Someone screamed on the ground floor, followed by a curse, then another scream. She groaned. Just once couldn’t she savor a victory?
She shoved herself up and ran through the Accessories department to the balcony.
“Cricket?” she yelled, leaning over the rail.
“Here!”
It had come from the Baked Goods section of the ground floor. Anouk scanned the tables full of treats until she saw a scuffle by the front doors. She’d expected Cricket to be fighting Hunter Black, but to her shock, Cricket was in hand-to-hand combat with someone else.
A Goblin in roller skates.
Chapter 44
“D ecember?”
Anouk could scarcely believe her eyes. December was hurling herself at Cricket, casting vicious cutting spells that sliced at Cricket’s arms; in return, Cricket threw out a spell to make the Goblin’s wheels stop. December slammed to the floor abruptly, but then immediately pushed herself up to her knees and started crawling toward Cricket. She moved so fast, so stiffly. Cricket leaped onto a table to get away, not wanting to hurt someone who, until seconds ago, had been an ally.
Cricket called up to Anouk, “Uh, you said a button possessed Hunter Black, right? A glass button?”
“That’s right.”
“He came charging through here a moment ago. I thought he was going to try to kill me. But he just thrust a button in December’s pocket. She turned into . . . into this demon on wheels.” December was snarling out tricks in the Selentium Vox to burn Cricket. “I could use a little help!”
Anouk clutched the railing. Her mind went between the ground floor and the top one. Hunter Black had to have known that she’d rush to Cricket’s aid, giving him a clear shot to the fifth floor to kill Beau.
Did she help Cricket or did she save Beau?
She closed her eyes briefly.
“Petra!” she called.
In another moment, the Ash Witch appeared on the fourth floor and leaned over the railing. “What? Make it fast, I’m right on Hunter Black’s tail!”
“Forget him!” Anouk pointed to the ground floor. “Help Cricket.”
Petra peered down and let out a groan. She swallowed a pinch of her lavender ash and, faster than Anouk could track, leaped over the railing.
“Petra, wait, no!” Anouk squeezed her eyes shut.
Petra was four stories up. No Pretty could jump from that distance and survive. But Petra wasn’t a Pretty anymore.
Hesitantly, Anouk opened one eye.
Petra plunged four stories down and landed primly on a table full of chocolate truffles. The truffles were ruined, but Petra was in one piece. She stood up, dusted chocolate off her boots, and stretched her neck.
“Did you just . . . did you fly?” Anouk shook her head—after everything she’d seen, sometimes the Haute could still surprise her.
“More like graceful falling.” Petra leaped off the truffle table and swallowed more ash.
Anouk looked back up to the fifth floor. “Beau,” she whispered.
She raced through the Accessories department until she reached the stairs. Her breath came ragged as she climbed from the third floor to the fourth, then started up to the fifth. A few steps from the top, a dark shape came hurtling through the air in her direction. Saint! What was the falcon doing here? His eyes were piercingly black. He was aiming straight for her. She barely had time to wonder why the falcon wasn’t with Duke Karolinge before it slammed into her.
“Saint, stop!”
She shielded her face from his talons. His wings pummeled the air. He let out a sharp cry as he aimed for her eyes. She stumbled back until her hips hit the railing. She couldn’t retreat any farther.
“Saint, no!”
She tried to reach into her pocket for another owl feather, but the falcon’s talons sliced at her wrist. Had Duke Karolinge commanded Saint to attack her? Why? Something was rattling around in the falcon’s bell—something bigger than a brass ball. She caught a glimpse of something glass.
“Oh no.” Hunter Black must have slipped the third of his glass buttons into the bird’s bell, possessing him just like he had with December. If she couldn’t reach her oubliette pockets, she couldn’t swallow life-essence and stop him. His talons kept tearing at her wrists. She pushed away, shielding herself, but the bird came at her harder. He was going to slice her apart. She had to think . . .
