she was speaking it, feeling it working beneath her skin; she was no longer the dark thing but a girl, a real human girl . . .
Then, without warning, fire.
She cried out as sharp pain burned down her arms. It spread impossibly fast from her neck to her knees to her toes, replacing that delicious tingle with searing agony that made the spell, not even halfway spoken, die on her tongue and her body crumple on the floor.
Beau was immediately by her side, feeling her forehead, but his touch only burned more, and she cried out and pushed him away.
A shadow fell over her. She squinted open an eye.
“That, my dear, was unbelievably stupid.” Tenpenny stood over her, tsk-tsking. “Only fools attempt magic so far beyond their ability.”
“But . . . you said . . . we’re powerful . . .” She grimaced as another wave of pain radiated through her. “No vitae echo.”
“The pain you’re feeling now? That isn’t the vitae echo. That’s just your body rejecting the change you were trying to put it through. Don’t you understand that there’s a world of difference between talent and skill? When I said you had the ability to be more powerful than the Royals, I meant innate potential. Potential means nothing without training. Do you even know the difference between a trick and a whisper? Don’t answer that. Of course you don’t. Poor dearie. How brave of you—?and how absurd—?to try.”
He crouched over her, holding out the teacup full of his own poisonous elixir. “We’ve been at this a long time, my friends. Since practically before Pretties could clothe themselves. I don’t care if you’re saints or monsters. You can be whatever you want to be as long as you help us retake London. I believe that was our deal, yes?”
Still shaking, Anouk reluctantly accepted the noxious brew. A dead dragonfly was floating in it. She sighed. What other option did they have now?
He smiled. “Splendid.”
Each of the others also took a teacup, and, wincing, they all drank down the poison. Anouk felt it spread down her throat, coating it like tar. She expected it to sink to her stomach in a heavy way, but it remained eerily in her chest. She rubbed at the skin over her heart. The beats came slower, slower, slower, and then stopped.
“Congratulations,” Tenpenny said. “You’re officially dead-ish.”
Chapter 31
Fifteen Minutes of Enchantment Remain
The first order of business, according to Tenpenny, was to get them clothes that weren’t made of tattered curtains and gardening wire. The blond Goblin girl with gold teeth, December, led them into a tomb that served as a communal closet: piles of dusty top hats in one corner, ties and cravats in another, and skeletons set up around the room as dress dummies, arrayed in various British-punk clothes. For Anouk, December rustled up boots and a pair of slim tuxedo trousers that looked great with The Faustine jacket; for Cricket, she found a tweed suit with the pockets stylishly ripped out.
Anouk ran her fingers along the smooth trousers, worn at the hems. A hand-me-down, maybe, or stolen from a shop years ago and mended over and over. The Goblins had so little and yet were more than willing to share. Why had she ever believed that the Haute was a beautiful world of magic and grace? Everything had a darker side, magic most of all.
“Midnight is in five minutes!” Tenpenny said, admiring their improved fashion. “Come, join the partiers. Tonight we celebrate not only our fortune but yours. Let midnight come and dare it to change you.”
Anouk felt herself caught up in a wave of giggling Goblins who herded her and Cricket to the dance area in front of the Black Death bar. Someone had stolen a giant clock from one of the Métro stations and suspended it from the ceiling on a heavy chain. Now it swung back and forth, sweeping over the crowd, a Goblin straddling the top of it and waving at them all.
The clock read four minutes to midnight.
And then the Goblins were dancing around her, and someone passed her a delicious warm drink, and she felt herself smiling.
Three minutes to midnight.
She grinned widely now, jumping up and down with Goblins on either side of her. Someone started counting down and she thought of a tradition among the Pretties, a New Year’s countdown sealed with a kiss at the end. Her eyes searched the crowd for Beau. Shouldn’t they celebrate? Midnight was coming but it wouldn’t take them. Not tonight. And one thing she’d learned was that they had to enjoy every second of life that they had.
In a place where magenta and blue and green hair was the norm, Beau’s plain sandy hair stood out. He was about twenty feet away, and he was looking for her too. She started weaving through the tight crowd.
“Five!” Someone counted down the seconds.
“Four!”
Then their eyes met. Beau grinned. It felt like the crowd had faded into the background. She felt herself moving toward him automatically, for once the Goblins parting to let her pass.
“Three!”
The enormous clock overhead swung back and forth, casting a shadow on the revelers. Someone was dancing with one of the old skeletons, blocking her way, and she stood on tiptoe not to lose sight of Beau.
“Two!”