“Come on.”
I slid the book under the front seat for safekeeping, then got out and followed him.
“How do you know where this place is?I thought only Aunt Alice knew where the tree was,” I said.
“Most everyone knows where the hickory trees are, Piper.”
“They do?”
“Yeah.In the woods.Duh.”
I punched his arm.He laughed and kept going.
He walked a little way along the road, scanning the treeline, then veered off onto what might generously be called a path.He pushed branches aside and held them long enough for me to duck under, then let them snap back behind me.
The further we went, the quieter the woods became.Birdsong faded.The air grew heavier, tighter, like it was thinking about something it didn’t like.
We stepped into a small clearing, and there—standing alone like a sentinel—was the hickory tree.
“That’s it,” Owen said.
It didn’t look particularly magical.It looked… sad.Sick.
“This?”I asked.
As we approached, the smell hit me first.Sharp and rotten, like sulfur and burnt metal.The bark near the base was stripped in ragged patches.Leaves browned and curled on the ends of drooping branches.The wildflowers around it were mostly dead, stems blackened and bent.
“Oh, no,” I whispered.“This must be what Alice meant when she said they were killing the tree.”
“You have the potion?”Owen asked.
I pulled the small vial from my pocket.The liquid inside glinted sharply in the dim light.
“Right here,” I said.“Where do I pour it?”
“On the tree?”he suggested.
“Helpful,” I muttered, but there wasn’t exactly a manual.
I ventured closer.At the base of the trunk, where roots met earth, a pool of thick, black sludge bubbled like tar in a slow boil.The sulfuric stench clawed at the back of my throat.
“Uh, Owen?”
He came up beside me and grimaced down at it.“What is that?”
“I have no idea.Do I pour the potion on that?”I looked up at him.His gray eyes mirrored my uncertainty.
“Try it,” he said quietly.
“Here goes nothing.”
I pulled the cork and forced three deep breaths into my lungs like the instructions had said.Then I tipped the vial and poured all four ounces straight into the bubbling black muck.
“Protect and save us from harm,” I chanted.“Let these oils now work their charm.”
For one long heartbeat, the bubbling stopped.
Then it exploded.
