Page 23 of Demons of Eden

“I do have a brother,” I answer, wondering what Forrest would think about all of this. “He’s like thirteen years older than me, so we didn’t really do much growing up together. He’d moved out by the time I was seven.”

“You’re not close, then?”

“Well, he did come over a lot to see our parents, and they all got along really well. They all justgoteach other, if you know what I mean? Bunch of peas in a pod. I was always the odd one out thanks to having no real interest in growing plants.”

“And an interest in plants was a necessary requirement?”

“My parents, grandparents, aunt, and brother all grow herbs and flowers for potions and spell work. Well, my aunt also does some actual farming too, using her magic to speed the growth of crops, but her wife has a huge farm so that was bound to happen,” I answer.

“So, you’re the black sheep of the family because you have a black thumb?”

“Hardly. It’s not my best skill, but I still grow a few things for myself, mostly the stuff that’s best to use freshly picked. I just never had the weird family obsession for it. Honestly, I hated growing in the middle of nowhere, with only trees, flowers, and grass to look at as far as you can see. There’s nothing fun to do in the countryside as a teenager.”

Other than getting into trouble with other bored teens, that is.

“I don’t know. Sounds kind of nice to me,” he says quietly. There’s a sombre look about him for a moment before he shakes the weird expression off and grabs my shoulder. “Okay, let’s correct this awful stance of yours before you hurt yourself. Also, has no one ever told you to punch through something, not at it?”

I groan. Back to training it is, then. Sadly, I’m forced to accept my doomed fate with as much grace as I can muster, which is absolutely none.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It’s early when I wake up and shuffle down the stairs. I still sniff the air as I get closer to the kitchen, hoping for breakfast to be ready, but there’s a weird smell instead of the usual good one. It’s all musty, like dirt and mouldy leaves.

My nose scrunches up as I creep into the huge kitchen, where it's strong enough to taste at the back of my throat. It didn’t smell like this yesterday. I look around for answers, but all of the counters are so tall, it’s hard to see anything. I can’t see my nanay, either, but I can hear weird noises, so she has to be here somewhere. I stare at the big table thing…I think she called it an island. There wasn’t one in the last place we stayed, but it wouldn’t have fit in that house anyway, or the one before.

Is she hiding around the other side of it?

There are more noises, and I realise it sounds like she’s crying. Why is she crying again? I know she does it lots when she thinks I can’t hear her, but she always tries to pretend that she wasn’t when I ask later. Chewing on the inside of my cheek while I think, I decide to help make her feel better. She always says it’s good to make people feel happy if we can.

I dart around the island towards the sound so I can give her a hug. Nanay always loves my hugs because I give the best ones, she said so. That will help. I?—

There’s a loud crash like something’s broken, and I stumble, only just catching myself before I fall over.

“Punyeta!” Nanay shouts.

I freeze at the bad word. Is she angry and not actually upset? There are more quiet sobs again after. It doesn’t help the confusion.

“Three more dead. Why do I bother?” she whispers, and it’s really sad this time, so she can’t be angry.

I start moving again, and as I step around the other side of the island, I see her on her knees by the window. She’s moved two of her favourite plants onto the floor, but they look wrong. Their leaves have turned weird—all dark, wrinkly, and curled in. There isn’t any green on them anymore. Another plant pot is broken. Dirt and pieces of it are all over the floor around her.

This one looks wrong too, in the same way the others do.

They’re…dead. That’s what she said, wasn’t it? Is she sad because of the plants being dead? I hope it’s only that. I really don’t want to have to move again already. This place is nice.

“Are you okay, Nanay?” I ask, already reaching out my arms in her direction to hug her.

“Daion!” She whips her head around, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her eyes as big as they go when she spots me. She quickly stands, brushing dirt off her hands. “Get out of here. Now!”

She’s angry.

Why is she angry now—wasn’t she sad? What did I do?

“But…but I just wanted to give you a hug,” I say quietly, staring up and hoping she’ll change her mind.

“No hugs! Go to your room. Now! Don’t make me tell you again.” She glares back at me sternly for a few seconds until Itake a step back. Her hands reach up to rub at her cheeks as she turns away again, breathing strangely.

I try my hardest not to, not wanting to act like a baby, but I start crying while running away from her. I go back up to my room like she told me to, jumping onto the bed and slipping under the covers to hide. Why is she so mad at me? Was it because I got up too early or because I tried to give her a hug?

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