“Now, the Botanist,” Francisco murmurs, impatiently tapping his foot as the stone spins longer than before. Just when Veda thinks it’ll fade, confirming their aggressor isn’t a Seer, it flashes. The glow intensifies, flaring as if about to burst into flames. Then it splits to reform into the name they’ve all been dreading or hoping to see. What appears causes a silence to fall like a shroud, a purring, meditative stillness, before Veda blurts out:
“The name is locked?”
Veda’s past is like a hot stove. She knows damn well it’s going to burn, but she touches it anyway. She has to.
Home alone. Music in the air. Wine numbs her pain. The streetlight outside remains lit when the apartment suddenly goes dark. Startled, Veda sets down her glass. The upbeat melody doesn’t falter, but she does.
“Veda?”
Memories and reality intertwine, weaving a messy tapestry that leaves Veda momentarily incapable of distinguishing the two. She’s on a street corner. She’s okay. She’s also not alone.
Hiram is stone-faced in front of her, yet his eyes brim with a kind of concern she can’t handle. “Are you okay? You look—”
“I’m fine.” Veda studies the ground. “I’m leaving.”
The sun barely crests the nearby trees. Cars and bikes pass. People mill about, wandering in and out of restaurants in Panoramic, enjoying the start to a pleasant evening. Some shoot concerned looks at Veda, which she pointedly ignores. Others glare at Hiram instead.
“Did you hear what I said?” Hiram asks, reaching, but she steps back.
“What?”
“Marlene left. Francisco is calling Commander Bishop about the blocked Imprint, and Gabriel is inside with Khadijah and Moab. I was about to leave when I saw you still standing here dazed.” His gaze darts around before settling back on her. “Look, it’s normal to feel off, especially if you’re not used to witnessing magical testing. My first time was in law school—it’s a requirement. I was cocky and didn’t wear a mask. Big mistake. I was sick for days.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Exhaustion hits Veda like a freight train, leaving her weary. Hiram’s skepticism is loud; she lacks the energy to argue. Instead, she gestures in the direction of her bike. His offer to accompany her is silent, but his presence is not. The breeze brings her back to complete awareness, leaving Veda regretful of leaving her jacket at home. Her strength doesn’t return until Hiram stops at a food truck, buys two bottles of water, and steps in her path, ignoring her protests until she accepts.When he’s no longer looking, she ravenously gulps it down as if she’s emerging from a desert.
Hiram’s eyes are still elsewhere when he asks, “Better?”
Veda coughs. “Fuck off.”
By the time they reach her bike, she’s back to herself. The helmet is still on the seat, and the double-parked car is still there. No ticket. What a shame. She should have taken the tire caps when she had the chance.
“Ah, you’re next to me.”
Veda rolls her eyes. Of course it’s his car. Hiram scans the area like he’ll find the Botanist hidden behind a tree or blending into the crowd.
“You shouldn’t be out in the open. Not with Dr. Simpson and the Botanist around.”
“Dr. Simpson isn’t a danger. He may be going mad, but he wanted to warn me, to protect me, and it looks like he helped Moab escape. As for the Botanist, I’d ask how you know they’re a danger to me, but your answer is going to piss me off, so I won’t bother.”
“I put the pieces together that I was given.” At her dirty look, he amends, “Fine, the pieces I took without permission. I’m an attorney, so I’m nosy and I know how to keep a secret. It doesn’t matter how I know. What matters is, you’ve come face-to-face with the Botanist three times. Of course you’re in danger.”
“You’re not wrong.”
He tilts his head. “It looks like we’ve gone over a hundred words without arguing. A record.”
Veda rolls her eyes. “Good to know. I’ll go back to being a pain in the ass.”
“Glad you’re acknowledging it, at least to me.” A car slows down, eager for their spots. Hiram waves them off. “Don’t act like you’re not hot and cold. Last time I saw you, I nearly fell into a fountain trying to apologize, but now you’re willingly speaking to me.”
“Blame it on how I’m feeling.”
“Right. After that ... staring episode you just had. You’re fine, of course.”
Something about his voice, an odd mix of sardonic and warm, unsettles her. Fist tight against her side, warm and irritated, she hates feeling nervous like this. Hiram is an abstraction Veda shouldn’t notice, much less acknowledge. “I’ll be back to normal next time.”
“Next time?” Hiram’s brow waggles suggestively, earning him an unimpressed look that makes him raise both hands in surrender. “Then I should use this rare opportunity to ask why Antaris is now drawing X’s on the plants in the yard before you’re back to being angry at my existence.”
