Anouk whispered to Cricket, “Where’s the Mada?”
“Supposedly she hasn’t left the potting shed all night. She’s in there experimenting with different spells.”
Petra returned with jars of whole golden honeycomb and canisters of rich black coffee, and they quieted. Once the toast was ready, Petra served herself a generous portion and slathered the top piece with creamy butter.
“Something odd happened this morning.” She chewed with her mouth open, licking butter off her finger. “I went back to the hedge to fetch the wheelbarrow and heard a motorcycle pull up to the gate and then what sounded like two boys arguing about how to get in. Then they drove off. I figured it might be friends of yours.”
Anouk exchanged a look with Cricket. “Hunter Black and Viggo. Not friends.”
Petra took a hefty bite of toast. “It doesn’t matter. They can attack the hedge with a chainsaw, try to scale it with ladders, but they can’t get in.” She didn’t seem to notice or else didn’t care about the crumbs collecting on her sweater.
Anouk returned to making breakfast, this new information stirring in her mind, mixing together like eggs and flour for cake batter. All this time she and Beau had wanted to keep them out, but maybe out was wrong. Maybe she wanted them in.
She spooned the dough onto a cookie sheet and popped it into the oven, then poured fresh coffee for herself. “I’m going to see what Mada Zola’s found.” She grabbed a timer and set it. “For the cookies. Take them out in twenty minutes.”
She cupped her hands around the mug to warm them as she passed through the halls; it was a drafty old house. In the foyer, she was surprised to find a trail of smudgy paw prints all around Toblerone’s pot—?had he moved during the night? She started for the front door but then stopped, glancing back at the bear.
She’d cast magic last night. Could she do it again?
Slowly, almost on a whim, she plucked a leaf off Toblerone’s shaggy coat, popped it in her mouth, swallowed it whole, and then cocked her fingers as she’d seen Mada Vittora do.
“Evillate,” she whispered. Wake.
A row of leaves shuddered along the bear’s spine and, just as when she’d put Beau to sleep, the spell worked instantly. She jumped back, dripping coffee everywhere.
r /> “Oh, merde.”
She rubbed at the coffee stain on Petra’s sweater, then looked back at the bear, wetting her lips.
“Aper tes oculus.” Open your eyes.
Incredibly, the bear’s head started to sway slightly side to side, his branching bones creaking to life. The jaws opened, showing teeth of sharp briars. Anouk stepped back, ready to run, but the bear only stretched his jaws in a great yawn. The head swung to her, and leaves parted like eyes opening.
He blinked.
She couldn’t help but give an amazed sort of laugh. Something fell out of the bear’s mouth and clattered to the floor. Voices sounded from down the hall and Anouk quickly whispered a spell to put the bear back to sleep.
She snatched up the fallen object.
A franc coin. A small hole was drilled in the top as though for a necklace—?it was just like the one she’d found in Luc’s attic. She sniffed it. Thyme.
She shoved it into her pocket and went to the window. A light was on in the potting shed. If Anouk was ever going to find out what they were hiding, now was the time.
She opened the front door and closed it loudly so Petra would think she’d gone outside. Then she kicked off her shoes and crept down the hall, past empty rooms, until an oddly bright light in the chapel caught her eye. One of the stained-glass windows was now cracked open. The light from the other side was too low to be the sun.
A secret room.
She peered through the stained-glass window. It was dark beyond except for that one blindingly bright light. Two lights, actually. Headlights. She almost laughed. The secret passage led to a garage filled with shiny cars that would make Beau drool.
She kept searching the house, going past the bedroom where Beau slept, past more deserted rooms, and reached one with posters on the wall for bands called Daft Punk and Louise Attaque that must have been Petra’s. Anouk stepped into Petra’s room, uncertain what she was looking for. She opened a door that led to a bathroom that, like everything else, was in desperate need of a mop. She tried a side door that she’d assumed led to a closet until she heard an oddly familiar sound: quiet, steady breathing.
She took a step into the dark room, tripped on something metal that went clanging across the room, and cursed. She held her breath for a few seconds, cringing, but thankfully didn’t hear footsteps or Petra’s voice. As quietly as she could, she felt around for a candle, lit it, and found that she was in a windowless room. Petra’s bloodletting chair was on one side, along with the usual glass vials and copper collecting bowls like the one she’d tripped on. On the other side of the room was a scryboard.
Its machinery gave that steady breathing sound just like Luc’s, and the feathered headphones chattered with unintelligible whispers. She opened the desk drawer, rifled through papers until she found Petra’s log, and flipped the pages until she saw his name.
10 August Received another message from Vittora’s gardener. Luka? Luc.
11 August Wants to make a deal. Gave no response.