I took the second letter out of my bag and opened it.

Briseis,

Behind this gate is a garden with all the plants needed to stock the apothecary. I have no doubt that you’ve seen inside the shop, and while you might not understand completely, I trust you will . . . ​in time. It has been a pillar of this community for generations.

Open the letter marked #3 when you come to the moon gate. This is where I’m sure most of your questions will be answered.

Something snapped in the woods behind me. I spun around as a man emerged from the trees on the other side of the glade. Blood trickled from a large cut on his forehead. His bottom lip was split clean open. His clothing hung off him, torn to shreds. He stumbled forward.

“You—you’re here,” he gasped, his chest heaving.

I backed into the gate and palmed my Mace, pointing it straight at him.

Welts bubbled on his skin as he limped closer. His breaths rattled, tight and labored, like he was breathing through a straw. “After all this time . . . ​so many years,” he said. The gashes on his skin opened like budding flowers, blood dripping like crimson sap.

I’d walked so far into the woods that no one would hear me if I screamed. With my back to the gate, I couldn’t run. I’d have to have to spray him—maybe fight him. I squared my shoulders as he approached. He was taller than me, but very thin, and he was much older. His outstretched fingers were swollen and blistering and as he angled himself toward me, his other hand came into view.

He was gripping a long, machete-like knife.

“Get away from me! Get back!”

“I—I need—I need it,” the man stammered. He was an arm’s length away, and I couldn’t back up any farther. “Please, Selene.”

“Selene? I’m not—”

A rustle over my head drew my attention. A duo of vines slithered off the top of the enclosure and struck out like giant arms, catching the man in a tangle of poisoned barbs. He screamed as they lifted him off the ground and tossed him into the tree line like a rag doll. His head hit the trunk of a maple tree with a sickening thud, and the knife bounced from his hand. Rolling onto his side, he clawed at the dirt. His groans turned to panicked yelps as the vines found him again and wound around his ankles.

I ran to the path leading away from the glade and looked back, only once, to see the man’s terrified face as a blanket of stinging nettles pulled itself over him like a shroud.

I sprinted down the path toward the house, my heart in my throat. I crashed through the woods, burst through the curtain of nettle, and ran up the sloping lawn. Racing to the front door I all but kicked it in and slammed it shut, locking it behind me.

Mom came into the hall. “We slammin’ doors now?” she asked, her eyes narrow.

How was I supposed to explain what I’d seen? “There’s a guy out there! In the woods!”

Mo came barreling down the stairs. “What? Where?”

Mom sprinted to her purse and grabbed her Taser.

“Outside! By the back of the house!”

Mo peered out the window as Mom dialed Dr. Grant’s number, cursing under her breath.

“Are the other doors locked?” Mo asked, her voice rising.

Mom rushed off to check while she yelled into the phone. “You said to call you directly, and somebody else is creeping around the house. How fast can you get here?”

Mo turned her attention to me. She clenched her jaw as she looked me over. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” I said. “I’m okay. Just a little freaked out.” I was still trying to catch my breath, still trying to put together what had happened.

Mom came rushing back to the entryway and we stood together, silent, until the sound of sirens echoed in the distance. The screeching of tires skidding across the pavement and car doors opening and slamming shut drew Mo to the door. She yanked it open, and Dr. Grant came in as several officers in uniforms broke off and went around the side of the house.

“Another prowler?” Dr. Grant asked, concern on her face. “I notified RPD this time. What happened?”

Mom looked to me to fill in the details.

“Uh—there was a guy out back. He was all messed up. He came toward me—he had a knife.”

Mo sucked in a quick breath. Mom put her arm around me, her entire frame trembling, but I couldn’t tell if it was from fear or anger.

Dr. Grant spoke into her walkie-talkie, telling the officers to check the rear of the house, warning them that the man had a knife. The muscle over her temple flexed and then relaxed. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” I said. “I was gonna Mace him but he—” I stopped short. “I—I ran away.”

Dr. Grant let out a long, slow breath. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”

“But she could’ve been,” Mom said. “Anything could’ve happened out there.” Rage invaded her voice as she turned to Dr. Grant. “She could’ve been seriously hurt—or worse.”

“I understand your concern,” Dr. Grant said. “Briseis, you said the man was ‘messed up’? What does that mean, exactly?”

“He was cut up,” I said. “He had a bunch of open wounds and sores like—” I stopped. Mom was wearing a sleeveless top and shorts, and her skin was all puffy where the poison ivy had touched her. The man had similar patches, but worse. So much worse. Like he’d come in contact with something a lot more poisonous than oak or ivy. Images of the plants that lined the path to the hidden garden flooded my mind.

“What is going on?” Mom demanded. “This is the second weirdo who’s shown up.” She turned to Mo. “We shouldn’t have come up here. This was a mistake.”

My heart sank. I was scared to death, but I was more afraid of leaving without finding out what was behind that locked gate.

“Babe, don’t do that,” Mo said gently. “Don’t make a snap decision.”

“Angie, this is scaring me,” Mom said. “I don’t like this.”

It was weird to see my mom so fearful. Mo was always levelheaded, and Mom was the one with the slick mouth and zero tolerance for bullshit. She didn’t mind confrontation—and she didn’t scare easily. Seeing her this shaken rattled me.

A voice crackled from Dr. Grant’s walkie-talkie. “We have the suspect in custody. Run an ambulance to our location.”