“He’d better,” Beau muttered, “otherwise there won’t be any city left to save.”
Luc was shivering. Hunter Black shrugged off his heavy coat and rested it over the gardener’s shoulders.
Cricket folded her arms tightly. “So how exactly are we supposed to stop the Noirceur when we can’t walk two steps beyond the museum without getting caught in a time loop? We’ll never make it to Big Ben. We’d get hit by a falling toad or struck by lightning.”
Anouk thought about this, then jerked her head toward the clouds. “Snow.”
“Um, cabbage, it isn’t snowing,” Beau pointed out.
“Not yet.” Anouk felt the magic tingling in her palms. This time, she didn’t have to rely on anyone to cast magic for her. She needed a big storm, big enough to cover the whole city. She began to whisper. She spun her left hand in a circle, and the clouds lowered and darkened. Flakes started to fall.
“You’re summoning Jak,” Cricket realized.
Anouk muttered between whispers, “Not just Jak—all the Snow Children. They can’t stop the plagues, but they might be able to interrupt them. Buy us time before the city is torn apart.”
The snow fell like the gods were sugaring the city. In the chaos below, the few Pretties not caught in time loops raised umbrellas. Snow fell thick on Anouk’s head and arms. It caught in Cricket’s hair and in Beau’s eyelashes. Hunter Black pulled up the collar of his shirt, hunkering low. Soon a light coating of snow dusted the glass dome of the museum roof.
Anouk heard a cruel chuckle behind her and spun.
“Miss me so soon?” Jak asked.
He was clutching the spire at the top of the dome.
Behind him, more faces appeared, all of them pale with black eyes and icicle hair. Dozens of Snow Children perched on the glass dome. A girl with jagged frosty curls. A cluster of boys with clothes made of ice. Even as a witch, Anouk felt uncertain. These were ancient creatures. Older than Goblins, older than Royals, so old that they weren’t even an order of the Haute.
“Jak,” she said. “The Noirceur is spreading too fast. I need you and the other Snow Children to freeze the city. Coat it all in ice temporarily. Cricket and I have a plan to transfer the Noirceur to a new vessel—the Heart of Alexandrite—but the plagues are going to destroy the whole city and everyone in it before we can.”
Jak didn’t seem concerned about the bedlam below or her anxiety. “Cities rise and fall. It is the way of things. Why should we intervene?”
Her cheeks burned. She was desperate. “You want a kiss. I’ll . . . I’ll give you one once all of this is over.”
Hunter Black growled his disapproval.
Beau spun on her. “Cabbage, are you crazy?”
Viggo, in the doorway, looked deeply troubled. “You can’t, Dust Mop. Think of those dead girls in the forest you told us about. You want to join them?”
She ignored them. “I’ll do it,” she told Jak. “I promise. I’ll risk it.” She held her chin high, but to her surprise, Jak sadly shook his head.
“No, lovely.”
Her eyes widened. “Why not?”
“You’ve changed. You’re no longer warm—you’re burning. The blue flame inside of you would burn me too.”
Anouk let out a cry. She’d become a witch to defeat the Coven of Oxford, only to find they’d ceased to exist, swallowed by something even more daunting. Now she couldn’t even kiss a Snow Child. “Then what do you want?”
“A kiss, just not from you.”
His black eyes skimmed over Cricket, who gave him a scowl, to Beau, who straightened quickly, to Viggo, who leaned in the doorway and picked carelessly at his fingernails, to Hunter Black, who looked like a sullen shadow even without his coat, to Luc, where they finally settled.
Jak smiled.
Luc tensed. He pulled the collar of Hunter Black’s coat higher around his neck. The other Snow Children crept forward over the dome, soft and graceful as spiders, leaving no prints behind.
Hunter Black moved defensively in front of Luc. He cracked his knuckles. “Try it, and you’ll kiss my fist.”
“He’s right,” Anouk said. “It’s me or nobody.”
Strangely, Luc hadn’t said a word. She shot him a worried look. He looked awful. She crouched next to him and asked quietly, “Luc? You okay?”
“Yes, it’s—” His gaze flickered to her eyes briefly, then to Hunter Black’s, and he closed his mouth. “Nothing.”
