Chapter 17
The blast hit Luna a moment later. It didn’t knock her off her feet, however. The power dispersed quickly and was only strong enough to set her back on her heels by the time it reached her.
Luna braced herself, putting her hands up to wave away the stink of anti-glitter and the prickling of broken magic. The sorcerous covering Mr. Grimm had placed over her protected her from the worst of it, but she got the sense that it might have burned her rather badly otherwise.
“Mr. Grimm!” she cried when she’d recovered her balance.
The snow within the radius of that blast was turned to melty slush, and she trudged through it hastily to reach him.
He lay flat on his back, his jacket flung wide open, the sorcery-covering still glowing on his skin. His eyes were closed. Was he breathing?
With a little gasp, Luna knelt and placed her ear against his chest. His heart beat .
. . and while she rested there, she felt his lungs suddenly drag in a great gasp of air.
His body spasmed then, and he bolted upright.
Luna lost her balance and sat down heavily on one hip, while he hunched over, his spine bent, gasping and choking.
Luna touched his back. “Mr. Grimm, are you all right?”
He nodded, still coughing roughly, then shook his head.
Finally, he lifted his face and gazed anxiously up at the Heart Tree.
Luna looked as well. She could already feel how much healthier it was, and the evidence was beginning to show already on the snow-lined branches.
Little green buds appeared, and a warm radiance of Green Magic vibrated from inside.
All around them, the sky began to clear, big breaks in the clouds as the sun shone through, balmy and sweet.
Luna, turning her head to take it all in, breathed out a tremendous sigh of relief.
“You’ve done it, Mr. Grimm!” she said, turning to him with a smile.
He nodded and expelled an exhale. He looked tired, worn out.
Not like he had after the transmutation of Lord Bruxley, but enough that she had to wonder again if he’d sourced energy from his own reserves.
“It was stronger than I expected,” he admitted, studying the tree.
The line of his brow was very hard. “Not well-crafted. But there was a good deal of power behind it.”
“It’s gone now, though. Right?”
“Yes. It’s gone.”
“Do you think . . .” Luna hesitated. She did not like to ask this question.
But she would be foolish not to. “Do you think whoever cast it got what they wanted?” If some strange sorcerer had discovered the location of Garden, hidden in The Arcane Bouquet, this place which had been her safe haven for months now would be compromised.
She would need to pack her bags and leave. Tonight.
But Mr. Grimm faced her, answering at once, “No. I’m sure not.
That spell was too roughshod and never took full effect.
Garden saw to that.” He stroked the ground beside him, which was already beginning to pop out a fresh green lawn.
It was such an odd little gesture of affection, and Luna smiled to see a series of small purple wildflowers appear around his fingers in response.
Mr. Grimm got to his feet, then turned to offer her his hand.
Luna slipped her fingers into his, allowing him to help her up.
As he did so, a breeze blew through the great apple tree’s branches and billowed his jacket back in a gust of fabric.
He looked down with some surprise, eyes widening at the sight of his naked torso.
Hastily, he pulled the jacket shut and buttoned it.
Not that it improved matters much; Luna could still see a deep V’s worth of chest. But trust Mr. Grimm to make the effort.
“Here, Miss Talbot,” he said, turning to her. “I can take that off you now.”
Luna blinked, uncertain. Then, realizing what he meant, she uttered a little, “Oh!” and held out her arms. The next moment, with muttered words in a strange, foul-sounding language and a configuration of sigils in the air, Mr. Grimm drew the anti-glitter coating off her, condensed it into a whorling ball in his fist, then crushed it.
Sorcerous energy motes dispersed into Garden’s atmosphere.
Luna swallowed. Her gaze fixed on the sight of Mr. Grimm’s clenched fist. It was strange how comfortable she’d become with him, even knowing as she now did how powerful he was. How dangerous. She should not have let her guard down, but . . . now that it was down, could she bear to put it up again?
“Shall we go see if the door is open?” he asked softly.
And so their time together was at an end.
An unexpected afternoon, quite unlike anything Luna could possibly have imagined when she lay soaking her pillow with tears the night before.
A magical, terrifying, brilliant sort of afternoon, one that would live on in her memory for the rest of her life.
But one which inevitably led them right back to where they were before.
The return trek through Garden was far more pleasant.
Garden made a lazy attempt to shift paths for them, but seemed a bit sluggish, so they still had a hike from the Heart Tree.
But the flowers were already beginning to perk up.
Though not as abundant or as vibrant following those wild temperature fluctuations, they put forth their best effort under the circumstances.
Luna felt quite tired by the time the freestanding boiler room doorway came into view.
And she must look an absolute sight, with her hair all a-frizz, and her stockings sagging around her ankles!
She couldn’t possibly look more disheveled if she tried.
Not that Mr. Grimm was any better. His hair stuck up every which way, and his trousers had dried in a wrinkled mess.
One suspender strap flapped around his thigh.
I suppose we’re a properly matched set, Luna thought with a little smile.
Then she stopped dead in her tracks.
Because the door opened.
They were still some yards away, but it simply swung open with a loud creak of hinges, and a figure stood framed in the doorway. A gangly, ginger-headed, snub-nosed figure, with a sorry attempt for facial hair blighting his upper lip. His mouth was ajar, his eyes very round.
“Never mind!” a raucous voice squawked in warning, much too late.
For Tobias Goddard saw everything that lay beyond the boiler room door.
“Gore blimey!” The words burst from his lips like gunshot. Then he turned his staring eyes and spotted Nigel and Luna approaching. “Gore blimey!” he cried again.
It was right about then that Mr. Grimm shot him with a bolt of Dire Matter.