Eva’s expression grew more serious. “I’m not afraid of dead things, Arthur.”
That irritated me more than anything else. I snatched the aster from her and tore off my glove. I didn’t know how she could feel what I could do, but she was wrong to think I was anything less than a plague.
And I would prove it.
The instant the aster touched my skin, it wilted in my palm and its energy moved into me, unseen.
Within me, the monster straightened.“It tastes like honey,”it whispered in wonderment.
Eva watched, transfixed. I waited for the fear to come. I waited for disgust. Gingerly, she took the weed back, holding it up to the light, and I watched, mouth agape, as the dead thing came back to life again and bloomed for her.
“So.” Eva’s triumphant smile was a confirmation. “You’re like me.”
Chapter 10
Eva
Her father was a ghost of himself.
The sheriff had taken Arthur away hours ago. Since then, Dad’s condition had worsened, his graying skin and the deep bruises under his eyes slowly turning a sickening shade of green.
He slept now, his breathing even. Unable to settle, Eva paced the room, winding the end of her shirt around her finger. A seed of panic had taken root in her heart.
Arthur had hurt him. No, Arthur had nearlykilledhim!
Eva shut her eyes, not wanting to feel it anymore. The shock. The grief. She’d always been able to fix the things that Arthur broke, but she couldn’t fix this. She’d tried reviving the sapling, but the aspen didn’t seem to hear her, the pale and brittle heartwood hollowed of life.
Dad’s heart still beat, lost somewhere within the mesh of roots inside his chest cavity. His sluggish pulse gave her little comfort. Eva couldn’t rest, afraid if she closed her eyes for even a moment, he would slip away.
She curled her fingers again into the hem of her shirt, pressure building behind her eyes. For so long, Eva had feared Arthur’sreturn as much as she’d yearned for it. He was always ruining things. Ruining her. When he had shown up yesterday, Eva had feared he’d find a crack in her armor and slither beneath. She’d thought the most precious thing he could break was her heart.
She’d been wrong.
A soft knock drew her attention to the doorway, where Izzy stood holding a teacup.
“Dad always says a hard day should end with tea.”
Eva accepted the cup without speaking and swallowed the whole thing down so fast it burned her throat.
“Oh, sweetie.” Izzy laid a hand on her shoulder. “Take a break. I got him.”
“I can’t,” Eva croaked out. It didn’t matter how tired she was, or how terrified she felt sitting here, obsessively checking his pulse, watching his breathing, waiting for him to wake.
She couldn’t leave.
Izzy sighed. “I promise to call for you the instant anything changes.”
Eva hesitated, the back of her tongue feeling scalded and raw.
“Go on, then,” Izzy softly urged.
As though released from a spell, Eva finally did, squeezing her sister’s hand on the way out the door. She didn’t go to her room, drawn instead to the kitchen, where she surveyed the mess with raw, stinging eyes. Glass and aromatic herbs littered the counters. Her socks squished soundlessly on the moss-laden tiles as she stepped through the wreckage and out onto the porch in a search for fresh air and an open sky.
After Dad had refused an ambulance, they’d called Dr. Rosen, who agreed and advised them not to move their father, promising to send someone from the hospital to the house instead. She’dsaid Dad’s size and strange condition left too many variables, and besides, he’d made it clear he wanted to die on his own land.
That’s when Eva had hung up the phone.
Wind chimes sang—in warning or blessing, Eva couldn’t tell. Her eyes landed on the greenhouse, and a sudden crush of emotion drew out the long, slender leaves of the hyacinths planted on either side of the porch, purple flowers popping into bloom. She walked toward the greenhouse, blades of grass wisping against her ankles with every step. A lump grew in her throat when she pushed inside and her nose filled with a familiar concoction of herbs and spices.