Jak took a silent step forward and Anouk snapped her head around. “No. He was poisoned. He’s still recovering. A kiss from you would kill him immediately.”
Jak gave Luc a long look, and Anouk got the sense she was missing some understanding between them.
“It’s all right,” Luc said quietly. “I’ll do it.”
Hunter Black barked a quick “No.”
Anouk dug her fingers into Luc’s arm. “Luc, you can’t. You know what a kiss means.”
Beneath her fingers, his skin was burning up. Shouldn’t her antidote have worked by now?
“It’s okay, Dust Bunny.” He clapped his hand over hers. Then he faced Jak. “Freeze the city and when all of this is over, I’ll give you what you want.”
Anouk tried to protest again. Cricket pulled out her knives, hurling threats at Jak and the other cold bodies behind him, but the Snow Children only blinked their black eyes languidly.
Jak pivoted toward Anouk. “We can do as you ask, but only if we are present, which means as long as the snow falls. As soon as your snow spell ends, we vanish, and your city returns to chaos. Do you intend to keep whispering forever?”
Anouk felt a moment of panic. But she wasn’t some maid anymore with minor tricks at her fingertips. She was a witch. The Gargoyle. She swallowed a pinch of snow with downy-soft owl feathers and whispered, “Ombra ja.”
She took an exaggerated, theatrical step forward. A copy of herself, nearly translucent, remained behind. A shadow self. She’d never tried this spell before, and she marveled to see her own ghostly double hanging back. She stopped chanting the snow spell, but her shadow self continued. The snowfall continued too.
“That’s amazing!” Cricket said. “How long will it last?”
“Not long, I’m afraid. Shadow selves are unpredictable. A few hours, maybe. Right now it’s the best I can do. We’ll have to work fast.”
Jak turned to the other Snow Children and spoke a few words in a language she’d never heard. They gathered on the dome, clinging like frost. They needed no life-essence to cast magic; it was easy for creatures made of snow to command ice and frost. The glass beneath their hands began to frost over. The doves that were perched at the edge of the museum froze in place as though they’d been encased in glass; not a single movement of their eyes, not a flutter of their feathers. Anouk ran to the edge of the rooftop. The frost rapidly spread down the sides of the museum, stopping leaves from fluttering, pausing birds in midflight and leaving them fixed in the sky, immobile. The frost spread to the next block, where it froze the churning waves of the Thames, froze the pedestrians and the cars, froze billowing coats and scarves, even froze the flickering gas-lamp flames outside of tourist pubs. There were no more screams, no honking cars, no twisting of metal, no deafening flutter of wings. Only the patter of snow.
Anouk pressed a hand to her chest to feel for the rise and fall of her breath, reassuring herself that she was still able to move. Beau stretched and folded his fingers. Cricket tapped her shoe on the rooftop to hear it echo.
“The whole city’s standing still,” Beau breathed.
Hunter Black pointed grimly to the horizon. “Not all of it.”
The black smoke that clouded at the base of Big Ben was still swirling. The clock hands still ticked, echoing in the quiet city, and the smoke vibrated in time with it.
“We cannot freeze what cannot be frozen,” Jak explained. “That tower is commanded by the Noirceur, and the Noirceur is an oblivion, an emptiness. There is nothing to freeze. The city now belongs
to you and to it.” He jerked his chin toward the tower. Then he flashed Luc a grin. “And soon, you will belong to us. We’ll come to collect.”
Hunter Black darted between them in a flash, his fists raised. The wind blew stronger; the snow was so heavy it was hard to see more than a foot or two in any direction. Hunter Black twisted, hanging close to Luc in case the Snow Children tried to grab him. When the wind finally eased, Jak and the rest of the Snow Children were gone. Hunter Black spun in a tight circle, fists high, ready to fight a foe who’d vanished.
Anouk threw her arms around Luc. “You shouldn’t have made that promise!”
The city was eerily quiet. She could hear Luc’s heartbeat, Cricket’s pacing footsteps, Beau’s anxious hands stretching his leather gloves, Viggo spitting over the roof edge onto the motionless Pretties below.
And then there was an odd crackle in the air. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, like it did when electricity was building before a lightning strike. But the clouds overhead weren’t threatening a storm. The crackling sound thunked and whirred like machinery gearing up, and she peered at the air-conditioning units on the museum roof. A half an inch of frost coated the fan blades. They were as frozen as the mummies that had just moments ago been pressing and moaning against the stairwell door.
