Grim Lovelies (Grim Lovelies 1)

Mada Zola smiled knowingly. “Ah. So you’re her.”

Chapter 14

Two Days and Three and a Half Hours of Enchantment Remain

Cricket’s lips fell open. She lifted her hands, feigning ignorance, as Mada Zola searched among the portraits until she found what she was looking for, took it down, and handed it to Cricket.

Cricket made a gargling sound in her throat and dropped the painting. “What is that?”

“That, my lovely, is you. Or rather, what you were.”

Anouk picked up the frame. It was a simple painting, done by an amateur but one who had a clear fondness for the subject. Maybe Mada Zola or Petra had even painted it. She held it out to Beau.

He left the window and took the portrait. His face wrinkled in confusion as he looked between it and Cricket. It was a cat. White fur and long whiskers, green eyes with a clever kind of look. Anouk couldn’t help but think of the pelts in the car trunk. One of them had been white and soft and small, the size of a cat. Judging by the distressed look on Cricket’s face, she figured Cricket remembered the same pelt.

“Merde,” Cricket cursed.

With her honey-brown skin and light copper eyes, Cricket looked nothing like a cat—?especially not this cat. But there were her careful ways. Her ability to move silently. Anouk looked closer at the painting and spied something gold at the cat’s neck.

“Did you see this?” she asked hoarsely. She passed the portrait back to Cricket, pointing at the collar.

Cricket’s face paled a shade. She clutched the charm earring in her ear self-consciously, but it was useless. They both knew what was stamped on it.

CRICKET

It was identical to the charm in the painting. Cricket’s earring, which Viggo had given her years ago but hadn’t bothered to tell her what it was, had once been part of a collar. A tag.

Anouk had rarely let herself wonder about her past, about that frightening cold place. Certainly not about what animals they had started life as. Whenever she’d looked through the turret window and seen an animal in the street, she’d turned away sharply and dusted, ignoring the fear rising in her throat. It hadn’t been until she’d seen the pelts—?a wolf, a dog, an owl, a mouse, and a cat—?that she’d let herself play that dangerous matching game.

Which was which? Which was she?

And now Cricket was the first to learn the truth about herself, and clearly, it wasn’t welcome knowledge.

“It’s true, then?” Anouk said. “You knew Cricket . . . before?”

Mada Zola replaced the painting on the wall. “Oh yes. Mada Vittora came here years ago. We got in an awful row. She knew I loved that cat. After she left, I couldn’t find it anywhere.”

Petra carried in a tray of steaming mugs, and Anouk’s stomach tugged—?she hadn’t eaten much at the café. But she was hungry for more than just chocolate. She wanted this—?everything the room promised. A cozy fire and warm drinks and a mistress who didn’t keep servants, who wasn’t bothered that her witch’s boy had wanted to become a witch’s girl, who didn’t care if dust bunnies multiplied throughout the house, who hadn’t blinked at Anouk’s messy ponytail.

And yet, did she dare trust it?

She wanted to. They all sat, and Anouk took the cocoa with shaking hands. Lavender and honey. Divine. How badly she wanted to drink it. She dared to take the slightest sip. Beau had warned her not to, but Beau was always warning her.

“And Anouk and me?” Beau asked hollowly. “Are we from here too?”

The witch’s face softened. “No. I don’t know where the two of you come from, or what—?creatures—?you were before. I’m sorry.”

Cricket had looked dazed for the past few minutes, but now she suddenly stood, fists clenched. “If what you say is true, then we need your help.”

“Yes, I gathered that, my dear.”

“You know what she did to us. She made us work for her, and she beat us, and worse.” Cricket swallowed. “Now, without her, the spell that keeps us human will expire at midnight on Saturday. We’re almost out of time. We need you to recast the enchantment. I can’t go back to . . . to that.” Her eyes flickered toward the cat painting.

For a moment, all were silent. Anouk wasn’t sure why Cricket had decided to trust this witch after arguing not to come here in the first place. Maybe because of the painting and the collar that matched her earring. If Mada Zola was telling the truth about that, maybe she was telling the truth about everything.

“Why?” Petra asked, surprising her. She was standing in the doorway with her arms folded tightly. “Why does it matter to you what form you take? Sleep all day, drink saucers of milk. Doesn’t sound so bad.”

Anouk cocked her head, curious about this girl. She remembered now why witches took sons, never daughters. Only females could become witches, so it was fathomable that a daughter might grow up to become a rival witch herself, whereas a son could never threaten their power. Did those same rules apply to a girl who hadn’t been born a girl?