On an impulse, she stopped pushing the bird away. Maybe it was crazy, but she grabbed a fistful of his feathers and pulled him closer. She hugged the bird so hard against her chest that she pinned his wings and talons. For a second, she was safe. She could think. Her mind raced. Struggling to hold the bird tightly, she leaned over the railing. Below, Cricket and Petra were on opposite sides of December, casting out whispers. Petra was subject to the vitae echo, but Cricket wasn’t, so theoretically she could kill the Goblin. But it was clear that, like with Hunter Black, they didn’t want to hurt someone who wasn’t in possession of her own body.
Footsteps sounded across the atrium and one floor up. The ground suddenly rumbled like an enormous truck had driven by. Shards of frost broke off the ceiling and rained down. Anouk’s head whipped around. Hunter Black wasn’t the most skilled with magic, but somehow, he’d managed to cast a spell to separate the top of the staircase from the upper floor. A ten-foot-wide chasm now blocked her access to the top level.
If she moved her hands even an inch to get her crux, Saint would get free and claw out her eyes—but without life-essence, how could she span the chasm to stop Hunter Black?
A nauseating idea came to her.
Tenpenny had bitten off his own pet rat’s head and drunk the blood to save them from the Marble Ladies. She couldn’t bring herself to bite anything’s head off, even to save Beau, but maybe she could handle something slightly less grisly.
“I’m sorry, Saint.”
She forced herself to grab the bird by the throat. Mada Vittora had been fond of baked-crow cassoulet, so it wasn’t the first time Anouk had slaughtered a bird, but it never got easier. She gritted her teeth and twisted the bird’s head until she heard a crack. It ripped something in her heart too, but she forced herself to ignore her feelings. Saint, dead, fell heavily to the stairs. Wisps of feathers floated in the air, wrenched out from when she’d twisted his neck. The stairs were slick with her blood, dripping from where his talons had sliced her.
The worse part was, she wasn’t done.
The vitae echo kept magic in check because handlers couldn’t take an entire life—that much life-essence would double back and kill the handler too. But Anouk wasn’t subject to the vitae echo. She grimaced as she crouched on the stairs, working fast. She pulled a knife and a bottle from her oubliette pockets and made quick work of draining Saint’s blood.
In a few seconds she’d gagged down half of the bird’s still-warm blood. She could feel it spreading through her body, giving her power. She had an idea for how to get around Hunter Black’s chasm. Petra hadn’t exactly flown, but then again, wasn’t gravity just another fairy tale?
“Volart kael.”
She climbed over the stair railing and, sucking in a breath, jumped. She didn’t think. Fear shot through her heart but . . . she didn’t fall. She hovered four stories up. She was floating toward the fifth story like a leaf caught in an updraft. Her feet kicked at air. She felt that awful terrifying moment of having nothing beneath her and she knew that she should be plunging down four stories—but she wasn’t. She reached out her hands like a trapeze artist and grabbed hold of the fifth-floor balcony.
“Aha!”
The rail was solid beneath her palms. She was so shocked that it worked that she nearly let go, but the spell was fading and gravity was quickly rushing back. She scrambled to climb up and over the railing into the shoe department.
It was a wreck. Shoes were scattered all over the floor, tables were overturned, and shoeboxes were stacked into makeshift barricades. At the end of the department, by the domed window,
Beau sat immobile in the armchair.
“Beau!”
When she called his name, he turned his head in her direction. She was flushed with relief. He’s okay! But he was also alone. Exposed.
“Damn it, Viggo, you promised to watch out for him,” she muttered.
Without warning, Viggo leaped out from behind a barricade of shoeboxes, pistol in hand. His face twisted in surprise when he saw her. “Anouk!”
She stopped, pressing a hand to her heart. “Viggo!”
He lowered the gun. “I thought you were Hunter Black! Cricket warned me he was on the loose.”
She dropped her hand, scowling. “So you set up Beau as bait?”
“It was his idea!”
“Cabbage?” Beau perked up, his sightless eyes searching. She climbed over the mountains of shoeboxes and knelt at his side. She pressed her hand to his cheek.
“Beau, I’m here.”
“Is it true about Hunter Black?”
“We’ll get him. We’ll exorcise the Noirceur before it destroys him.”
