Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Dr. Silva greeted them at the door to the plant library. She was an older woman with deep brown skin and curls streaked with gray. Her hair was twisted off her neck and secured with a fern-shaped clip, and her skirt was dotted with purple sprigs of vervain.
“Dr. Taliesin and Dr. Linden, welcome to the plant library,” she said warmly.
The plant library was a room with wide, bright windows on two sides and vining plants hanging from the ceiling.
The walls were covered in botanical drawings and maps, cases with dried samples lined the edges of the room, and shelves held book after book on the care and cultivation of every plant imaginable.
In one corner there was a large pot housing a particularly sinister-looking carnivorous Cape sundew that had grown to an unnatural size.
Its stalks of red tentacles dipped in false nectar were the width of a palm, big enough to ensnare a mouse instead of a fly.
On the edge of the pot was a name tag: Bruce.
Arthur could have spent hours in here, looking at everything.
After encouraging them to look around, Dr. Silva returned to setting up an old projector with ancient slides.
The machine whirred to life with several mechanical clicks.
Old photographs flashed on the only blank space on the wall, each one showing detailed shots of different plants with their names written in a careful hand in the upper corner.
Demon’s fingernails, bane weed, love-in-a-mist. The machine came to a stop when Dr. Silva finally arrived at a slide labeled Gloaming creeper (day).
Maggie walked up to the projection, the blue light illuminating the soft features of her face, full cheeks and that perfect divot in her upper lip that Arthur was desperate to taste again. He shook his head and was shocked out of his stare by Dr. Silva clearing her throat.
“I believe this is what you’re looking for?
” the botanist confirmed as Maggie nodded.
“There’s only one place you’re going to find a gloaming creeper on the eastern coast—deep in old-growth forests, like the Wilds.
” She reached high above her head to a string and pulled down a map of Hawthorn and the surrounding Wilds.
She pointed to the three rivers that eventually met at the confluence several miles into the swampy forest. “The vine tends to grow within a few yards of a water source, on the north side of tree trunks. When it’s found near a confluence like this one in the Wilds, it can counteract the effect the confluence might have on spellwork. ”
She turned back to the projector. The gloaming creeper vine snaked up the side of a river birch, with wide, almost heart-shaped leaves.
“The stem is a deep purple color, more like an aubergine than a mauve,” she explained.
“These leaves are variegated, with colors ranging from a deep green to a creamy white, but they can be solid as well.” Dr. Silva clicked the button on the projector, and the next slide appeared, labeled Gloaming creeper (night).
“The most notable thing about the vine, besides its otherworldly properties, is that the leaves curl at night.”
Arthur remembered reading about this property in the journal. “Nyctinasty,” he interjected, supplying the word he’d learned to describe this phenomenon.
“Yes, that’s right!” Dr. Silva beamed. Maggie, who was standing on the other side of the botanist, smirked.
“Show-off,” she mouthed across the room, and he couldn’t help his goofy smile.
Arthur stepped forward to examine the projected image of the vine. “Is there anywhere we can buy a prepared decoction of the gloaming creeper? Price wouldn’t be a concern.”
Dr. Silva shook her head. “Unfortunately, gloaming creeper has never been successfully cultivated. Prepared decoctions are very rare and difficult to transport due to its instability after it’s been heated.
” She tapped her foot momentarily, looking thoughtfully at Arthur.
“My colleague at Dartwood, Dr. Bellinger, has several rare decoctions in her collection. You might be able to check with her to see if she has any advice.”
Arthur stood in front of the Wilds, studying the landscape, shoulder to shoulder with Maggie. “Some explorer certainly had a good time naming these rivers,” she muttered. The Dismal. The Despair. The Dour.
“It is rather ominous, isn’t it,” he said, feeling a little bit breathless about how close they were standing.
Memories threatened to surface—of holding her against him as they’d danced on Beltane, as he’d carried her out of the lab when he’d been so worried she might not wake up.
He pushed the memories away and turned to Dr. Silva.
“Do you have an idea of the most likely place to find a gloaming creeper between these three rivers?”
Dr. Silva arched her brows. “If you were going to venture into the Wilds—which I am not recommending, to be clear—I would suggest starting at the Dismal. This part of the Wilds is drier, before you get down into swampier lowlands. You’re going to find sassafras, maybe some white cedar trees.
River birches are less common but still a possibility.
If the plain has flooded recently, the gloaming creeper could have been washed out, so I would start as far upland as you can.
But again, I don’t think I can recommend, in good conscience, that you enter the Wilds. Especially not now.”
“Understood. I don’t think it’s going to be a problem,” Maggie said, but Arthur wasn’t so sure that was the case. Based on everything Dr. Silva explained, there didn’t seem to be another option.
Dr. Silva shuddered. “I’ve always enjoyed living by the Wilds. It’s always felt safe, even with the occasional ghoul or banshee sighting, but this pall has changed things. I’ve been too nervous, even just going from Ulmus Hall to my house.”