Witchy Sour (The Magic & Mixology Mystery Series Book 2) (23 page)

Chapter 24

Thirty minutes of stumbling through the underbrush had gotten me nowhere except lost. Thomas followed close behind, his gaze piercing enough to bore deep holes into the back of my skull as I ducked under bushes and shimmied up tree trunks.

I needed to put on a good enough show to stay alive. The second Thomas sensed I was useless, I had no doubt he’d get rid of me for good. Not to mention Gus.

For Gus’s sake, I ran through every plant name I’d learned since stepping foot on The Isle. Herbs and flowers, foods and drinks—none of it relevant. All I could recall about Hog’s Vein was its “common” name. On the street, folks referred to it as the Switcheroo—named for its ability to turn a spell from good to bad in a heartbeat. For this reason, it wasn’t kept in our storerooms. There was too much potential for accidental misuse.

Because the ingredient was not kept in stock, my knowledge of it was limited. I knew it grew in The Forest, thanks to Thomas, but that was about it.
The Magic of Mixology
, my beloved spellbook, had been left behind near the miniature cauldron.

Pausing for a breath as I stepped over a fallen log, I pictured the page of the book featuring Hog’s Vein. Only a paragraph was featured there, along with a picture. The image of Hog’s Vein was of a dainty little flower, contrary to its name. With long, skinny stems and teensy yellow flowers, it looked like a miniature daffodil.

“Are you going to stand up there all day?” Thomas shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Time’s a ticking, you know. For Gus, that’s bad news. For you, that’s bad news. For me? I can stand here all day.”

“I was thinking,” I growled. “I have never seen Hog’s Vein in person, let alone gathered it in the wild.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“I’m trying to recall a page from
The Magic of Mixology
! I’m sure you’ve read it—after all, you stole the book. If there’s one thing that I’d hate more than having the book stolen in the first place, it’d have to be having the book stolen and knowing the person didn’t appreciate it. At least do your due diligence and read the thing.”

Thomas had the grace to blush. “Quiet.”

“You haven’t even read it.”

“Tell me what it says!”

“I can’t remember,” I said dryly. “I just recall the picture.”

He gave a derisive snort. “Those who live in glass houses—”

“There!” I pointed before he could finish his saying. “That yellow flower, do you see it?”

His gaze darted across the expanse of underbrush to where I pointed. He must have seen the photo in the book too, since his eyes widened at the sight. “You’ve found it.”

I beat him to the small patch of flowers growing in the shade of a large, beautiful weeping willow. As soon as I bent over, I sensed something was wrong. “Wait,” I said hesitantly. “These look correct, but I don’t think they are.”

“What are you talking about?” He kneeled next to the flowers and gently touched the stem of one. “These are perfect. In full bloom, just like I need.”

“No.” I shook my head, confident something wasn’t right. I just couldn’t put my finger on what. “Don’t touch it.”

“You’re tricking me. You want me to believe this isn’t right. I haven’t had time to read the whole book, but I looked at the page on Hog’s Vein. This is it.”

“No, no, no,” I murmured now to myself more than anyone else. “There’s something wrong.”

“Get out the vial. We’re picking some.”

I reached into my pocket, pretending to dig around for the vial, stalling for time as I fumbled with the fabric. What is it about those flowers? I closed my eyes, struggling to recall the text on the page next to the images of the tiny, sweet-looking flowers dressed to kill. “Wait!”

It was too late. He’d plucked one of the blossoms. I watched with horror as he held it up to his nose and took a sniff. “These smell nice.”

Resting my fingers on the thin stems of the flowers, I focused on the details of the plant and let my hands dance up and down the long, twisty vines. Aloud, I muttered the phrase from the pages of the Mixology spellbook:

Daffodils and flowers gold—

Each one born from a matching mold.

On the stems you’ll find the key—

A vein throughout guides you to me.

“These flowers don’t have veins,” I said slowly. “These are Trappers.”

“What’s a Trapper?” snarled Thomas, throwing down the flowers. “Did you do this on purpose?”

“No!” I shook my head. “Of course not. It was an accident.”

“Why should I believe you?” He looked down at his hand, which was turning red from contact with the Trappers. “What have you done?”

