10. Pandora
PANDORA
I stop dead in my tracks when I see the greenhouse.
The campus map on my phone calls it the Lydia Chambers Greenhouse , but what’s most striking to me is the arrangement of flowers by the front entrance, as well as the distinctive bench.
I pull Rachel’s diary out of my backpack and flip past the grisly murder images to one of the earlier pages. As I’d thought, it’s the same greenhouse as in the photo she’d taped into the page.
There’s another photo of some kind of flower near it, and a note that says, ‘he showed me his dahlias! They were gorgeous!’
The motherfucker who killed her wooed her with flowers like some old-timey gentleman.
I put her diary away again and make my way to the greenhouse. It’s open to all students, apparently, but there’s a note about respecting the plants and signing up for a plot if you want to use it.
I head inside. The air is instantly a few degrees warmer and a lot more humid. I see large trees in pots and tables with seedlings. There are plaques near some flowers explaining which class bred them and what their genealogy is.
Dyschord’s botany department is one of the best in the northeast, if my conservative roommate is to be believed.
She’d gone off on me when I’d asked about her plant books.
I don’t know enough about plants to care either way, although I do spot something interesting among the plants near the windows: a small garter snake, basking in the secluded sunny spot.
“How are you going to get out?” I ask it, crouching down.
The snake has one eye on me, keeping perfectly still.
“Do you have an easy feast in here?” I glance around. I’m not sure if frogs and toads can get in here, but it’s quiet at this time of day, and if the botany department grows veggies or fruit, that’s sure to attract at least something edible for the snake.
“If you’re still here when I leave, I’ll help you get out,” I promise the snake. After a few more moments of staring, I get up and keep walking around.
I’m surprised at how empty it is, but it’s in the middle of a class period. I’m sure most students, even botany students, have other things to do.
Toward the back end of the greenhouse, I find a locked door. I look around, but the one other person in here is cooing over some saplings and seems too busy with their work to pay attention to me.
Thankfully, it’s a key lock and not a combination lock or, worse, an electronic lock. Very old school of them—and potentially more secure, since it’s harder to casually find a key than to memorize a door code.
Too bad for them that lockpicking was part of my education. I find the lockpick I keep in my backpack and get to work. It’s way too easy to unlock it, and I make my way into the private section of the greenhouse, the door slowly shutting behind me.
This is where all the plants not ready to be moved are set up. I wander the smaller aisles until I find the dahlias.
Not just any dahlias either, but the same one from the photo. It’s yellow with thin red stripes through the petals, where the ones out in the main greenhouse only have solid colors.
Rachel had thought this flower was pretty. I don’t remember her ever talking about plants at all, and I wonder how much else she’d hidden from me.
Did I even know her? Was I too caught up in myself to ask Rachel who she was as a person? I remember how she usually went along with my suggestions, how our outings were the ones I’d picked, and I always assumed that meant she liked the same stuff I did.
Maybe I steamrolled her.
I find my eyes prickling, and I blink quickly to clear my vision.
I’m not here to go down memory lane. I’m supposed to find clues.
If somebody showed her these flowers, that means they had access to this portion of the greenhouse. I try to find a label, but there’s nothing in the vicinity of the dahlias.
I’m still looking when I hear the footsteps. I stand up straighter and get back to looking at flowers, pretending I’m definitely supposed to be there.
“Pandora? What the fuck?” Blaze’s familiar voice asks.
I inhale sharply and turn to look at him. “Blaze? What are you doing here?”
“That should be my question. You aren’t a botany major.” Blaze gets close to me and puts his arm around my shoulder, drawing me away from the plants.
“Do I need to be?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest.
“I came to check on the dahlias,” Blaze says casually.
My heart gets stuck in my throat.
“Dahlias?” I smile at him. “Didn’t figure you for the flowery type. More the rip-flowers-apart type.”
“I do love to deflower,” Blaze jokes, and I’d laugh if I wasn’t hyper aware of the fact that he might know more about Rachel’s disappearance.
I don’t know why the thought disappoints me.
His hand on my shoulder tightens. “But my mom loves dahlias, and I’ve been tending the ones here. Now why don’t you tell me how the fuck you got in here?”
“The door was open,” I lie. “Where’s your shadow? ”
“My shadow?” Blaze drags me out of the greenhouse. I struggle tepidly, but I don’t particularly need to stay inside.
