“No,” Mo said. She’d switched on her serious voice too. “We won’t stay here if it’s hurting you, understand? Nothing that’s going on with our bills is worth that. We will make it work, with or without this place. Don’t you dare ignore your feelings on this.”

“I’m okay.” It wasn’t the whole truth. I didn’t want to go back to Brooklyn and deal with all we’d left behind but being here was overwhelming and more complicated than I thought it would be. Selene was always at the back of my mind but now she was more real, more present. “It’s a lot to think about but I’m okay. Really.”

“You sure?” Mo asked.

“Say the word,” Mom said, “and we’ll go.”

“No,” I said. “I’m good. Promise.”

Mo gave me a big hug. She was good at reading the room and knew I needed a minute alone. “We’re gonna go have some of that coffee.” She steered Mom down the stairs while I hung back.

I couldn’t look away from the drawing of the Absyrtus Heart. The black leaves and the bloodred stalk, the pink lobes of the upper part, the bluish veinlike structures on its surface—Selene must have put a lot of time into drawing it. Every other plant in the book was deadly. This one would have been too, based on the coloring alone, but I was positive it didn’t exist in nature. It was too strange. I would have seen it in other books. Somebody would have mentioned it in some scientific journal or article. Maybe she’d conjured it from her own imagination.

I glanced at the painting on the wall. The woman, Medea, stared back at me, like she was daring me to open the safe and see what was inside. I felt a stab of guilt. If I was being real, I wanted to know more, but I worried that meant I was being disloyal to Mom and Mo.

I shook my head. I was overthinking it. I had an opportunity here, in this secluded house in the middle of nowhere, to do something I’d never been able to do—let go. I eyed the potted Peperomia prostrata. It turned toward me and instead of trying with everything I had to pretend it wasn’t happening, I took a long, deep breath and let my shoulders relax.

The plant sprouted three more lengths of stalk and knocked over its planter as it stretched toward me. I let it wrap itself around my leg, gently touching the soft leaves. I felt a sense of calm, of belonging. Circe knew something about my power, and I decided right there to find out exactly how much. I took down the picture of Medea and gave in to a curiosity that hadn’t left me since Mrs. Redmond had showed up at our doorstep. I twisted the lock on the safe, pulled out the letters, and opened the first one.

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 8