“There’s an antidote,” I said breathlessly. “We need to get back to the bungalow. I can save you. I know the antidote,” I lied. There was an antidote, but I didn’t know it by heart. I was confident I could figure it out with the help of my spellbook, however. But that was only if—a very big if—we got back in time. “Let me help you. We have to hurry.”

Chapter 25

“Look what you’ve done!”

I winced as Thomas held his arm out for me to examine. His fingers had turned red first, but that redness had seeped up through his forearm and touched his elbow. In its place, a dark purplish shade had taken over, the skin stretching as the swelling began. “I warned you. If you hadn’t touched it, this would never have happened.”

“You led me to believe it was Hog’s Vein.”

“It looked like it from a distance, but that’s the point of a Trapper!” I stepped forward and lightly held his palm in my hands. It was warm to the touch, and if we didn’t get him to a place where I could whip up an antidote quickly, he wouldn’t survive. The swelling alone would wreak havoc on his nervous system, if it hadn’t already.

“How did you not know this was a Trapper?”

“The point of a Trapper is to mimic other plants. It’s not a clever name,” I said. “It’s an obvious, practical one. The plant ‘traps’ unprepared users into choosing it over their intended target. The Forest is brimming with dangerous plants, you know that. This is one of many.”

He flinched in pain. “Why didn’t you touch it?”

“Patience saves lives,” I said, parroting the fairy’s advice. “If you look closely, you can see a difference.” I pointed toward the stems on the small plant. “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but even a Trapper can’t imitate another plant perfectly. Hog’s Vein is named for the tiny blue vein running through its stem. If you look closely, these Trappers don’t have veins.”

Thomas didn’t look convinced, so I chanted the rhyme that’d tipped me off in the first place.

“If you’d read the book, you’d have seen that clue beside the picture,” I explained. “I almost didn’t catch it, but when you reached out, something jarred in my mind.”

“How convenient.” His face pinched in pain, his eyes widening as he looked down. “It’s spreading.”

I pulled his arm closer to me, my fingers following the red and purple as it crept past his elbow. “We have to hurry. The chances of sparing someone’s life after the Trapper’s venom has spread past one extremity is low.”

“It’s nearly up to my shoulder!”

“We need to move fast,” I said, pulling him along. “How do we get out of here?”

“Why should I trust you?” He yanked his arm from mine.

“If I wanted to kill you,” I said harshly, “I’d just sit down and watch you die.”

Our gaze met in a fiery battle of wills. This time, his crumbled first. “To the left. Follow that path, and then turn right every time you see a Lily of the Valley.”

I guided him down a path formed from overhanging tree branches and a lack of brush beneath our feet. Now that I was looking for Lily of the Valley, the path seemed to appear before my eyes, almost as if someone had flicked on a flashlight and pointed the way forward. One cluster of little white flowers appeared after the next, and each time we hung a right, a new batch of scenery appeared. No more traipsing in circles and dancing between the trees. My feet were sure, though Thomas stumbled behind me now and again.

“Stop looking at your arm,” I said. “If you keep falling we’ll never make it.”

He stopped walking completely. “We aren’t going to make it anyway. Look.”

I whirled around, the sight of his infected arm now grotesque. It lay useless against his side, thick as a club and purple as an eggplant. “I’m going to lose my arm.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean you have to lose your life.”

“I’m not afraid to die,” he said. “For the cause.”

“What cause? Your only chance of help is me. We are deep within these trees.” I raised my arms to show the thick woods surrounding us. “I don’t care how loudly you fall, there is no one around to hear it. Except me. If you think I’m going to spread the ‘word’ of your cause, you’re wrong.”

“How’ll you explain my body?”

“I won’t have to. I can’t possibly carry you out of here, and by the time I get back...” I let the sentence hang, and a cluster of hoots and calls from the animals walking over The Forest floor cemented my point. “There won’t be much to explain.”

“I prefer to die.”

“I’m not letting you,” I said. “I can’t do it.”

“Why?”

I chewed on the thought a moment, not quite sure myself. Thomas wanted us dead, and he wanted to die. So why was I fighting so hard to keep him alive? “Did you open
The Magic of Mixology
?”