Suddenly, the crackling noise came from behind her, and she twisted around. Little sparks erupted in the air around the skylight. The others heard it too. They all gathered close. Cricket drew her knives. Hunter Black balled his fists.
With a blinding flash, a figure appeared on the skylight.
Anouk slapped her hands over her eyes. When the spots cleared from her vision, she saw a girl dressed in an enviable black couture coat and champagne-colored sunglasses, holding a box.
Petra.
The witch coolly slid the sunglasses up into her hair, squinting at the double moons with a distrustful glower. She dusted a few snowflakes off of her coat. Then she caught sight of Anouk and grinned. She stepped off the skylight, shifted the box to one arm, and held out her palm.
The ruby.
“Thanks,” Petra said, folding her fingers back over the ruby, “for the ticket into the city. We got your message from Saint. Congratulations on walking the coals, my fellow witchie.” Something glittered in her eyes, a deep pride. She leaned close to kiss Anouk’s cheek and whispered, “Ash.”
Anouk raised an eyebrow. “Ash?”
“The Ash Witch. That’s my moniker. Born of fire, heart of coals, cozy but dangerous if you get too close. I told you that I’d tell you my moniker when you survived.”
Anouk grinned. “It’s perfect.”
Petra slid her sunglasses back down. She turned to the others. “Rennar sends his regards along with something that I think we’ll find exceptionally helpful. Who’s in the mood for a present?”
She shook the mysterious box tantalizingly.
Chapter 38
They used Anouk’s enchanted doorway to pass directly from the roof to the basement, bypassing the museum’s floors overrun by the dead. (Even frozen, Petra said, mummies were creepy.) Once they’d settled in amid the artifacts and half-finished dioramas, Petra devoured a few slices of pizza, then set Rennar’s box on the clock-repair table and removed the lid with a flourish.
“Voilà,” she proclaimed. “Our problems are solved. Well, one of our problems.”
Anouk held her breath. The last time Rennar had given her a gift, it had been her wedding dress. She twisted the ring on her finger anxiously. Curse him if it was some other trinket meant to tempt her or mock Beau—but she frowned when she peered into the box. It contained two ancient brass doorknobs and a collection of rusty hinges carefully tucked into silk handkerchiefs.
Anouk picked up a screw. “Rennar sent hardware?”
“Not just any hardware.” Petra reverently unwrapped a hinge. “They’re Objekte.”
Anouk’s eyes widened. One of the long nights studying in the Cottage library with Marta, Anouk had come across a reference to Objekte. Now she considered the hinge in her palm with more awe.
“What are Objekte?” Beau seized a doorknob and poked around at the latch to see how it all fit together.
Petra gasped and knocked the doorknob out of his hand. “Careful, imbécile!” She sighed toward the ceiling. “Objekte are permanently enchanted objects. They’re rare and fabulously valuable. Each one is worth more than ten of your lives, Beau.” She shooed him away from the box as she nestled the doorknob back into the silk and explained, “Most objects, like doors or brooms or motorcycles, can be enchanted, but only for a few minutes. Enchantments have a short half-life. But over the ages, a few casters have figured out how to imbue certain items with deeper magic. Judging by the style, this set of door hardware comes from the Prussian Empire. Used correctly, the knobs can open doorways to anywhere in the world, bypassing border spells and other protection enchantments. Once we got your message, Anouk, Rennar consulted with Duke Karolinge and they went poking around in the cellars of Castle Ides and came back with this. They made me promise on the fate of my oubliette not to lose any of the pieces.” She shot Beau another warning look.
Anouk peered closer at the hinge in her palm. Now that she knew it was Objekte, it felt almost alive in her hand. “How does the spell work?”
“Well, for starters, we need to get to Omen House.”
Omen House. Anouk had heard of it, of course. In each of the most magical cities in the world, there existed a facsimile of the exact same building, a stately eight-story edifice of stone and brick. In Paris, it was called Castle Ides, and the Parisian Royals claimed the honor of inhabiting the penthouse. In London, the building was called Omen House, and the Court of Isles had their offices on the fourth floor. Not long ago, Anouk had peeked into a fourth-floor boardroom when the elevator accidentally stopped there. She’d met the irresistible Tenpenny, with his broken-heart tattoo and his pet rat. Thinking of him brought on a stab of sadness. Tenpenny had fought hard to regain the Goblins’ hold on London. He should have been with them, plotting to take back his city.
