Two years later...

The ever grey, always quiet city of Ean was struggling to come to terms with its latest residents— a pair of troublemakers who'd set up a flower shop on the edge of the industrious western slopes. Because of this duo, the city's usual tempered, calm mornings had been chucked into chaos. Citizens were awakened well before dawn by the sound of sobs, screams, and the occasional crash of thrown crockery.

Like a rusty nail tossed into a well-oiled piece of machinery the great, mechanical city of Ean had come to a grinding halt. All thanks to a fifteen-year-old girl and her good-for-nothing cousin.

Abby sighed and poked a nearby Mirthea leaf whose usual gold foliage had turned a murky brown and which continued to seep rancid, black ooze down its stem. For the life of her, Abby couldn't figure out what ailed the poor plant—fungual, bacterial, or otherwise—and no amount of homemade tonics or potions seemed to affect it.

Abby patted the poor, weeping plant— which caused one of its buds to burp up a noxious cloud of black gas—set it back on a tray with other sick Mirthea, and coughing, made her way to the kitchen.

A teapot of instant brownbark filled the small back room with a relaxing, woodsy odor. Steam poured out of the cracked teapot's spout as a small fire lapped at the pot's bottom. It whistled. Smiling, Abby reached up and snatched two teacups off a nearby shelf.

The bell over the front door went off like a thunderclap. Abby, almost dropping the teacups, whirled around only to find her front door wide-open and a hurricane of pale skin and blond curls blowing by. The creature threw itself onto the parlor's hideous striped sofa and began to wail. Abby sighed, exchanged the good teacups for the chipped ones, grabbed the teapot and readied herself to entertain yet another one of Lucy's broken-hearted girls.

Her bunny slippers bobbed their wide, smiling heads as Abby shuffled toward the parlor. Noticing the Wizard Kellog clock to her left, she realized this girl was an hour ahead of when the others had shown up  and began reciting their sob stories. She yawned, set her tray of tea and sugar cubes in front of the girl, and offered her a cup.

"Here you go," she said, planting herself in the brown chair beside the girl. A rogue spring reared up and bit Abby in the butt. She yelped and smacked the worn cushion, disturbing its thin layer of dust. Both Abby and the girl started coughing as the dust snaked its way into their eyes and down their throats.

"Sorry about that," Abby croaked. "Haven't had the time to buy a new chair and this one's so..."

"Old?" the girl said.

Abby shook her head. "Defensive."

Once the dust settled, and Abby'd decided there was far too much in her house that tried to choke her, she offered the tea to her unwanted guest.

The girl took it with trembling fingers.

"So," Abby said, staring at the heap of Lucy's dirty clothes that sat in the fireplace. Flies encircled the pile of yellowed tunics and mud-stained trousers. Abby grimaced. She really needed to get it fixed so Lucy'd stop using it as a personal hamper. And if he left his dirty laundry there when it was fixed? Well, she'd delightedly turn those overly fancy rags into ash.

Abby grinned, forgetting the girl beside her. It wasn't until wet hiccups worked their way into Abby's ears, that she remembered she wasn't alone. Abby turned. "Got a name?"

"Reodan," the girl replied, eyes glued to her hands. She wore gloves, like a proper lady, her dress a smooth knee-length red knit, off the shoulder, showcasing Reodan's slender frame. Green eyes. Blond ringlets that trailed down her back.

Lucy certainly had a type.

Her cheeks were wet with tears, and under the fluorescents from the shop, she held a greenish tint like she'd been stewing in swamp water.

"Your cousin," she began, "He- he—"

Roedan's lower lip quivered. Her body shivered. Her face grew that familiar and annoying shade of tomato red.

Abby braced for the storm and the dam that'd been restraining Reodan's tears broke and the girl exploded into shrieks and sobs, the kind that would give a banshee nightmares.

"He said I was the only one!" Reodan screamed, throwing her head into her hands. Tea sloshed over the side of her cup and spilled onto the floor, and the rug Abby'd just bought.

Abby released an irritated hiss. Couldn't a girl be broken hearted without destroying everything in their wake?

