The greenhouse was one of the largest that Erin had ever seen—it covered several times the area of the other building. The section they entered was filled with rows of long wooden tables covered with bedding plants in black plastic containers. There was an elderly woman looking at some flowers down at one of the far tables, closely shadowed by two small girls with matching jumpers and pigtails. The woman smiled and waved at Kirchel, who went over to talk to her, leaving Erin to look around by herself for a few minutes.
Each different kind of plant was neatly labeled with its name, price, and planting information, and all of the tables had large signs over them showing what type of plants were on them, such as Fruits and Vegetables, Annual Flowers, Ground Covers, and Herbs. The ceiling and top halves of three walls of this section were made of glass, though much of it had been covered with a thick white spray to keep the greenhouse from overheating with the summer sun, and there were several large fans set into the walls to circulate air. The fourth wall was metal, and there was a large open doorway in the center leading to another section of the greenhouse.
When Kirchel had finished answering the woman’s questions about one of the perennial plants, she rejoined Erin. “Let’s go on to the middle section.” She gestured toward the doorway. “I think you’ll like this one.”
This section was definitely more interesting than the first. One end seemed to be devoted to normal-looking house plants on shelves and hangers, but the rest was arranged in a garden like the one outside. It was full of tropical and exotic plants, many of which Erin had never seen before. There were miniature fruit trees, bonsai plants, flowers that grew in spiky balls or corkscrew shapes, ficus trees with woven trunks, and clusters of ornamental grasses.
"How many people are there around here that buy things like this?" Erin asked, bending over to look more closely at a tiny orange tree.
Kirchel smiled wryly. “Not too many.”
“Why do you have them, then?”
“Well, a few people do want exotic plants, and I’m the only florist in the area who has this many. In fact, I sometimes get customers from several hundred miles away who want a plant they can’t find anywhere else.”
Erin frowned. “But if that’s all, is it really worth it to keep them? I mean, the plants are nice and everything, but it doesn’t really make sense from a business point of view, does it?”
Kirchel laughed. “I suppose it doesn’t at first glance. But look at it this way: Someone comes here because they want something they can’t get anywhere else. If they find the plant they want, in good condition, as well as a pleasant atmosphere and good service, what are they going to do when they want a more common plant? Will they come back here or try a different florist?”
“Come back here, I guess. That’s what I’d do if I found a place I liked.” Erin thought for a moment. “So the exotic plants are here to attract more business for the common ones?”
“That and because I like them,” Kirchel said with a smile. “I’m not really in this business for the money, you know? I do it because I enjoy it. But if it happens to keep me and a few employees from starving, all the better.”
Moving further in, Erin saw a large fish pond surrounded by rocks and plants. There was a fountain in the center—a bronze statue of a fairy holding a rose in cupped hands up above her head. Water came from the center of the rose and splashed down into the pond below, where the orange and white shapes of goldfish darted back and forth, distorted by the ripples. Lily pads floated on the water’s surface, and a fat green frog was sitting on one of them. As Erin watched, it gave a sudden loud croak and jumped into the water, sending water droplets flying everywhere.
“What do you think?” Kirchel asked, watching Erin with a smile on her face.
“I think you really must be a witch,” Erin said with a laugh. “This is amazing.... Are those turtles over there?” She had just noticed a pair of greenish-brown lumps resting on a sandy patch on the far side of the pond. “They don’t bite, do they?”
“No, the turtles are perfectly friendly. It’s the dragon you have to watch out for.”
“Dragon? What dragon?”
In answer, Kirchel pointed to a large fern on the edge of the pond. Erin took a step forward and bent over a rock to look underneath the fern’s outstretched leaves. Her gaze was met by a pair of bright blue, almond-shaped eyes staring intensely back into her own green ones from a round, furry face topped by triangular ears. Erin and the cat looked at each other for a long moment before the cat, apparently losing interest in this newcomer to his territory, craned his neck down to study the fish swimming underneath the rock he was crouching on.
From behind her, Erin heard Kirchel make a clicking noise with her tongue. The cat looked up again.
“Come on, Snappy,” Kirchel said in a persuasive tone. “Come out and greet our guest. Where are your manners?”
The cat yawned hugely, seemed to consider for a few seconds, and then stood up and sauntered out from beneath the fern, pausing after a few steps to go through an impressive stretching routine. His body looked lean and muscular, though this was partly hidden by his long, silver-white fur. He made his way over to them, jumping lightly from rock to rock until he was in front of Kirchel, where he sat down and gave her both a piercing stare and an expectant meow. She reached out and started to gently scratch the top of his head.
“Here’s our naughty little boy. Erin, I would like you to meet Snapdragon—Snappy for short—the self-appointed king of the greenhouse.”
“I’m honored,” Erin said, grinning. “I take it this is also the local catnip thief.”
