A low groan echoed somewhere in the dark, and a tapping sound drew my attention to the passenger-side window. Some of the smaller trees along the road had leaned over as far as their trunks would allow. Their branches elongated, scraping against my window like fingernails. I glanced back to see if Dr. Grant had noticed, but she was staring into her lap, her face illuminated by the light from her cell phone. I touched the glass and took a steadying breath. The trees righted themselves.

Karter looked at me, his jaw set. “You gotta promise me you’ll let me know what that lady—Dr. Grant—finds out, because I’m worried. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t want you to leave either. In case you couldn’t tell, I don’t have a lot of friends. I didn’t think it was a big deal till I met you and realized how much I needed one.”

I reached over and squeezed his hand. “I promise I’ll keep you in the loop.”

Karter squeezed my hand back, then drove me home.

CHAPTER 22

Dr. Grant followed us to the end of my driveway. Karter dropped me off and watched me go inside. I locked the door and quickly walked past the front room where Mo and Mom were playing an aggressive game of Uno, hoping they wouldn’t ask me about our evening.

“Skip. Draw Four. Skip you again. Reverse back to me and BAM! Wild card! The color is blue.”

“You can’t play all those cards in one turn,” Mom said as I slid past them. She waved in my direction but kept her gaze on Mo.

Mo smirked. “House rules say I can.”

“House rules say you’re a cheater.”

“Never!” Mo said laughing. “You just mad. It’s okay to lose sometimes, babe. I still love you.”

I went to my room and changed into a pair of sweats, threw a bonnet on, and laid across my bed. I tried my best to section off what had happened at the theater from everything else that was going on. The secrets were piling up, and they were starting to feel heavy.

My gaze wandered to the top of the armoire that sat near the door. A triangle of paper stuck out over the top edge. I got up and stood on my tippy-toes to reach whatever it was. I pulled down a square book, covered in a thick layer of dust. I could tell by its shape and the crinkly sound its pages made that it was a photo album. Pressed between pages of sticky transparent plastic were pictures of a young girl, probably eleven or twelve, with thick black hair and big brown eyes. She wore glasses that were too big for her face. In one photo, she was sitting under a tree with her face turned up to the sun and her eyes closed. The grass all around her was a vibrant, almost unnatural, shade of green. In another, her eyes were open wide, a big grin stretched across her face as another person pushed a piece of cake into her mouth. A colorful birthday banner hung behind them.

I flipped through the other pages, and the girl got older with each turn. In her late teens, she wore her hair in braids, traded her glasses for contacts, and looked much more serious and focused. In another photo she sat in a rocking chair on the front porch of this same house, a potted bush of hogweed leaning toward her, its white flowers curling around the runners of the chair and around her ankles.

I flipped to the last page and pulled a small portrait of her from behind the plastic. She’d taken down her braids, her natural hair curling out from a colorful head scarf, and she’d started wearing her glasses again. She wore a long blue dress, and she smiled so warmly I could feel it through the picture. I turned the photo over in my hand. Selene, August 2004 was written on the back. I flipped it over to look at the image again. Her arm curved down, her hand cupping her slightly bulging belly. She was pregnant with me.

“Selene” wasn’t just a name. She wasn’t some faceless character in the story of my life. She had lived here, worked in the apothecary, and tended to the garden. She knew the secrets of this place, and if her sister knew about my immunity to poison plants, then maybe it was because they both shared this same ability.

Mo’s words echoed in my head. I didn’t have to choose. I could dig. I could find out more about these women and their work, and I didn’t need to feel guilty for it.

I took out my phone and sent a text to Marie.

Bri: I’d like to see her grave, if you’re still willing to show me.

A few minutes went by before my phone buzzed.

Marie: Nyx will pick you up at seven tomorrow night.

The next day, I stayed in the house. Karter texted me to check in, and Dr. Grant told me her office had accompanied the police to question the theater attendant running the popcorn machine. He’d only seen two of the men go into the theater. They’d paid, but because it was cash, there was no way to track it. She said the other two must have gone in when the theater attendant took a bathroom break. She hadn’t found anything else important but told me she’d call me if she did.

A little before seven, I told Mom and Mo where I was going and just like Mo promised, they were good with it. No questions asked. I brought a dozen onyx peonies to bloom from the one I’d grown for Mom in the kitchen, and Mo improvised a paper covering with a few of the paper bags from the apothecary. They both asked me twenty times if I wanted one or both of them to go with me for moral support, but I wanted to make the first trip by myself.

Nyx picked me up right at seven and we drove away from town, in the opposite direction of the main cemetery. When we came to a stop, I thought Nyx had gotten lost. We were in the middle of nowhere. The road we’d driven down terminated in an unpaved turnaround, surrounded by thick, black forest on all sides. But through the trees, a small clearing with a collection of ancient-looking headstones stood forgotten, untended.

“Miss Morris should be arriving soon,” Nyx said.

“She didn’t want to ride with us?” I asked.

“She was busy earlier this evening, but don’t worry, she’ll be here. She won’t shut up about seeing you again.”

I met Nyx’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Really?”

“Yes,” she said. “It’s highly annoying.”

The sun dipped low in the sky, turning it to fire. The reds and oranges burned away the light and left only the smoldering darkness and draped everything around us in long shadows. A tap at the window startled me. Marie stood on the passenger side of the car. I got out to meet her, taking in the beauty of her face like it was the first time I was seeing it. She wore a pair of black jeans, a chunky black sweater, and black boots.