by S. T. Bende
Axel’s head whipped up. “They have archers?”
“Recreational ones,” Torstein explained. “Their warriors don’t train in this park. They have a facility located closer to the ocean.”
“Oh.” Axel’s shoulders relaxed.
“Then there are the gardens—the Botanical Garden, Japanese Friendship Garden, Cactus Garden—”
“It has to be in one of the gardens,” Brigga said confidently.
“I searched them before,” Torstein said. “None emitted so much as a trace of magic.”
Brigga’s face fell. “Oh.”
“Who said the tree was magic?” Raynor asked.
“Our professor, for one,” Janna pointed out. “Balboa bark is supposed to contain properties similar to the fountain of youth. No purely organic substance could keep someone young.”
“Unless it could.” Brigga’s lips formed a pert O. “Think about it. Kenzi’s always talking about green tea, and fish oil, and flaxseed, and those weird mushrooms she gets at the farmer’s market. What if this balboa is like those things . . . just amplified?”
“I never thought of that,” Torstein admitted. “If that’s the case, we need to search the entire area on foot. This park has countless gardens—scanning it for organic matter won’t narrow down much.”
I searched the recesses of my mind. “Professor Clark said the balboa grew wilder than the other plants. We’re going to be looking for something that’s unruly.”
“And well hidden,” Brigga added. “He also said nobody’s found it—not in modern history, anyway.”
“So it can’t be that big.” I steepled my fingertips together. “Hmm. A well-hidden, smallish, wild-growing plant. Where could that be concealed for hundreds of years?”
“Unless it’s been moved, it has to be outside. That rules out the museums,” Janna said.
“And the theatres,” Raynor added.
“And the science center.” Axel looked up from the map.
“I think it’s in one of the gardens,” Brigga reiterated. “Hidden in plain sight.”
“There are a lot of gardens.” Janna frowned. “Rose Garden. Cactus Garden. Japanese Friendship Garden. Botanical Garden. Alcazar Garden. Zoro Garden.”
“Which one of those is most likely to hide a maybe-magical plant?” I asked.
Torstein closed his eyes. He was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, he uttered a single word. “Cactus.”
“What?” Axel asked.
“Cactus.” Torstein’s eyes opened. “Southwestern cultures have revered the cactus for hundreds of years. It is used in religious ceremonies, cultivated in rituals, and certain species are believed to have magical properties—including the extension of youth. If someone wanted the balboa to blend in, a cactus garden would be the perfect place to hide it.”
Axel turned toward the green space behind us. “Then that’s where we’ll go.”
Raynor peered at the map. “That’s the Alcazar Garden. The Cactus Garden is over there.”
Axel turned the other way. “Right.”
“You heard him.” Janna crossed to the trunk and passed out our weapons. “And remember, if anyone asks about our weapons, we’re carrying them because we are in a play.”
“Think that’ll work here, too?” I hooked my shield onto my back.
“I have no idea,” she said honestly. “But we’re about to find out.”
Two hours later, water poured freely from the sky. Wet clothes clung to my skin, and my thick head of hair hung heavily down my back. We’d combed nearly every inch of the dirt-lined trails. As we rounded the final corner, the weight of desolation filled my heart. Our window was closing. The alignment was just days away, and Sverrir had collected nearly everything he needed to do the unthinkable. We had this small opportunity remaining to thwart him, and if we failed again . . .
Stop it, Ingrid. Failure is not an option.
But it was a possibility.
“I don’t see anything.” Janna dropped onto a bench. She lowered her head to her hands.
“I do,” Brigga whispered. Her eyes shone with excitement as she bounced lightly on her toes. She jabbed one pointed finger at the low hill behind the path. “Look!”
“All I see are a lot of cactuses. The same ones we’ve walked past for—”
“No, Raynor. Look.” Brigga walked up the hill. When she was halfway to the top, she dropped to her knees and held out her hand. “See it?”