"You know him," Reodan said between sobs. "Why would he do this to me?"

Her petite hand grabbed for Abby's. Abby hurriedly shrank from her reach. Reodan was just too wet, too snot-covered, and Abby'd already taken her bath. Abby's patience and sympathy had limits. 

Reodan didn't seem to notice, and instead set her intense, pleading gaze on Abby. Abby shuddered; the last time she'd had a green-eyed girl staring at her this hard, she'd ended up slamming a pastry in said girl's face. And afterwards—

"He said he loved me," Reodan said. "Why would he say something like that and then—" Her voice trailed off as she broke into another bleary-eyed blubber fest.

Abby leaned forward. "Then what?"

Reodan reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. A silver star dangled from her earlobe. "I found him...embracing my sister."

Abby raised an eyebrow. "That's new."

Reodan rocketed to her feet. Her eyes narrowed, hands balled into fists at her side. Suddenly, she looked so dry. Dry and angry. "How dare you! How can you be okay with his behavior?" Reodan swung her head back and forth looking like a snake charmed as she racked her brain for more words to spew at Abby. "He lies and he hurts people and you just sit there, offering disgusting tea and—"

Abby sprang to her feet. She could tolerate a lot, but insulting her graciously given hospitality was something she could not. "You deserve the disgusting tea!" she snarled. "Actually, you deserve no tea and if you'd barged into my home and acted like this four years ago, the only thing I would have plied you with would have been swift kick to your crotch!" She huffed, and peered at the doorway, where thrown about were Abby's latest - a pair of ivory boots.

Reodan's mouth fell open, eyes wide.

Abby didn't relent. "Now, listen up. I don't approve of what Lucy does because it affects me," she waved her arm around for emphasis. "I run out of tea thanks to him. I'm awoken earlier than I'd like to be because of him." She stalked toward Reodan, eyes narrowed, like a cat cornering its prey. "My rug has to be cleaned once a week for tea stains. The neighbors glare at me because their mornings are interrupted by your screaming. And—" She clamped a hand over Reodan's shoulder. "And you lot never, ever buy anything from my shop." Suddenly, Abby released Reodan and breathed out. "If you want to teach my no-good cousin a lesson, follow me." She led Reodan into the plant showroom, a grin splitting her head from ear to ear.

Make a sale. Make a sale.

"Ugh," Reodan said, placing a hand over her nose and mouth. "What is that scent?" The stench, that hit one full-force like the Eanian Bullet Train, was a big part of why Abby needed to make a sale.

The room reeked of spoiled milk, and rotting, warmed meat, with just a hint of vomit. Abby pinched her own nostrils close, ignoring the nausea rising in her insides."It's that," she said, pointing to a tray of wilting black flowers. Bulbous moldy blooms drooped on fattened browned stems, purple puss oozing down the plants' clay planters.

The girl shriveled at the sight of the wretched things. "Those things look hideous, and dead."

Abby nodded. "Pinprickle's quite ugly but, I assure you, they are alive. And..." Abby strode toward the plants ignoring her body's insistence to turn tail and run from them as far as she could, and plucked one from the tray. "They're quite efficient for a plant. Don't need sunlight or water to survive."

Reodan raised an eyebrow though she kept a hand over her nose and mouth. "How do they live?"

Abby smiled. "Hate," she whispered.

The girl stumbled forward, eyes wide.

That's it, Abby thought. Like a Jacquer fish getting caught in a net.

"Hate?" the girl repeated.

Abby nodded and held the Pinprickle out for Reodan to inspect. "Hate. Every morning you whisper the name of a person you hate to the Pinprickle like this," she held the plant up to her mouth though its rotting garbage smell made her insides curdle, and mimicked talking to it.

Reodan's eyes dazzled, alight with wonder.

Abby continued. "And when the flower blooms, well..." Abby shook her head, put the plant back on the tray and hurried away.

Reodan followed. "Wh-what is it?"

"No. I shouldn't. He is my cousin after all..."

She grabbed the sleeve of Abby's tunic. "Please tell me."

