Chapter 5
Five
Since finding the spider lilies in the forest, everything that’s happened adds up to too much of a coincidence for Veda to ignore. She sits down with Dr. Simpson’s note, a pen, and a bowl of Ruth’s clam chowder.
It irritates Veda that she can’t make sense of the riddle. Eleven digits. Not a phone number, but a message with too many combinations. She’s on her third attempt at decoding, about to give up, when she flips it over and stares at the numbers on the back.
Veda stops.
Instead of reading the letters individually, she combines the first two.
The twenty-second letter of the alphabet is V.
Veda.
Now she’s invested. She sits down at the table, making dozens of guesses, filling in letters until one finally forms a word she recognizes.
19-1-14-7-21-9-19
Sanguis.
Blind to everything except her destination, Veda runs out the door.
Trees dwarf her on all sides, casting odd shadows in the setting sun.
The air is charged with an electric expectancy.
She stumbles, trying to catch her breath and ease the burn in her chest, but doesn’t stop until she clears the tree line outside Weston Academy.
Sunset makes the world look peaceful, but Veda is not as she searches each barn and animal unit until she finds Dr. Simpson. He’s kneeling, checking a sheep’s hoof, but her arrival brings him to his full height. “What are you doing here?”
“I decoded your note,” Veda replies, stone-faced and breathing heavily. “What the hell do you know about Sanguis?”
Everett tenses, then picks up his bag and leaves the sheep pen. Veda steps back, more so when he rubs his neck, choosing his words carefully. “I know the Sanguis Curse is in you.”
“How?”
“Your marks. The potions Everly brews. She can’t always find living sheep’s horn powder, so she asks me.
I . . .” He points to her, starts to say more, but shudders instead, fists curling at his sides.
“Curses of the blood are difficult to cast, easy to contaminate, and difficult to cure. But nothing is impossible.”
Hope sparks where resignation once reigned. Still skeptical, torn between listening and leaving, she stays rooted. “How do you know this?”
“Mine is incurable. It looks nothing like yours.”
Veda recoils. “You’re cursed?”
“Something like that,” Everett replies cryptically. “There’s no name for what was done to me. Not a curse, not a malediction, more like a cage. The closer I get to telling a certain truth, the further I descend into madness. Truth is both my liberator and captor.”
Horrified, Veda wants to ask who did this to him, but she’s sure he can’t answer. “Can it be undone?”
“No.” He winces, dropping his bag and clutching his side. “I can’t say more.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“You . . . and the person who cursed me.” Everett dry heaves, covering his mouth, eyes flashing red before he closes them tight.
“Your eyes.” Veda steps back. “Is that part of the curse?”
“Yes,” he replies shakily. “I Saw their real face in a vision. I found them. They promised to turn themselves in, but I woke up cursed.”
“You could run.”
“That’s what they wanted me to do, but I can’t. I’ve Seen what’s coming. I’ll never be free until everyone knows the truth.” He wipes his bleeding nose, bitterly murmuring, “Past. Present. Future. Birth. Life. Death. They don’t care for natural order and disrespect the rules of Sight.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you should go to the FCD and—”
“No,” Everett snaps. “The sheep is a wolf.”
She has no idea what that means. “I don’t trust many people, but Gabriel and Francisco can help you. I can call them now, and we can meet outside the department.”
“Not yet. Tell them if you must, but I have a few last things to do.”
Veda can’t imagine what could be more important. She pulls out her phone, only for Everett to tense. “What is it?”
“The one who cursed you is trapped and does not yet know it. You are their answer and also their downfall.” Everett drops to his knees, head hanging as blood drips onto his shirt.
The shift in him is alarming. His shoulders stiffen, veins appear, sweat beads at his hairline. He pants and trembles violently.
“Are you—”
“I’m fine!” he explodes suddenly, head jerking, eyes burning red.
Veda backs away until she hits the wall.
“Sorry, sorry,” Everett rasps. “I . . . You need to know. The trickster flies.”
Dr. Simpson is gone by the time Gabriel and Francisco arrive.
“One second he was there, and the next, I was alone.” Veda paces from one side of the barn to the other while Gabriel writes down everything she remembers from her conversation with Everett.
Peter and Khadijah, having just finished searching the grounds with Francisco, approach, shaking their heads.
“Gone,” they say as one.
“I doubt he’ll come in tomorrow,” Peter adds, looking around once more. “I have his personnel stone in my office. The information is up to date.”
