Recognition finally dawned at her words, and different shelves rose in rapid succession, each a knife wound in my memory: dancing rats and glass beetles, pointed teeth and butterfly wings. An ugly marionette, a mother-of-pearl ring, and . . . an old woman.

An old woman who’d known more than she should.

Might I interest you in calla lilies? They’re said to symbolize humility and devotion. The perfect blooms to end any lovers’ quarrel.

Half-healed punctures, all. Still bleeding at the edges.

“Madame Sauvage,” I said, lip curling.

She smiled kindly. “Bonjour, Reid. What a pleasure it is to see you again.” Her smile faded as she took in Nicholina, whose face remained hidden. “Oh, dear.” The woman tittered. “I would greet our fair Louise, but it seems another has taken residence—” She stopped abruptly, tilting her head. “Well, well, well . . . more than one someone, I think, and a powerful one at that.” Her smile returned full measure, and she clapped her hands in delight. “Louise le Blanc, both cursed and blessed. How riveting.”

More than one someone? I frowned. She meant Nicholina, of course, but—blessed?

“You would know,” Nicholina snarled with something like fear. “Oh, yes, you would recognize—”

“Ah, ah, ah.” With a shake of Madame Sauvage’s finger, Nicholina’s voice ceased. Her body seemed to grow roots. “That is quite enough from you, Nicola. There shall be no blood or secrets spilled in my cart. Please, be still and observe.”

“How do you—?” I asked.

“You three know each other?” Célie interrupted, nonplussed.

Madame Sauvage winked. The gesture didn’t suit her withered face. “I suppose one could say that. Last we met, their quarreling nearly shattered my windows.” Though she adopted an air of careful indifference, curiosity sparkled in her dark eyes. “I trust our lovebirds have reconciled?”

Still incredulous, confused, I threw the leather pants on a nearby shelf. “It’s none of your business.”

She hmphed at my tone, but her impish smile didn’t waver. Her gaze flicked from me to Célie, lingering on where Beau and Coco hovered near the snake. “Just so, and yet . . . it seems you are once again in need of assistance.”

“How much for the pearls?” Coco asked.

“The pearls,” Madame Sauvage repeated softly. She looked positively spry. “Well, my dear, the pearls are nearly priceless. What are you willing to give for them?”

Anything.

Nicholina still hadn’t moved.

“We have coin,” I said automatically. “Lots of coin.”

“Oh dear.” Madame Sauvage tittered again and shook her head. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. That won’t do, will it? I don’t sully my hands with money.”

A flash of surprise crossed Coco’s face. “What do you want, then?”

“Whatever it is,” Beau muttered, “it can’t be good.”