The Deadly Nightshade

by Justine Ashford

  “Alright,” she begins, clapping her hands together, her red lips parting into a smile, “I am sure most of you already know why I have called this meeting. I would like to address what happened this morning before people begin making assumptions. As you know, there are no secrets here in Sweetbriar, and it is your right as citizens to know everything that goes on both inside and outside of these walls. That being said, it is my responsibility to inform you all that there was an incident on today’s patrol.”

  The crowd breaks into a chorus of frenzied chatter, gasps, and shouts. My eyes settle back on Connor, whose body is rigid with tension. Reina clears her throat again, louder this time, and the talk dies down.

  She continues, “The group was attacked by three armed outsiders a few miles from town. They were able to fend off the assailants, but there was no possibility of capture and they had no choice but to use deadly force. Fortunately, only two of our people suffered minor injuries.”

  I look to Sheppard, whose arms and hands are covered in white bandages. Sophia holds a bag of ice to the back of her head, which, judging by the grimace on her face, still hurts.

  The tension in the room finally seems to dissipate. I look to Connor, whose face is flushed with relief.

  Reina gives our group the floor so we can recount the incident in more detail. Claire is the first to speak.

  “Since we got back, I’ve heard more than a few rumors circulating. Bad ones. False ones. While no one can blame you for speculating, I’d like to clear things up. I wouldn’t be here right now, standing in front of you, if Nightshade hadn’t been with us today. And I know Sophia, Nate, and Sheppard feel the same way. We were unprepared for an attack like that, but not her. Not her.”

  The others nod emphatically in agreement, and then the four of them take turns describing the event. They rave about how amazing it was to watch me fight, how swiftly I aided them when they were in danger, how easily I turned what could have been a massacre on both sides into a clean victory for Sweetbriar. Then, something strange happens: the Sweetbriarans begin to shout, but this is not the belligerent shouting I am used to hearing. No, these are words of praise. All of a sudden the room is filled with hoots, hollers, and applause, and all of it is directed toward me. I don’t know how, but I have won their favor. In a matter of minutes I have been transformed from a murderous monster into a heroine. I find Connor again and am glad to see the pride that shines in his blue eyes and the grin that has settled over his face.

  When the meeting is over and the townspeople have begun to file out of the assembly hall, Connor hobbles over to the front of the room to meet me.

  “You really had me worried there for a second,” he admits as I leap down from the platform. “But I’m glad you’re safe.”

  We head out into the street, bundling our coats as the winter chill stings our cheeks. Connor is able to walk a bit faster on his crutches now, but not much, so I let him take his time as my fingers grow numb. We’ve made it about half a block when an elderly couple—the same one I saw talking to Sheppard in the church—approaches us.

  “My husband and I wanted to thank you for what you did today,” the old woman says, revealing an almost toothless smile. “Bless you, Nightshade. Bless you.”

  “I was just doing my job,” I say.

  But she and her husband insist on thanking me over and over for protecting their people. I smile and try to inch away from them, desperate to get back to the house, when more people come, and then more after that, and soon a small group has formed around Connor and I. They shower me with praise, each and every one babbling on about how thankful they are that I prevented anyone from getting hurt. As the Sweetbriarans look up to me with eyes filled to the brim with adoration, I can’t help but wonder if this is what it must’ve felt like to be a celebrity before the world descended into chaos. I’m not quite sure how I feel about their sudden change of heart toward me, but I have to admit I certainly don’t hate it.

  Chapter 36

  Just as Reina promised, she sets Connor up with a job at the schoolhouse. Fortunately, the school is only a short walk from our dwelling, meaning he has less of a chance of slipping on the icy cobblestone walkway and receiving another injury. As I prepare for the morning hunt, he wakes up early to get ready for work, whistling happy little tunes as he dresses and makes his bed. Before he leaves, I warn him to take it slow going there and to watch his footing, but he pays me no mind. With an excited grin, he says goodbye and heads out the door.

  Our hunt goes well that day. I help Sheppard track down a pair of young deer, and Sophia dispatches them both with her bow before they even notice we’re there. We return earlier than usual with our kills, which leaves me enough time to stop by the schoolhouse and check on Connor before lunch. After I help the others drag the deer to the kitchen, I set out to surprise my friend.

  The schoolhouse is exactly that—a house. The only thing that differentiates the building from the others in the area is the large canvas banner on the front with the words “Sweetbriar School” painted on haphazardly. I open the door and find myself in a long hallway with two more doors on either side. I’m not sure which one Connor is behind until an eruption of childish laughter breaks out to my left and, along with it, Connor’s familiar chuckle.

  I turn the knob and walk in. Seven small pairs of eyes greet me. The children, who appear to vary in age from five to about ten years old, sit on a large turquoise carpet in the center of the room, their bodies pointed toward the front, where Connor and a young woman stand, but their heads swiveled in my direction. They stare blankly at me, mesmerized by the stranger who has entered their classroom unannounced.