I squinted through the rain. “All I see is a clump of saguaros. Or are those prickly pears? I lost track of the names twenty spiky species’ ago.”
Brigga let out an exasperated sigh. “Just get up here, will you?”
I held out my hand and pulled Janna to her feet. “After you, Captain.”
She drew her shoulders back. “Onward?”
“And upward,” I confirmed. Together we marched over the rocks, sidestepped needle-laden arms, and avoided fallen blooms. When we reached Brigga, I studied the cluster of cacti. The tight circle of dark green trunks gave way to a sea of upwardly reaching branches. They wove together, creating a plant-made shield that appeared impenetrable to all but the smallest of birds. Or rodents. I eyed the tiny mouse dodging raindrops as it scurried into the cover of the dome. Inside, there was another plant. I had to duck down and squint to see between the lower, more widely spaced branches. But the outer plants were hiding something that almost looked like . . .
“What is that thing?” Axel stepped forward.
Brigga looked up triumphantly. “A low-lying, unwieldly bush/shrub being concealed by an army of spiky guards.”
I studied the obscured plant. It was well hidden from the main path—and barely visible even at close range. But as I peered between the guard cacti’s posts, I made out its thick, green trunk, wildly winding limbs, and needle-free branches that entwined while reaching outward like crooked, craggy fingers.
It looked like something straight out of a nightmare.
“It does fit the description,” Janna agreed. “But how will we know if it’s our target? Didn’t Professor Clark say something about the real balboa shedding magic-encrusted bark beneath the full moon?”
I glanced at the cloud-covered sky. “We won’t see a moon tonight.”
“We don’t need to,” Torstein said. He crouched down and reached out his hand. A faint white mist immediately surrounded the cluster, then seeped through the cracks to drape over the mystery plant. Torstein was “reading” it.
What does he see?
“Well?” I glanced nervously toward the path. Nobody was walking toward us. And the only groundskeeper in sight was driving a curious-looking vehicle a fair distance away. Thank gods.
“It doesn’t hold any magic,” Torstein said. “But we decided that it didn’t have to—there are natural ways to extend youthfulness. This one is definitely older than the rest of the surrounding plants—much older. Its roots seem to go back at least three hundred years.”
Axel let out a low whistle. “So it’s a contender.”
“Look down,” I suggested. “Are there any bark droppings inside that circle?”
Brigga peered through the narrow gap in the branches. “There’s something,” she confirmed. “Could be pieces of bark. Could be a nest—ew, that’s some big poop. What kind of animal is small enough to squeeze through these trunks and still make a mess that big?”
“Ferret,” I offered, at the same time as Torstein said, “Raccoon.”
“What?” He raised his shoulders at my quizzical glance. “Raccoons are diggers. They’re in the trash at our fraternity all the time. One might have burrowed—check for a hole—and a gap in the roots.”
“What’s a raccoon?” Janna whispered.
“No idea,” I said. Then I turned to Brigga. “So, is there bark on the ground?”
“I think so,” Brigga said tentatively.
“Let me run a few scans,” Torstein said. “See what I can identify.”
We huddled around our lig
ht mage, careful to obscure him from view. Not that there was anyone nearby—the only other visitors were all the way up at the entrance. Three small children splashed in a big puddle, while an elderly couple watched them from beneath the shelter of an awning.
While Torstein worked, I wrung the rain from my hair and pulled my curls back in a loose braid. The shorter strands around my face refused to be tamed, so I let them cling to my temples as I turned my attention to the perimeter. The children continued to charm the older couple—their grandparents? Just beyond the park’s boundary, a determined jogger ran along the path. Cars drove on the distant road, too far away to pay us any attention. By all accounts, we were secure.
“This is the plant we’ve been looking for.” Torstein’s declaration jarred me from my assessment. Relief and excitement coursed through me, the dueling emotions causing my torso to fold in on itself at the same time my toes tapped a happy rhythm. “It’s at least twice as old as the rest of the plants in this park, but its exterior is only three-and-a-half weeks old. The topcoat was shed on the date of the last full moon. I don’t know how it keeps humans young, but its trunk definitely contains rejuvenating properties.”
