight working with you.” She pressed his handkerchief back into his hands. “I’ve enjoyed myself immensely and am most grateful for the opportunity.”
Nigel gaped at her. With an effort, he remembered how to blink. “Wait, what are you saying?”
She giggled again; this time, he distinctly heard regret in the sound. “I’m saying I can’t work here anymore. Not if you’re practicing sorcery. Between that blast of magic you used last night and now this? It’s simply too dangerous.”
“But . . . Miss Talbot . . .” Nigel shook his head and took a step toward her, not quite daring to grasp her hand. “You’re saferwithme. Please! With these wards, I can protect you—”
