Chapter 5

Chapter

Five

U nfortunately for Bronwyn, I was on empty.

I pulled into the corner station and gassed up Mom's ten-year-old Mini. The car was the orange of marigolds two weeks after Día de los Muertos, and it shook like a leaf in a typhoon when I drove over eighty. Sharp turns were a battle for dominance with the steering wheel. But it ran better than my old Jeep and got way better mileage.

My mom's car didn't affect me the way her house did. There wasn't anything of her essence in here, since she'd bought the used car shortly before she died.

Why didn't you wait for me that night?

The nozzle clicked, indicating the tank was full. I twisted on the cap and jumped behind the wheel, not waiting for my receipt. Bronwyn was a strong witch and could hold her own in most situations, but I didn't want to leave her hanging. I had, after all, told her I would help.

La Paloma was three miles from Smokethorn and, with a population of thirty-five thousand, over ten times its size. It was the governmental center of Smokethorn County and its largest city. It took me under five minutes to reach the outskirts, and the radio blasted Queen's "Don't Stop Me Now" all the way there.

I sang with Freddie Mercury as I sped down agricultural backroads. I reached downtown Las Palmas in record time and parked behind a two-story, crumbling brick building in front of a laundromat and a hookah lounge.

Most businesses had their doors open. It was cool out, and the scents of fabric softener and minty shisha pleasantly flavored the air in the mostly empty rear lot. I locked up the Mini and ran the short distance to Bronwyn's shop, my purse bouncing against my hip.

Chimes rang out when I went through the door. Not a spell—a motion sensor. Smart. Why waste magic on something you could plug into the wall?

I swept my gaze around the spacious shop, from the vaulted ceiling with its wooden rafters to the pale green linoleum floor. Walking into Wicked always felt like taking a step back in time.

"What's the emergency?" I called out.

"Betty? Is that you?"

Ask a five-year-old to draw a princess witch and you'd get something that looked like Bronwyn every time. She was Tiana from The Princess and the Frog sans crown. She sometimes wore a black satin robe and pointed hat, claiming that customers expected it. Personally, I thought she just liked wearing them.

Today, she was dressed in a white cotton peasant blouse and skirt. Her long black hair flowed down her back in dozens of neat braids. Sweat beaded on her temples and her wide brown eyes appeared stark, but otherwise she looked fine.

"Yeah. You were a little vague on the phone. What's up?"

The second the words were out of my mouth, they were rendered unnecessary.

A thick, green vine with purple striations dropped from the ceiling behind Bronwyn, and the botanical world's version of man-eating shark peered around the side of an aisle.

I opened my mouth.

Shut it.

Opened it to speak again.

Frowned.

"Now, I know what you're thinking," Bronwyn said.

"Is that a Lowland tropical pitcher plant?"

"Highland, actually. I looked it up on one of those plant apps, and it said they're carnivorous. Is that true?"

"Yes, but how is it even alive? We're forty-two feet below sea level. Highland Nepenthes don't grow below three thousand feet above sea level. And even the Nepenthes rajah don't get this big."

She blew out a breath and smiled. "I knew you were the right person to call."

The pitcher plant nosed through the good luck charms on the floor, knocking over a display of love potions.

"Seeing as I'm the only earth witch in the county, I don't think you'll be getting any prizes for your deductive reasoning skills," I said. "How in the world did Seymour's plant end up here?"

"Seymour? Is it male? I couldn't tell."

"Seymour's plant . Audrey II is the plant's name. It's a Little Shop of Horrors reference. Eighties movie. Also, yes, it's male. You can see the rounded ends on the flower spikes."

Clear fluid spilled from the phytotelmata, the water-filled cavity inside the "pitcher" part of the plant, and splashed across the floor, dangerously close to Bronwyn's feet.

" Move ." I grabbed her hands and pulled her behind me.

"Isn't it just water?"

" Nepenthes are carnivorous. Normally these plants drown their prey then slowly dissolve the carcass using digestive enzymes they produce internally or import through bacteria. However, there's nothing normal about this plant. For all we know, that fluid is acidic enough to melt your skin off."

The plant noticed he'd drooled the water from his trap and slurped it back up, before pulling himself high into the ceiling rafters by his vines. It loomed over us but didn't attack. In fact, it seemed more curious than anything.

"I've got a blowtorch in the back room," Bronwyn whispered.

My stomach lurched. "No. No way. He doesn't deserve to die. He's in the wrong place, is all." The plant made a sad, gurgling sound. "How'd you end up with him?"

