“Um, I don’t feel so good, Collin.” My voice sounds rough. My tongue’s too thick.
He looks over at me in that unfocused way of his, like he’s seeing through me. “Ah.Shite.I’m not going to lie. It’s bad. She’s made something complex. I’m seeing multiple chemical compounds in your stomach, any one of which in larger doses could kill you. And together?—”
A large metal spring creaks out somewhere behind us. It’s the screen backdoor to the house opening. I’ve only made it about twenty paces away from the table, not even a quarter of the way to the greenhouse. I look behind me and see Tara stepping out. In front of her chest, she’s holding open a thick brown leather folio of loose monastic-style illuminated illustrations on parchment. She sees me and is distracted just enough to lower the pages, revealing the top half of one. There’s a drawing of a thick green leather-bound book. And on the book’s cover, a complicated triangular knot symbol under large cat eyes.
Collin stops—which, since I’m leaning on him, stops me.
“Jaysus! I know that book!” he says, astonished.
“Alvin, honey, come back,” Tara says, her voice full of motherly concern. “I think I’ve found what you need.”
My head feels like it’s full of cotton again, like after the car accident, except now I feel even crappier. There’s part of me that knows I should keep moving away from Tara. But based on how Collin just reacted, maybe sheisreally trying to help, and this is all a misunderstanding?
It takes me way longer than it should to realize how insane that thought is. Long enough for me to drop to one knee.
Collin grabs my arm and tries to tug me up. “C’mon, Alvin, you can’t just give up! We’ve got to go!”
I realize he was also tugging me before, when I was just standing there, but the mental debate I was having about what to do was apparently taking up all my poison-addled mental bandwidth.
Tara puts the folio down on the table and glances at my cup. Then she looks up at me, and her expression is a mixture of realization and sympathy.
“Oh,” she says. “You’re feeling the effects of the tea, aren’t you? I wasn’t sure how much natural resistance you’d have, so I made it quite strong. I might have overdone it a little.”
Right. She’s not trying to help. Because she’s actually a villain! (Because I don’t get to have even apretendcool mom for more than five freaking minutes!) With Collin’s “assistance,” I manage to get back up to my feet and turn away from her, but I only get a few more steps before I trip and fall heavily, face-first, into the ground next to the stone path.
Now I feelreallysick. I’ve got a killer headache, and my stomach is cramping like crazy.
“I’m sorry about this, sweetie.” My nose is pressed flat in the dirt, but it sounds like Tara’s coming closer. “And I promise you’re going to be okay. Eventually. That artifactwas lost to us centuries ago, and I just need some time to convince you to do the right thing and return it.”
“Don’t give up, Alvin! Don’t give up! Keep going!” It’s Collin’s voice. Desperate. It sounds so far away.
In fact, everything seems far away. Still, I need to listen to him. I try to crawl forward, and it’s like my arms and legs belong to someone else. I’m at the edge of the lawn, just up to the garden proper, where there are these beautiful purple flowers towering above me. They continue on to drape over a white wooden arch that carves out a space for the stone path to the greenhouse. The purple vegetation is strangely fascinating to me right now. Probably because it’s full of tart magic with a strong musky almond undertone. I hear Tara approach, and the plant’s woody vines spread out and grow toward me. It’s like I’m watching a time-lapse movie. It’s both cool and terrifying at the same time, because I can’t move to get away.
The woody vines twine all around me—my throat, chest, wrists, stomach, legs and ankles. I feebly make an attempt at fighting them, but my limbs are like jelly. The rough branches slowly twist me around and drag me up so I’m vertical again. They pull my forehead and back tight against the side of the sturdy arch. Then my arms and legs get stretched out and bound to the latticework. I’m essentially crucified.
My heart is racing, but it seems to be missing beats. Tara stands in front of me, eye-to-eye, looking very sympathetic. She’s holding something in a small blue bottle.
“Well,thiswon’t do! You’re dying, and as you probably already know, you’re no good to anyone dead. But I dohave the antidote. Be a good boy and drink a little for me, would you?”
I try to focus on Collin, hoping he’ll give me some guidance. I can’t turn my head, but I know he must be next to me. What would he want me to do? I mean, it’s hard to think of any way this situation could be any worse, but maybe Ishouldn’tdrink the potion an evil witch is bringing to my lips?
But I can’t see him at all. Then a bunch of sour fluid is in my mouth. She clamps my nose and mouth closed, so it’s not long before I have to swallow to breathe.
And everything blooms to white.
18
I’min and out for God knows how long. I mostly just feel sick the whole time. Headache. Stomach cramps. Feverish. Tied up. I do remember hearing Tara say that there was no point in struggling. That the wisteria vines are as strong as steel.
But there’s another voice, a boy’s voice, talking to me. Sometimes it makes sense, but mostly it doesn’t. Still, the sound of it makes me feel better.
Then, in a sudden rush, all the pain goes away. Collin is right in front of me. He’s in total focus, but everything else around him is a blurry smear of color.
“Alvin! Alvin! Can you hear me?!”
He’s gripping my shoulders, which really isn’t necessary, since I’m still trussed up against the arbor by the woody branch-vine thingies. I realize I’m surprisingly unstressed, considering what’s happening. In a good mood, even.
“Um, yeah,” I mutter. “And I can see you, too.”
