“This pollen is tryna kill me today,” she said, sniffling. “Bri, baby, I know you’re laid up, but your arm still works, right? We gotta stay on top of the dust if y’all want me to live. All the sills I cleaned last week already have a layer of green dust on them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. Only thing getting me out of Sunday morning cleaning was probably death, so after I finished breakfast, I found the broom and a bunch of clean rags, then hobbled to the apothecary to get started.

I opened the windows in the shop, letting a warm breeze waft through. The sun slanted through the stained glass window on the outer wall, casting blue and green columns of light onto the floor. Down the hall, I heard the familiar notes of Sam Cooke’s crooning, and I smiled. They’d played that song at their wedding and I loved it—but now, it was house-cleaning music, which would be followed by either Earth, Wind & Fire or Zapp & Roger. Broke ankle or not, it was time to clean.

I grabbed a rag and dampened it under the faucet. A thick layer of dust sat in the grooves of the open window, tinged green from all the pollen wafting through the air. I cleaned it out and moved on to the overhang of wooden trim that went around the entire room. Dragging the cloth along, I made my way back behind the closet-sized drying rack.

A frayed piece of the rag caught on the trim where it had come away from the wall. I yanked hard, trying to pull it free. It broke loose with a soft click, and a small, narrow door opened in front of me. A gust of sweet-smelling air wafted out.

“Mom! Mo!”

Mo came first, holding a kitchen knife, and Mom barreled in behind her, her Taser crackling in the midmorning sun.

“What is it?” Mo asked frantically.

“Look!” I pointed toward the door. Its seams were perfectly aligned with the wood paneling. Nobody looking at it would have even known it was there. “The rag caught on some kind of latch when I was dusting. It just popped open.” Mom pulled me back a step.

“Wait a minute,” Mo said. She hurried out of the room and came back a moment later with a flashlight. She clicked it on and shone it into the room behind the door. The column of light cut through the darkness to reveal a space the size of a large bedroom. There were no windows or other doors. Mo stepped in and Mom and I followed her. The walls were painted black, making the space feel smaller than it actually was. The sweet smell was more pungent inside the room. It reminded me of honey and burned paper.

There was a small table at the back of the room. As we approached it, the light from Mo’s flashlight danced in her trembling hand.