Page 4 of Shattered & Returned

I squatted beside a plant that served as both poison and healing agent, depending on its use and dosage. I carefully brushed the ankle-high moonveil aside, avoiding the thorns on its stem. Its silver-edged leaves caught the morning light, promising potent dream elixirs when harvested under a full moon, or paralyzing agents when mixed with nightshade.

Nearby, my prized shadowheart bushes unfurled their obsidian blossoms, each petal absorbing sunlight rather than reflecting it. Three drops of their nectar could mend a broken bone; five could stop a heart. I pruned them with reverence, collecting the fallen petals in my pouch.

I moved to the luminescent whisperroot, its tendrils coiling affectionately around my wrists as I worked the soil. The plants recognized me. Between rows of healing brightbells and their venomous cousins, griefshade, I knelt in the dirt, letting it coat my hands and seep beneath my nails. This earth had seen my tears and accepted Mom’s body. In its embrace, I could almost feel her presence.

A shadow passed in my peripheral vision. A second later, I realized I was being watched—stalked.

Sharp pain bit my finger. I peered down to see blood flowing from a tiny wound. While I was distracted, a thorn had pricked me. Before I could press the cut to stop the bleeding, a small cluster of a new plant shot from the ground where my blood had dropped.

I blinked. This had never happened before. I might have an affinity for plants, but they didn’t bloom from my blood. Then again, I’d never bled in the garden. Probably that dream had rattled me more than I thought, making me forget to wear gloves when handling poisonous plants.

A squeak came from inside the cabin. It couldn’t be an animal. Someone had entered my room. The door always squeaked when opened. We didn’t have money for oil after Mom’s medical expenses. The herbs I brewed had prolonged her life but couldn’t cure her cancer. She’d still needed treatments from the hospital in town. Mom hadn’t known I’d eaten only one meal a day to save money for those treatments.

I turned, my spine stiffening. For a few seconds, only silence. Yet danger radiated toward me.

Even as a child, I’d possessed an uncanny sense. When danger loomed, my right eye would twitch frantically. When my left ear burned hot, good fortune was coming. Right now, both reactions hit me at once—my eye twitched, and heat warmed my left earlobe.

I swallowed as I listened intently. Another creak came from the cabin.

I shot to my feet, grabbing a rock.

I had invaders.

Chapter

Two

Bloom

Masked Intruders

But who could they be?

None of the townspeople would venture this far, as rumors claimed the forest was cursed and that whoever entered would be struck with incurable disease. Probably one reason Mom had chosen to live here, so we wouldn’t be bothered.

An uneasy thought struck me. Could that be why Mom got cancer? Because she’d been cursed? But I was the one who often entered the dark forest. Could I have infected her? I shook my head. I might not have formal education, but Mom had been an excellent math and literature teacher. She’d ensured my homeschool education kept pace. I shouldn’t fall prey to superstition.

My eyes widened as two men in black masks burst from the cabin’s back door, rushing toward me. Their masks covered them from forehead to chin, exposing only eyes and mouths—homemade masks like bank robbers wore, at least from what I’d seen on TV at the town’s sports bar.

“Leave this place!” I demanded as I fought not to shudder in fear. “There’s nothing to steal here! You’ll go home empty-handed and embarrassed.”

“Found her!” the first masked man called.

“You sure it’s her?” the second asked. “We’ve taken a dozen redheads by mistake.”

My heart turned to ice. My hair was unmistakable, bright as a flame. Had they seen me in town last week when I went to trade? I should’ve come home directly after selling the herbs gathered from the last days of the spring and buying toiletries. Why did I have to go to that boutique bookstore for a historical romance about highlanders who ripped bodices?

One indulgence brought me this trouble. No wonder Mom had drilled me to avoid everyone. Even when I traded in town, she’d demand I return immediately. I’d had to run the entire round trip to have extra time to linger, especially in the library. She’d always insisted I keep my hood up whenever I left our cabin.

Now I understood why.

“It’s her! She’s no longer concealed. He sensed her two weeks ago.” The first thug grinned. “We finally found her.”

Shit!

Two weeks ago, when Mom died, I’d taken off my amulet necklace—Mom had insisted I never remove it, not even while sleeping or bathing—and placed it in her hand as I laid her in the coffin, so she’d have something of me.

Her words came back to haunt me.“Always wear it, so no one will come to take you away, and no harm shall come to you.”

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