There were brackets alongside the drawings labeling the parts in intricate detail. There were measurements and deconstructed drawings of the plants from their surfaces to their insides. It was all diagrammed, from the minuscule trichomes—little coverings of hairlike structures some plants had—to the points of every leaf, every vein, every node.

At the bottom of each page, sectioned off by a thick black line, were detailed instructions for the care and cultivation of the plants, printed in perfect penmanship. It listed how much sun, shade, and water each plant needed, what kind of soil, and when to harvest each one.

There was something else, something I didn’t normally see in books about the care and cultivation of plants: a small box labeled Magical Uses. It was different for each plant. For the foxglove, the passage read for protection, use dye to create a crosshatch on the floor of a dwelling. For morning glory, place seeds under pillow to stave off nightmares; root can be a substitute for High John the Conqueror.

“Magical uses, huh?” Mo asked.

I had some idea of what that meant. Lots of plants had medicinal uses, like the salve my grandma gave me instructions for, but I didn’t know how that worked when it came to poison plants.

we turned to the last page Mom gasped. “Wait,” she said. “What is this?”

At the top of the page was the name Absyrtus Heart. The vibrant drawing of the plant was the strangest thing I’d ever seen. It had thick, ropelike stalks and tufts of black leaves, but the top of the plant resembled an anatomically correct human heart, complete with valves, lobes, and what looked like veins running across its fleshy pink surface. In the bottom right corner of the page was the artist’s name in black ink. Mo ran her finger over it.

“Briseis, baby,” Mom said as she looked at the book. “I think your birth mother drew this.”

I stared at her name. The curl of the capital letter S, the crook of which was lighter, like her pen had come away from the surface of the paper for a split second. Mom put her arm around my shoulder and a nervous flutter settled in my stomach.

“I know we came up here in a hurry,” Mom said, her voice low and measured. It was how she talked when she was dead serious, when she needed me to really pay attention to what she was saying. “Maybe we didn’t think this through.” She exchanged a worried glance with Mo. “This is a lot to deal with all at once. This house, this town, and now these hints of the people who left this to you. If this is too uncomfortable, if you’re having second thoughts, we can pack up and leave. No questions asked.”

I sighed and ran my hand over the drawing, over Selene’s name. “You say that, but the rent is still going up in September, and we still have bills for the shop, and—”