Grim Lovelies (Grim Lovelies 1)

Petra’s question seemed genuinely curious, but Cricket’s face turned cold. She snapped, “Because my life is worth more than catching mice.”

Cricket’s stare was vicious, challenging. One more word from Petra, and Anouk had a feeling the blades were going to make an appearance.

“It isn’t about whether skin or fur covers us,” Anouk blurted out, hoping to avoid a fight. “It’s about what’s beneath that, even beneath bone.”

All eyes turned to her, and she wished she had kept her mo

uth shut. These were dark thoughts. Thoughts she had ignored her whole life, truths she had looked away from at night, alone in her turret bedroom, when it was hardest to escape them.

Her eyes met Beau’s. He gave a small nod of encouragement.

“Before, for all of us, it was a dark place.” Her voice wavered as she continued. “A cold place. I don’t mean to say that life before was miserable. I mean that it was empty. Until Mada Vittora made me into myself, I wasn’t me. What I am—?my memories, my dreams, the people I care about, and the thoughts I think about when I’m alone—?it means everything to me. Imagine if one day everything that made you who you are simply disappeared. If all you thought of was filling a hungry belly. If the world was cast in shades of gray, not color. If you lost the ability to express yourself in words. If you never loved. If you never dreamed. That’s what we stand to lose. Everything.”

Petra was quiet. She looked shaken.

“Restart the enchantment,” Anouk said, turning to Mada Zola. “Grant us the chance to remain ourselves. A lifetime of being perfectly normal, that’s all we want. The same as anyone.”

The witch was quiet for a long time. Her cocoa sat before her, cooled now, the marshmallows melted away. The fire kept crackling. Beau had gone back to stand by the window, but he’d stopped staring out of it, watching for Viggo. Night had fallen at some point; Anouk had barely noticed.

“I’d like to help you.” Mada Zola stood. “And I will, as best I can. But the spell you were made with isn’t just any whisper. It isn’t as simple as making flowers bloom year-round or sparking fire in kindling. Prince Rennar wrote it himself centuries ago. It requires a lengthy whisper with challenging intonations and a tincture of the exact right life-essence. Not to mention a lot of blood.”

“I don’t mind,” Petra said quietly.

Anouk realized that Petra, as a witch’s girl, must have a bloodletting chair just like Viggo’s. She felt a sudden protectiveness for this girl who was willing to drain pints of her blood for them.

“Thank you, my dear,” Mada Zola said, “but without the wording of the spell itself, no amount of blood will keep them from turning back.”

“Mada Vittora had the spell,” Anouk said in a rush. “We could go back to Paris and fetch it.”

Mada Zola shook her head. “Written spells die with their witch. Her copy will be nothing but ash now. The Royals have a copy, but spells of that magnitude are kept in only one place: the spell library at Castle Ides. Only members of the Haute who have invitations can access them. I had an invitation, but it was revoked with my banishment.” She motioned to the delicate bracelet on her wrist; it looked like jewelry but was, in fact, the bond of her imprisonment. “One step beyond the fields and I turn to dust.” She swiped a finger along the top of a cabinet, coming away with a fine coating of dust that sizzled when she brushed it into the fire.

“But we have only a few days left.” Anouk fingered the clock in her pocket with a growing sense of panic. “You mean everything we’ve risked is for nothing?” She shook her head violently. “It can’t all just be lost.”

The witch looked at her with pity. “How much time do you have left?”

Beau said quietly, “About fifty-two hours.”

“Then it isn’t over yet. There might be a way to extend your enchantment without the original spell, some alternative trick.”

Anouk found it hard to take comfort from the witch’s words. How many hollow promises had Mada Vittora made her? Her mood turned sour, nasty. Witches were tricky. “We can repay you, if that’s what this is about. We can serve you like we served our last mistress. I’m a wonder with a mop. I make a good quiche too.” She didn’t mean for her words to sound as bitter as they did.

A log popped in the fire. Mada Zola eyed the three of them for a long time.

“Quiche. Mops.” There was an oddly electric look in her eyes. “You poor dearies. You don’t have a clue what you really are, do you?”

Anouk’s breathing felt too fast. A distant voice was ringing in her ears, Prince Rennar standing in Mada Vittora’s foyer, leaning toward her with those fathomless blue eyes and unsettling words on his lips. You aren’t made for sweeping floors, little beastie.

From every wall, his face watched, his eyes finding hers over and over. She knew that whatever Mada Zola was about to tell them was what Rennar had been referring to. The great mystery, revealed.

The next few words were about to change their lives forever.

Chapter 15

Two Days and Three Hours of Enchantment Remain

“We know what we are,” Beau said tensely.

Mada Zola gave him an unmistakably pitying look. “Do you?”