Grim Lovelies (Grim Lovelies 1)

“Killed? No.” He paused. “She couldn’t. The magic would backfire on her.”

“You mean the vitae echo.”

He nodded. “Besides, if she was going to kill one of us, it would be Cricket or me. We’re the ones she can’t stand. Luc’s always been loyal; he was her first.” His face darkened. “But beasties don’t just disappear.”

Anouk gazed into the syrupy remains in her glass, feeling queasy.

Luc was much more than a gardener to them. He was the closest thing they had to a leader in their misfit household; he was the scholar, the storyteller, the big brother who always knew what to do. The one to resolve the various disagreements that sprang up between them and clean up their messes. Every week, it seemed he was sewing up Hunter Black’s latest wounds or sneaking Cricket out the back door before Viggo saw her and got that famished haunt to his eyes. Luc was the light they sought out when things grew dark, there to wipe away tears or tend to scrapes, to sit on the edge of the bed and tell them stories of magical places and beautiful people.

Beau wrapped an arm around Anouk’s waist. “Listen, cabbage, I don’t think Luc is dead. Mada Vittora has her reasons for everything. Maybe she’s sent him off on a mission she wants to keep secret.” He lowered his voice. “But just the same, if you think you can do it without risking getting caught, spy on the house. Find clues about Luc. Keep an eye out for anything odd while you’re cleaning. Residue from one of her tricks. A note she might have scrawled and thrown away.”

She looked at him in surprise. Spy on their mistress? She downed the remains of her scotch and reached for the half-full bottle to pour herself some more.

He glanced at the glass shaking in her hand. “Give me that before you drink too much and fall off the roof.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re my brother, Beau, not my nanny.”

Beau winced as he scratched at the corner of his jaw. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

“Nanny?”

“Brother.” His hand fell. “It isn’t true, not even remotely. We aren’t related. Not through blood, not through adoption. We’re just . . . just two people who live and work together.”

“But that’s what you’re like to me. You and Luc and even Hunter Black. And Cricket’s like a sister. We’re family, the five of us.” She’d always liked that word, family.

He drew in a long breath through his nose, not answering.

“You’d rather I called you coworker? Housemate?” She knocked her shoulder teasingly against him and then snatched the bottle out of his hands and held it up in accusation. “Stealer of expensive scotch?”

Now it was his turn to give her a hard look. He leaned over and slowly took the bottle out of her hand. “You could just call me Beau.”

&nbs

p; His voice had dropped. The scotch was doing dizzy, heady things to her. Up here, on the roof, it felt almost magically private, as though outside of Mada Vittora’s walls they could say anything, be anything. His lips were whisper-close, his breath earthy and sweet from the drink.

He cupped her face in his palm. “Anouk.” His thumb brushed over the apple of her cheek, smelling faintly of his driving gloves.

“Yes?” she whispered.

And then he suddenly grinned. “You’ve soot on your face.” He swiped his thumb over her cheek again; it came away with a black stain.

She wiped at her face. “Again with the dust!”

“Maybe we’ve had it wrong this whole time,” he said in mock seriousness. “Maybe Mada Vittora made the rest of us from dogs and cats and birds but you from a dust bunny.”

She smeared a sooty finger down his nose. “She probably made you from a monkey.”

He threw an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

She closed her eyes. Her head spun from the scotch. Luc was gone, and if she was being honest, she knew her mistress probably was responsible. Mada Vittora, who just moments ago had tied her shoes like a mother would for a daughter.

“What now?” she whispered.

If he’d been there, Luc would have known what to do. Luc always knew what to do. Without him, she felt lost.

Beau pulled back. “Now?” He held up the burlap sack. “Now we catch some crows for a dinner party.”

Her face broke into a smile.