Read, Drink, Repeat

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Chapter Eight

The apartment above the flower shop is not nearly as magical as the first floor. The only plants inhabiting the space are potted and mount the windowsill. The rest of the home is fairly ordinary. There are a few framed photographs on a side table, a dark rug and a couple curtains to match the lamps, but the most of the furniture is surprisingly plain. In fact, the home almost feels new, as if they could pack up in a matter of minutes without so much as blinking.

Evelynn Lucke, or Evie, as she introduced herself not five minutes ago, is situated in the crème chair opposite the couch I'm on. I watch patiently as she crosses her feet at the ankles, and gently plops a tea bag in her fresh cup of hot water.

The tension in the air is thick, like we're being obliged more than welcomed.

"So," says Evie, "do you two go to school with Olivian?"

Pete, who's sitting next to me, says simply, "we've had a few run-ins."

Evie's lips press lightly together, and after a moment of watching her tea saturate the water, she flicks her gaze over the rim of her glasses, "Well, let's hope those run-ins weren't as...abrasive as the one I just witnessed."

We watch silently as she continues to stir around the water. A few moments later, she lifts the soaked bag and places it on the saucer set on the coffee table between us. The wet bag permeates the room with the sweet smell of wild flowers.

Evie straightens her back and takes a drink.

"I didn't go to public school myself. It was not a notion my family was fond of, being that we already had a business to take care of at home." She exhales, and the sound is almost solemn before she wipes it away with a smile, "I always knew that The Fox Glove would one day be mine. As if the sugar from the stems was infused in my blood. And, I had hoped that one day that Olivian would take it over, but she's infused herself in the outside world so much that I doubt she would prefer thorns to books."

"Mom!" gripes Olivian. She's perched in the kitchen, watching us like wild field mice, waiting to swoop down and strike with her sharp talons.

The look she's giving is soft, like a loving mother, but something about it prickles the hair on the back of my neck.

"She certainly enjoys being social. There's hardly a weekend where she comes home before midnight." Evie sets her cup on the table and then darts her eyes from Pete to me. "This is why I'm surprised that after four months of integrating her back into public school, you're the first of her friends that I've ever been introduced."

I freeze beneath her gaze, slammed with the question of how much she really heard downstairs. Whatever she heard, she obviously knows something is up. Why else would she walk in on her daughter digging an elbow into someone's neck?

I open my mouth to reply, but I'm stuck. I want to come right out and say it, just lay it all on the table, but I don't know them. I don't know who they are or how much they're hiding. For all I know, they could be the ones distributing the Ironide.

Pete saves the day by cutting in first. "Really? That's surprising! Ollie is great."

Evie clears her throat. "I overheard that you wish to know about a plant? Is that correct?"

"Yeah, we already went through this," Olivian blurts. She makes her way into the living room, grabbing the back of the empty chair next to her mom. "Their plant isn't listed in the catalogue."

Evie silences her daughter with one quick flicker of lashes and then fixes her eyes on me. There's something about her smile that displaces me, something off-putting that I can't quite put a finger on. "Please, tell me what you wish to know."

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