Midnight Beauties

by Megan Shepherd

  Pretending, it turned out, wasn’t difficult at all.

  The night before the wedding, exhausted from dancing lessons and stuffed full of beignets, she dragged herself into the billiard room, which the other beasties had staked out as their own space, and flopped down on the long leather sofa. She gave a tired but satisfied sigh and took the last of the beignets out of her pocket. Music still chimed in her ears.

  Beau and Cricket and Hunter Black had recovered enough to spend the evening poring over the Duke’s books from the Cottage. Judging from the small piles of moth wings on the table, Cricket had been practicing spell casting. And judging from the singe marks on the carpet, Anouk wasn’t sure if it had been successful.

  Viggo sent her a wry glance over top of his book. “Nice of you to spare a moment from being pampered to come see us. We’re only staying up all night trying to figure out a plan for saving the world here.”

  Anouk was poised to shove the last of a beignet in her mouth. She paused and guiltily wiped her hand on the sofa. “Rennar says I have to make it look convincing.”

  “Yeah,” Beau mumbled, not taking his eyes off his book. “You could have fooled me.”

  Beau’s face was still winter-pale, but the glassy sheen was gone from his eyes; he was himself again, minus the memories from the past few weeks. Yesterday morning, she’d brought him fresh coffee in bed and crawled beneath the covers and told him about traveling to the Black Forest and about him being locked in the stables. He’d gone moody and quiet until she’d mentioned how she’d sneaked him ham scraps, and that had mollified him.

  She moved to perch on the armrest of his chair and run a hand through his messy hair, but he bristled. She stopped and turned to the stack of books instead. “Have you found anything?”

  Petra slammed a book closed. “Black tears.”

  Anouk raised an eyebrow. “You mean a reference to them?”

  “No, real black tears. This morning while you were trouncing around sniffing bridal bouquets, Quine’s sister started crying black tears.”

  Anouk’s face went slack. “Mia?”

  “Yes. And it gets worse.” Petra went to the window, leaning on the sill. Sleet pounded against the glass. “Duke Karolinge sent Saint into London this afternoon on a reconnaissance mission.”

  “I didn’t think birds could get through the border spell.”

  “The spell prevents anything enchanted from crossing into London. That includes Rennar’s crows and the Castle’s messenger doves. But Saint isn’t enchanted. He’s a regular falcon. The Duke used Pretty falconry methods to train him, not magic. Saint made it across the border and brought back a message from a contact there that the plagues in London are getting worse. There are reports of time slips. Pockets of the city getting trapped in thirty-second loops. Men and women walk into a time slip and repeat the same gestures again and again until their bones wear out and they die of exhaustion. The Pretties are starting to realize this is more than just ‘atmospheric irregularities’ caused by ‘pollution excess.’ ”

  Luc suddenly sat upright, eyes wide at the book in his lap. “Look at this. Here. It mentions something called the Dark Chaos, but I think that’s a mistranslation. I think they mean Noirceur. Anyway, it says it originated with the formation of the Earth. It came about from natural elements. Fire and water.”

  “Fire and water don’t go together,” Viggo said.

  “Yes, they do,” Luc said, eyes dancing. “In a sense. They make smoke.”

  Anouk raised an eyebrow.

  “That still doesn’t help us with Jak’s riddle,” Beau said. One of the first things Anouk had told them about, once they were human again, was her talk with Jak.

  Luc sank back in the leather chair, took off his wire-rimmed glasses, and massaged the bridge of his nose. “If we want to solve his riddle, we have to first figure out what the symbol means. There are books here on pictographs and iconography, but there’s nothing that looks like what he drew.”

  Anouk joined Petra at the window. The sleet painted the city in messy gray strokes. If only it would snow—​then maybe Jak would come and give her another clue.

  “You never said what it was,” Anouk said quietly.

  Petra raised a questioning eyebrow. “What what was?”

  “You said you decided what your moniker will be, but you didn’t say what it was.”

  A coy smile flickered over Petra’s face. “Didn’t I?”

  A gray shadow rippled through the rain and landed on the bust of Rennar in the front yard.

