There was no time to waste.
‘Forrie!’ Bisma cried out. She tugged on her shoes, and Azalea helped Luna into hers. A vine snaked into the treehouse, wrapping around both Bisma and Luna, taking them down to the ground.
‘Azalea, you’re in charge!’ Bisma called, supporting Luna.
Then they ran.
11
Bisma headed straight for Xander’s greenhouse. The entire way over, she’d hoped and prayed he would be in there. As she came bursting through the door, Luna hanging off her, she was glad to see he was.
He was in his shirtsleeves, the teal topcoat and waistcoat from earlier discarded. His shirt was undone at the throat, and his dark copper hair was unkempt; he seemed to be in the middle of something, but when he heard the door open, he looked up.
Shock cracked his features, followed quickly with consternation. He choked, taking in the wild look on her face and Luna. ‘Bisma, what happened?’
He strode forward, immediately taking Luna’s weight to bring her forward. Luna was whimpering with pain; Bisma had half dragged her here from the Enchanted Forest.
Even though the sun had set on their walk over, bringing a biting chill to the evening air, Luna was burning hot, her hair drenched with sweat. Her arm had gotten worse in the time it took to get here, the dark blue in her veins now extending up to her forearm.
‘Clear that table,’ Xander told Bisma.
She did as she was told and he swiftly lifted Luna and laid her down. He left, then quickly returned with a small roll of leaves;Bisma recognized the white willow, modified with something else she didn’t know.
‘Chew on this,’ he instructed Luna. ‘It’ll help with the pain.’
Luna grabbed the leaves and started chewing them, and they must have provided some relief, for her face relaxed a little.
‘It’s—burning,’ Luna choked out. ‘It feels like there’s hot coals on my skin.’
Heart twisting painfully, Bisma looked up to Xander. ‘Can you do something?’
Xander ran a hand through his hair; he radiated tension. ‘I—I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It’s different from last time.’
‘But it has to be something similar,’ Bisma said. ‘Look at the veins.’
‘Yes, but Mei was cold. Luna is hot—’ He broke off, examining Luna’s arm, which was red around the dark veins. ‘I don’t … I don’t understand. It’s traveling, as well, whereas Mei seemed to be infected straight away. Whoever is doing this has adjusted their poison …’ He trailed off.
Bisma’s throat closed. It didn’t matter who had done this or why—right now, they needed to heal Luna. ‘Xander, please,’ she said, her voice broken.
He turned to look at her. Their eyes met and held.
He shook his head as if coming out of a daze, and his frazzled look cleared. He nodded firmly.
Luna was still whimpering, but what he gave her for the pain was helping a bit at least for she was no longer crying. She held onto Bisma with her unpoisoned arm so tightly that Bisma felt her bones shuddering beneath the pressure.
Luna buried her face against Bisma’s neck, her chest shaking with quaking breaths.
Bisma stroked her sister’s hair, glad she was not looking at her own injury. Luna’s arm was blistering now, the skin peeling.
Xander returned, a mortar and pestle in his hand. He stirred it vigorously, and she saw the stretchy liquid of honey. Setting it down beside Luna, he cut a leaf from an aloe vera plant nearby, slicing it in half and scraping out the gel to add to the mortar.
The potion bubbled as he infused it with magic, but Xander’s gaze was hardly on it. He looked around, searching for something.
‘What?’ Bisma asked, impatient. ‘What is it?
‘Peppermint,’ he replied, agitated. He rummaged through different pots. ‘I know it’s around here somewhere.’
‘Are you a garden-witch or not?!’