Beau’s head tilted in the direction of the window, as though he were asking a silent question. She glanced at the glowing face of Big Ben beyond the glass. No more colored lights flashed on the horizon. The entire contingent of Royals were gathered at the base by the pyre of clocks. Prince Aleksi, Queen Violante, all of the lesser Royals were there, and all the Goblins, except for December. They were waiting for her to banish the Noirceur into the Heart of Alexandrite.
But first, she had to get past Hunter Black.
She knew he was there even before she heard him. His footsteps were heavy on the marble floors. In a roomful of shoes, only his made any sound.
“Anouk.” His voice wasn’t his own. Like when the Noirceur had possessed King Kaspar, it was that awful rumble. There was something familiar about the way he said her name, as though the force inside Hunter Black recognized her. The Noirceur wasn’t sentient, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t drawn to its own kind.
The Noirceur to the Dark Thing.
Nature to nature.
Dark to dark.
Chapter 45
Beau gripped the edges of the chair. His sightless eyes darted toward Hunter Black’s voice. His fingers curled. He was going to do something stupid, she knew it. Something brave.
“Be the damsel in distress for once in your life,” she whispered to him. “Let me save you.”
“Cabbage, no.” But without sight, he couldn’t stop her, and they both knew it.
She turned to Hunter Black. She could hear Cricket and Petra fighting December on the ground floor. Beyond the windows, snow was falling. Clouds were low and dark on the horizon, as though the world itself were angry.
Smoke poured out of Hunter Black’s mouth as he whispered phrases in a language even more ancient than the Selentium Vox. Before she could think, he rushed at her.
“Sokdet!” She threw up her hands in a sweeping gesture. The spell pulled the rug out from under him and he was flung backward, though at the last moment he torqued his body and landed in a crouch. He sprang up and threw a high kick at her ear. She dodged it and pivoted out of his range, sucking in a quick breath while she could.
Viggo, hiding behind the checkout counter, popped up long enough to hurl a shoe at him. It bounced off the assassin’s back harmlessly, but it did cause him to turn with a growl, giving Anouk a rare opening.
“Cessa-col!”
Her spell enchanted Hunter Black’s boots and made them stick to the floor. As soon as he tried to take a step, he lost his balance and toppled over into a mountain of shoeboxes. Couture shoes tumbled all over the floor. He kicked out of his boots and stood barefoot. He came toward her with a growl but tripped on a Bergdorf heel, giving Anouk time to cast another spell.
“Versik, versik sa . . .”
But she cut off her own spell before speaking the final word. A bleeding spell could kill him. The same with a cutting spell, a burning spell, a transmutation spell. She didn’t want to kill Hunter Black. Her mind scrolled through other options, something to merely incapacitate . . .
He took advantage of her moment of hesitation. He spun into a roundhouse turn that brought him close enough to grab her calf. She cried out and jerked back, but his grip was like a vise. He gave a sharp tug and she fell over. He dragged her closer as she screamed and clawed at the floor.
He reached for her throat with bleeding hands. From behind the cash register, Viggo threw a pair of sneakers at him, then a boot, but the shoes only bounced off his shoulders and tumbled to the floor. Anouk swallowed. What choice did she have but to use a fatal spell?
She opened her mouth . . .
Hunter Black drew back a fist and, before she could get out another whisper, slammed it into the side of Anouk’s head.
She crashed backward against the floor. Pain radiated through her skull. She clutched her jaw, which felt terrifyingly loose. She coughed and tried to whisper the spell.
“Armur ver . . .”
It didn’t work. She edged back, still clutching her jaw. It was broken! With the fractured bones, she couldn’t speak in the right tone. For a moment, panic filled her. She’d taken a risky journey to the Cottage, she’d agreed to a dangerous marriage, she’d faced turning back into an animal, she’d faced almost certain death in the Coal Baths, she’d even sacrificed Saint, and now, with one punch, Hunter Black had taken everything from her.
He loomed over her so fast that she barely had time to think. His eyes were devastatingly blank. She knew, in that moment, there was no pleading with a force that couldn’t be reasoned with. The Noirceur was going to use her friend to kill her.
