Luna turned to him, eyebrows rising. “You’re kidding.That?”
He shook his head. “A Ruby Delight. It was the first thing Dad planted when he established Garden. My mother, apparently, wanted a whole orchard of Ruby Delights, but he never grew more than the one tree.”
“I don’t see that he’d need an orchard when the one he’s got isthatsize.” Luna craned her neck, trying to see the topmostbranches, but they disappeared into the clouds. “Are the apples any good?”
“I don’t know.” Mr. Grimm’s voice was flat, devoid of expression. “Dad forbade us from trying them. And, for once, both Fabian and I honored his wishes.”
Brow puckering, Luna turned a glance up to her employer. Even through the sheen of anti-glitter, the sorrow etched in every line of his face was unmistakable. She wished there was something she could say, and even parted her lips, thinking perhaps the words would simply appear.
But Mr. Grimm’s grip on her elbow tightened. “Come on,” he said, hurrying her along. Snow stung her eyes, blinding despite the anti-glitter sheen. Luna ducked her head and trusted Mr. Grimm to guide her.
As they drew nearer to the tree, she began to sense a strange sort ofwrongness,emanating from its center. The snow seemed to dampen the sensation, but as they stepped within the shade of those vast, overhanging branches, it became unmistakable.
“There’s sorcery here, isn’t there,” she said, stopping short. The pulsing force made her nauseated. She wouldn’t take another step, even if he begged her.
Mr. Grimm shot her a short glance. “You feel it too?”
She nodded. “It feels . . . parasitic.”
“Yes.” Mr. Grimm faced the tree, that hard, stern look back on his face making him look much older and more dangerous. “That’s a good way to describe such magic.”
There was a tremendous amount of pure Green Magic in this place. Luna could feel it, but it was like . . . it was like something had wrapped around it in a stranglehold. “That’s a big spell,” she said, her lip curling. “Not one of yours, I trust?”
He shook his head. “It’s big. But it’s clumsy. Someone with some real power but little experience worked that.”
“What is it for?”
The line of his mouth hardened. “Unless I miss my guess, that’s a detection spell. Someone is trying to get a lock on Garden and relay information back to their own position.”
“Someone’s trying to find Garden?”
His brows rose. “Many someones are trying to find Garden. But mostly they don’t get this close.”
Fear bit down hard in Luna’s chest. She pulled away from Mr. Grimm, no longer feeling comforted by his grip on her elbow. He let her go, his attention still focused on the tree. “Is this why Garden is fluctuating temperatures so dramatically?” she asked.
He nodded. “It’s like fever in the body, trying to burn out the virus. A natural defense against invasion, but ordinarily it would not require such extremity to work. This spell is stronger than most. Clinging.” He narrowed his eyes then, tilting his head to one side. “It feels familiar somehow. But I can’t place who could have created it.”
Luna’s fists knotted. Of course, she’d guessed long ago that Mr. Grimm once moved in powerful, sorcerous circles. She’d hoped she was wrong, that it was merely her imagination taking wild flights of extrapolation, but . . . no. She couldn’t deceive herself any longer. He was, after all, an admitted Dark Sorcerer. There were few enough of those in the world. And they all knew and hated each other, if the rumors were to be believed. All that warring and establishing of factions and infighting, all the intrigues of which ordinary folk generally remained oblivious.
Until it spills over onto the rest of us,she thought.Like it did in the days of the Shadowbane Lady.
Shaking off a shudder, Luna drew a sharp breath and pulled back her shoulders. “Can you get rid of it?”
Mr. Grimm looked at her sideways. “Not without sorcery.”
“I understand. I gave you leave to do what you needed to, didn’t I?” She offered a swift wave of one hand. “Go on. Save Garden from this . . . this thing.”
His gaze remained fixed on her for some moments, even as the snow fell between them. Like he was trying to read something in her face. She couldn’t guess what.
Then, turning abruptly and trailing wafts of anti-glitter, he approached the tree. Luna watched as he placed his hands on the trunk, walking around the huge circumference, murmuring and muttering, either to himself or to Garden, she could not tell. She felt repeated sick pulses from the tree as the Green Magic fought against the invasive sorcery. Luna grimaced. How could they have failed to go searching for this mess sooner? She had distracted Mr. Grimm for hours. If it weren’t for her, surely he would have made his way here long ago and dealt with it, and the situation wouldn’t now verge on disaster.
Suddenly, Mr. Grimm called out in a loud voice:“Wheelbarrow!”
The next instant, Old Mister Grimm’s rust-bucket of a wheelbarrow manifested and creaked up to him, nudging him in the hip. He turned and rooted around inside the barrel.
Luna frowned. “I thought you were performing sorcery, Mr. Grimm,” she called out.
“The spell I have in mind requires a channeler.” He glanced up at her while continuing his rummaging. “Something to direct the sorcerous energy so that it only impacts the target intended. Using a Green Magic channel should help prevent the magic of the Heart Tree from being harmed.” In quick succession, he pulled out and discarded a series of hand rakes, weed pullers, clippers, shears, and even a spray bottle. At last, he settled on an old trowel, a rusty thing, but sturdy. Luna herself had used it on numerous occasions during her forays into Garden.
