Man in the Mirror || irwin (DOING SOME MAJOR EDITING!)

[ 30 ] 2013

[ 30 ] 2013

- 

"I hate to break it to you, Mirror Boy, but you're dead. You couldn't do anything to save yourself, much less save her."

-

"Have as many as you like." Grandma Davis said, sliding plates upon plates of different kinds of cookies onto the kitchen table.

Harley saw the delicious treats in front of her and felt like something wasn't right. 

Michael, on the other hand, had eidently failed the first rule of being a hunter when he decided to think with his stomach, and that was don't trust anyone. Or so she assumed should be one of the key concepts of being a deadly teenager.

But after pondering it over for a few minutes, she decided this was her sweet grandmother, who would never do anything to hurt her.

Her hand reached for one of the cookies in front of her and she gobbled it down quickly, washing it down with a nice glass of milk. Her blue eyes caught a glimpse of the cookies he was eating; snickerdoodles. 

Snickerdoodles were her favorites, and she reached her hand across the table to grab one. But grandma, who was standing by the kitchen counter, raced over and slapped the cookie out of her hand. "No, sweetie." She said in a scolding voice. "The snickerdoodles are for your brother only."

That was when Michael caught on. 

He immediately stopped eating, his eyes narrowed at the old woman. "What did you put in these?" He asked.

"Oh, the usual..." Grandma shrugged. "Sugar, flour, love...and ground chrysanthemum leaves."

His eyes widened. 

"What's chrysanthemum?" Harley asked Michael when she noticed the shocked expression on his face.

"An herb that comes from East Asia, very hard to find in other countries because the rest of it was cut down and burned a long time ago." He explained. Suddenly, his arms dropped to his sides, looking heavy as lead.

In the next minute, his eyes shut and he passed out cold.

It wasn't long before Harley's eyes began to droop down and close.

.

.

.

.

When she woke up, she was lying on the livingroom couch and Michael was nowhere to be found. Her grandmother was gone too. 

"Ashton." She called him in a whisper.

And he materialized before her in a matter of seconds.

"Where have you been?" She scolded.

"In the car." He replied.

"Didn't you sense we were in danger or something?" She asked him, still keeping her voice low.

He shook his head. "Your grandmother did something to the car, and I couldn't get out. But it stopped working just a little bit ago."

"She's crazy." Harley told him. "I think she wants to kill Michael. She fed him cookies laced with chrysanthemum."

"Chrysanthemum?" He asked.

Harley nodded, giving him an answer. "You know about it?"

"Yeah, in the sixties, Con and I burned most of it. I didn't think there'd be any of it left now." He explained. "According to Con, if I can remember correctly...if ingested, chrysanthemum will immobilize a shifter for a couple of hours. But it will take your powers away for at least five days. It burns your insides pretty bad too." He informed her. "He'll need to drink a lot of water with chamomile to fix him up. But if he goes two days without doing anything, he'll die."