She spared a last look at Beau. He was out of the chair and on all fours, trying to feel his way across the floor to help her, but Viggo crawled out from behind the counter and grabbed him, holding him back. Finally Viggo was good for something.
“Anouk!” Beau cried.
She wanted to answer. Tell him she loved him. Tell him that if life was a fairy tale, he was her heart’s greatest desire. But only unintelligible words came from her broken jaw.
Just as Hunter Black raised another fist, someone else started whispering.
“Armur ver, armur ex, armur nime.”
Anouk whipped her head toward the sound. Petra! The witch raced across the marble floor with the whisper on her lips, the same spell Anouk had tried and failed to cast. With her shock of red hair and black coat simmering with live embers, she looked every bit the vicious and formidable Ash Witch. Hard to believe it was the same girl they’d found on the side of the road taking out the recycling in ripped jeans.
The sheer force of Petra’s spell shoved Hunter Black backward, threw him twenty feet across the floor, and pinned him against the balcony railing. Petra held both hands out, palms directed at Hunter Black, continuing the whisper to hold him there.
“Anouk!”
Cricket was behind Petra, using ropes made of clothing to cross the detached staircase. Rennar was with her. He held a scrap of fabric that looked like December’s pocket—he must have helped them break the Goblin’s possession. Rennar took one look at the scene and strode to Petra’s side to take over the difficult spell. As soon as he had Hunter Black trapped against the railing, Petra fell back, gasping for air.
Cricket fell to her knees by Anouk. “Are you okay?”
Anouk pushed herself up, still holding her jaw.
“December?” she choked out.
Cricket nodded. “She’s okay. Rennar finished clearing Westminster and came looking for you. We got the button out of December’s pocket. Lucky for us there was a time slip in the gelato department. Rennar unfroze it and we threw in the button before it could possess us. December is groggy, but she’s coming back to herself. What happened to your jaw?”
Anouk gestured to Hunter Black. Rennar had him pinned against the balcony railing so hard that black tears were streaking down his cheeks.
Viggo finally let Beau go, and Beau crawled across the ma
rble floor in the direction of their voices. Anouk clambered toward him. She grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him into a hug. “Cabbage,” he whispered. His arms were holding her as though he never wanted to let her go. “Gargoyle. Princess.” His hands ran along her back and her arms, as though he were reassuring himself she was still in one piece, but when he reached for her jaw, she pulled back sharply.
His eyebrows came together. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Cricket explained about Anouk’s jaw.
“Well, tell Rennar to heal it!” Beau cried. “He’s your husband—he has to be good for something!” But every ounce of Rennar’s magic was aimed at keeping Hunter Black pinned to the balcony railing. When Beau heard Rennar’s whispers, he cursed. “Petra. Get Petra. She can do it.”
Anouk and Cricket turned toward Petra, who was slumped in the leather armchair they’d dragged down for Beau, still trying to catch her breath.
“Can you heal her?” Cricket asked.
Petra leaned forward, nodding amid heaving breaths. “Yes, if we can get more lavender ash, but at the moment we have bigger problems.” She pointed to the domed window. Beyond the glass was the familiar city skyline. Anouk’s head was doing strange wobbly things from pain and exhaustion, and she let out something like a delirious laugh when she realized what Petra meant.
“What is it?” Beau cried.
For a moment, none of them could bear to answer. Cricket finally said in a dark tone, “It’s stopped snowing. Duke Karolinge must have given up. Or . . . he’s dead.”
Anouk sank back on her heels. She closed her eyes. Her heart was beating too fast, pumping blood so hard that she was afraid she might pass out. Awful images filled her head. The Duke dead on the museum roof. The mummies stirring back to life. The entire city thawing. Storms of toads. Time loops out of control. Pretties screaming.
When she opened her eyes and looked more closely out the window, she started shaking. Just like in her worst fears, the city was thawing. In fits and jerks, the world restarted. Tires began to spin. Cars honked endlessly. Sidewalks rumbled and split apart, and people caught in the rift plunged to their demise. Giant waves swelled up from the Thames, swallowing Pretties whole.
Midnight Beauties Page 32