Chapter 19
Well, that was deftly handled now, wasn’t it?
Luna set her teeth in a firm grimace as she angled her broom under the front display table, swiping debris out into the open floor.
She could be proud of herself. There was absolutely no way that Mr. Grimm could look back now on the events of the day and think that she had been practically throwing herself at him all afternoon.
Not when she’d proven so very accommodating.
Not when she’d taken such pains to make certain he got out the door on time for his date.
Now, when he thought about it, he would recall nothing but the sweet and helpful shop assistant she was meant to be.
And anything she may have inadvertently betrayed during those interesting last few hours . . . all that would soon be forgotten.
“Bryony will help him forget,” Luna muttered.
She applied her broom more vigorously until the flowers all retreated into their pots and vases, blossoms shielded behind leaves.
She gathered a big pile of glass shards and potting soil into a little mountain in the middle of the shop, then moved to fetch her dustpan.
Halfway there, however, her stomach knotted hard and so suddenly, she halfway doubled over.
“Gods!” she gasped, pressing a fist to her middle.
Why did she feel so absolutely sick inside?
“It’s just been a long day,” she muttered, glancing at the dahlias, who watched her rather shamefacedly. “I haven’t eaten. And the stress, you know. It was a stressful afternoon.”
The fit passed. She found her dustpan, filled it, emptied it into the wastebasket, then turned to find the double-delight watching her with a many-bloomed gaze.
“I’m not jealous,” she declared. Her voice sounded a bit too high-pitched, perhaps, but she cleared her throat and lowered it, speaking in calm, measured tones. “Why should I be jealous? So he prefers Bryony. What of it? It’s not as though Mr. Grimm is the only man alive.”
She resumed her sweeping, discovering another stash of broken vases which the tiger lilies had attempted to hide behind a veil of big fern leaves.
She cleaned it up, declaring to the ferns and the tiger lilies as she did so, “I’m not after a man in any case.
Why would I be? I haven’t any business getting involved with anybody! It’s just not practical.”
She carried the mess in her dustpan to the wastebasket and poured it in.
As she watched glittering shards of broken glass tumble out, her mind flashed back to one of many moments that afternoon.
When Mr. Grimm’s head broke through the surface of the water, gasping for breath in the instant before a huge expulsion of laughter burst from his lungs.
She couldn’t remember ever seeing him like that before. So relaxed, so unaware of himself.
Tears sprang to Luna’s eyes. She sniffled and wiped the back of her hand roughly across her nose.
Green Mother spare her, she was not going to cry again!
She’d cried all last night, and look what that had done for her?
Absolutely nothing. It was such a useless waste of time, all that weeping and moaning.
She was over it. If there was ever an it to be over in the first place. Which there wasn’t. Not really.
Her wastebasket was full. Luna stared down at the mounding contents for some moments before this fact finally registered.
With a little shake of her head, she set aside her broom and pan and heaved the basket up into her arms. She’d have to empty it in the dumpster out in the alley, a task Mr. Grimm usually managed for her.
Well, she didn’t need him. She was a strong and capable woman, and she—
The shop bells jingled in warning.
Luna had just stepped into the back passage, but stopped short at the sound. Her heart jolted. Had Mr. Grimm forgotten to lock up behind him when he left? Or was it possible . . . could it be . . . ?
Still holding the wastebasket, Luna turned about and peered from the passage into the shop. Her heart, lifted one moment with hope, took an abrupt plummet for the pit of her stomach even as her lungs constricted around a painful inhale.
Mr. Sulivan Marlin strode across the display floor, wheezing his way toward the counter.
His wide nostrils flared beneath the round spectacles perched on the end of his beaky nose, and his sharply-cut goatee seemed to bristle with the intensity of his indignation.
He reached the counter and rang the bell aggressively several times before turning his head and spying Luna where she stood in the passage entrance.
“You!” he bellowed, lifting a trembling finger and pointing it at her with all the accusatory force of an angel of judgement.
“Don’t you try to hide from me, missy! You ran away earlier, but I told you I’d be back!
And this time, I’ve got reinforcements on the way! ”
Luna’s heart somehow managed to sink even farther.