“You know, Asch?” I grin at him. “I named him Blaze’s Bitch in my phone.” I did go in and fix where I’d gotten their numbers mixed up, because I would have confused myself otherwise.
Blaze grits his teeth. “Don’t talk about Asch that way.”
I spot several students walking through the greenhouse, but none of them look our way. I let Blaze lead me outside, until he shoves me toward a secluded section of greenery around the side of the greenhouse.
“You done roughing me up?” I ask. I brush imaginary dirt from my arms.
Blaze gives me a considering look, then grins and shakes his head. “Nah. I need to make sure you didn’t steal anything.”
“Steal? Like what?” I glance through the greenhouse windows, but all I see are the trees in their large planter boxes. “There’s nothing but plants in there.”
“Yes, exactly.” Blaze huffs at me when I don’t catch on. “Are you seriously that clueless? The university does research there. Those plants are not for sale. There’ve been several instances of rival universities attempting to steal from us.”
If the plants are so coveted, why would Blaze, or anyone, show them to Rachel?
Another mystery to add to my pile.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch anything. I’m not part of the flower mafia,” I joke. I need to find out more about this botany department. “So, what are you doing in there, Mr. Business Major? Do you woo girls with those flowers?”
“Flower mafia? Woo?” Blaze repeats. “Why would I woo anyone? And I told you, the flowers are for my mother.”
Useless. I hoped he’d reveal something, but I guess he does know how to keep secrets. I wave to him and take a step to the side. “All right. Well, thanks for enlightening me. I’ve got class now, so I’ll be on my way. ”
“No, you aren’t,” Blaze says. “I know that room was locked. It’s never unlocked. So let’s make sure there’s no contraband anywhere on you.”
He reaches for my pants and tries to get his hands into my pockets.
I can’t let him find my charm.
I shove him away, and I know I’ve caught him off guard when he goes stumbling back a few steps. “Fuck off, Blaze. Don’t touch me.”
His lips curl into a nasty smirk. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”
Those eyes of his go darker, and I can already see the desire in them, the same desire from when he’d had me cornered in his bedroom, before Asch and River interrupted.
But I do have other things to do, and there’s no fucking way I’ll let him touch my charm.
“I’ll talk to you however I want, you dick.” I turn to run.
Blaze tries to grab me, and I dodge out of the way exactly as Uncle Slayer taught me.
It gets me a few feet further, but Blaze is larger and faster.
He grabs me and throws me onto the soft dirt.
I struggle against him, and he manages to get my backpack off of me. He tosses it nearby while I struggle.
I open my mouth to scream, except Blaze has his hand over my mouth, squeezing my cheeks hard.
He sneers at me. “If you make noise, you’re going to regret it. You, and your little friend River. Got it?”
Threatening River is a low blow.
I glare at him, but I nod.
His hand relaxes and he goes back to searching my pocket.
I slam my palm into his chin. He yelps and lets go of me, and I sprint away a few feet, my hand going to my pocket. The charm is still there.
I still have it.
“You fucking bitch,” Blaze growls, lunging toward me. Despite his words, I can hear the amusement underneath them .
He’s having fun right now.
I duck out of the way and extend my leg to trip him. He manages to redirect his fall so he’s directly on top of me, and he’s heavier than I expected.
Blaze grips my wrists and looms over me. “I fucking told you the rules. I told you the consequences. Why are you still fighting me?”
I’m torn between rolling my hips up and spitting at him.
He can have my body.
The charm is mine, though.
“It’s just a fucking greenhouse,” I say, my breathing heavy. “It’s open to all students! Not my fault you idiots failed to lock your doors. How was I supposed to know that there’s a flower trafficking ring and the flower mafia is doing flower espionage?”
I catch Blaze swallowing a laugh, before he realizes how closely I’m watching. Guess I amuse at least somebody around here.
“You really have a death wish,” Blaze runs his knuckles across my cheek. “You think you can match me? I know women like you, Pandora. I’m going to break you down until you’re a sobbing mess.”
Fuck, that sounds hot.
Not the breaking me part. He’s got a long way to go if he thinks he can match me. But I’d love to see his attempts at it. I’d struggle and fight and give as good as I got?—
But if I give away too much now, there’s no way I’ll get any information out of him at all.
“Were you trying to be scary?” I mock. “All I’ve seen so far is an impotent little boy. A man-child .”
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that men’s egos are the most fragile things ever.