Abby eyed the girl, shrugged, and gave in. "Well," Abby said, slipping an arm over Reodan's shoulder and ushering her back to the tray of Pinprickle. "Once the plant blooms-"

Reodan scrunched her face. "This thing blooms?"

"They are plants," Abby snapped. Reodan looked away, hands fidgeting with her hair.

You're frightening her, Abby thought. Reel her in slowly.

Abby continued. "When these plants bloom, it's said things happen to the object of your hate." She looked both ways as though her next words would land her in the royal dungeons if someone happened to overhear them. Reodan leaned in, eager. "Parts fall off."

Reodan frowned and pulled away. "That's absurd." She made for the door. "I really should get going."

"But these plants were created by the First Sorcerers!" Abby blurted. Her heart thumped in her chest. Would Reodan buy it? Would she even care about the so-called First Sorcerers? She did wear a star earring, the symbol worn by a believer of the old ways. Abby would just have to take the risk and...Reodan turned.

"Really?" she said, eyeing the plants again. "And how do you know that?"

Abby exhaled slowly. Tread cautiously. One false move and you're stuck with those horrid plants for at least another week. "I have a connection in Laos. Works a booth in Mandarren Square procuring all sorts of things from the Southern Continent. Came across one of these growing in the Black Sands."

Reodan gasped. "The Scorched Lands?"

Abby waited, breath held.

Reodan shook her head, chewing over the words. Then she looked at Abby, back straight, head held high. "I'll take one."

Abby's face plummeted. One? After all that work and I only sell one stinking plant? 

Reodan placed two glimmering gold pieces in Abby's hand. Abby blinked back her surprise. "This is way too much for one."

Reodan chuckled. "One flat silly. I'll take all of these."

Abby smiled. Twenty-four of her alchemic failures sold. Only four more flats to go and her home would finally be stench-free.

☆

Not long after Abby had returned to her plants, Lucy came bounding through the door, a bundle of smiles wrapped inside a horribly gaudy gold tunic and boar-hide trousers.

"Love!" he called in his usual, pleasant tone.

"Shhh," Abby said, concentrating on the table before her. With an eyedropper, she released several drops of purplish liquid onto a Cattleprod bulb with the hope this would spur the bulb to root and grow twice as fast. The truth, however, seemed to be the mixture turned the bulb into a minor explosive. It burst apart on the countertop, covering Abby and a few nearby planters in fibrous root chunks.

Lucy chortled and planted a kiss on Abby's cheek. "I needed that, love," he said as he skirted away, loosening the collar of his tunic. "I've had a rough day."

Abby wiped the gunk from her hair, and smock, and for the first time, noticed Lucy's shirt was inside out. She internally grimaced as this could mean only one thing: tomorrow, she'd have another guest like Reodan. On the upside, that meant Abby would have another chance to get rid of more of her Pinprickle stock.

"Couldn't have been worse than mine," she said, removing her dirt-stained gardner's gloves. "Another one of your friends stopped by to have a sip of tea."

Lucy plopped himself on the couch, legs dangling over the arm. "That's nice, love." Abby rolled her eyes and threw the remaining bits of Cattleprod bulb into the trash.

He's not even listening.

"Today I had to play fetch with my own things, like a dog." He turned his nose up at the idea, his newly blond hair framing his face. "Lovelace or Ridorca or whatever her name was hurled my pants at my face. My face! She could have done permanent damage to my handsomeness! Love, it was horrible."

"Sometimes," Abby said as she plopped down beside him. He immediately grabbed her waist and pulled her into a side hug. "Sometimes I miss you being a cat."

Lucy feigned hurt. "That's cruel."

Abby chuckled. "You were so much quieter then."

Lucy harrumphed and reluctantly held out his hand, revealing a small sheet of parchment sealed with the Aelurian crest. "I was going to give this to you," he said, furrowing his eyebrows. "but now, after being so hurt—"

Abby snatched the parchment from his grasp. Lucy frowned. "You weren't supposed to do that. You were supposed to beg for my forgiveness, and I was going give in after I coerced you into making fish for dinner."

