“Did you not manage to resolve it then? With the spell you worked on the Heart Tree?”
He shook his head.
Luna drew a steadying breath. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want him working any sorcery at all. “You’re sure it’s necessary? For the protection of Garden, I mean?”
“It is necessary, Miss Talbot.”
“All right.” She nodded. “All right, do what you must. You have my permission. But . . . I’d rather not be present when you do it.”
“No!” His voice came in a sharp bark. Then he stood, and she suddenly felt as though he was taller than usual. Taller and darker. Even a little frightening. “No, indeed. I think it best that you not be here at all today, in fact.”
“What?” Her brow tightened. “You’re kicking me out?”
“No.” He shook his head and seemed to shrink again a little, back to something closer to his usual height. “I . . . I don’t plan to open the shop today,” he said. “I think I need a little time to, erm, recover. From the exertions of yesterday.”
There flashed through Luna’s brain a vivid image of her boss with his mouth on Bryony’s throat.Exertions my foot!she thought and clenched her teeth. But she only nodded and answered demurely, “Right. Of course. That makes sense.”
“We’ll open tomorrow,” he continued. “Regular time. And in the meanwhile”—he bowed his head, peering at her intently from under his brow—“don’t worry about a thing, Miss Talbot. I’ve got it all under control.” He took a step forward then, reaching for the cups in her hands. His fingertips brushed against her knuckles, and another traitorous thrill sparked up each arm. Luna winced and drew back quickly, unable to meet his gaze. “I’ll do the washing up, Miss Talbot,” he said. “You go on home. Enjoy your day off.”
So she was dismissed. Unneeded, unwanted. Unnecessary. Luna glanced up into his face, once more trying to read something there, once more finding it closed to her. He might not beherMr. Grimm at all. Just some man. Some stranger.
She swallowed hard. “All right then. See you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” he echoed softly.
She fetched her hat and coat, pulled them on, and stepped out from behind the counter, nodding to Debbie as she went. She passed the double-delight, which waved its blooms at her, and the tiger lilies, which all seemed to be yawning in their pots. She paused at the door, glanced back over her shoulder.
Mr. Grimm still stood behind the counter, teacups in hand. Watching her go.
Luna bit her lip.
Then, without a word, she unlocked the door, pushed it open to a tinkle of tiny bells, and stepped out into the cold morning light and the noise of passing traffic, leaving the sanctuary of The Arcane Bouquet behind.
A large, stout wisteria had taken over for the double-delight, proving a less thorny but no-less effective binding for Garden’s prisoner. It had her secured by each hand and each foot and spread out between two tall, thin ash trees. She still bore the evidence of her battle with the rose, nasty cuts over every inch of skin. Her clothing hung in tatters, her stockings dangling in shreds from her suspended legs.
It was quite a gruesome sight. Nigel hissed through his teeth as he approached, shocked by the cruelty of it. He’d known Garden to be vicious toward him upon occasion, but he’d never thought it capable of something so savage. Then again, after what happened with the Shadowbane Lady, Nigel couldn’t blame Garden for being a little extra cautious right about now.
“Is she dead?” Nigel asked as he stood beneath the suspended figure of his enemy.
As though in answer, Calista’s eyes flew open. She stared down at him for a moment before she began struggling. She tried to speak, to scream, but too many vines and leaves wrappedher mouth, stifling any sound she made to little more than a whimper.
“All right,” Nigel said, breathing out a sigh of relief. While it would certainly make his life easier if Calista Anguish were no longer in it, he didn’t like the idea of Garden taking a turn for the murderous, however justified. “Lower her down.”
Garden resisted. The wisteria vines tightened around her wrists and ankles, and Calista shook her head, her eyes wide and desperate. All her careful makeup was smeared, and her hair hung in ragged strands. She looked much older like this. As though those fifteen years had counted for more than she liked to let on.
“Now,” Nigel said, infusing the word with authority. He’d never taken a tone like this with Garden before and wondered, very briefly, if he would be obeyed. He was not his father, after all. A fact which neither he nor Garden ever forgot.
Finally, with a blustering breeze of a sigh, Garden relented. Slowly, the vines lowered the prisoner to the ground, allowing her bare feet to find balance, even as they kept her wrists restrained. Nigel stepped forward and looked into her eyes. She shook her head, terrified, and it would be all too easy to forget what she had done to him last night. Not to mention what she had intended to do. To him. To Garden.
To Luna.
“I ought to kill you,” Nigel said, his voice a low growl.
Her nostrils flared with a sharp intake of breath. A thin whimper escaped through the leaves and vines over her mouth.
“If I let you go,” he continued, “you will bring death and destruction back with you. I know this. You know this. There is no releasing you now. Not while this secret lies in your head.”
She swallowed hard. Tears ran down her face, trailing the last few streaks of her black mascara in gothic rivulets.