He meant the SSSD. Only this time, it wouldn’t be a green-eyed wardsman with a devasting smile who came to investigate.
And after all the sorcery Mr. Grimm had just performed today, and the fact that Garden was acting so strangely, and now Mr. Grimm wasn’t even here to protect everything . . .
“Mr. Marlin,” Luna said, using her calmest, most measured tones. “I’m sorry I missed you earlier today. The shop was closed this afternoon for, um, inventory, you see, and—”
“Don’t you try your little sorcerous tricks on me, girlie!” Mr. Marlin pushed away from the counter and stood facing her, his waistcoat swelling with such unsuppressed wrath, it threatened to pop buttons. “I saw you hightailing it away from me!”
Not wanting him anywhere near Garden’s door, Luna hastily stepped out of the passage, still carrying the heavy wastebin.
She kept it between them like a shield until she reached the counter.
There she set it down and sidled back behind the register for protection, dropping the hinged portion of the counter behind her like a portcullis.
Only then did she turn to face Mr. Marlin once more.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean about hightailing,” she said demurely.
“Is there something I can help you with? Surely your fine establishment must require fresh flowers for all those tables. I’ve got these lovely carnations on special—”
Mr. Marlin’s palm slapped down so hard on the countertop, Luna jumped back a step. “I won’t hear another word from your wicked tongue!” he snarled. “Not until the wardsman arrives to drag you off to the slammer where you belong!”
Luna’s heart pounded, but she lifted her chin defiantly. “And for what crime am I to be incarcerated, exactly?”
“Sorcery! Black magic!”
“And what black magic am I meant to have wrought?”
“You’ve ensorcelled this whole business!
” Mr. Marlin swung his arms out around him, wild eyes sparking from behind their spectacles.
“You’ve placed some siren lure upon it, dragging my customers away into your foul clutches!
Then you enchant them with your malicious teas, instilling a craving in them which forces them to return day in and day out—”
“What a fantastical imagination you have, Mr. Marlin!” Luna declared. “I feel like I’m listening to a radio drama.”
“Don’t make light with me, you little chit!
” Marlin’s lip curled, and he leaned against the counter again, like he wanted to climb over and wring her neck.
“I’ve turned a blind eye long enough to the doings over here on Addle Street.
Don’t think I don’t know! Don’t think any of us don’t know!
There’s sorcery positively oozing from this place.
And it all started when you arrived. You and that evil mark of yours. ”
Luna looked down at him through narrowed eyelids. “And how would you recognize such sorcery, Mr. Marlin? After all, they say only those with sorcerer’s blood can detect sorcerous energies. Perhaps you ought to be tattooed the same as I.”
Marlin went very pale behind his goatee and withdrew from the counter by several steps. Then, snarling, he leaned in again. “You think you can scare me? I’ve got the right of law on my side! What do you have? Not even that scrawny little milk-toast boss of yours is here to protect you now!”
Luna’s lips thinned. The man had a lot of nerve, singularly unimpressive specimen that he was, commenting on Mr. Grimm’s appearance. But she refused to be baited. Instead, she drew herself up a little straighter. “I don’t need protection,” she declared.
“Oh, don’t you?” Marlin’s grin was downright wicked.
“You know, people come to my shop and they say things. Things a sharp mind will put together over time. There are folks who would, I suspect, be very interested to know that a heptagram-marked sorceress is working at The Arcane Bouquet. I’ve lived in this city all my life, and my connections run deep. One word from me and—”
The shop bells tinkled. Both Luna and Mr. Marlin startled, turning their gazes to the door, where a large, green-uniformed figure even now stepped through.
Luna’s heart dropped. All Marlin’s threats, which she had hoped would prove mere bluster, seemed suddenly to be coming home to roost. She could almost feel the slap of handcuffs on her wrists, could hear the slam of the jail cell door, could feel the pressure of four too-close walls compressing her on every side.
Then her heart jolted back up again, bypassing her chest and lodging straight in her throat.
“Ward!” she cried.
In the same moment, Mr. Marlin exclaimed, “There you are, officer! I was wondering when you’d get here.” He pointed at Luna, his accusing fingertip mere inches from her nose. “I demand that you arrest this young woman, at once!”