Abby stuck her tongue out. "Too slow. Guess your reflexes aren't that good now you're human."

She hurriedly broke the wax seal and slid the paper out from the envelope. Lucy watched from over her shoulder. The note read:

Abby clutched the paper to her chest and smiled. Subconsciously, she reached for the ribbon Sebbi had given her back in Aelurus.

We miss you, too.

Expecting to see Lucy equally as happy, Abby turned, and instead, found the young man frowning.

"Why's he calling me an idiot?" Lucy said, prying the note from Abby's hand. "Me! An idiot! Bah. He's the one who always had twigs sticking out of his hind fur. Who's the idiot brother now, really..."

A sudden, chilly breeze blew through the tiny house. Abby whirled about though Lucy seemed transfixed by Sebbi's note, mouthing the words 'idiot brother' over and over. Standing in the doorway, looking as dapper as always, black hair piled atop his head like fluffy storm clouds, was Vicrum Hudginns.

Abby took the note and quickly pocketed it in her smock and smiled. "Welcome to Abby's Abhorrent Plant Kingdom," she said, giving Crum a slight bow. "Business or pleasantries?"

Crum strode across the entrance, tossing his long coat onto the back of a slouch armchair and then hefted a crock pot of steaming something onto a nearby table. "Pleasantries," he said, lifting the lid off the pot.

Both Abby and Lucy scurried toward the pot. There, in a sea of cream, bobbed chunks of potato, onion, and the white, flaky meat of Jacquer fish.

"Stew," Abby and Lucy cooed together.

It smelled divine.

Abby flung her arms over Crum grateful for the delicious surprise. Lucy cleared his throat, pried Abby off the lanky boy, and scowled.

Crum blushed. "Dad made it. He wanted to invite you to dinner, but I told him you were hopeless, spending every minute here."

Abby shrugged and eyed her wilting plants. "They need me."

Crum scoffed. "Looks like a few hours without you could do them some good. What is it with Tells and dead plants?"

Abby playfully punched Crum in the arm. "Not dead," she said, disappearing into the kitchen. "Just not as alive as they could be."

When she reemerged, she brought the entire kitchen to them. Piled high in her arms were three bowls, two spoons, a fork so Lucy could spear all the undesirables out of his share- the potatoes and onions, three wrinkled cloth napkins, and a huge arm-length wooden ladle.

Crum and Lucy hurried to lighten her load.

"You should visit dad some time though. He misses you. Has about a month's worth of caramel twists to give you, too." Crum stuck the ladle in the pot and gave it a thorough stirring.

Abby chuckled. "I would like that," she threw a napkin down beside each bowl as Crum started dividing up the stew. "Though he does realize I can just go to the market and buy my own Ean caramel twists."

Crum shrugged. "He likes getting them for you. Always has."

Abby smiled. "And that's what makes him the best Hudginns."

"Oy," Lucy called, folding his arms over his chest. "You two mind making room for me?"

He barreled past Crum, clipping him in the shoulder, and threw himself dramatically into a chair. He scooped up his bowl, held it to his mouth, and started drinking, all while glaring daggers at Crum.

Abby shrugged and motioned for Crum to sit. "Sorry," she said, pulling her seat up beside Lucy. "He's a little angry today because he had his pants thrown in his face."

Lucy choked on a piece of fish while Crum eyed her, confused.

"What?" She shrugged and blew on her spoonful of stew. "Keep gaping like that and your food will get cold."

As if her words had snapped them free of their frozen states, both Crum and Lucy resumed eating. Crum and Lucy indulged in a glaring battle, while Abby enjoyed her third bowl of stew, and though she, herself, was nothing more than an unbiased observer, Abby knew deep down, if Sebbi had been there, he'd have glared both boys into oblivion.

She slipped a hand inside her smock pocket and clutched Sebbi's letter.

Lucy. Sebbi. Crum. Family.

Jacquer fish stew had never tasted better.

Thank you, everyone, for reading all of Abby's tale.

All the love,

-Octavia