“Of course I did.”

“Did you read anything beyond the page on how to brew your poison?”

His silence gave me the answer.

“Well, if you had, you would’ve seen an inscription.” I folded my arms over my chest. “On the first page of the spellbook there is one line. Two words only. It’s written in the hand of the first Mixologist. I imagine you can’t guess what it is?”

A subtle shake of his head prompted me to continue.

“
Do Good
.” I took a step closer, my eyes not leaving his face. “That’s it. Simple. I don’t like you, but I have my own cause I’m working for, and I won’t abandon it, even now. Contrary to what you may think, we do have something in common.”

Thomas gave a wry sort of laugh. It bordered on apologetic, though it was cut with a heavy layer of mirth. “No, we don’t.”

“Belief,” I said firmly. “Faith in a system. You believe in something that is beyond us all. Beyond the human touch. Beyond ordinary life. You believe in an idea and a way of life, just like I do. The only difference is that yours is a broken, vicious dream, and mine is simple.”

Thomas snorted. “Just wait until someone lets you down. It’s only a matter of time, Lily. You’ve been on The Isle for a few short weeks and your optimism is sickening. Sickeningly sweet, like a vial of Lilac Sugar.”

“Better sweet than sour.”

“That’s not how it works. Everyone has their breaking point. For me, that point has come and gone. You’ll see someday. Someone will hurt you badly enough that even you, Miss Lily, won’t be able to forgive.”

“There’s a difference between forgiving and forgetting,” I said. “To forgive is to take the high road. To forget is to be foolish. If you forgive someone just one more time than they betray you, the bitterness stays away.”

Thomas’s gaze turned softer, almost resigned, as he glanced down at his arm. “Maybe. I almost wish I could live just to watch you, to see if this life gets to you—if the terrors of this earth seep into your mind and disillusion your dreams. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to fight it. For how long?” He shrugged. “You’re resilient. Maybe you’ll make it to your death. Then again, maybe you’ll have an early death like me. We are similar, you know.”

His words shook me back to reality. “You’re not dying. I’m not letting you. Come on.”

Waving my hand for him to follow, I spotted the next bunch of Lilies of the Valley and swung a hard right. However, when I turned to see if Thomas was behind me, there was only an empty path. An empty path flanked by a familiar flower—a healing flower.

“Thomas! I found something!” I cried out as I sprinted toward huge, thick leaves of aloe.

The plants on this island were different, though some of them went by the same name as the human world. These leaves were large, filled with healing salve, and a quick spell murmured by an even the most inexperienced witch or wizard would invoke the soothing qualities of the plant.

“Come here!” I stood up, lugging the leaf in my arms like a stuffed animal. “I’ve found something.”

Whipping around the corner, I came to a screeching halt. Thomas still sat on the log. Cradling his arm over his legs like a child, he didn’t glance up at my shouts.

He turned his gaze up to me, his eyes first resting on the aloe in my arms. “That won’t save my life. If I’m lucky, it’ll stave off the infection until you can brew an antidote. Then what? You call your boyfriend and have him drag me off to jail?”

I ignored the boyfriend comment. “You tried to kill me. You stole my property. What do you expect?” I stepped forward, at the same time cracking open the aloe leaf and smoothing balm over my hands as I muttered a simple spell.

As soon as I finished the chant, my hands began to glow as if surrounded by halos. The spell turned the thick sap from the plant into a healing glove. I lightly pressed my warm fingers to Thomas’s arm. He flinched when my skin touched his, but some of the pain seeped immediately from his face, and he stopped resisting. Instead, he closed his eyes and let me apply the salve.

I started at the top, at the place where his shoulder met his body, and applied it in a circle to stop the advance of the infection. Once I had a barrier against the infection spreading to the rest of his body, I stood up. “You won’t die.”

“The rest of my arm,” he spluttered. “Apply it!”

“Let Gus go.” I nodded toward the Comm Device circling his wrist. I recognized its similarity to the one Ranger X had given me a while back. Unfortunately, it was on my dresser at home. “Let Gus go, and I’ll apply the rest of the Aloe.”