Chapter 18

In the morning,the Crafting Circle, who had all slept over at Flora's, broke down the crystal-and-morning-glory barrier, leaving the spent crystals in the field to recharge in the sunlight or overnight in the moonlight, if they could be salvaged at all. When it was clear I would survive, Daphne had left sometime during the wee hours of the morning for a human-sized towel and some spare clothes. While I toweled off, Flora made a crack in the tub and let the fouled milk soak into the dry earth, then she piled my clothes inside, including my cowgirl boots, and set the whole thing on fire. Only my cell phone, amazonite pendant, and the parasite ring, plus the iron cuffs that had never left my wrists, had been spared.

"Better safe than sorry," had been the garden gnome's explanation.

I slipped the parasite ring onto my finger, shuddering as the dampening cage reforged around my core. I knew Violet wouldn't approve, but it was necessary. These were different times than those she had lived in, and I had to tread carefully. But I would be more mindful of its presence and effect, that's for sure.

"Can we eat now?" Shari asked.

An excellent idea. Firstly, because I was ravenous after not eating anything yesterday and magical ordeals always sucked the energy right out of you, and secondly, because baking would be a fantastic secondary confirmation that I was healed.

Daphne suggested Patty's, but Flora wasn't letting us—or at least me—leave her house without an explanation. I volunteered to make scones, but no one but Shari heard me. Daphne was arguing with Flora, staunch in her belief that a woman's past was her own, and refused to listen to anything said under duress.

"Then you and Shari can go collect quail eggs for breakfast," the garden gnome barked. "Misty Fields, you're staying with me."

"In the kitchen," I said, striding for the house.

"Making scones," Shari said, eyes twinkling with anticipation.

"But, dear—"

"It's alright, Daph," I assured.

"We'll see if you're singing the same tune after you talk to Flora," she said, gripping Shari's arm and guiding her away to the patch of sunflowers that the quails had made their home in.

While Flora's house had been built to accommodate humans, she'd rigged it with all things miniature from doors to dumbwaiters, pulleys, and ziplines. There were even a few trampolines set up in strategic positions to help launch her across rooms. Her renovations and improvements also accommodated Poppy, including dog doors and a dog bed in the adjacent living room, upon which the Flemish giant rabbit currently dreamed.

Before the garden gnome could pounce, I asked, "Are those moonflowers hallucinogenic?"

She seemed momentarily disarmed by the question but recovered quickly. "Well they don't call you looney because your brain got fried by staring up at the moon all night, that's for sure. Now spill it. That was no green witch house I entered yesterday. At least, not entirely."

"I'm a hearth witch," I replied, measuring out flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt before cutting in the butter. "And I'm here because a rival coven put a curse on mine."

When it was evident by my silence that I wasn't going to elaborate, the gnome prompted, "So you came here to, what? To hide?"

I nodded, mixing in the blueberries and lemon zest I'd found in the fridge before adding in the milk. "And work on lifting the curse."

"You're being mighty cagey with the details, missy."

Sliding back the silky sleeve of the billowing tunic Daphne had lent me, I rotated my left arm so the fine white scars the Big Nasty had left there glinted in the sunlight. "Because I don't want anyone else to get hurt." If I revealed too much to Flora, and she didn't want to help me any more than she already had, I risked endangering her. Interrogation in the witchy world was… thorough.

Despite her bravado, Flora gulped. "This rival coven, they got trackers on you? Hellhounds?"

I got the cut scones in the oven before answering, "I don't doubt it, though they haven't found me yet. Because I've been as anonymous as possible."

"You've been here almost two months now. What kind of progress have you made?"

My brown hair, smelling faintly floral, swished across my shoulders as I shook my head. "Not as much as I'd like. Not because I'm an incompetent witch, it's just, I'm not sure what I'm dealing with. Curses are tricky and full of booby traps and—"

"And you're messing around them with one hand tied behind your back." Flora pointed an accusing finger at the parasite ring on mine.

"M-my family may or may not be hunting me too," I mumbled. "This helps me from being tracked."

"Jumping hop-toads," Flora sighed, running a hand through her curls. "Just who are your family?"

"It's better you not know."

"Hn. Do you think your infection is related to your family's curse?"

I shook my head. "No, I was stung while at Cedar Haven. They had rotting wood and sick bees and—"

We both jumped when Flora's landline phone rang with an incoming call. She hoisted the phone to her whole face. "This is Flora Ironweed. Oh, Arthur, how are— Oh." The delight in her eyes vanished. "I'll tell Misty, she— Oh. Then I'll be right over." She dropped the phone into its cradle and used a zipline to get over to the window facing the backyard. "We gotta go, ladies! Two dozen quail eggs wouldn't have fed all of us anyway."

"What about the scones?" Shari asked.

I pulled them out of the oven, their tops golden brown and sizzling with escaping steam. The scent of lemon and butter and caramelized edges wafted into my face. Absolutely perfect. No mold or sourdough troubles in this batch. "You can eat them on the way," I called.

After transferring them from the pan and into a plastic container for easier transport—leaving the lid off so the scones wouldn't steam and lose their crispy edges—I checked my pockets for my meager belongings—car keys and cell phone. The amazonite pendant hung around my neck, and the sunny-side up egg pillow thing I'd crocheted was in my other hand. "I'll check in with you later, Flora. And certainly about the moonflower bill. I need to see Sawyer. Let me know how it goes?"

"Uh-huh, cider witch. You're coming with us. Something tells me Cedar Haven is going to need all the help it can get."