"Someone dropped it off last night in a giant crate. When I pried off the lid in the storeroom, vines shot into the rafters and pulled the rest of him out of the box."

"Does this sort of thing happen often? People dropping off random magical items?"

"You might be surprised by how often. And before you ask, yes, I have cameras. They malfunctioned."

"Of course they did. Damn magicals."

"Yeah," she sighed. "So, what do I do with him?"

"First off, his trap is browning around the edges, which means he needs water. Humidity, to be exact. Nepenthes like it bright and humid." I peered into the rafters. "If I create an artificial climate in your storeroom, could you maintain it?"

"Sure. I don't have a clue how to cast the spell, but if you show me what to do, I'm a fast learner."

Unlike me, Bronwyn was a made witch, which meant she'd been taught magic rather than been born into it. Her kind focused on learning about every form of witchcraft. That education made them powerful, even if Bronwyn was trying to downplay her talent now. I'd been told she was close to master level in several types of magic.

By Ida, of course. The woman had a gift for picking up information. And she knew I kept track of other strong magicals in my territory—especially witches connected to the La Paloma coven. It was a form of self-preservation.

"We'll need room for him to spread out."

"I've got plenty in the back. Let me flip the closed sign and lock the front door. I should've done that before, but I was a little busy." She kept her gaze pinned on the Nepenthes , who stared right back at her. "How will we get him into the room?"

"Once I get it set up, he'll come on his own." I stood in the storeroom doorway and studied the open framework of the roof in both rooms. Though there was a wall separating them, it only went up around eight feet and left a gap the plant could slip through. That was probably how it had gotten into the shop in the first place.

"You might want to think about extending the wall to the ceiling after this," I said.

"Already on my to-do list," she replied.

We chose a spot in a quiet corner. I set my bag down and opened the back door, my eyes stinging from the difference between the dark storeroom and the bright sunlight. I found a mound of unhappy grass in a cement planter a few feet from the door. It was blackened from car exhaust and as dry as the Sahara.

I bent down beside it, sinking my fingers into the clumpy, hard-packed dirt. Sent magic into the roots.

"Got a deal for you," I whispered. "Interested?"

The grass rippled. I closed my eyes and gave over to the push-pull sensation of connecting with my element.

I walked back into the storeroom with the soil, my connection to it slight and weak. Sweat beaded at my temples and under my nose. My hands trembled as if I were carrying a load too heavy for my muscles to bear. The magic was more pull than push today. I didn't have enough power to keep this up for long.

This was part of my pain, the part I hadn't shared with Ida.

The longer I stay in Smokethorn, the weaker my magic becomes.

"Betty, what in the world?" Bronwyn's mouth fell open. "Did anyone see you?"

It was a fair question. After all, it wasn't every day that a five-by-five clump of dry grass and dirt dug itself out of a planter and floated through the air.

Still, I didn't bother answering. I was using all my energy to guide the soil to a spot on the floor beneath the plant's destination. Bronwyn had pushed the crate there to use as a container for the soil—a place for the plant to take root.

I fed magic into the soil square, and it sent it back to me as best it could. The crunchy, limp grass perked up and turned lush green as I lowered it into the crate.

" Florecer ," I chanted.

My skin was like fire. My head felt as if it were floating somewhere in the rafters with the Nepenthes , and that wasn't by design. Darkness drained most of the light out of my vision. Despite this, I pushed with all my might, and magic rose from the soil in the crate, licking the walls and ceiling in the space like invisible flames.

" Luz. Agua ," I chanted, welcoming light and moisture into the space. My magic squeezed water from the atmosphere and quadrupled it. The temperature was a cool seventy-five, which was fine for daytime.

"Turn the a/c up to sixty-five or so before you leave tonight. That'll mimic the night temperatures in his natural habitat. I can't do anything about the elevation, but this is temporary, anyway." A sharp pain spiked through my head, and I gritted my teeth against the urge to scream.

"What did you do to that soil? I could've sworn it was beyond saving. Building maintenance ignores it."

"I had a talk with it," I said, my voice more normal than I'd expected, considering how bad I felt.

The pitcher plant hadn't yet appeared. Bronwyn made a kissing noise. "Come here, Mr. Plant, we've got a nice spot for you."

"Are you seriously trying to summon a giant carnivorous plant by making kissy sounds at it? Bronwyn, that's not going to?—"

A slender green vine slithered above us, forcing me to eat the words I'd been about to say. It snaked around a wooden beam and waited—or at least, that's what it appeared to be doing. When more of the Nepenthes appeared, the slender vine dangled into the crate.

