Page 40 of This Vicious Hunger
“So the thing is, other people have called it the suicide tree. The pain can last for months after you get stung, and to make matters worse, the tree sheds like crazy. You can get the hairs in your eyes or your nose or your mouth. The hairs are so fine they’re almost impossible to pull out.”
“Olea, you’re not selling this tree to me,” I say. “What’s your point?” She quirks her lip in a half smile but holds up her hand.
“My point, Thora, is that you walked right past that tree earlier today on your way into the garden. You were so distraught over Florencia’s vine that you didn’t even notice how close you got. And I was frightened for you at first, because I know the stories of the tree, and I’ve seen what this garden can do to people. I told you I couldn’t always promise to keep you safe—and I thought,It’s happening, she’s already in danger. Yet here you are. Completely unscathed.”
“Did I?” A coolness snakes down my spine, but I keep my composure. “I didn’t think I got that close.”
“You didn’t touch it—but you might have. If you had known the story of the stinging tree I’m sure you would have been more careful, and that’s fine and good, but if, like me, you’d known the story and decided to place your trust in the tree itself…?”
“That could be pure luck!” I exclaim.
Olea shifts to better face me. “It might be. But what is luck if not the winds of change blowing in the right direction? Providen—”
“Don’t you dare say providence again,” I cut her off. “You’d put my safety in the hands ofluck?”
“No,” Olea says quickly. “You did. I warned you not to touch any of the plants. But I watched you walk right past that tree and pass by unharmed and I knew then that wetrustedyou. Do you see?”
I could get angry at this, but it doesn’t seem worth the pain. Is it arrogance if she’s right? I’m here, and I’m safe, and I’m with her. My whole body still feels warm and cool at once, tingling with Olea’s kisses, and the heavy bitter-rose scent of the garden surrounds me like a soft blanket, so I just inhale deeply and shrug.
“You did warn me.”
Then the thought comes. The one I’ve been playing with since I first remembered Leonardo’s warning about Olea being dangerous. And his complaint about the bitter smell that follows me now, that followed his wife too…
“Olea,” I say, an urgent note creeping into my voice despite the haze in my brain. “I have a friend who knows about you, and about the garden. His name is Leonardo Vanksy. Have you ever spoken to him?”
If Olea notices my urgency, she doesn’t show it, her face thoughtful as she says, “Vanksy…? No, I don’t think so.”
“What about his wife, Clara? Did she ever visit you?”
“Mmm, no, I don’t know her either. I really don’t know many people at all. Just you and Florencia. Why?”
“He was the one who told me that you are Dr. Petaccia’s ward. He warned me to stay away from the garden—and from you. Is this why I should be wary of the stories I hear outside these walls?”
Olea’s expression grows serious, but she doesn’t move away from me as I almost expect her to. Instead she catches my gaze very, very carefully and holds me in place with a look so earnest I want to kiss her again. I want to do more than just kiss her.
“Do you even want to do this, to be stuck here?” I push gently. “The garden, the tower—”
Olea shakes her head. “What a question.”
“Leo is my good friend. I’m sure he would have no reason to lie about any of this, but he’s really very… uncomfortable around the subject of the garden. Around the idea ofyou. Why is he so suspicious? Are yousureyou don’t know of Clara?” I press. “You can tell me if something happened. If that’s why he’s spreading rumours about you. How else would he know about you? I worry that with the garden and your work here with the doctor, you’ve got so much you need to protect and—”
“Thora,” Olea says. She lifts one dark-stained fingertip and holds it to my lips. The scent of her overwhelms me, nearly capsizing me entirely. I could fall into her arms and stay there forever. “You’re worried about me and that’s sweet.”
“I’m not just worried about you,” I blurt. “Like I said, Leo is my friend and I can’t bear the thought that he might have some reason to hold a grudge. He’s looked out for me a lot since I got here.”
Olea holds her hands together, twisting the small gold ring that she wears on her pinky finger—plain gold, like a wedding band, and slightly too big. If I didn’t know better I’d think she was nervous. “Okay, I will be honest with you.” Olea sighs, a light breeze ruffling her hair and wafting her bitter-coffee-and-roses perfume my way. “I did know Clara, once upon a time. She was one of my friends beyond the gate. It was, oh, a long time ago now. Shestopped coming. It’s true I never met her husband. I didn’t even know his name until you said it, but the name Clara is unusual, isn’t it?”
“Why did you lie?”
“I don’t like to think about her.” Olea shrugs, twisting the ring again, around and around, hurt plain as anything. “She left me. She said we were friends. I wanted to… to get to know her. I wanted to invite her into the garden. And when I said she could come in, she—she stole things from me. Plants. Frommygarden. Do you understand why I am so wary? Why it took me and my plants so long to trust you?”
Relief flows through me like the sun’s gentle warmth on a winter’s day, though there’s something about the edges of the conversation that bothers me.Did you love Clara?I want to ask.Did you kiss her the way you have kissed me just now? Did you let her touch you?A bitterness whips through me that has nothing to do with the garden and its green perfume and everything to do with my own green jealousy.
“I’m sorry she did that to you,” I say earnestly. “And I’m sorry I believed Leo’s stories. I’m sure it isn’t malicious, but I shouldn’t have let myself be taken in.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Olea’s tone is simple, her face open and honest and full of hope. “You’re here, aren’t you? The garden trusts you. You’re not like the others.”
And then she kisses me again and the hunger within me is all-consuming. I need to taste her, to devour her, to blot out the rest of the world. I suck her lips, graze them with my teeth. Her hands find my shoulders, my chin, guide my own hands to her chest and the plump softness of her breasts.
