Chapter 17

Ame and Shariwere pacing in the moonlight when the turquoise Thunderbird finally roared into the driveway. There was a shuffling of feet and the creak of metal pails and then two women emerged around the sunflowers.

Daphne jerked her chin up in greeting, her hands laden with milk pails. "You would not believe the traff—"

"Jumping hop-toads," Flora yelped. The moonflower vine wiggled as she jumped, nearly losing control of the terra-cotta flower pot.

Shari had ignored my plea for a mirror, so I could only imagine I looked as bad as I felt. I lay on my back, unable to muster the strength to even sit upright anymore. I didn't feel pain as much as I felt weak and listless, like a bad case of the flu but without the fever.

The purple veining covered my entire body now, my breaths coming in shallow, rasping gasps. My core was entirely infested with purple blight, not so much a fungus but layers upon layers of vines, the kind that wind their lives around trees, fusing to their trunks and branches and sucking the life out of them. They'd cut me off from my core. I couldn't see it, let alone touch it, couldn't feel its magic like a second heartbeat.

All around the field were the overloaded crystals Shari had changed, some of them smoking as the moonlight purged them of whatever I'd contaminated them with. The ring around me, despite having started out colorful with whites and purples and pinks and teals, was now entirely black.

"Good to… see you," I whispered.

Daphne whirled on the garden gnome. "I told you we didn't have time to stop at Steak Shake!"

"I can't help her if I'm fainting from hunger, now can I?" the garden gnome snapped back. "And it was your Butterfinger milkshake that slowed us down!"

Ame yowled, startling them out of their argument and into action.

"Shari," Daphne cried, setting her pails down and seizing the younger woman. "Dear, can you stop muttering and look me in the eyes, please? Remember, you like how blue they are?"

"S-she just went down," Shari stammered, gnawing on her thumbnail. "I changed the crystals, but she went down anyway."

"Misty will be just fine. Come here and help me with the milk, okay?"

"S-should we get her cat? I'd want Ame if… if—"

"Sawyer's got important work to do, and so does Misty. Let's go get the milk. Flora, you got the tub?"

"Working on it right now." The garden gnome shoved her hands into the ground, and the earth trembled.

The roots of the shorn corn husks erupted from the dirt, weaving and lacing together into a barrel-shaped basket, the gaps disappearing as the roots cinched tight. There was a crack when the barrel rocked free of the remaining roots that anchored it to the ground, then it was tumbling towards me.

It shored up against the larger crystals of the barrier, and when Daphne and Shari came into view with more milk pails, Flora was quick to hail them.

"Misty, on your feet. Ladies, need you to roll that barrel through the barrier. I'm working on the flower now."

Groaning, I used what little energy I had to roll onto my side and push myself to my feet. The ladies moved quickly, angling the barrel into position so I could seize the rim before I collapsed. Panting, I leaned against the barrel as they began pouring gallons upon gallons of goat milk into the tub.

"Strip, witch, and get in," Flora barked, using her glowing fingertips to gently pluck one of the seven moonflowers from the vine. The magic transferred to the petals, their alabaster shine brightening to a pearlescent glimmer. "Hn, better make it a twofer." She selected a second flower and got it glimmering like the first one.

As I finished kicking off my boots and clambered inside the milk, I remembered the parasite ring. I was in some kind of shielding barrier, albeit a weakening one, and my life was on the line. With a forceful tug, I tore off the ring and tossed it onto my clothes. This weak, this sick, no one would recognize my magical signature anymore. Not even me.

Working quickly, Flora quickly separated the petals, sprinkling them onto the surface of the last pail of milk, and Daphne was even quicker pouring the mixture into the tub.

As the milk level rose past my nose, I closed my eyes and sank below the creamy surface.

You'd think in a time like this that I would've called upon my patron, the Green Mother herself, but it was Violet who appeared to me. The first Hawthorne, said to be the Green Mother's own rebellious sister. Wild and terrifying and free with clothes made of sewn leaves, her ivy-green eyes glowing with power, black hair a tousled mane, dirt on her hands and bare feet. A true green witch, a forest spirit, something other when that word used to inspire fear and wonder.

Looming close, her dark hair swirled around her head like coffee poured into cream. There was no room to jerk back; the confines of the tub were too tight. Her full lips flattened, glowing green eyes assessing me before she lifted her hand. The movement commanded my own hand to rise, and her gaze flicked to the finger that had borne the parasite ring.

"I did not fight to have my children hide,"she said. "Especially those who bear my own seed."

One-worded thoughts like dangerous, secret, protect, flitted across my mind like a flock of starlings across the sky, and she read every one of them like I'd spoken them aloud.

She released whatever invisible hold she had on my hand and cupped my cheek. It was equally tender and terrifying—those long stained nails were a thought away from puncturing my skin like thorns.

"We obey one rule, child,"she whispered. "The only rule that governs Nature itself: growth."

She slammed her hand against my chest, and the pearlescent waters of the moonflower invaded my core. My ancestor vanished at the same time the lacy net of purple blight constricting my core ruptured.

The moment the first patch of blight fell away, revealing that familiar glowing golden green, I seized my magic. I had no parasite ring holding me back now. I had Violet's blessing, or at least her advice, and what's more, I had friends to help me. Friends to encourage me to grow, to trust. Friends who had chosen me for me.

The milk began to froth and foam, sparkling like crushed pearl, invigorated by my participation. It roared through me like a purging wave, blasting and scrubbing and scouring. My core opened, the tree of my magic sprouting into a vast canopy and thick roots. Golden sparks and green swirls mixed with the pearlescent tendrils, chasing the infection out of every pore.

Erupting from the bath, I sucked in the breath my forgotten lungs were dying to have. I didn't just feel healed, I felt incredible. Liberated.

Shari was staring up at the sky, Daphne's blue eyes were exceptionally round, and Flora's mouth hung open almost to her knees. The garden gnome was the first of the stunned Crafting Circle to recover. "Eh! Stay in there, cider witch. Until all the sparkles have faded!"

On an instinctual level, I knew I didn't need to stay submerged, but I obeyed. Flora had been right about the moonflower-milk infusion, and I trusted her.

Maybe I didn't need to hide in Redbud. Maybe I didn't have to tackle the curse of the grimoire by myself. Maybe I'd had help all along, and I'd been too scared to see it.

Well, not anymore.