There. A path cleared. He was just steps away.
“One. Midnight!”
The cavern erupted in cheers. She took a step toward Beau, feeling like someone in a fairy tale, like a Pretty at a New Year’s ball, but then someone else was tugging at her hand, pulling her sharply away from Beau. Viggo—?it was Viggo. A second before she realized what was happening, he kissed her. His lips were softer than she’d imagined. He smelled like the sweet hot drink everyone was passing around, and his arms circled her waist as though screening them from the crowd, a private moment between the two of them.
“Viggo, eww, stop it!” She sputtered and shoved him away but then softened when she saw the look on his face. Sheer, almost sweet happiness, even if it was because of a spell. She’d never seen Viggo look sweet, not once. He was a twat and she’d sooner kiss a frog, but even frogs deserved little moments of joy. She pecked him softly on the lips.
When she pulled back, Beau was standing next to them. His face was as slack as if she’d slapped him. He turned sharply, pushed his way through the crowd. The smile fell off her face as she disentangled herself from Viggo and ran after him.
“Wait!” she said, catching his arm. “Beau, I was only being nice. You know I can’t stand Viggo. And he doesn’t love me either, it’s the spell—”
“The spell,” Beau muttered angrily. “I’m sick of that damn spell. I’m ready for it to wear off, Anouk. Ready for him to stop trying to kiss you. And having you kiss him back!”
“We need him like this.”
“You like him like this. Your puppet.”
“Beau, that isn’t true! Listen, we don’t have time for stupid arguments about Viggo—”
But he strode away and was lost among the revelers before she could finish. She caught a glimpse of blond hair and saw December sliding behind him through the crowd. Jealousy flared in her. Fine. Let the Goblin girl try to comfort him where she couldn’t.
Twin Goblin boys in blue bowler hats pulled her into a swirling dance, but she managed to extricate herself from their arms and slip to the refuge of the blessedly cool, empty tombs. She sank down on a fallen gravestone, hugging her knees. Why couldn’t Beau focus on what really mattered? Tenpenny’s concoction, vile though it was, had worked. Midnight had come and they were all still human.
But were they all?
Luc’s disappearance nagged at her like a briar just beneath the skin. Wherever he was, he hadn’t drunk Tenpenny’s elixir. Had midnight been the end for him? It was a terrible thought, that he was truly lost to her now. What possible hope of finding him did she have when she wasn’t even certain what kind of animal to look for? A mouse? An owl? Even if their paths crossed, he wouldn’t know her, and she wouldn’t know him. Maybe she hadn’t understood the first thing about being human if she’d failed her best friend so gravely.
“Oh no, did the poison work too well? Are you actually dead?”
Tenpenny sat down next to her and mocked feeling her forehead. “Still some breath in you. Why aren’t you celebrating? Is that chauffeur giving you trouble?”
She paused and shook her head. “Even if we can find someone to recast our spell, I’m afraid that a spell alone can’t make us human. Truly human. Only actions make a person human, not magic.”
“Yes,” Tenpenny mused. “Well, and the fact that you don’t have a tail.”
She rolled her eyes.
“My darling girl, look at you. Pale as a slug. Drab as pudding. Tonight is not the night to feel depressed at the state of your reality. Here. You need some color.”
He produced a sleek tube of lipstick and drew on her left cheek, then her right. He sketched a shape, filled it in, licked his finger, and wiped off a smudge.
“Eh. Not perfect, but what ever is?”
He handed her a mirror. He’d drawn ruby-red hearts on both of her cheeks, though messily. It gave her the look of a performer, and between that and the tuxedo trousers, she blended in a little more with the Goblins.
“There, now. Fashion is art and we are the canvas. Do you feel like a piece of art, my dear?”
“I feel more like that slug you were talking about.”
He tsked. “Have you ever heard the story of the Goblin and his shadow? No? Many years ago, a Goblin angered a minor duke by baking his pet peacock into a pie, mistaking it for a chicken. The duke cursed him. Every day, the Goblin started to notice his shadow hung around more, even in the light. It started to grow darker in places, especially around the eyes and nose. His eyes and his nose. When he looked into the mirror, he found that he was fading. His own shadow was trading places with him, stealing his life. He had to live the rest of his days in pure darkness, where there were no shadows, before his swallowed him whole. What I’m saying is, don’t let anything—?not shadows, not sorrow, not peacocks—?steal your brightest days.”
She sighed. “It isn’t that easy. There’s one of us missing. The fifth beastie, Luc. He was like an older brother to me. He was there when I was first made, and he always protected me even when I didn’t know I needed protecting.
And now the rest of us have been granted an extra day, but not Luc. We don’t know where he is. When midnight came, he must have turned back.”
Tenpenny gazed at her with a puzzled expression.
“In a way it’s like he’s dead,” she continued. “If he saw me, he wouldn’t know me. Everything between us would be gone.”