Chapter 28
She was aware of certain things. But only partially and only at intervals.
There was the sound of labored breaths. That was most prominent, and she directed her semi-conscious mind to focus there as much as it could.
Big, gasping, struggling inhales and exhales, not quite rhythmic.
Sometimes she lost them as darkness, sparked with anti-glitter motes, pulled her back in.
But if she fought through the darkness, she could usually find them again, and each time she managed it, they grew more distinct, and she was able to hold onto her awareness for longer.
Then, slowly, she started to feel things as well. Jostling against her right ear. Soft silk fabric brushing exposed skin. A pulse thudding too fast under her hand.
She’d been ensorcelled. The knowledge crept in as awareness increased. She’d been ensorcelled and, worse still, the sorcerer who had done the ensorcelling had exchanged her own life force to power the spell. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to be dead. So that was something.
A terrible jolt brought her more fully awake than she’d been moments ago.
Her hand, which had been lying gently against a heaving chest, tensed, fingers gripping fabric.
The gusts of labored breath sounded louder than before, and Luna began to put a few pieces together.
She was being carried in a pair of strong but trembling arms. And the heavy-breather was the one who carried her.
And by the smell of him—that sandalwood-and-cinnamon scent which so often haunted her dreams—she could make a pretty good guess as to his identity.
Luna pried her eyes half open. The world was dark and blurry, but she managed to tilt her gaze up. To her surprise, she found herself looking at a series of dancing mushrooms picked out in embroidery thread. Which wasn’t quite what she’d expected.
With a sudden surge of muscle, her rescuer pushed away from whatever wall he’d been leaning against and started walking again, a swift but staggering stride. His breath sounded worse and worse, and Luna knew he shouldn’t be exerting himself like this.
“Mr. Grimm?” she tried to say. But her voice wouldn’t work, and her lips formed the words around a silent expulsion of air. She faded back into darkness once more.
When she came back the next time, however, she was much more awake.
Much more aware of Mr. Grimm, who was apparently leaning hard against the post of a streetlamp, his arms quaking with the effort to hold her, his breathing positively ragged.
This time, Luna realized that they were enshrouded in folds of invisible silk.
Mr. Grimm’s enchanted dressing gown. But invisibility wouldn’t do them much good if someone came walking by.
Not with Mr. Grimm gasping for air like this.
Suddenly, he sagged to the ground. Luna let out a little yelp as his grip on her went slack, and she tumbled to the sidewalk.
At least whatever ensorcellment she’d been under seemed to have mostly faded by now.
She managed to pick herself up, first onto her hands and knees, then into a kneeling position.
The fabric of the invisibility robe had fallen away and lay in a pile of silver moons and stars on blue silk beside Mr. Grimm.
“Mr. Grimm?” Luna pushed limp strands of hair back from her face and took a good look at her employer. “Mr. Grimm, can you hear me? What happened?” Her voice came out strangely slurred.
He seemed to be not all there. Still upright, eyes open, but his expression was glassy, uncomprehending.
Half of his face was covered in his handkerchief, which puffed out from his mouth with each breath he heaved, making the mushrooms flutter.
Something was certainly wrong with him. Something beyond the mere exhaustion of carrying her who-knows-how-far.
Luna cast a quick look around, trying to get some sense of location. To her surprise, the street sign illuminated by the lamp said Addle Street and Bingley Lane. They were within a block of the shop.
“Mr. Grimm,” she started again, turning back to him. “We can’t—”
A terrible moan issued from behind the handkerchief.
To Luna’s horror, she watched his eyes roll back, and he tipped abruptly forward.
Her arms shot out, and she caught him. His face pressed hard into the front of her winter coat, and his hands grasped lightly at her elbows for a moment before falling limply on either side of her.
Luna sat frozen on her knees, staring down at the head of blond hair, illuminated by thaumatic glow.
Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she clonked it shut firmly.
What was going on here? She shook her head, memory of the events leading up to her ensorcellment foggy.
She seemed to recall the warehouse, seemed to remember a skull of black, polished stone with red eyes.
A name appeared in her head: Lancelot Mortimer.