The walk inside is quiet until Peter hands over the stone.
“Thank you,” Francisco says. “If he turns up, call us, but don’t approach him yourself.”
Gabriel leans against the wall. “We need to talk about the Oracle Council. They’re ignoring my inquiries.”
“My uncle thinks they’re hiding something,” Khadijah says.
Gabriel scoffs. “Obviously.”
“We’ve tried to speak with them plenty of times during other investigations—the attacks on Seers, the false arrests, even when we told them about the Botanist. But it’s been crickets. I’m surprised Clinton wants to help.”
“Can you blame them?” Khadijah asks. “Seers haven’t had a reason to trust the FCD since its inception. The wounds run deep. Despite my uncle’s efforts to bridge the gap, the Council prefers to handle things internally.”
“You need to change their minds, especially now that we have clear signs of the Botanist being here. There wasn’t a body with those spider lilies, but after what Dr. Simpson said, I’m convinced they were a warning. The Council needs to get on board, preferably before another member is killed.”
This perks Veda up. “Every victim was on the Council?”
“The last few tried to scrub themselves from existence, but yes. All of them, except the one in London. She had no ties to Washington state.”
“Then you should assume she had a tie to the Botanist.”
Francisco sighs. “We’re still combing through her friends. There are a lot, and I’m not finished. So far, they’ve agreed to help. Based on what Everett told you, I know you’re going to decline, but I think you should consider protection.”
“I’d sooner invite the Botanist to my house for dinner.” Veda folds her arms. “I trust Gabriel mostly, you partly, and the FCD not at all.”
“Partly?” Francisco sulks. “I thought we were better than that.”
“You don’t curse, and you’re too calm,” she replies. “Not cursing is inauthentic, and calm men are suspicious. Well, except Peter, who internalizes everything. I don’t make the rules.”
Peter doesn’t dignify Veda with a response, while Khadijah snickers.
“I have dozens of young nieces, nephews, and cousins who repeat everything,” Francisco argues. “Also, someone has to balance out Gabriel. He’s either too patient with suspects or too friendly with witnesses.”
A fair point.
Gabriel stands straighter. “How did I get dragged into this?”
They ignore him.
Francisco checks his watch. “We’ll examine the personnel stone, get what we need, and go to Dr. Simpson’s house tonight. If he doesn’t answer, we’ll talk to his neighbors and family. How long has he been working here?”
“A year,” Peter replies.
“His mom plays bingo with Ruth, from the Oracle Council,” Veda recalls.
The investigators exchange a look.
“Another link,” Gabriel mutters. “We need to talk to him ourselves—quietly. He already doesn’t trust us. He hasn’t done anything wrong, so the last thing we need is this getting out and the commander sending the entire FCD after a Seer cursed to go mad if he tells a truth we don’t yet know.”
“And a lot of spell-happy investigators and bigots who’d love finding him,” Francisco adds, then turns back to Veda. “Think about my offer.”
“I won’t.”
Veda spends the next morning harvesting, the afternoon assembling orders for wholesale customers, and every spare minute in between completing payroll.
She can’t risk idleness; it’s a one-way trip to anxiety.
The Botanist’s arrival means years of wondering what will happen to her are finally approaching a conclusion. Good or bad, at least it’ll be over.
Before she knows it, the school day is ending, and it’s time to find Antaris. He’s in an empty classroom, staring at a piece of paper that looks like it’s been folded and unfolded multiple times.
“Hi.”
Antaris jolts, quickly shoving it into his pocket.
Veda pretends not to notice. It’s their fifth session, and she’s learning more about him each day.
He prefers the outdoors, always carries the same note, rarely eats his packed lunch, and usually finishes his workbook assignments before the school day ends.
He also likes choosing what they do. Today, he opts to sit on the steps and watch the chickens scuttle about in the pasture. It’s hard to decipher his mood, so Veda watches for signs of distress.
“How was your day?” she asks.
He startles again, as if he’s forgotten something. After rummaging through his pockets and the book bag between them, he finds the folded paper. Up close, Veda sees it’s fraying, but he covets it nonetheless. Antaris catches her looking and puts it back in his pocket.
“It’s not my business unless you want me to see.” Veda offers her finger. “I have something I need to do. Want to help me?”
Antaris taps twice. Yes.
She leads the way to the kitchens. Antaris looks around in awe. She offers him a strawberry as a test and is surprised when he accepts. While he eats, Veda gets an idea.
“What else do you like?” she asks. “Will you show me?”