  “There’s Saint,” Cricket commented, “back from London again. Maybe he’s brought better news.”

  Petra gave a gasp and sat up straight. Her eyes were wide. “That’s it! The falcon!”

  Anouk stared blankly. “What about him?”

  “You asked how he got into London and I told you about the border spell. How he’s just a regular bird.”

  “And . . .” Beau said.

  “And that means the Coven’s border spell doesn’t block animals. Regular, unenchanted animals.” Petra’s eyes gleamed darkly. “Don’t you get it? Really? No one? I can get you in! Well, not you. But you. You know.”

  “No,” Luc said flatly. “I don’t.”

  “Animals,” Petra continued with shining eyes. “The five of you are enchanted when you’re in your human form, not in your animal form. The cat and dog and such were just plain animals that Mada Vittora found around the city. If I turn you back into your original selves, you’d be just as unmagical as you were then. You could get through the border and into Britain. I can do it—​the contra-beastie spell isn’t as difficult as the beastie spell.” She tapped a jagged fingernail over her lips. “Let’s see. A boat won’t take wolves or owls, and neither will an airplane. Ah! There’s a service tunnel that runs alongside the Chunnel, the tunnel that runs beneath the English Channel. It’s only ever used in emergencies. You can travel through it into Britain and hop a commuter train the rest of the way to London.”

  The room was quiet, but Petra was so electrified that she didn’t seem to notice.

  “One problem,” Viggo pointed out. “Cats and wolves and owls are predators. If they aren’t in cages, what’s to stop Cricket from eating Luc?”

  Petra’s face fell momentarily, but then a grin spread across her face. “You’ll stop her, Viggo. You’re just a plain, boring Pretty, which means you can cross into Britain too. You’ll lead the animals through the Chunnel and make sure no one eats anyone else.”

  Viggo glowered. “I wouldn’t say boring.”

  Anouk turned away from the gleam in Petra’s eyes. Petra was so proud of herself for the plan—​and it was a decent one—​but Petra thought changing from human to animal was like changing into a new set of clothes. She’d never experienced the Cold Place. The Dark Thing. Petra had always been human and so she’d taken for granted her ability to reason, to laugh, to feel, to cry.

  The other beasties were silent too. Then Luc shifted and said patiently, “You don’t know what you’re asking, Petra.”

  Petra’s face scrunched up. “This will work.”

  “Maybe.” Luc pressed his hands together. “But it’s no small thing, giving up our humanity. After everything we’ve fought for, the idea of returning to our origins, even temporarily, feels like defeat.”

  Petra’s lowered her eyelids slightly. She was beginning to understand, but she still frowned. She spun on Anouk. “I get it, I do, but there’s no other way. What, we’re supposed to trust in Rennar’s plan? Even if he manages to get the Royals to cooperate—​which is a big if—​they’ll only be slowing the Coven down. That isn’t a solution, it’s a Band-Aid.” When Anouk just chewed on her lip, unsure what to say, Petra turned to Cricket. “Come on, Cricket. You know that this makes sense.”

  Cricket folded her arms tightly. “Do I? My whole life, I’ve daydreamed about beasties being able to cast magic, and now we can. We have libraries full of spells, people who can teach us. Yesterday I learned h
ow to make myself invisible. But I can’t do magic if I have paws.”

  Petra groaned and turned to Beau, but he cut off whatever she’d been about to say.

  “I’ve been human all of three days, Petra. Let me live a little! I want to race a car down the Boulevard Saint-Michel. I want to shop at Galeries Lafayette. I want to eat—​mon Dieu, do I ever want to eat. And—” He stopped short. His eyes rested on Anouk, and he looked at her in a way that didn’t need words for everyone in the room to understand exactly what he wanted to do with Anouk.

  Petra slumped against the windowsill and threw her hands up. “I’m trying to help. Trying to save the world, you know.”

  Anouk rested a hand on Petra’s shoulder. “Your idea’s brilliant, Petra. But even if we went through with it, how would we turn back to humans once we reached London? Only a few Royals are powerful enough to perform the spell, and none of them can cross into the city. Viggo certainly can’t turn us back. Viggo can’t do anything.”

