Midnight Beauties (Grim Lovelies 2)

“I might have loved you, Rennar,” she said softly, “but you see, it’s wrong, all of it.”

Before he could process her words, she swallowed the last of Saint’s blood. It churned in her belly with the remains of the owl feathers, spreading power through her entire body. Blood and crux. Suddenly it didn’t matter that she was perched high up above the world on a wheel of matchsticks.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

He cocked his head, a question on his lips, but he couldn’t get it out before she whispered, “Des forma humana, fiska ek skalla animaeux.”

Chapter 49

For the middle of January, there was warmth in the air. Anouk made her way from the spinning London Eye, full of Pretties laughing in their glass orbs that crested over the city skyline, and ran her hand along the railing of Westminster Bridge. She felt herself swaying slightly—?she needed to hold on to something. She’d lost a lot of blood from her fight with Saint. And performing the contra-beastie spell had taken all the remaining strength she had.

She paused to catch her breath. Below, ducks bobbed along on the Thames. The breeze was light. Any trace of clouds that had once hung in the sky was gone now, and it was blue, blue, blue overhead. She closed her eyes and felt the sun on her face.

The warmth vanished for a moment and her eyes snapped open. A shadow flew over the water. It was of a bird with wings that were compact but powerful. It glided on a gust of air, seeming to hover just above her, its shadow a perpetual twin to her own.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to keep walking.

Now, sounds of merriment came from the Ferris wheel, but just moments ago, she’d been perched high above the city, facing a prince who ruled a shadow kingdom that commanded every aspect of the known world. It was almost touching, how deep his sentiment had been. Living with a witch, she’d learned a thing or two about sincerity, and despite how little he’d told the truth in his long life, Rennar hadn’t been lying when he’d said he loved her. If she’d given him her hand, they would have ruled the world together, Prince and Princess of the Haute, seated in the glittering capital of Paris.

But that was before he’d murdered every Goblin in sight. Before that, she thought his soul could have been saved. And maybe it could have been, once upon a time, when he was twenty years old, or fifty, or two hundred, when there’d still been a pure heart beating within his chest. But power corrupted so completely.

The shadow of the falcon glided above her. She hadn’t expected Rennar to turn into a falcon. Was it because she’d used Saint’s blood as part of the spell? Or because there was something piercing and regal about Rennar, like a bird? Or was it just a twist of fate? That was the trick about beastie spells—?you never knew what you would get. One would think that a sly person would become a snake and a burl

y person would become a bear, but that wasn’t how it worked. In the end, it was the magic that decided, and when she’d whispered the contra-beastie spell to turn him into an animal, the magic had chosen a falcon. His skin had turned in on itself until radiant gray feathers burst from the seams, and he’d doubled over and twisted entirely around and then there was simply no man anymore. His handsome clothes fell away. There were only wings and talons. At first she thought he might have become an owl. It wouldn’t have been altogether surprising—?they were similar in so many ways. But then she saw the sharpened beak, the piercing eyes. The falcon had let out a cry and flown high over the city.

She’d thought that might be the last she’d ever see of him, but then on the walk back to Pickwick and Rue’s, the shadow had fallen over her.

She crossed Westminster Bridge and, amid the tourists snapping photos of Big Ben and Westminster Abbey, she spotted some familiar faces rushing toward her. Petra, champagne sunglasses glittering like diamonds, dressed in her fabulous black coat. Cricket guiding Beau by the elbow. And Hunter Black behind them, ever the bodyguard.

“The Goblins!” Cricket cried, her eyes filled with the horror of it.

“I know.” Anouk’s voice broke.

Petra searched the streets, scowling. “I knew Rennar was a monster! Where is he?”

Anouk glanced over her shoulder hesitantly. The shadow wasn’t right behind her as it had been on the bridge, but when she scanned the trees, she saw the falcon perched on a branch, black eyes fixed on her.

“Let’s . . . say he’s on an indefinite vacation. He won’t be harming Goblins or anyone else for a while.”

Cricket followed her gaze to the falcon and barked a laugh. “Anouk, you didn’t! You turned him into an animal! Oh, bravo.”

“I had to. He was going to take London from the Goblins.”

Beau made a moderately satisfied grunt.

Anouk sighed anxiously. “Yes, but now I’m afraid of what’s going to happen with the Royals. The Nochte Pax is over and they’re released from their bonds. Rennar was the closest thing standing between us and an all-out war.”

Beau ran a hand over her shoulder. “Let them fight. Let them kill one another. We’ve nothing to do with their wars.”

Anouk was silent. Cricket shifted uneasily at his side. Hunter Black’s face was an even deeper scowl.

“What?” Beau asked. “Why is no one saying anything? Merde. You all want to get involved, don’t you?”

“We aren’t subject to the vitae echo,” Anouk explained. “We can kill. We could kill entire realms if we wanted to and if we learned the right spells. We have to face the fact that there is a rift in this world. We trapped the Noirceur in a new vessel, but technology is still growing. The balance is still tipping. And as magic shrinks, the Haute will continue to fight over whatever remains. It’s going to get ugly, Beau. That’s where we come in. We can keep the peace. We’re the only ones who can.”

He let out a long breath, shaking his head like he was about to be drawn into something he knew he didn’t want to get involved in.

She took his hand. “I saw strawberries in the market back there. We’ll go home. I’ll make a cake. Talk of war goes down better when one has pastries in one’s belly.”