Cracking her eyes open, she stared up at the peeling plaster once more. “He promised he’d take down the wards,” she whispered. “Surely that’s enough.”
No answer came, save for a muffled snore from the next bed over. With a groan of mattress springs, Bryony, her roommate, rolled over. Exhausted from a long night of dancing at the Rowdy House, no doubt. There was nothing to be seen of her but a tangle of red curls and one hand, the painted fingernails vibrant against white sheets.
Luna chewed the inside of her cheek. Her gaze flicked to the little thaumatic kettle, which she and Bryony shared, sitting on its stand near the frosty window. Slipping out of bed, she shivered over to check her last box of tea. Not much in there. Not enough to brew up a quick cup and check the leaves for an answer. No. If she wanted tea this morning, she was going to have to get it at The Arcane Bouquet.
She sighed. Well, perhaps her decision was made then. Despite every itching instinct of self-preservation, she must return to the shop.
Besides,she told herself, as she pulled bobby pins from her hair and brushed out her curls in front of the little oval mirror on the wall,it’s not as though Mr. Grimm is an evil sort of sorcerer. Right?And he doesn’t seem to have any sorcerous associates. That has to count for something. So what if he was a little overly enthusiastic with those ward spells yesterday? He did promise to pull them all up.
It should be fine. Itwouldbe fine.
At least . . . for a little longer . . .
Luna stuffed sheets of cardboard into the soles of her shoes and tied the laces tight. A glance out the window revealed an overcast morning, so she grabbed her rain hat and coat on theway out the door. Descending swiftly down the back stairs—and narrowly managing to avoid Mrs. Boggs in the third story passage—she slipped out into the street, greeted by a mist of rain. She tugged her hat down a little tighter and set off at a quick trot through the streets of Lower Eastside.
As she made the turn from Nettleton onto Addle Street, however, her footsteps slowed. Something felt off somehow. But what? Eyes narrowed, she cast her gaze up the street to The Arcane Bouquet. She didn’t sense any sorcery, but that didn’t mean much. She hadn’t sensed those wards either; Mr. Grimm had been clever about those, and she would have missed them entirely were it not for the houndsnose. Still, she didn’t think this feeling had anything to do with sorcery.
It felt like Green Magic. Unsettled Green Magic.
Luna hesitated, chewing on her lower lip. Then, with a firm straightening of her shoulders, she hastened across the road and darted under the awning, just in time. The rain, which had merely spattered up until now, descended in a sudden torrent, which reminded her rather vividly of the first time she’d blown up onto this very doorstep last week.
The inside looked unexpectedly gloomy. Mr. Grimm had not yet turned on the lights. Odd. On a day like this, the shop would be dark as a tomb inside. How could he even care for the flowers? Perhaps he was running behind.
She fished out her key, jangled it in the lock, and pushed the door open. Her voice called out in time with the bells, “I’m here, Mr. Grimm!”
No answer.
All was very still. Hushed. No croak from Debbie. No mad rush for freedom from the tiger lilies. No answering greeting from her boss.
Luna slipped inside, drew the door shut, and locked it behind her, checking to be certain the sign was still turned to CLOSED.Her fingers found the nearest light switch and flipped it on. Thaumatic glow illuminated the front-half of the shop, but the back half remained shadowed. “Mr. Grimm?” she called again, tentatively.
Still no answer. Even the flowers looked subdued. The snapdragons issued little puffs of smoke, the violets hid behind their leaves. She didn’t see the double-delight rose anywhere.
Something was wrong. But she couldn’t put her finger on it.
Luna hung up her coat and hat on the pegs behind the counter, tucked her purse into its alcove, then turned, hands on hips to look at the clock. Was she early, and he simply hadn’t come down from his apartment yet? But no, the clock read 8:32. He should be here.
“Well, can’t stand around wondering,” she muttered. The potted plants all looked rather hungry, and she knew where Mr. Grimm kept his stock of Mama Morgana’s Miracle Manure. Flipping on the second shop-floor light as she went, Luna started for the storage room.
As she stepped into the back passage, however, her ears pricked. Someone was talking. In the kitchen. A low, murmuring voice, too quiet for her to discern words. She stepped a little closer. The door was cracked open, and she put her ear up to it.
“I’m sorry. I’m soverysorry. I don’t know how this could have happened! I don’t know what I did wrong.”
It was Mr. Grimm.
Luna stepped back. He sounded distraught. Should she leave? Give the man privacy? She half-turned to do just that, but then she heard him again, uttering a desperate: “Tell me what you need! Please! I’ll do anything, I swear.”
Curiosity overcoming all other concerns, Luna pressed her fingertips to the door and gently pushed it open. She peeked into the room, festooned with her drying bundles of teas. But it wasn’t the tea which drew her attention.
The double-delight rose sat in its pot in the middle of the kitchen table. Mr. Grimm stood before it, his back to her, frantically turning over leaves and running his hands along the thorny canes. He wasn’t wearing his jacket. His suspenders hung from his waist, useless, and his shirt was all untucked. Even from behind, Luna could see that his hair boasted absolutely no pomade to give it shape.
“Never mind!”Debbie croaked from her perch on the back of a kitchen chair. She flapped her wings in portentous warning.
Mr. Grimm whirled on heel, eyes wide as though expecting some sort of attack. At sight of her, however, they somehow widened, and though his cheeks were terribly pale, they flushed a sudden, brilliant crimson. “Miss Talbot!” he exclaimed, then stopped short, as though his breath had caught on a nail. It ripped free the next moment, however, and his voice emerged through his lips in a whispering rush: “You came back!”
“Of course I came back,” Luna answered primly. “I said I would, didn’t I?”
“No,” he blurted. “No, in fact, you didn’t—”