Testing.

I pushed more magic into the soil, breaking up the clumps and incorporating the criminally tiny amount that had already been present inside the crate.

"Looks like he approves," Bronwyn said.

The giant pitcher plant crept across the ceiling, using vines like hands, grasping the overhead beams. A thick purple-green vine speared into the crate, releasing roots, and planting itself. I felt the sigh of relief that went through the plant and the soil. It was a symbiotic relationship: the soil needed the plant as much as the plant needed the soil. As much as I needed both.

"He's hungry." I rested a hand on the crate and shut my eyes while my head did its best to return to the rest of my body. "They eat insects and small animals, but orchid fertilizer should suffice for now. You can have some delivered from a home store. For the moment, the soil's enough."

"What in the name of the goddess do I do with him?"

My vision was so dark it looked like midnight instead of midmorning. "There's a witch in Tucson who operates an exotic greenhouse. I've worked with her before. She'll not only take him in, she'll probably pay you a lot of money for the honor."

Bronwyn worried her lower lip with her front teeth. "Feels wrong to profit. I just want him to go to a good home."

"You wanted to torch him a few minutes ago."

"That was when I thought he was going to eat me."

I shrugged. "To be fair, he still might eat you. I can't guarantee he won't. But he'd probably rather have some freeze-dried worms or fertilizer."

"Let me get that started." She dashed back into the shop.

I lowered my forehead to the side of the crate. Gods, I felt like hot garbage. It had been way too soon after last night's banishment to try using my magic again.

One of the wispier vines slid down and stroked the top of my hand. A burst of magic filled me, and my vision cleared. My headache didn't disappear, but it improved.

"Thank you." I smiled up at the beautiful pitcher plant, with its vibrant green flared leaves and long, narrowed stalk. Nepenthes were natural works of art. Scary, natural works of art. "I'm going to have an earth witch take you into her care. She'll make sure you have room to flourish and grow. Please don't eat her—or Bronwyn, either. I promise, it's going to be okay."

I dug my cell phone out of my back pocket and put in a call. As I'd expected, Sarai was pants-wetting excited about the enormous Nepenthes and said she'd be by to pick him up as soon as she could rent a refrigerated truck large enough to accommodate him comfortably.

The vine wrapped around my wrist, trailed up my arm, and played with the flower in my hair.

"I need you to also keep the soil in the crate with the Nepenthes ," I told her. "I made a promise."

"I'll honor your promise. Thanks for calling, Betty. A giant Nepenthes —I'm beside myself over here. I owe you a big favor for calling me first."

That made me smile.

Some people collected stamps. I collected favors.

We hung up, and Bronwyn came back into the room with a bag. "They're going to deliver everything." She gave the plant a worried look. "Can you hold out for another hour?"

"He can. I've made arrangements for him. He should only have to stay here another day, maybe two." I gave her Sarai's information and instructions on how to maintain the spell I'd cast. "Is that my order?"

She patted the bag. "Charm supplies, saguaro spikes, and a bottle of boysenberry wine. Plus these." She held up a pair of hot-pink, crystal-framed sunglasses. "You don't have to tell me, but I'm dying to know. What are you doing with them?"

"Night vision glasses. My friend Ida loves poker night with her pals, but she's been making excuses not to go for the last few months because her vision isn't what it used to be." Something I'd witnessed firsthand last night. "I thought these might help—I still have to spell them, but that won't take long."

"Sounds like a perfect gift." She slipped the glasses back into the bag. "For helping me today, I can give you everything except the saguaro spines for free. I'll give you the spines at cost."

That was a huge payday. Saguaro spines were pricey. They had to come from healthy cactuses that had died of natural causes—and given their longevity, that wasn't easy to find. I wished I didn't have to use them at all, but the Siete Saguaro's protection spell had to be updated every three months, and I needed them to power the spell.

"Works for me," I said. "Nice doing business with you."

"Speaking of, could I trouble you for some rosemary and lavender? I'll pay you the usual rate, of course."

"I'll see what I can do."

I bade goodbye to the pitcher plant and Bronwyn and left with my purchases. I was depleted, magically and physically, and all I wanted to do was go home and take a nap. Instead, I ate the second lavender scone, finished my lukewarm cappuccino, and pointed my car in the direction of Ronan's Pub.

It was eleven thirty, and I had a meeting with a possible poisoner at noon.