Grim Lovelies (Grim Lovelies 1)

A second before they would have crashed spectacularly into the tile wall, Tenpenny jerked the bike to the left and jumped it straight off the platform and into the Métro tunnel. Bum-bum-bum-bum-bum?—the bars of the Métro track beneath them. If the motorcycle had a headlight, Tenpenny didn’t turn it on, and they plunged into pure blackness. A rumble from somewhere deep. The whine of the other engines behind them. She tightened her hold, biting her lip. And then, at last, she saw a light up ahead. She could see graffiti covering the walls, names and phrases: Bye-bye, Paris. L’amour est mort.

The light grew brighter. She had to shade her eyes.

Something big rumbled and squealed. Something headed for them.

A train.

“You’re going to kill us!”

Tenpenny’s only answer was to rev the engine. He leaned forward, driving even faster. The incoming train let out a prolonged honk. A warning. The light was growing even brighter. She felt a scream hurtling up her throat as the train grew closer and closer, almost on them, and then, a moment before impact . . .

Darkness again.

Tenpenny had turned down a side tunnel at the last second. She glanced back, saw the glint of four other motorcycles with relief. They’d all made it. The tunnel wasn’t like the greasy-smelling Métro line. There were no lights, which wasn’t a problem for the Goblins, who could see in the dark. But she couldn’t. She felt rough walls pressing in. A low ceiling. It smelled of stale air and ancient stone. Water trickled from somewhere. The old aqueduct might be nearby. Or, at the least, sewage pipes. A faint light shone at the far end of the tunnel, a warm, flickering orange like fire. As they neared she could make out that the tunnels were of hewn limestone, briny with lichen, twigs and trash pushed to the sides—?and bones. She’d never seen a human bone before, but there was no mistaking the length of those femurs, the curve of a cracked skull. They were in the catacombs.

The tunnel spat them out into a large chamber that was lit only by a roaring bonfire. She’d thought the catacombs were all twisting narrow mazes with low ceilings, but this was cavernous. How could such a large space exist beneath the city?

Tenpenny parked next to a structure that, on further inspection, appeared to be an abandoned Métro train. Someone had spray-painted THE BLACK DEATH on it, and the windows had been pushed out to make a bar filled with bottles of colorful liquids; music with a thumping bass pumped out of speakers where the engine had been. Dozens of Goblins were gathered around, most holding teacups, and at the sound of the motorcycles, more poured out of smaller tunnels and tombs and crypts into the cavern.

Tenpenny dismounted with a flourish. “Welcome, dearies, to the Catacomb Club. Let’s get some lights in here for our guests!”

Torches appeared and lit up the cavern. The Goblins crowded around. She felt swept up in a twister of bright colors, bowler hats, glittering makeup, and clinking teacups. The music blasted over the chatter of excited voices. On every wall was graffiti, but not like in the Métro tunnels. This was beautiful but strange: Grinning bared teeth. Sea-monster tentacles. Patterns of neon spider webs. Anatomical hearts.

The Goblins swarmed her. She heard Cricket yell a warning, but the crowd didn’t stop until they had dragged the five of them off the backs of the motorcycles and to the raging bonfire in front of the Black Death railcar. Anouk fought and twisted against the many hands holding her, but the Goblins threw out whispers that made her fingers just slip off them. Their whispers were different than the witches’, not softly murmured but almost spat out. And then more arms were lifting her until she’d been dragged to the top of the Métro car onto a sort of makeshift stage. Cricket and Beau and Viggo and Hunter Black were dragged up beside her. From here she could see the entire cavern of the Catacomb Club. Art deco lanterns had been stolen from abandoned Métro stations to decorate various smaller crypts, and they came on one by one, the light glistening off skulls that lined the ceiling like grinning macabre molding. Someone had made a throne out of bones.

Tenpenny jumped up beside them, grinning proudly. He still had traces of rat blood on his cravat.

“Goblins in exile,” he said. “I promised you a means to return to London. These beasties have agreed to undertake a task against impossible odds. A risk of the deadliest proportions. A quest of untold dangers!”

Beau leaned toward Anouk. “Um, what exactly did we agree to?”

Standing unsteadily on top of the abandoned railcar, she felt tipsy. Hundreds of Goblin faces peered up at her with wide grins and hopeful eyes and slightly pointed ears. Their makeup made them look like people you’d turn away from on a dark street, but they weren’t vicious. Goblins loved little pranks and fabulous clothing; these were the lowest of the Haute, magical only in the most basic ways, just magical enough to do the dirty work for witches. She thought of the Goblin girl whom Mada Vittora had made fall in love with a mail truck. These weren’t their enemies, she knew.

That was a start, at least.

“Now,” Tenpenny said, patting her on the back. “I believe there was talk of a party.” Someone cranked up the music. The whole train car started vibrating to the beat beneath her feet.

“About this dangerous quest . . .” Anouk started.

“Yes, yes, we’re grateful for your selfless sacrifice, all of you, but first let us celebrate. London shall soon be once more the heart and home of the Goblins!”

He shoved Anouk, then Cricket, and then the rest of them off the stage and into the throngs of exuberant Goblin revelers.

Chapter 30

One Hour of Enchantment Remains

Anouk tumbled off the railcar straight into the waiting hands of dozens of Goblins. Hands pressed against her back, holding her up and passing her along through the crowd. Gaudy faces grinned at her. Rats squeaked. The music roared even louder.

“Put me down!” she cried, but they only bobbed her higher. She managed to lift her head enough to see Beau being hoisted onto a heavyset Goblin’s shoulders. She tried to call out to him, but he was being carried in the opposite direction. She couldn’t see Cricket or Hunter Black or Viggo, but judging from the curses and screams coming from the crowd, they were as tangled as she was. For the length of a few throbbing songs, Anouk let herself be carried around the eager crowd, gradually passed farther and farther from the Black Death, until the Goblins lost interest in her and she managed to fight her way to the ground. She dropped down, hid in the midst of dancing boots and stomping feet, and climbed over random bones until she was able to crawl out from the partying mass and into sweet freedom at the edge of the cavern. She collapsed against an empty copper kettle, gulping fresh air.

“Tenpenny!” she called angrily, catching sight of him.

He was standing next to an odd assortment of animal cages made from wired-together rib bones, sipping a cup of tea, tapping his foot to the music. She stormed over, shaking out the dust from her clothes.

“Listen, I don’t know what promise you think we made, but there won’t be any dangerous quests if midnight comes and we turn back into animals.”

He consulted his pocket watch casually. “You worry too much, dearie.”