ANGELICA

Angelica archangelica

I weaved my way through the beds, cleaning off the other signs. Each of the dozens of plots had a label that matched one of the jars from the apothecary. I studied the map again. The rectangles represented the raised beds, and a thick black line drawn through the center represented a wall that divided the front of the garden from another area behind it. I followed the path, passing under the enormous tree.

Three-quarters of the way back, a circular archway sat in the center of a high wall. The wall itself was blanketed in a writhing mass of black vines dotted with dark purple leaves and crimson thorns. It was the vining plant I’d seen in the big book, the Devil’s Pet—and it was even more terrifying in person than it was in the illustration.

I took out the letter I was supposed to read when I got to this point and tore it open.

Beyond this point is the Venenum Hortus, the Poison Garden. Every plant grown in this bit of poison earth could kill a full-grown person five times over. Most people who wish to come in contact with these plants would have to cover every inch of exposed skin, and even then, it might not be enough to protect them. While you may not yet understand why, I trust you will understand what I mean when I say that you, dearest Briseis, need no such protections.

She knew.

Circe, a dead woman I’d never met, knew my biggest secret—a secret I’d only just figured out myself.

Your mother, Selene, tried to spare you this responsibility, but fate has a way of catching up to us. You must decide if you can continue this work, because you are the only one left who can, and it is more important than you can possibly imagine.

The vines twisted around one another like a tangle of snakes. Something deep in my bones, in the same place where this power was seeded, urged me to keep moving forward. I stepped through the archway into the deadly garden.

My nose burned, my eyes watered, and cold spilled down my throat like a glass of ice water. I coughed, trying to force out the chill, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. The feeling slowly subsided, leaving a tingling sensation on the inside of my nose and mouth.

“Okay,” I said aloud, steadying myself. “I’m fine. I’m okay.” The way the cold hit me meant something poisonous, something deadly, lingered in the air.

The stone walls were covered in thick, hunter-green ivy, its tendrils curling around each craggy brick. Smaller than the front portion of the garden, the Poison Garden was arranged in a similar way—raised beds, all labeled with the names of the plants they held, all their contents wilted and brown.

DEADLY NIGHTSHADE

Atropa belladonna

WHITE SNAKEROOT

Ageratina altissima

CASTOR BEAN

Ricinus communis

ROSARY PEA

Abrus precatorius

OLEANDER

Nerium oleander

WATER HEMLOCK

Cicuta douglasii

In the far corner stood a short tree in a circular plot. Its label read Little Apple of Death (Hippomane mancinella). This tree was so deadly, people weren’t supposed to breathe the air around it, much less eat the apple-shaped fruits it bore.

I stepped back and nearly tripped over something on the ground—a dead bird. All around me were dozens more, their broken bodies in varying stages of decay. Most of them had been reduced to piles of yellowed bone and feathers. I looked up. What I thought were the tangled limbs of trees outside the garden was actually a canopy of twisted nettles, ivy, and roses—with petals as black as ink, thorns longer than my fingers—interlaced with a scaffolding of curved metal arches.

As I wandered between the beds, rereading the letters, it was obvious that Selene had made a choice. She didn’t want me to have anything to do with this place, and for some reason, Circe was trying to get around that, even from beyond the grave. I wasn’t sure I cared what Circe thought I should know. This was something only I could do? But what was I supposed to do, exactly? Run their shop for them? It didn’t seem like Rhinebeck had a population eager to sustain an herbal remedy business.

Rustling sounded above me as the tendrils of a vine crept down from the top of the wall and produced the prettiest purple calla lily bloom I’d ever seen. It felt like a gift, like the bracelet of bougainvillea. I plucked the flower and stuck it behind my ear as the vine retreated.

I left the garden in a daze. Circe and Selene were growing the deadliest plants on earth in this garden. From what I could tell, they were harvesting their parts to store in the apothecary along with plants that had more common uses. I had more questions than answers—and nobody to tell me the whole truth. I took out my phone and called Mom.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey, can you text me Dr. Grant’s number? I wanted to see if she had any information about the guy who was out here.”

“Uh, yeah. I can call if you want.”

“No, it’s okay. I know the guy was a creep, but I hope he didn’t die.” My phone buzzed as Dr. Grant’s number popped up on my screen. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Love you, baby.”

“Love you more.”

I hung up and called Dr. Grant.

“Dr. Khadijah Grant,” she answered.

“Hi, Dr. Grant. This is Briseis Greene.”

There was a long pause. “Hello, Miss Greene. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, ma’am, everything’s fine. I was wondering about that guy you picked up out here at the house. Is he okay?”

“You’re worried about him?” She sounded surprised. “He’s hanging in there as far as I know. He’s heavily sedated due to the nature of his injuries, which were pretty severe.”

“So he’s at the hospital?”

“He is. Northern Dutchess Hospital. But don’t worry, we’ve got a guard on him. We’ll question him when he’s more coherent.”

“Do you know his name?” I asked.

There was another pause. “Alec Morris. He’s seventy-three years old and has lived in Rhinebeck his whole life. That’s about all I’ve got at the moment. I have no idea why a man his age would be running around in the woods with a knife, but trespassing on private property is a no-go. Like I said before, I don’t want anyone running you and your family off before you’ve had a chance to get settled.”

According to Mom, we may never get settled. She was one incident from packing up and rolling out.

“Thanks,” I said. “I really appreciate it.” I’d gotten the information I needed without having to lie too much.