Hope bubbled in my heart. “That’s great. Now, how do we get it out of here?”
“Can you port it out?” Axel asked.
“No,” Torstein said. “If Sverrir’s watching, any use of magic will alert him to our location. I’m worried that he may have already detected me, just from my scanning it. If we want to extract this thing, we need to do it through physical means.”
“And we need to do it without anyone noticing.” Brigga wrung her hands together. “I read that this park is protected land, and removal of any natural object is a crime punishable by imprisonment.”
“Ja, well, not removing this object could result in the end of the world,” Axel countered.
Brigga’s brows knitted together. “I wonder . . .”
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
Her gaze swept the property. “Do you think the groundskeepers keep their uniforms on-site?”
Recognition flickered across my brain. “Brigga, that’s brilliant. I saw one of their trucks drive by earlier.”
“You’re going to have to fill the rest of us in,” Raynor said.
“If we dress up as gardeners and say we’re removing a sick plant to avoid the spread of infection, we can extract the balboa without raising suspicion,” I said excitedly.
“And you think you can just waltz into their offices, borrow an outfit, and steal a magic plant?” Raynor asked.
“No.” Brigga put her hands on Raynor’s arms. “But you can.”
Twenty minutes later, Axel and Raynor squirmed uncomfortably in their uniforms.
“Mine is too short.” Raynor tugged at the one-piece suit.
“I grabbed what I could,” Torstein said apologetically. “These were the only three in lockers.”
“It’s definitely tight.” Axel pulled down his sleeves. “But then, most people aren’t as muscular me.”
I patted his shoulder. “Way to stay humble, Andersson.”
“What? It’s true.”
I squeezed his arm. He wasn’t wrong.
“Okay. Everyone clear on your responsibilities?” Torstein addressed our team.
“Janna and I will redirect any foot traffic,” I said. “You, Axel and Raynor will dig up the balboa. And Brigga is our lookout—if something comes up, she’ll signal us from the top of the hill.”
“Correct.” Torstein folded his hands together. “Once the plant is out, we’ll load it into the truck and drive it back to my vehicle. Once we load it up, we can bring it back to the compound and dispose of it.”
Brigga hesitated. “We’re going to destroy the fountain of youth?”
“There’s no confirmation it was ever used for that,” I pointed out. “Professor Clark said it was only a legend.”
“And legends exist for a reason,” she countered.
“In this case, I think the importance of destruction outweighs the benefits of preservation,” Torstein said gently. “Remember, if Sverrir gets his hands on this—”
“I know,” Brigga groaned. “I just . . . this meant a lot to a lot of people.”
“Sometimes in battle we have to make hard calls,” Janna said quietly. “I’m afraid this is one of them.”
Brigga sighed. “I know.”
I leaned toward her. “If it helps, I feel bad too.”
She offered me a tight smile. “Thanks.”
“Okay. Everyone to your places.” Axel clapped his hands. “The faster we do this, the better.”
We got straight to work. Torstein backed the truck to the edge of the path while Axel and Raynor dug toward the back of the cactus dome. Brigga whistled softly, and Janna and I followed her sightline to the bend in the path. A young couple walked hand in hand through the rain, apparently too blinded by love to be deterred by the downpour.
Janna and I hustled along the path.
“Whew!” I exclaimed loudly as we neared the couple. “That section of the park was a mess.”
“You’re telling me.” Janna flicked water from her sleeve. “Maintenance cannot clear it out fast enough.”
The girl tilted her head. “Are they working back there?”
“A crew is clearing the walkway,” I lied. “It’s flooded.”
“Really?” The boy frowned. “I thought this park was specifically landscaped to maximize rain flow so that flooding wasn’t an issu—”
“There was an accident,” I blurted. “One of the trucks dropped some, uh, planters on the path. They damaged the pavement and messed up the flow.”
