Grim Lovelies (Grim Lovelies 1)

Tenpenny still looked at her strangely, and she patted her hair self-consciously. “What? Do I have something on my face?” She brushed at the ever-present dust.

“Not that, dear girl. It’s the other beastie. The gardener.”

“What about him?” An idea struck her and she whipped her head around, searching the Goblin crowd. “Is he here?”

If she’d had a heartbeat, it would have raced.

“Of course he is. You brought him.”

“What?”

“That oubliette you had with you, the one that Beau hid from the Marble Ladies. There are two sections, you know. The nonmagical one that is currently holding your pelts. But there are all sorts of interesting things hidden away in the magical part.”

She stared at him as though he were speaking some foreign language. “You unlocked the oubliette? How?”

“A little dirty magic did the job. I took a peek while you were in the loo to see if you’d brought anything good.”

“And Luc. You mean to say that Luc is . . . that he’s . . .”

“He’s in the oubliette.” He gave her a quizzical look. “Dear girl, don’t tell me you didn’t know that he’s been with you the entire time. Oh my. What a delicious tragedy.”

Chapter 32

Twenty-Four Hours of (New) Enchantment Remain

She jumped up fast enough to send the bones skittering across the floor. A cloud of dust rose in their place. “Where’s the oubliette now?”

Tenpenny scratched his chin. “Last I saw, December was guarding it.”

She ran back into the thick of the party, searching the crowd for the Goblin girl with the blond braids. She spied Cricket dancing on top of the Black Death with a Goblin boy in an indigo kilt and pushed toward them.

“Cricket!” she shouted. “Where’s Beau?”

“He disappeared with December. That way, back toward the old Métro tunnels. Is everything okay?”

“Get the others and meet me in the Skull Crypt.”

Cricket gave her a curious look but kissed her Goblin boy sweetly on the cheek and climbed down from the top of the Métro car, using the window frames as a ladder. The lights and music were pounding harder than ever. Anouk pushed through dancing bodies to the tunnel that led back to the Métro line. A few Goblins loitered beneath the archway, smoking something spicy and sweet, but there was no sign of Beau. She ran over the damp, dirty stone ground, calling his name.

Low flickers of flame lit up loitering groups of Goblins, some laughing or speaking in low voices, others in romantic embraces of two—?or three—?people.

“Have you seen December?” she called to a group catching spiders in the dark with a butterfly net, and they pointed farther into the darkness. It was cold here so far from the bonfire. She hugged her arms around her jacket, running her fingers anxiously over the embroidery. Then, in the dim light of an old curved Métro lantern, she saw the back of Beau’s sandy head.

“There you are—”

He wasn’t alone. He turned and she saw blond braids. December, her lips painted an electric pink, a matching glow to her cheeks. Beau’s own lips were the same electric shade.

“Oh.”

Not the most eloquent response, but it was all she could think to say. Heat flushed up her neck. They’d been kissing here in the dark tunnel. Beau and December. Was this about that business with Viggo? Some kind of revenge?

Beau’s face went a shade paler. He made a quick effort to wipe the lipstick from his mouth. “Anouk. Um . . . listen. Oh, merde, I’m an ass.”

Yes, he most certainly was, and she was about to tell him as much but then her eyes fell on the oubliette resting at December’s feet. That was more important than any kiss. She grabbed the bag and shook off the dust, unable to keep her anger from escaping. “It’s Luc,” she spat.

Beau’s face flickered with uncertainty. “Luc?”

“He’s trapped in the oubliette.” She hugged the bag to her chest and started running down the tunnel, past the kissing couples and the spider-chasers, hearing Beau and December’s footfalls echoing behind her.