Mrs. Redmond gestured to the Poison Garden. “You took my son in there. You showed him the Heart.”

“I wish I hadn’t,” I said. “Do you have any idea how poisonous it is?”

“Obviously,” she said, rolling her eyes and glancing at her watch. “That’s why I need you. I’m going in with you, but know that if anything happens to me, Mo might have an unfortunate accident when she arrives home. Bad things happen all the time, Briseis. You know that though, don’t you? But Mo won’t have some unworthy abomination to protect her.”

My blood turned to ice as I realized she was referring to Marie protecting me from the men at the cemetery. “How did you know about that?”

She gripped the knife. “Karter set up the trip to the theater perfectly, but not everything went to plan. I had to adjust course.”

“Karter?” I’d played right into their scheme. Betrayal burned away any shred of hope I had that he might not have been as bad as his mother. “You had those men come after me?”

Mrs. Redmond pulled a cloth mask out of her pocket and strapped it across her face. But even with her mouth covered I could tell she was smiling.

“Move,” she said.

Mrs. Redmond prodded me in, the tip of her knife at my back. I led her to the back wall, where the vines pulled away from the hidden door. As I fumbled with the keys on the lanyard I stole a quick glance at her. She wasn’t coughing, but her eyes were bloodshot and she’d pulled her shirt up over her nose and mouth. Apparently the mask wasn’t providing her enough protection. I lingered at the door, hoping the poison in the air would take its toll on her.

“Hurry up!” she said.

She shoved me into the metal door and my head collided with the carved crest. A searing pain shot across my skull. I grabbed my head to stem the ache.

“Immune to poison but not head injuries, I see,” said Mrs. Redmond.

I wrenched the door open and stumbled into the darkened space. Mrs. Redmond stepped in behind me, so close I could smell the sweat on her. She grabbed my shoulder, digging in her fingers, and pushed me down the stairs as the crimson brush aimed its poison darts at her.

“If I’m not back at the house by eleven, Mo is a dead woman,” she quickly reminded me.

I held my hand out in front of the crimson brush blooms. They folded closed and retreated.

We entered the underground chamber as the light from the moon outside shone down the shaft in the ceiling, bathing the still-withered plant in pale light. I unlocked the enclosure.

Mrs. Redmond peered inside. “You haven’t fed it?”

“Fed it?” I hated the way that sounded, like it was some kind of monster. “I pricked my finger.”