The Dark Sorcerer! That’s right, he’d had her bound to a chair and gagged, so she couldn’t release Mr. Grimm’s troth and . . . and . . .
And there were other memories as well, crowding in faster.
“Then, one day, I walked in on them. They were together in Jastira’s own bedchamber—”
No!
Luna drew a sharp breath. She couldn’t let those memories in. Not yet. Not until she got Mr. Grimm safely home. In the distance, she could swear she heard gunshots going off from the warehouse district.
Ignoring the tears brimming against her lashes, Luna gripped her employer’s shoulders firmly, pushing him back from her breast. “Mr. Grimm, we’ve got to get home. Now,” she said.
He blinked vaguely, his eyes struggling to focus on her face.
Luna set her jaw. Then, steeling herself to the task, she slapped him. Hard. Hard enough that her fingers stung, and she grimaced at the pain. But it worked. Startled, his gaze momentarily focused on her face.
“Luna?” he quavered.
His voice cut her to the quick. It was only the third time she’d ever heard him use her name. But she couldn’t let herself think about that now either.
“On your feet,” she ordered, gripping his elbows and trying to haul him to his feet.
She didn’t possess strength enough for the job, but she managed to lock her knees so that he could use her to pull himself up.
Luna hastily gathered up the invisibility robe, then ducked against his side, his arm around her shoulder.
They stood there for a full minute in the lamplight, simply trying to balance.
Her limbs felt oddly numb and kind of disconnected from each other.
The after-effects of that spell she’d been under, no doubt.
But of the two of them, she seemed to be the stronger at the moment.
What had happened to Mr. Grimm while she was unconscious?
And how did he get them out of the warehouse without his magic?
“All right,” Luna said at last. “We’ve got to move now. One foot at a time, Mr. Grimm. Right foot. Good. Now your left. Now right again.”
They got into a sort of shambling gate. If this were a three-legged race back home on fete days, they would come in absolute dead last and be the laughingstock of Greater Snoring.
As it was, they made their way up the sidewalk, and soon the yellow sign of The Arcane Bouquet appeared through the gloom.
Luna wanted to ask after Tobias.
She wanted to ask . . . a lot of things.
“It was then that I saw him. On his knees. His face buried—”
Luna gritted her teeth and hastened on until they stood under the awning. All was dark through the windows; Mr. Grimm must have locked up everything before coming after her. And what about Mrs. Goddard? Had he sent her home, telling her to wait for news of her boy?
Luna leaned her burden against the front window. “Your key, Mr. Grimm?” she said.
“P—pocket,” he managed, his voice muffled behind the handkerchief.
She slipped her hand into his trouser pocket.
It was an oddly intimate sort of act, but she tried not to think too closely about what she did.
Locating the little key ring, she pulled it out, and slipped the correct key into the lock.
The door swung open, emitting a welcoming cloud of perfume as hundreds of little flower faces turned to greet them.
Pulling her employer’s arm over her shoulder once more, Luna got him inside and shut the door behind them.
She turned the lock then supported him down the center aisle.
The double-delight flared out her blossoms in concern, and tiger lilies growled in the shadows.
“I know!” Luna muttered. “I’m doing the best I can! ”
Halfway down the aisle, Mr. Grimm’s knees started to buckle. Luna gripped him by the front of his shirt, struggling to keep him upright. “No, no, no!” she growled. “We’ve got to at least get you to the nook! I can’t deal with you sprawled out on the floor.”
Mr. Grimm rallied, and she managed to get him behind the counter.
When at last he sank into the cane chair, Luna’s own strength faded, and she sank to her knees in front of him.
Heaving out a ragged gasp, she let her forehead come to rest on his knee.
There she remained for some moments, unable to do more than breathe.
At some point, his hand came down to rest on the back of her head, a reassuring weight.
Sucking in a fortifying breath, Luna pulled herself upright again.
His hand slipped away, falling limply over the arm of the chair.
His eyes stared down at her, but they were blank.
Not unconscious, simply blank. A frown knotting her brow, Luna reached out and pulled the handkerchief away from his face.
“Oh!” she gasped and clapped her other hand to her mouth.