Page 8 of A Spot of Tea and Sorcery: Vol. 6

“Snap out of it!” Luna growled. She opened her eyes again, glaring at her reflection as she finished her buttons. “You’re playing it cool, remember?”

She would only interact with that man as much as was absolutely necessary. Otherwise, she’d concentrate on her work, fulfilling all those commissions, which had been left to languish yesterday when she absconded from the shop with her boss in tow.

Yes, the work would keep her busy. Then it would all be over. She would bid him a simple “good night” and listen to the shop bells tinkle as she stepped through the door.

And she would never see him again.

“It’s for the best,” she reminded her pale reflection. “For everyone.”

Slipping on her coat and gathering up her few things, Luna paused a moment to look around Mrs. Goddard’s guest room. Her eyes strayed to the wastebasket beside the chest of drawers. It was empty save for the thaumagraph, which she’d tossed in there last night. After tearing it into eight ragged pieces.

Luna swallowed hard.

Then with a little, “Oh!” she scooped up the shredded thaumagraph bits and stuffed them into her purse. It was just so that Mrs. Goddard wouldn’t find them, of course. Not because she meant to keep them. Not because she intended to carefully paste the pieces back together like a jigsaw puzzle then moon over them like a lovesick puppy during the dark and lonely nights to come. No. She was simply tidying up after herself. Like any good guest should.

A toothsome scent of frying sausages greeted Luna as she descended the stairs and made her way back to the kitchen. Mrs. Goddard, hard at work preparing her standard breakfast platters for her tenants, looked much fresher and rosier than one might expect, considering the harrowing night she’d just endured. But the hours of darkness had turned to dawn at last, and no wardsmen had showed up on her doorstep. She had every reason to believe all would be well, and her robust good humor buoyed her spirits. Luna couldn’t help but admire her.

The laces of the landlady’s old-fashioned cap wafted as she turned to see Luna step into the kitchen. “Gracious, duckie, why didn’t you sleep in?” she demanded.

“I’m not tired, Mrs. Goddard,” Luna answered at once, though she knew the hollows around her eyes belied her words. “I need to get going. There’s an awful lot of orders piled up at the shop. For the Governor’s Ball, you know.”

Mrs. Goddard’s face crinkled. Luna could feel the old woman restraining a series of comments. Before she could let one of them through, Luna hastily stepped forward, indicating a silver breakfast tray. “Is this one ready? I can take it over to Mr. Grimm’s for you.”

Mrs. Goddard slid several sausages onto the plate, then set the lid in place. She nodded, but brought her hand down firmly on top just as Luna tried to lift it. Her voice wasuncharacteristically stern when she spoke: “You need to tell him, luv.”

Luna wouldn’t meet her gaze.

“It’s not right, leaving him without a goodbye.”

“I know,” Luna whispered. Then she flashed the landlady a quick glance. “Please, Mrs. Goddard, don’t say anything to him. Promise me.”

The good woman sighed but nodded her agreement. She lifted her hand, allowing Luna to take the platter. “If I don’t see you again,” she said sadly, “be a good girl and take care of yourself, won’t you?”

“I’ll do my best,” Luna answered a bit thickly. Then, before she could disgrace herself and cry more tears she could ill-afford to waste, she stepped out into the alley and the bitter cold. Fool’s Spring was over, and winter had returned with a vengeance to Ballycastle. A fitting match for her own mood.

She paused for a long while at the back door of The Arcane Bouquet, working up her courage. But she’d committed to this course now, and she wanted to believe it was, in fact, the most sensible option before her. It wasn’t as though she could leave Ballycastle today; her ticket wasn’t good until tomorrow morning. One more day shouldn’t make any difference.

Balancing the tray on one arm, she fished out her key and got the back door opened. “Hullo, Mr. Grimm! I’m here!” she called out as she stepped into the kitchen. She meant it to sound cheerful; it came out horrifically fabricated. Gods, what possessed her to attempt that sunshiny voice after everything which had transpired?

No answer came. Luna set the breakfast platter on the table, heart pounding as she strained her ears. She heard no sign of Mr. Grimm out in the shop. Perhaps he’d not come down from his apartment yet? They’d had rather a long night, after all. No doubt he was exhausted.

Though her stomach was hollow with hunger, Luna couldn’t stand the idea of eating just now. She left Mrs. Goddard’s breakfast in the kitchen and stepped into the shop, slipping out of her coat as she went. If she could get a good start on the opening routine before Mr. Grimm even showed up, maybe she could force a degree of normalcy between them. Just for one day. Just one more day.

The shop was dark. The shutters on the windows were closed up, the thaumatic light bulbs were off. A strange air of hushed stillness hovered in the atmosphere, as though all the flowers were holding their collective breaths. Luna stood in the passage doorway, frowning as she peered into the shadows. “Hullo?” she called out.

A few blossoms turned their faces toward her. Otherwise, no response. Pulse thudding with trepidation, Luna moved to the counter, lifted the hinged portion, and stepped behind it. Then she switched on the thaumatic light overhead.

And saw Mr. Grimm seated in the nook chair. Slumped over.

Luna froze where she stood. Every extremity seemed to have turned to ice.

He’s dead,she thought. I left him too soon last night. The poison got him, and he’s dead.

She couldn’t feel anything. Not sadness, not horror, not dread, not shock. Nothing. It was as though her capacity for feeling was simply iced over.

Then she saw his chest expand and ease in a breath.

The ice inside her cracked, and a whole dammed flood of emotion rushed through her at once. Fear, dread, sorrow, horror, all followed by instant relief. The contrast was so intense, she was obliged to grip the edge of the counter or risk fainting outright. For a series of gasping breaths, she could do nothing but stand there, trying to recover her equilibrium. As she did so, her eyes took in more of what the swinging light bulb revealed.