Grim Lovelies (Grim Lovelies 1)

Anouk paused. “Are you okay with this, Beau?”

He muttered, “Go ahead.” For all the resignation in his voice, there was a trace of curiosity too.

Anouk’s throat felt scratched raw from the rose, and yet the pain had woken her body in some way. She closed her eyes, raised her fingertips, and whispered, “Dorma, dorma, sonora precimo.”

“I don’t feel anything. You—” Beau collapsed to the oriental rug. It happened in less than half a breath. His head hit the edge of a chair as he fell but he didn’t cry out, didn’t move. It was so fast that Anouk had barely finished speaking.

“Beau!” She dropped to her knees. She held her breath until he suddenly shuddered and let out a raking snore, and she sighed with relief.

“You did it!” Cricket whirled on Petra. “Give me one of those roses.”

Petra held her back from the vase. “Who are you going to enchant? We can’t have all of you passed out and useless.” But Cricket was fast enough to grab a rose anyway; she stuffed it in her mouth and coughed out something vaguely resembling the spell. Nothing happened.

Petra smirked. “They call it the Silent Tongue for a reason. Not the Yawping Squawk.”

Cricket narrowed her eyes as she spat out chewed-up petals.

/> Anouk stroked Beau’s hair, worried, and looked up at the witch. “How long will he be out?”

“Until morning, I’d imagine,” said Mada Zola. “It was a large rose.”

Despite herself, a part of Anouk felt relieved. No more of Beau trying to drag her back to the car, and the thought made her feel guilty. She brushed a clump of dust out of his hair.

“We’ll put him to bed in the west bedroom,” Mada Zola said. “He’ll be safe there until he wakes.” She rested one hand on Anouk’s shoulder and the other on Cricket’s. “You should rest, too, dearies, though I know it won’t be easy. You look dead on your feet.”

“I want to try that spell again,” Cricket said.

“Patience, dearie. Patience.” The witch made a small tsk noise. “You can’t do magic properly if you don’t have a rested mind.”

“But I could help you look through spell books—” Cricket insisted.

“No.” Mada Zola’s voice was firm, but then she softened it with a gentle pat on first Cricket’s and then Anouk’s cheek. She turned to Petra. “Show them to the bedroom.”

Petra was already picking up Beau’s feet. Anouk and Cricket had little choice but to help her hoist him up, and groaning under his weight, the three girls carried him down the hallway and up a flight of stairs to a bedroom. They placed him on the bed.

Petra handed Anouk a gas lamp. “Good night. Try to sleep. Did you know you have a streak of dust on your face?”

Anouk sighed. “Always.” She swiped her sleeve over her cheek and then fluffed the pillow under Beau’s head. He felt warm. She went to open a window. The clouds were heavy, casting a murky glow over the fields. She sucked in a breath as she caught sight of a tremor of movement in the fields. “Petra, there’s something out there!”

Petra, unconcerned, lit another gas lamp for them. “Those are just the gardeners. They tend to the flowers at night.”

“I thought you said you two were alone here.”

“We are,” Petra answered.

A creeping feeling spidered up Anouk’s spine as she peered closer at the gardens. A flash of leaves caught in the faint light.

The topiaries.

Their enchanted shapes loomed as they weeded and watered and pruned with their slow, lumbering branches. A gleam in the driveway caught her eye and she jerked to attention, thinking at first it was a gunmetal-gray motorcycle, but it was only a watering can.

“You’re certain no one can get through the hedges?” she asked, turning from the window.

But Petra was gone.

A key turned in the lock.

“Hey!” Anouk and Cricket both ran to the door. “Petra, you can’t lock us in here!” Anouk twisted the knob, uselessly. Cricket kicked at the door.