  Upon seeing me, Connor beams with delight. “Look, class, it seems we’ve got a visitor! That girl there is a very good friend of mine. Everybody say hello to her!”

  The children chorus a very unenthusiastic hello. Their eyes remain locked on me, as if they’re suspicious of who I am and what I’m doing there.

  Connor throws up his hands. “Oh, come on, guys, that was pathetic! Is that how we welcome someone into our class? Don’t embarrass me in front of my friend, now. I know you guys can do better than that! One more time, louder!”

  “HELLO!” they shout in their tiny, high-pitched voices nearly loud enough to burst an eardrum.

  “Hi, kids,” I greet them in return, my ears ringing. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

  “Are you Nightshade?” asks one little girl shyly.

  The wide-eyed children all look at me, waiting for an answer. I hesitate, unsure of what to say, not wanting to scare these kids by revealing my identity.

  “Yes,” I reply after a moment’s consideration.

  I expect the tiny expressions to turn to ones of terror, but instead they look up at me with amazement, jump up from the carpet, and race toward me. Before I can react, a swarm of seven small bodies surrounds me. They chatter excitedly, asking me question after question.

  “How many people have you killed?”

  “Can I see your swords?”

  “What are those knives for?”

  “Have you ever fought a gang?”

  “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

  “Have you ever been shot?”

  I look back and forth at each child, unsure of how to provide a single answer to the torrent of questions flowing from their mouths. Before I can get a word in, the young woman beside Connor comes to my aid, clapping her hands together to regain the kids’ attention.

  “Alright, boys and girls, let’s try not to overwhelm our guest. Come on back to the rug, okay? The lesson isn’t over yet.”

  She walks over and shepherds the rowdy kids back to the carpet. When they have all settled into place, she smiles and extends a hand for me to shake.

  “I’m so sorry about them. You know kids, they’re just big bundles of energy. I’m Savannah, by the way, Connor’s co-educator. I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s a pleasure.”

  Savannah is not a beautiful woman, b
ut her striking features make her not quite plain either. Her strawberry-blond hair tumbles down to her chest in large ringlets, and her emerald eyes, which are almost too large for her face, are accentuated by long, sweeping black lashes. Although her skin is paler than a sheet of paper, the hundreds of little brown freckles that speckle her face like paint splattered on canvas add enough color to keep her from looking a sickly shade of white. She is a small, thin woman, which I feel is not solely a product of malnutrition, but is just the genuine shape of her body. Most striking of all her features is her smile. There is nothing fake or strained about it—a rare quality—and the laugh lines that form deep grooves in her cheeks signify that she smiles often. On top of everything else, she has a natural feminine delicacy and innocence that could be misinterpreted as beauty, but to me they are the markings of an easy target.

  “Thanks for saving me from them,” I whisper, glancing at the seven little children waiting patiently for their instructor to return.

  Laughing, Savannah walks back to the front of the room. The moment her back is turned, a little blond boy jumps up from his seat on the carpet. I recognize him as the boy Sheppard plays cards with in the cafeteria during lunch sometimes—Ash, I think his name is. He bolts toward me and, before I know it, his little arms are wrapped around my waist. I freeze, unsure of what to do, but the smiling little boy holds on tight. I look to Connor and Savannah—who have just noticed what is happening—for help.

  “Thank you for saving Aunt Sophia,” he whispers into my stomach.

  Flustered, I stand there with my arms raised awkwardly, unsure of how to remove him. Fortunately, Savannah helps me out again, saying, “You know what, guys? Why don’t we have an early recess?”

  Six little bodies grab their coats from the colorful hooks on the wall and stampede toward the door. The little boy releases his hold on me and hurries to join the rest of his classmates.

  Savannah gives me another smile before following the kids out, leaving Connor and me alone to talk. He takes a seat on a wooden chair, placing his crutches on his lap, and gestures for me to join him.

  “Wow, who knew you were so great with kids,” he teases as I pull up another chair.

  I roll my eyes. “How are you liking the job?”

  “It’s great! I mean, I know I’ve only been doing it for a few days now, but the kids really seem to like me. They think I’m hilarious—sometimes when I can tell they’re getting bored I’ll start talking in funny voices or telling jokes. They love it! I’ve finally found people who appreciate my humor, Nightshade. You know, except they all happen to be under ten years old. I’m glad I got put with the younger kids and not the older ones next door, because somehow I feel like they wouldn’t find me as funny . . . And Savannah’s great, too. She’s been helping me make lesson plans and get the kids’ attention when they get rowdy—which is pretty often, if you can believe it. She’ll give me tips and suggestions after class and tell me what a good job I’m doing. She’s so good with the kids and she never loses her temper, no matter how frustrating they can be—they really love her. She told me it was always her dream to be a teacher, you know, ever since she was little. She’s really great.”

  Although it is incredibly subtle, I take note of the slightly higher pitch Connor’s voice takes when he speaks about his fellow teacher, finding myself slightly concerned by it.