“Guilty as charged,” said Kirchel with a sigh. “I used to take him to the house on the weekends, but it was an absolute nightmare. He loves herbs. Herbs and goldfish. We’re just lucky he doesn’t usually try to eat the latter.”
Erin offered her hand to Snapdragon, who glared at her with suspicion for a moment before sniffing it thoroughly. But apparently she met with his approval because he licked her finger a few times and then rubbed the side of his face against her hand, purring loudly.
“Well, I see Master Dragon has once again caught himself a couple of lovely ladies,” said a lazy-sounding voice. “I tried to get him to share the secret of his success, but his asking price was too high for me.”
Erin turned around to see who had spoken. A tall young man was standing a few yards away from them, his arms folded and a faintly mocking grin playing across his handsome face. He was wearing old work clothes and was covered in dirt, but the two didn’t disguise his athletic frame, and his sandy hair, dirty and sweaty though it was, fell into his eyes with a style most boys couldn’t have achieved with an entire can of mousse. He looked like he was in his early twenties.
“Never at a loss for flattery, are you, Ant?” Kirchel said with a laugh. “Erin, this is Anthony Dale. He and his brother Nathan are working here for the summer. Ant, allow me the pleasure of introducing you to my cousin, Erin Archer.”
“Ah, yes, the infamous cousin,” Anthony said with a nod and smile to Erin that made a slight blush creep across her cheeks. “The pleasure’s all mine.”
“Much as I hate to spoil your gentlemanly image, Ant,” Kirchel said, with a note of irony in her voice, “I have to ask—did you and Nathan get the load of manure?”
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“‘Soil supplement,’ Kirchel.” Anthony shot Erin a pained look. “Call it ‘soil supplement.’ Where’s your sense of style?” He dropped his mocking attitude and went on more seriously, “Yes. Nathan’s started getting it into the compost bins. I’d be helping him, but I had to come deliver some bad news to you.”
“And what’s that?”
“Mrs. Jenkins is here. She wants to talk to you.”
Kirchel groaned and put a hand over her face. “What on earth is she doing here this early? Our appointment wasn’t until this afternoon.”
Anthony shrugged. “Hey, it’s Mrs. Jenkins, right? My guess is she’s just doing whatever she thinks will be the most inconvenient and annoying. I don’t know—she said something urgent came up and she needed to talk to you right away. Her daughter probably decided to change the wedding colors again, and they need a whole new order of flowers.”
Kirchel sighed heavily. “I hate weddings....” She gave Erin an apologetic look. “Is it all right if I leave you and Snappy to entertain each other for a while? I’ll try to keep it as short as I can.”
“Sure. I don't mind.”
“Good luck!” Anthony called as Kirchel left the room. “You’ll need it.” He looked after her for a few seconds and then turned back to Erin. “You do ballet, don’t you? Kirchel said you were really good.”
“Well, I took lessons for a long time,” Erin said awkwardly. “Since I was three. But I had to stop a few months ago, after….” She stopped and swallowed hard to stop the familiar lump from rising in her throat, then concluded by merely pointing at her knee brace, which was clearly visible beneath the shorts she was wearing. She felt like an idiot. She hoped Anthony wasn’t going to make fun of her for getting choked up.
He didn’t. “My little sister loves ballet,” he said seriously. “Her name’s Emily. She’d really like to meet you. Were you thinking of going professional?”
Erin nodded, fighting hard not to lose her composure. “My teachers all said I should.” She shrugged and forced a feeble laugh. “But I guess…well, I’m going to have to find another career option now. Actually, as torn up as my knee was, I’m pretty lucky I can even still walk—forget pliés and pirouettes.”
Anthony made a face and nodded. “When I was little, I wanted to be a professional soccer player,” he said thoughtfully. “Then when I was twelve I broke my ankle pretty badly. Had to have surgery and everything. Now I can play well enough for the intramural team at my university, but professional level is out. My ankle still gets sore if I practice for more than an hour or two at a time.”
He was quiet for a minute. Erin, surprised and grateful for his unexpected understanding, wasn’t sure what to say.
Before she could think of something, Anthony gave her a sympathetic smile. “That’s really too bad about your knee. You have just the right build for a ballerina, too.” He laughed. “Emily doesn’t. More like the right build for a basketball player. The way she’s been growing lately, she’ll be lucky if she stays under six feet.”
“I guess we all have our problems.”
“Don’t we just?” Anthony said, regaining something of his mocking attitude. “And if I want to avoid having any more, I’d better go help Nathan with the manure.”
“You mean ‘soil supplement,’” Erin said with a small smile.
“Oh, right. Supplement. How could I forget?” He flashed her a grin. “I’ll see you around, then.” With a final nod, which somehow managed to make his hair fall just perfectly over his forehead, he turned and left.
