I look down at the watch that I’m still holding in my palm, an artifact that apparently is thousands of years old. I exhale a long breath through puffed-out cheeks. So, really, whatisCollin? I don’tthinkhe’s been trying to trick me. He acts as if he truly likes me, and I hope he knows he doesn’t have to fake that to get me to help him. But even if he’s not faking, let’s be real a moment—what could someone like me even mean to an incorporeal, divine,ancientAvatar of Knowledge? Could the flirting just be some kind of game for him? Play-acting the role of a “perfect young lover” for the poor, lonely incubus boy? Nothing more than a bit of fun to temper the crushing boredom of immortality, kinda like my mom?
The thought that Collin could beanythinglike my mother instantly reminds me that I promised to stop asking myself stupidly painful questions, so I glance at the table and see my cup is no longer steaming. It looks likeit’s cooled down enough to drink and since, in my experience, tasty food and bev are super useful for maintaining denial, I take a big sip. It’s actually not bad. Perfect temperature, anyway. Sweet with just a hint of a bitter aftertaste.
I don’t drink a lot of tea, and its acrid flavor is the main reason why. (Although this tastes sharp in a different way than I’ve had before.) I take another sip and discover that now I actually kind of like the bitterness. It’sbracing. (That’s the word you use for tea, right?) Maybe my taste buds are growing up some? Even so, I’m not so grown-up that I’m not totally going to smash the huge pile of cookies on that dainty china plate. I grab the biggest one with my free hand, take a bite of its pure, chewy, chocolatey goodness (still warm! so soft!) and realize the two go especially well together.
Tea and cookies. I’m pretty sure that’s what they have in the UK every day. Ireland, too, I bet. Not that Collin would ever have had that. Not really.
I glance down again at the artifact in my hand. I’m still so shook by Tara’s reminder that Collin might be nothing like the cute Irish boy I’ve been kissing and cuddling (andmore) that I consider not putting the watch back in my pocket at all. Maybe it would be easier to just set him free without some long goodbye.
Maybe the smart choice here is to just accept the obvious: that despite how he looks, Collin and I are very, very different.
I finish the cookie and wash it down with another swallow of tea to buy more time to think. I realize thatwhateverhe is, I still need to ask about exactly whereEmma is in the Benevolent Society building and what the Monster Hunters will be up against when they try to save her. And I basically gave Collin my word that I’d bring him back as soon as possible. It’s that last one that really decides it. In all fairness, he’s done nothing wrong. In fact, it’s been the opposite. Yeah, there’s stuff I don’t know about him and that’s a little scary, but it’s not right to totally ghost him just because feelings are hard and I wasn’t smart enough to ask him about any of his backstory ahead of time.
I return the watch to my back pocket, and Collin immediately appears in front of me, looking very relieved. “Oh, good! There you are! Safe as houses.”
Hm. Seems my theory from before was right. When he’s not “active,” he can’t actually see what’s going on around him. Could he still be awake that whole time? If so, Mom’s boredom would havenothingon his.
But again, I don’t know what he feels, and I can’t know. I try to smile at his UK slang (are houses really that safe?) and raise my cup at him, not wanting to talk about what’s truly on my mind.
“I’m fine. Tara continues to be cool. She even makes good tea.” I take another sip and enjoy the flavor still more this time.
Suddenly, Collin’s eyes widen with horror.
“Wait! God! Alvin! Stop!”
I freeze, not even swallowing, and watch Collin move his tongue around the inside of his mouth, like he’s the one who just drank something. “Intensely sweet,bitter aftertaste… Oh, Jaysus. It’s belladonna!”
I immediately spit out the tea into the cup.
“Wait, you mean thepoison…?” I hiss, as quietly as I humanly can while at the same time freaking the hell out. Maybe it’s just my saliva, but it still feels like there’s a bunch of the tea left in my mouth. I try to spit out more, but my mouth goes dry.
“Yes. And from what I can tell from your taste buds, she also added a fewotherbotanicals to speed the effects.” He jams his fingers through his hair, clearly freaking out himself. “Oh, God! I’m so sorry! I tried to sense if the tea was dangerous when we were in the kitchen. I did! But she must be able to hide things from me!” He kneels beside me. “Tell me, exactlyhow muchdid you drink?”
I look down at the cup.
It’s more than half empty.
17
“Um, I had a cookie, too,”I say, stupidly.
Because stupid is exactly what I am. I’m apparently so desperate for someone,anyone, to like me, I’ve just assisted a perfect stranger with my own murder. Not exactly “paranormal investigator” tactical awareness there!
“Okay. Think.Think!” Collin is so scared for me, his arms are literally shaking while he paces rapidly back and forth, talking to himself. Then his eyes dart over to me with fierce resolve. “We’ve got to induce vomitingright now, Alvin!”
Well, good luck with that. I’ve never thrown up in my life, ever. Maybe it’s an incubus thing, but I have literally no gag reflex. It was something I was even a little proud of, figuring how if I ever met the right guy, I could impress him with my sword-swallowing skills or whatever. Turns out it’s yet another way me not being normal is coming to bite me in the ass.
“Unless you can conjure up a magic vomiting spell or something, I don’t think I can do that, Collin.” I’mwhispering as best I can, but I’m so amped up, it’s definitely a loud stage whisper.
Collin looks up and away, his eyes unfocused, and gives a quick nod, somehow knowing not to argue with me about this. “Right.” He then looks over at a small greenhouse at the far end of the garden, away from the house, through the wooden arch and down the stone path. “There! She’s growing a bunch of tropical plants and one of them isCarapichea ipecacuanha. Its roots are what make ipecac syrup, something that’s been used for ages to induce vomiting after poisoning. We need to get inthere!”
I have no idea how long Tara will be away, or even if this plant is going to work on me, but a bad option is better than no option. I get to my feet and notice I’m already feeling disoriented and off-balance. I don’t know if that’s the belladonna or the beginning of a panic attack, but I do know my mouth is hella dry.Unnaturallydry. Hopefully, this epi-kacka-wanna-whatever plant is juicy, or I’m not going to be able to get it down!
I start lurching along the thin slate-rock path that leads from the lawn patio. Collin takes my arm to steady me, which feels like it helps, but who knows what it’s doing in real life?
“She also hasPhysostigma venenosumin there. You can use that to make the direct antidote to belladonna poisoning. It can be toxic too, and getting the right dose will be fierce tricky, but with my help, you should be able to manage it.”
“Uh-huh,” I husk out, completely overwhelmed. But sure, okay! The garden is getting brighter, and things are starting to blur. I don’t know a lot about belladonnapoisoning, but I think I heard somewhere it dilates your pupils. And maybe everything else, since I’m beginning to feel hot all over. Whatever Tara put in her brew, it’s acting crazy fast.