But he hadn’t made it. Neither had the rat.
“Omen House is near Piccadilly Circus,” Anouk said, still feeling mournful. She set the hinge back in the box. “I saw it from the fourth floor of Castle Ides. Beyond the windows, there were double-decker buses circling the square.”
Petra closed up the box of hardware. “Then we’re taking a walk.”
Luc had been leaning heavily on the corner of one of the sarcophagi. Now he stood, but the effort seemed to cost him. He leaned back and pressed a hand to his heart.
Anouk felt his forehead. “Maybe you should stay here.”
He waved away her hand and stood up straight again, this time more steadily. “I can make it.”
But Anouk knew him better than that. There was a knot of fear in his face. He wasn’t telling her everything. Was this about his deal with Jak? The impending kiss? Her thoughts began to spiral someplace dark, and before Luc could see the worry on her face, she turned to the box of hardware.
What if she lost Luc like she’d lost Tenpenny? She’d known the Goblin for only a few days but had found much to admire in his quirks and mettle, so losing him left her feeling unfinished, like a dish in need of salt and pepper. How would it feel if she lost Luc, who’d been with her almost every day of her life?
Petra poked around through the odd assortment of tools on the clock-repair table and found a screwdriver and a wrench. “We might need these for the spell. And who knows what else we’ll encounter out there in the city.”
They made their way up the basement stairs. Cricket pushed aside the crates they’d used to barricade the door, eased it open, and, head cocked, listened for any activity. After a second, she gave the others a nod. “It’s quiet. But stay on the alert, just the same.”
They entered the museum cautiously. The dim security lights were still on but coated in thick slabs of ice that gave the rooms strange shadows. They made their way
down a hallway with bathrooms and then turned the corner into the main section of the museum.
Beau, in front, saw a figure and jumped. “Argh!” Instinctively, he threw a punch. Anouk and the others rushed to his side. There was a mummy there, its hollow mouth open in a silent roar, but it was as frozen as everything else. And now there was a fresh dent in its skull where Beau had hit it.
Beau made a face. “Ew. I think I touched brains.” He wiped his hand on his pants.
There were more mummies behind the one that had startled Beau. One had been frozen as it crawled across the carpet. Another one had been frozen while scratching stumpy fingers against a display case. A third one had been frozen while tangled in a velvet rope.
Petra raised an eyebrow in a silent question. “About these mummies . . .”
“Long story,” Anouk told her.
As they made their way through the museum, Anouk filled Petra in on everything that had happened since they’d arrived in London: Sinjin’s confession, the visit to Stonehenge, her vision of the Noirceur and calling upon the Snow Children to freeze the entire city. They made it to the museum’s entry hall, which was perfectly still. The banner proclaiming the upcoming exhibit was frozen mid-flutter. A moth was suspended over the ticket booth, its wings coated with ice. Anouk and the others were silent, as though a single word might break the spell. Luc, wheezing, leaned heavily on the ticket booth. His eyes were unfocused. But when Anouk gave him a worried look, he wiped the sweat off his brow and stood straighter.
“Ready?” Cricket said, hand on the front door.
“Wait,” Viggo said, fumbling in his pockets. “Let me get my camera.” He dug his phone out while Cricket gave him an impatient look. “It’s not every day I’m part of saving the world.”
Cricket mumbled under her breath and shoved open the door. One by one, they stepped across the threshold into London. Other than the light snowfall commanded by Anouk’s shadow self from its position on the roof, the whole city was encased in an unsettling silence. A teenage Pretty girl was frozen as she ducked to avoid a brick another Pretty had hurled at her. Pigeons were frozen midflight above the corpse of a toad. A car had driven halfway into a time slip and was half gone—the driver and half of the passenger in the back had vanished; the other half of the passenger was frozen. Overhead, perfectly still clouds hung in front of the twin moons. Other than the falling snow, there wasn’t a hint of movement.
Midnight Beauties Page 27