Grim Lovelies (Grim Lovelies 1)

“A garden. Forests are only outside of the city, in the country, I think.”

She stared at the iron gates. The garden seemed to stretch on forever; how much vaster must a forest be than this? Luc had told her stories about forests, wild places that were the domain of wolves and bears and hawks. She half expected to see the glint of red eyes watching from beyond the gates. Beau went around a traffic circle and then rolled onto a bridge. Towering trees changed to monuments of white marble that glowed even in the darkness. She leaned forward, trying to take it all in at once.

Beau stopped the car abruptly. “This is it.”

Anouk pressed her face against the window and gazed up at a six-story building that took up an entire city block. Dazzling lights lit up the words she had seen on boxes that Mada Vittora brought home.

“‘Galeries Lafayette,’” she read reverently. “But we can’t shop here. It takes money to buy clothing.” She didn’t have to mention that Galeries Lafayette was the most expensive department store in all of Paris.

“Wait for me to come around.” Beau climbed out of the car, checking the skies again, and opened the door for her. “Mada Vittora doesn’t use money here. She has something called an account. Whenever I bring her here, she takes the clothes and they keep track of everything and send a monthly bill to someone. They know me here. They’ll believe me.”

“But she’s gone.”

“They don’t know that.” He looked anxiously at a giant lit clock face on the opposite building. “And by the time the news spreads, we’ll be far away.”

Anouk climbed out of the car, scanning the skies for telltale dark wings. None, but her pulse wouldn’t calm. Except for a few cars and delivery trucks, the street was quiet. No shoppers. No doormen standing at attention. The department store was dark inside.

“The sign says they don’t open until nine.”

Beau’s eyes scoured the street, slicing back and forth. Looking for crows. Listening for the roar of a gunmetal-gray motorcycle. A jogger ran past them, wearing tight clothes and white headphones. The woman slowed as she approached, jogged in place a few beats, and then turned sharply and started sprinting back the other way.

“It’s the blood,” Anouk realized, touching her dress. “I scared her. I didn’t mean to . . .”

Beau went to the glass door, shading his eyes to see inside. He pounded on the door. “Hello!”

She couldn’t shake the image of how the jogger had turned and run. Like she was a criminal. A murderer. Heat started to flush up her neck.

“Hey, you! Let us in!” Beau called to someone inside.

The door was thrown open by an ogre of a man who towered over them with arms like thick hams and no perceptible neck.

He wore dark glasses and carried something strapped to his belt that it took Anouk a moment to recognize. A gun? Yes, that was called a gun.

“We’re closed.”

Beau lifted his hands, taking a step back. “We need help.”

The man stared at the blood on Anouk’s clothes. “Are you hurt, mademoiselle?”

“Oh, no, it isn’t my blood,” Anouk explained.

“We need to go shopping,” Beau added.

The man stared at them like they were playing some demonic joke. But then he took off his glasses and squinted at Beau. “One moment. I know you, don’t I? You’re Vittora Antona’s driver. Apologies, monsieur. I’m just the night security guard. It’s my job to keep people out until we open. You understand.” He strained his stubby neck back toward the car. His voice fell to a reverent whisper. “Is she here?”

“No,” Beau answered quickly. “She’s sent me with her . . . her niece. Who’s visiting from the countryside. As you can see, we need some new clothes. Immediately. And . . . discretion.”

“Of course. Right away.” He touched a piece of machinery in his ear, whispered something low. In another few seconds, the click of high heels approached. A slim woman with a tight bun and navy-blue dress came to the door. If she thought the blood on Anouk’s clothes or the fact that Anouk was barefoot and missing two toes was odd, she didn’t bat an eye.

“Vittora Antona’s niece, yes? Very sorry to keep you waiting. Usually if madame wishes us to open the store early for her, she calls in advance. Fortunately I was already here, ordering for our spring collection. Come. Follow me.” She tapped the same machinery in her ear and hissed into it, “Round up every sales associate you can. There’s a few of them setting up the Cartier display. I don’t care if it’s early. Now!”

Anouk entered the department store in a state of heady shock.

“Oh!” she exclaimed.

It was more a cathedral than a store. A stained-glass cupola sparkled over four stories, balcony after balcony after balcony after balcony, each packed with dresses and blouses and, oh, the shoes. Anouk found herself spinning in a circle to take it all in. Even with half the lights off, it was all glittering glass and marble. And the perfume! Hundreds of delicate little glass bottles, each more glamorous than the last. Anouk grabbed a bottle and sprayed it.

Beau sputtered at the perfume in his face.