“Or make it forget whatever caused all this,” Sylvia suggested.

Nate coughed, surprise clear in his aura. “Even if we could…” he said with a quick glance at Addison, “we don’t have any bourbon.”

Sylvia produced a bottle from her bag.

“These are plants. Not people.” Nate narrowed his eyes. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“Not for us,” Sylvia said. “But it might for Addison.”

Nate furrowed his brow. “But—”

Sylvia held up a hand, cutting him short. “Trust me.”

“Even if this works, the soil still won’t have enough sorrow to feed them,” Addison said. “But it’ll be a start if we can get the plants to slow their growth.”

Sylvia nodded. “Then maybe you can clear out some of the land, give it a chance to recover,” she said. “Like we used to do with the cornfields.”

“The cornfields?” Addison asked.

Sylvia pursed her lips. “Basic farming,” she said.

Addison was familiar with the concept of crop rotation. The garden had never needed it, but that had been before Maura pulled back from healing, before they realized Addison wouldn’t be able to pull her weight. It was certainly an idea.

Addison started down the brick path. “Come on.”

With each step they took, the plants closed in around them.

“Is this safe?” Nate asked warily.

Addison wanted to believe it was, but she didn’t know anymore, so she shrugged. “Let’s hope so.”

She stopped when she reached the small clearing where she’d shoved her hands beneath the earth that morning. The vines had lashed out at her here. They’d shown her their fear, the depleted soil.

But something had done that to them.

Something had drained them.

She pressed her eyes closed and tried to remember, but she came up empty.

Chapter 41

Irene

Irene came out of the haze of memory to find tears streaming down her face and a lump in her throat. A weight pressed against her chest. All around the table, the same pain echoed in her loved ones’ faces.

Her brother had been murdered.

Her family betrayed.

Her love lost.

“I didn’t do it,” Kaden whispered. “I didn’t kill him.”

Irene didn’t have to see his aura to hear the relief in his voice.

“It was Nate.” Irene choked back her tears. Her brother’s death was as fresh as if she’d just witnessed it. “He must’ve figured out his magic didn’t work on Nolan. It was just like you saw in your dream,” she said to Quinn. “I’m sorry we didn’t believe you.”

Quinn pressed her fist to her mouth and started to cry. Her curls got caught in her tears, and all at once Irene saw her infant niece and her adult niece as one. She felt the blood on Quinn’s hands, watched the final breath leave her brother’s lungs.