“Fine as in fine, or fine as infine—”
“Mom.”
“Hun, I’m stuck in a hospital, I need entertainment. Listen… how much do wereallyknow about Warlock Knight? No matter what age he looks like, he’s had time to make enemies. Curses happen, even to Warlocks. Maybe it’s not so bad, a mild one, like his coffee goes cold quickly or something. But Lord, that would be terrible…”
My chest tightens. That strong taste of thyme, the Widow Witch vanishing with a snap of the Warlock’s fingers, the intense power in his stare… If the Warlock is cursed, it won’t be simple. Like a good crème brûlée, under the armor of his crusty surface, there’snoflavor of him that’s mild.
In the periphery of my vision, a locked door I definitely already tried cracks open.
Curious.
I slip into the room before the house can change its mind on me. It’s dark, but not dark enough to delay my cry of surprise.
Vines have consumed the entire room.
No, not just vines. That beaded succulent plant that looks whimsically chic in the daylight. But these particular stringy green strands cover the windows, choke the light fixtures, and buckle the hardwood floors like relentless tree-root systems under sidewalks. I try to wedge open the door again, but it gets stuck in a thick, Medusa’s-head bunch of the pearls.
There’s a slight slithering sound. I hope it’s barn snakes. Something tells me that would be less terrifying.
But I’m not that lucky—it’s the vines. They’regrowing.
“Mom, I have to go. I have a succulent situation.”
“What did I tell you, just shave in the right direction—”
“G’nightMomIloveyoubye.”
I stuff my phone into my bra and study the ravenous greenery I’ve waded into. The endless vines undulate like a pulsing heart. But the house openedthisdoor, so this is the room I want. Granted, this is the same house that tried to boil me. But there has to be something in here worth hiding.
Tiptoeing into the room, I’m careful not to step on any writhing stalks, but the plants move out of the way on their own, making tiny lily pads of clear floorboard for me. Not soon enough, I finally spy an old chest underneath the vine-curtained windows. Before the sentient plants strangle my nerves, I hop over to the chest and fling it open, bracing myself.
The vines don’t react. The house is taking pity on me for once.
Piles of framed photos, faces paused in time, stare back. As before, the same woman with glossy dark hair looks up at me. She’s slightly older, but her elegant laugh lines are still there. Unlike before, this photo is in color, so there’s no mistaking the hazel eyes.
The Warlock’s mother.
There are hundreds of photos in here. Like someone went through the entire house and removed every single memory until not even a ghost of this family remained. That photo in the library, the house must’ve… plucked it from here? For me?
One question solved, another pops up. Freaking dandelions over here.
Just then, a vine shoots out and wraps around my ankle. It yanks, hard.
I go down, hitting the hardwood in a riot of noise.
The framed photo cracks, glass shattering. I don’t even get the chance to scream before the vines are on me, dragging me across the floor.
Soon I’m covered, only an eye here and a hand there peeking out of the carpet of greenery trying to suffocate me. I try to scream, but a vine wraps around my mouth and I’m too caught up in a tornado of panic to think anything else beyondI’m going to die in nothing but a T-shirt like some pitiful Winnie-the-Pooh.
At least I told my mom I love her—Mom! My chest flares with heat, heart racing. What’ll happen to her if I don’t survive?
Suddenly, a dry cracking sound echoes in the infested room. I glance down at the vines mummifying my body. They’re shrinking, shriveling up.
No—rotting.
I scramble away as soon as I’m free, portrait forgotten, and sprint the hell out of that room.
And slam right into Warlock Knight.