Erin watched him go and then looked back at Snapdragon, raising an eyebrow. “You know, it’s probably just as well you wouldn’t sell him any secrets. I don’t really think he needs them.”
The cat gave her a skeptical look and then jumped off his rock to pad over and rub against Erin’s ankles. She sat down and ran her hand over his silky fur. He started purring again, and the purr grew even louder when she started scratching his neck. He abruptly flopped down and rolled over so she could rub his stomach, rolling back and forth ecstatically as she did so.
“What happened to your feline dignity?” Erin asked him, laughing. The cat merely closed his eyes and lazily stretched one of his front legs out above his head. Erin laughed again. Then she shivered. One of the greenhouse fans must have turned on—she could feel a cold breeze blowing on her back.
Then she realized that she couldn’t hear a fan.
Don’t be silly, she said to herself, shoving away the flutter of fear that rose up inside of her. It’s not what you’re thinking. It’s just a fan.
But surely a greenhouse fan in the middle of June couldn’t create the icy wind she was now feeling. Especially a fan she couldn’t even hear….
Stop it! she told herself sternly. It’s not that. It can’t be that. It’s a fan. It has to be a fan. Please let it be a fan….
She looked up at the wall of glass panels, hoping to see one or more of the fans turning. Determined to see them turning.
But none of the fans were moving at all.
Fear now stabbing through her, Erin turned hastily back to Snapdragon, trying to focus on something that was as obviously real as a cat squirming in pleasure.
But Snapdragon was gone.
The cat, the fish pond, and even the greenhouse floor were all gone. In their place was only black, jagged stone. The wind was now coming in freezing gusts that tore at Erin like a lion’s claws.
“No,” she whimpered. “Not again. Not here. Please, not again….”
There was no sign now of the greenhouse or plants. Instead, Erin saw in front of her a plain of craggy black rock. Fog hung over the landscape, dark and choking, and the harsh wind blew ceaselessly. Here and there were the grey outlines of trees, their branches bare and twisted.
Erin gripped the rock beneath her—heedless of the sharp edges biting into her hands and legs—sobbing with fear. Not Wraith. If only she didn’t have to see Wraith. She could handle the black rock and the wind—and even the suffocating fog—if she just didn’t have to face him.
But she knew he would be there. He was always there. And even though she would have done almost anything to avoid him, Erin couldn’t keep herself from lifting her head up to look around her.
He was behind her, only a few yards away, kneeling beside a small, dark pool of slimy-looking water. A tall figure, thin and gaunt, wrapped in ragged grey cloth that was impossible to identify as any distinct article of clothing. His black hair hung down past his shoulders and was dirty and tangled. As he bent down over the pool, it fell across his face, obscuring all but one long, pointed ear, the tip of which managed to extend through the dark mass.
Erin tried to force herself to keep breathing. He hadn’t seen her yet. If she was careful, maybe she could creep away without him noticing she was there. She stood up slowly, trembling. She ignored the stab of pain in her left leg as she put weight on her half-bent knee and started to back away from the man and the pool, hoping….
He seemed to have sensed her movement. He sat up and started looking around the rocky terrain. In a panic, Erin moved more quickly, not paying attention to where she was going. She stumbled over a stone outcropping and fell, unable to suppress a cry of pain and fear. Immediately, the man turned toward her.
She knew his face well by now—so often had it haunted her memories and dreams. The skin was a pale whitish-grey, stretched taut over the bones, as though he had suffered years of starvation. In the center of his forehead, just visible behind a lank strand of hair, was a dark shape, almost like a star. His face was long and narrow, with high, prominent cheekbones and eyes that were wide set and slightly slanted.
It was those icy grey-blue eyes that Erin most dreaded. As they met and held her gaze, she felt an overwhelming, sickening terror well up inside her. Panic closed in, as thick and dark as the fog around them.
Erin screamed and struggled to her feet. Half whimpering, half sobbing, she forced herself to turn away from those piercing grey eyes and ran, heedless of the pain that shot through her each time her left foot hit the ground. The fog surrounded her, seeming to hold her back.
Even though she was no longer looking at Wraith, his image loomed in front of her as the memories she had been fighting to keep at bay surfaced and coursed over her….
Once again she could see him walking away from her, down a corridor in the hospital, while she lay sprawled on the floor with a scarlet trickle of blood running down her leg from beneath her knee brace.
That faded into the memory of being shaken awake by her mother in the middle of the night, her involuntary screams still filling the air as the shreds of nightmare slowly departed.
And then she saw the mirror, with a pale, gaunt face reflecting back where her own face should have been.
She heard her own voice screaming, “Leave me alone! Just leave me alone!”
And then, for what seemed like the thousandth time, she heard the crash of the mirror breaking as she hit it, saw the shards of broken glass falling around her, glinting in the moonlight, and felt them slicing into her hands and wrists—felt the warm rush of blood running down her arms….