“Oh.” The girl winced. “That’s bad.”
“There’s mud and water everywhere,” I said dramatically. “I’d turn back if I were you.”
“Thanks for the tip.” The girl’s gaze swept from my sheathed sword to the shield strapped to my back. “Are the two of you lost? You look like you belong at the Old Globe.”
“Huh?”
“The theatre around the way,” she said. “You’re dressed for Shakespeare.”
Right!
“Yes.” I nodded solemnly. “We were just taking a break from practicing our theatre . . . thing.”
“I knew it. Break a leg!” The girl turned around. “Come on, Arthur. I was getting cold anyway.”
“Let me warm you up.” He slung his arm around her shoulders.
As they left, Janna crossed her arms. “That was easy enough.”
“Sure was.” I looked up to where Brigga silently scanned the park. “I wonder how the guys are doing. I’d imagine this could take quite a while.”
Brigga waved both hands and jumped up and down.
“Or not.” Janna moved backwards. “Looks like they’re all done.”
We jogged along the path. When we reached the truck, we unclipped our shields and lay them in the bed. Then we jumped in after them and tucked ourselves under a waterlogged tarp. Torstein climbed into the driver’s seat while Axel and Raynor loaded the wild-looking plant on top of our shields.
“Careful,” Raynor warned as Brigga scooted in behind me. “There aren’t any needles, but some of the branches are awfully spiky.”
“I’ll try not to touch it,” she promised. “Just get us out of here. I’m cold.”
Raynor closed the back hatch, then followed Axel inside the truck. Seconds later, we bumped along the pavement on our way to the parking lot.
“I hope Torstein can explain his way out of here,” Janna said quietly.
“He’ll think of something,” I whispered back. “He always does.”
The truck slowed to a stop. Here we go.
“Excuse me,” a deep male voice boomed. “Do you have an authorization for this transport?”
“Just taking a sick plant off-site for rehabilitation,” Torstein said calmly.
Papers shuffled. “I don’t see an order for that.”
“It was a last-minute req
uest. They’re probably still filling out the order.” Torstein sounded apologetic. “The damage in this one spread so quickly, the director was worried about it infecting other species. And since it was in a protected enclave. . .”
“Yes. Well.” The man didn’t sound happy. “Make sure the order gets put through. I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“Of course,” Torstein said.
“Move along.” The man grunted.
I didn’t exhale until the truck bumped forward. Thank gods that worked.
We drove for a while, with Janna, Brigga and I bunched together beneath the blue tarp. The parking lot was a fair distance from the Cactus Garden—which was good, since it got us well out of view of the guards. But it wasn’t so great on my back. In the several minutes it took to reach Torstein’s SUV, I rolled into Brigga, Janna, and the spiky plant more times than I cared to count.
When we finally came to a stop, the truck’s doors creaked open. After a moment, Axel lifted the fabric and shot me a grin.
“Made it.” He moved to the waiting SUV, and opened the trunk.
“Thank gods.” I uncurled my legs, and climbed unsteadily from the back of the groundskeeper’s vehicle. The lot was deserted. Only a handful of cars remained, and their owners were nowhere to be seen. Whew. “Now, let’s get this thing out of here and get rid of it already.”
“There’s nothing I’d rather—”
“Uff!” Air rushed from my lungs as Axel’s thick arm hit my chest. I flew backwards, slamming into the back of a nearby car while chaos erupted around me. Janna jumped out of the truck, Brigga climbed unsteadily after her, and Raynor raised his blade in front of the stolen balboa. Meanwhile, Torstein tossed a sparking ball between his outstretched hands.
“What the Helheim is happening?” I shouted.
“Just stay back!” Axel yelled.
Ja. Right.
I drew my sword. My shield was still in the truck, but I’d been down a weapon before. Only this time, I couldn’t see what we were fighting.
“Just get the balboa into my car,” Torstein yelled. “I can’t see him, but I can feel him.”