  “Hey,” he protested. “I’m feeling very ganged up on at the moment.”

  Petra was quiet. She clearly didn’t have an answer. But a deep voice spoke from behind them.

  “I might know someone who can help.”

  Rennar stood in the billiard-room doorway. How long had he been listening? He wore casual loose gray pants, a white cotton T-shirt that hugged his biceps, and a crimson terrycloth robe. Anouk glanced at the grandfather clock. It was nearly dawn.

  Despite the pajamas, he strode in with a princely air. “Sinjin.”

  “Sinjin? Oh, from the party? Black gloves? Tattoos around the back of his neck? A golden hare?”

  Rennar nodded. “He deals in information. He was a hacker before the Court of Isles got their hands on him—​hence the tattoos of zeros and ones. Binary code. He’d been dating a Goblin girl who talked in her sleep. He found out about the Haute and went to Lady Imogen, begged to be let into our world. Normally she’d have wiped his mind, but hacking skills are useful to people like us, people who can’t use advanced forms of technology, like the internet, without losing our magic. He’s a Pretty, so the border spell has no effect on him. He can come and go freely in London. I sent him back to the city a few days ago to do more reconnaissance. He’s there now, based in Omen House in Piccadilly.”

  “But if he’s a Pretty,” Cricket countered, “he can’t change us back.”

  “He can’t, no. But I can. There is a way that we could . . . arrange . . . to have you turned back.” He went to the wall of chess pieces, selected one hewn from purple amethyst, and waved it enticingly in the air.

  Cricket groaned. “He’s talking in riddles again.”

  “Dear Cricket, sometimes riddles are preferable to reality. Did you know that the Haute can store magic in certain gemstones? Emeralds for beauty. Amber for love. Blue diamonds for transformation. With the proper tools, a skilled Pretty can release the spells they hold. Amethyst,” he mused, toying with the chess piece, “has always been one of my favorites. Give me a few days. It’ll take time.”

  Beau grumbled again about wanting to use his thumbs for a while longer. Cricket had drawn out one of her knives and was twirling it absently, a scowl on her face.

  “It’s an awful plan,” Hunter Black said gruffly, breaking the silence. “But it’s the only one we have.”

  Petra raised a glass to that.

  Anouk chewed her lip, turning back to the window. Paris was beautiful at night in the rain, the streets like glass, the lights and headlights like streaking stars. Could she really turn back voluntarily? She’d fought so hard to keep from turning back. And there were deeper worries. Worries she hadn’t yet fixed a name to. Worries that those dark shadows might be made of the same magic as the Noirceur.

  “Anouk?” Beau touched her shoulder and she jumped. Everyone was staring at her as though they’d been trying to get her attention.

  He searched her face. “Are you okay?”

  She tore her eyes away from his and gave a shallow nod.

  “We don’t have much time,” Cricket said unhappily. “If Quine’s sister is crying black tears, who’s next? We don’t know how the Coven is reaching them, what King Kaspar and Mia and the entire Court of Isles have in common. I hate the plan, but Hunter Black’s right. We don’t have anything better.”

  “Then it’s decided?” Luc asked. “I’m in, but it must be unanimous.”

  “I’m in too,” Cricket said glumly. “But I don’t like it.”

  “And I.” Hunter Black nodded.

  “No one asked me, but I’m in too,” Viggo interjected.

  “Anouk?” Beau asked softly. “I’m in only if you are.”

  She hugged her arms around her chest. “If we’re going to do it, we do it tomorrow after the wedding and coronation. As soon as the Royals swear fealty to the Nochte Pax. That way, even if we fail, the Royals still stand a chance of protecting the rest of Europe.”

  Beau’s face had gone dark at mention of the wedding. Anouk placed a hand on his cheek and smoothed out his worried wrinkles with her thumb. “I told you,” she said quietly. “It’s only a marriage in name. After we stop the Coven, I don’t have to be faithful to him. You and I will be together.”

