Evangeline’s knees went weak. There had never been statues in this garden before. But there were nine of them now, all holding goblets as if they’d just finished a toast. Each face was disturbingly lifelike and terrifyingly familiar. Evangeline watched in revulsion as a buzzing fly landed on the face of a statue that looked just like Agnes before flitting off and alighting on one of Marisol’s granite eyes. Jacks had stopped the wedding by turning everyone to stone.
