“As you may recall,” he went on, “wardsmen’s sensors pick up on the transference of energies, not the actual act of performedmagic. So long as I use old Dire Matter to work the spell I have in mind, we should be perfectly safe from any wardsmen.”
A series of expressions flashed across her features. First, understanding—she could not deny the logic of the plan he proposed or the convenience. This was followed swiftly by disgust, however, then by anger. And sorrow. That last one was the worst. A subtle shift of her expression, there and gone again swiftly, but it shot straight to the bullseye of Nigel’s heart like an arrow. She felt deceived by him. And with good reason.
All other expressions fled behind a wall of hard resentment as Luna lifted her gaze back to Nigel’s once more. “This is why no one likes sorcerers, you know.”
Nigel blinked.
“You knew you had a workaround,” she continued. “When you made the troth, you knew. Didn’t you? You took advantage of my ignorance.”
Those words cut to the quick. And he deserved them. Deserved every sharp edge, every bitter slice. Because he had withheld the truth from her. Many truths, for that matter.
But he simply couldn’t tell her. Not about Calista and her simulacrums. He couldn’t let her know how very near to death and disaster they had all come because of this stupid troth. He couldn’t tell her, because if he did . . . she would leave. And then she would be beyond his ability to protect.
Abashed, Nigel lowered his lashes. He stared at the tips of her fingers, which trembled slightly as they continued to hold the edge of his handkerchief. “I have only a limited amount of distilled Dire Matter,” he said softly. “When it is gone, that’s it. I cannot get more. I’ve not used any since swearing the troth and have no intention of using it without real need.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
He forced himself to look up into her thin-lipped face. “I am sorry. Sorry for not disclosing this at the time of the troth.Sorry for any action of mine that makes you feel disrespected or unsafe. But I am not sorry for doing whatever I can to protect . . .” He paused a moment, nearly overcome by the vehemence of the words wanting to be spoken. Words like those wouldnothelp matters at this particular moment, however, so he swallowed them back and finished lamely, “. . . to protect Garden.”
Luna held his gaze for a moment longer. Then, with a short expulsion of air, she dropped the edge of the handkerchief, turned, and marched away from him, deeper into the parking garage. Her shoulders hunched, and she seemed to be looking down at the violets, cupped gently in her hands. Time was slipping away. Miss Eugenia was probably all the way up the aisle by now, and any chance of getting a bouquet into her hands was . . . well, not impossible. There were few things Nigel had found to be trulyimpossiblewhen it came to the multidimensional manipulation of the essential energies of the universe. But certainly more complicated.
At last, Luna pivoted on heel, facing him once more. “You are quite certain whatever you have in mind will draw no attention from wardsmen?”
“Quite, Miss Talbot,” Nigel assured her, taking care that his voice projected nothing but confidence.
She drew a little breath, pulling her shoulders back. “Very well, Mr. Grimm,” she said. “It is your business, after all. Do what you think is best.”
There was something oddly detached about the way she said it. As though she withdrew emotionally, distancing herself from both the problem and the solution. It was a bit alarming, actually. Luna Talbot had always thrown herself headlong and wholehearted into all the doings of The Arcane Bouquet, as though the shop itself were hers as much as his. Triumphing and despairing with him over every little success or failure,her enthusiasm was enough to make Nigel almost forget, sometimes, that she was not, in fact, his partner. Merely his assistant.
But that enthusiasm was nowhere to be seen now. Her eyes were shuttered, and no matter how Nigel searched, he found he could not read them.
For the first time in a long while, he found himself wondering:Does she mean to leave?
But no. Surely not. Why would she leave? This past month has been quiet enough. He’d taken great pains over the last few weeks not to annoy her with his presence, to maintain all modes of decorum proper between employer and employee. To keep his feelings to himself. What’s more, he knew for a fact that the simulacrums, which had been haunting her footsteps all this while, were done for. She was safe here in Ballycastle, and there was no reason for her to abandon a job she loved, doing work she enjoyed. No reason to abandon Garden and Debbie and her teas and her customers and—
“Well, Mr. Grimm?” Luna’s voice broke through his thoughts. He blinked, shook his head. Her face came back into focus, watching him with silent intensity through her many masks. “Get on with it, won’t you?”
Nigel emitted a short breath through tight lips. Then he nodded. “Get into the van, Miss Talbot,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because I mean to open reality’s veils, and you’ll be safer inside.”
Her eyes grew very large.
To work the spell, Nigel was obliged to drain absolutely every ounce of magical juice from those three dark drops. But there was plenty of magical juice to be drained. While not the classiest of Dire Matter brands, it was nearly a century old, and had fermented nicely.
Nigel used the three drops to create anchor points on the ground around the van, and proceeded to trace sigils between each point, drawing invisible lines of power through the air until he’d generated a sort of shimmering cage of anti-glitter. When he was quite certain it was secure, every last strand tightened and double-knotted, he whispered the final words of power in a dead and damned language.
Then he climbed into the front seat, slammed the door shut, and reached for his seatbelt. “Are you buckled in, Miss Talbot?”
Luna, sitting in the passenger seat with Miss Eugenia’s bridal bouquet in her lap, grunted, her gaze focused straight ahead.
“You might want to hold onto something,” he said.
Though she still wouldn’t look at him, she put out one hand, bracing against the dashboard. And a good thing too. Becausethe instant the automagic motor started up, and the vehicle kicked into motion, the spell activated. There was a rumble and a bump and a very briefrush, like a plunge down a short but extraordinarily powerful waterfall. Layers of both the physical and unphysical worlds peeled back in sparks of radiant energy, and the van slipped out of their own narrow form of existence intounspace.
A yelp burst from Luna’s lips, followed by a stream of prayers to the Green Mother, spoken in such a rush, Nigel could only pick up a word here and there. Words like, “Help!” and “Deliverance!” and “Mercy!” spoken with particular emphasis.
