The Poison Season(21)

Sage’s gaze snapped to Leelo, as if she’d done something wrong by mentioning Violet.

But Hollis only shrugged again. “She’s kind of a pain anyway.”

Leelo visibly flinched, but Sage’s lips twitched in a grin. “I know what you mean.”

Angry and hurt, Leelo rose and went to where Tate and Violet were playing. The litter of kittens was probably around ten weeks old, ready to be weaned. Tate was holding a brown-and-white kitten with tufted ears and a pink nose.

“This one’s my favorite,” Tate said, holding her out for Leelo to admire. “I wish I could keep her.”

Leelo stroked the kitten’s fur and smiled. “I wish you could, too.” They played with the kittens for a while, laughing at their antics, until Mrs. Harding yelled, “Time to eat!” from the house. Leelo helped put the kitten back into its basket, but it promptly climbed out and followed Tate to the house, where Mrs. Harding gently nudged it away from the threshold with her foot and closed the door behind them.

Mr. Harding was a big man, which explained Hollis’s size. He was seated at the head of the table, with Hollis at the other end. Leelo couldn’t help but notice how different it was to be in a household with men. Ten years had passed since her father died alongside Sage’s, and she’d forgotten how much space men could take up. At home, their table was round, with no one’s position more favorable than anyone else’s.

Violet, a small girl with her brown hair in twin pigtails, was wide-eyed but silent as everyone passed around the food and ate. Leelo wondered how someone so shy would manage out there. It would be hard enough for Tate, but Violet was half his size, and as far as Leelo knew, no one had ever taught her to hunt.

“Leelo?”

She glanced up to see the others looking at her. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“I was just asking how Isola has been doing.” It was Mrs. Harding who spoke, but everyone was looking at Leelo intently. “Your mother said you’ve been spending time with her.”

Leelo glanced at Aunt Ketty, who was scowling, but Fiona nodded in encouragement. She must have decided this was a safe space to discuss Isola and her family. Leelo had been busy with her Watcher duties and trying to spend time with Tate, but she made a point of walking at least an hour every day with Isola, just to ensure she got outside.

“She’s still sad, obviously. But I think she’s doing a little better.”

“What was Rosalie thinking?” Mrs. Harding whispered to Fiona. “Allowing her daughter to ruin their family like that?”

“I don’t think Rosalie knew,” Fiona said.

“Really, now. We would know if our daughters were...” She trailed off as her eyes met Leelo’s. “You know.”

“It’s Pieter’s parents I feel sorry for,” Mr. Harding said. His voice was a deep rumble, reminding Leelo of distant thunder. “They didn’t even know their son was back on the island. Isola kept him well hidden somewhere, but she won’t reveal the location.”

Leelo’s ears perked up at this news. She had wondered how Isola had managed to keep Pieter a secret in her own house. A flash of memory—Pieter’s muscled torso, Isola’s screams—swam up, and Leelo swallowed thickly. She glanced at Sage, who was busy watching Hollis. He was too busy eating his second slice of pie to notice.

Sage looked away from Hollis and turned her eyes on Leelo. “They put their feelings before Endla,” she said in a flat voice. “They deserved their fates.”

Mrs. Harding laughed uncomfortably, Fiona frowned, and Aunt Ketty, who hadn’t touched a bite of her pie, nodded.

“The wolf is always at the doorstep,” she said ominously. “That is why we Watch.”



Chapter Twelve


Jaren would have just as soon forgotten about Endla altogether, but a bet was a bet, and he was forced to prove he’d been to Lake Luma with the vial of water. Lars did the honors of placing a rose into the vial, making a bit more of a show of it than seemed necessary.

For a moment, Jaren was afraid nothing would happen and he’d be humiliated in front of the entire village, but a few seconds later, the stem began to shrivel up and turn black. As the poison rose, the bottom of the stem started to disintegrate, and by the time the crimson petals had withered and blackened, the stem was gone. The flower head fell onto the table, where it crumbled to ash and blew away.

Even Merritt seemed impressed, though slightly disappointed he wouldn’t have the opportunity to beat Jaren to a pulp. But at least he’d walked away to the bar, leaving Jaren with Lars, his body blessedly intact.

“I can’t believe you went to Lake Luma,” Lars said, eyeing the vial of water where it sat on the table. Someone would have to dispose of it, and Jaren had no intention of volunteering. “Most of us have never gone near it, and we’ve lived here our entire lives.”

Jaren flushed, embarrassed that his skepticism had nearly cost him his life. “I don’t think I really understood how dangerous it was until now.” It was still hard to fathom that such a beautiful, crystal-clear mountain lake could be so deadly. He imagined what could have happened if he’d tried to drink from it his first time there and shuddered. His family might never have found him.

Lars passed him a pint of ale. “Well, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about Merritt anymore. You’ve got boasting rights for life, friend.”