  “I’m not sure your fiancé knows that,” he grumbled, sliding a look at Rennar.

  “Speaking of fiancé,” Rennar interjected. He sauntered over and took one of Anouk’s hands. “If you haven’t forgotten, we have a wedding to prepare for. Our own.” He glanced at the clock. “It’ll be daylight in an hour and you’re in desperate need of a bath. You can’t show up at your own wedding with ink stains on your fingers and crumbs on your chin.”

  She wiped at her mouth guiltily, then turned back to Beau. “The wedding will be over in a day, we’ll have the support of the Royals, and then you and I will stuff our faces with fistfuls of that cake, okay?”

  Beau still looked glum. “Before rushing to our dark fates?”

  “Yes, before that.”

  She placed a soft kiss on his cheek. He reluctantly smiled.

  The clock chimed six. Rennar tugged Anouk toward the door, calling for the servants. December and the Goblin beauty squad swept into the room and tugged her out by wrist and skirt, scrubbing cloths over her sticky fingers. She sniffed her armpits surreptitiously. She sighed and gave in.

  Even if this wedding was a sham, Rennar was right—​a bath first wouldn’t hurt.

  Chapter 26

  As soon as December and the other Goblins got her to the penthouse salons, they gave her a bath, and then they began to work their magic. Pulling combs through her hair, casting whispers to smooth out the tangles, then styling it into a chignon bow at her nape. They swallowed June bugs and spat out tricks to erase the odd pimple here and there and bring a permanent blush to her cheeks. It took four of them to lower the wedding gown over her head, and when Anouk looked in the mirror, she was surprised to see that the downy feathers covering the train had multiplied yet again so that the wing effect was exaggerated; she looked like she was about to take flight. She tapped at her reflection in the mirror, almost expecting it to move independently of her.

  “Stop looking so surprised,” December said. “We can make the ugliest duckling look like a swan. Er, of course, you were a nice-looking duck to begin with. Pretty, even. For a duck.” She grabbed Anouk’s arm in an attempt to change the subject. “Are you sure you don’t want me to ink some tentacles on your arms?”

  “No, thanks. Really.”

  “I could use pink ink. It would fit the color scheme.”

  “This is fine as it is.”

  “Just one little tentacle?”

  Anouk shook her head. The Goblins exchanged looks. “Boring,” one of them whispered.

  But Anouk smiled at her reflection. She was going to be a princess. From owl to girl to princess. Not many people could claim to have achieved so much. The only person who’d risen equally high was Rennar. Spell-scribe to prince. Now they were going to prove that those who started from h
umble beginnings were capable of great things. The greatest of all? Turning over their power and putting it back into the hands of the people.

  A knock came at the door.

  December opened it for Beau, who had also bathed and was dressed for the occasion in a black suit. He took one look at Anouk and swallowed, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He started to loosen his tie. “Are you sure you don’t want to run off together? We could go back to the Black Forest. Find that castle full of candy and grow fat together.”

  She lifted the heavy train of the dress and waded over to him in a pool of feathers and silk. She placed a hand on his cheek. “First we save the world. Then candy.”

  His soft eyes practically consumed her whole. “What about a kiss? When does that come in?”

  She grinned. “Right now.”

  She touched her lips to his. He smelled like fresh soap, and his skin was smooth and clean. He slid his hand around her back, crushing the feathers, and December gasped in horror and slapped his hand away.

  “You beast!” December cried. “No touching the dress!”

  His mouth curled into a grin over Anouk’s. He picked her up by the waist and swung her around in a twirl of feathers, out of range from December’s slaps, and kissed her again. She leaned into him, laughing, resting a hand on his chest. His heart was beating steadily. The smell of him was driving her wild. She nipped at his bottom lip. He captured her own and leaned her back into a dip, one hand behind her head to keep her from falling.

  Several Goblins stylists gasped.

  “Not the hair!” December wailed. She smacked Beau’s broad shoulders with a hairbrush.

  He put Anouk down and held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m going! I’m going!” He gave Anouk one final look. A corner of his mouth turned up, but something about it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You won’t kiss him like that, will you?”