  “She seems really friendly,” I say, baiting him.

  He grins. “She does, doesn’t she? She’s really great.”

  “You said that already.”

  “Oh, did I?” Connor flushes, his skin turning a dark shade of red, confirming my suspicion. He knows I’ve trapped him.

  “Look, Conn, it doesn’t bother me if you’ve got a little crush on her. Just don’t make any unnecessary attachments, alright? In a few weeks you and I are leaving Sweetbriar. Don’t forget that.”

  He shakes his head. “Nightshade, I promise you I don’t have feelings for Savannah. We work together and I admire her and how good she is with the children, that’s all,” he insists.

  I’m not even sure if Connor himself believes what he is saying, but I just nod. I don’t care if he’s attracted to his coworker, I really don’t. But the minute that attraction blossoms into something more profound, something that tethers us here, he and I are going to have one massive problem.

  Chapter 37

  As the weeks pass, I actually begin to enjoy hunting and patrol duty. With my new title I have the authority to plan and schedule our patrols, command my fellow group members, and—most importantly—make my own decisions. Of course, Nate still remains the head of the group and his word still outweighs mine, but he treats me as more of an equal than his second in command. Just like Reina predicted, I feel my new leadership role suits me.

  But although my days in Sweetbriar have become more bearable, my nights have become less so. Every evening I enter the house with dinner for Connor and me, exhausted from work, and every evening I am greeted the same way: with stories about his day that always seem to center around Savannah. He rambles on and on for hours at a time about how she laughed at a joke of his or how well she works with the kids or how interesting and insightful one of the lessons she taught was. I soon become grateful for the long winter nights that darken the room not long after I get home and allow me an excuse to tell him to shut him up so I can get some well-needed rest.

  As my group sets out on patrol one afternoon, I can’t help but realize I am bothered by Connor’s newfound interest in his coworker, despite what I told him. If he begins to like her, really like her, and she too falls for him, he’ll have a reason to stay in Sweetbriar. I can only hope his leg heals faster than their affection for each other grows.

  Sheppard stirs me from my thoughts with a nudge of the elbow. “You alright, kid? You don’t seem like your usual self today. Something bothering you?”

  “I’m fine,” I say. “Just a little tired, that’s all.” It isn’t exactly a lie. I am tired—tired of being here in Sweetbriar, tired of waiting for Connor’s leg to get better, tired of listening to his damn stories every night in the place of real conversation.

  “You sure? You just look a bit distracted is all.”

  Although I’ve been sure to remain aware of my surroundings since we left camp, I can’t help but feel Sheppard is right. This is neither the time nor the place to think about Connor and Savannah. This is the real world, and I need to remain on my guard.

  “I’m fine, really,” I insist.

  “Alright,” he says, “I won’t press. I don’t really know if you’re the talk-about-what’s-bothering-you type, but I’m always here for you if you need me, kid.”

  I am unable to stop myself from smirking. This man always knows just what to say—or what not to say. There should be more Elijah Sheppards in this world. Then maybe it wouldn’t have decomposed into the steaming pile of shit it is today.

  As usual, Nate purposely guides us away from the place where we left the three bodies, although I’m sure they’re long gone; wolves or some other animals have probably carried them away by now. Although nobody says a word, the tension in the air is almost palpable as we skirt the area, and it’s obvious that everyone is remembering the close call we had here. But in a few minutes we have left the place behind and five pairs of shoulders have slackened in relief.

  We are almost at the third leg of the perimeter when Nate stops dead in his tracks and gestures for us to do the same. He points to something in the distance clearly visible among the thick brambles: a man’s figure standing tall and still. Although his face is blackened with mud—for camouflage, perhaps—he remains out in the open, staring at us. There is no gun in his hands, although a large knife hangs from his hip. As we all stand there, staring back at him, I slowly reach for my katanas, and in the corner of my eye I catch Sophia readying her bow. A moment passes. No one moves. Then, the man takes off running.

  “Hey!” Nate calls after him. He takes half a step forward and then freezes, looki
ng from the man to us with a face etched with worry.

  “What do we do? Should we go after him?” Claire cries.

  We all look to Nate for direction, but he just stands there, staring blankly after the fleeing man, his jaw tightly clenched and his chest heaving. The indecision in his brown eyes is visible, and in that moment I know he is not going to make up his mind in time. Although I am his second in command, and although I am supposed to wait for his order before I can issue my own, I use his hesitation as an excuse to take charge, shouting, “Follow him!”

  The five of us take off running. Although we have no idea who this man is or whether he is dangerous, he is still on Sweetbriar territory, and he has still seen us. Whether he be a gang member or a harmless lone survivor, pursuit and capture are vital. As we start to gain on him, Nate yells repeatedly for him to stop, assuring him we won’t hurt him, but he keeps moving. Not that I can really blame the guy; I would have the same reaction if our places were reversed.

  As hard as we push, as quickly as our legs move, we never close the gap between him and us. His lead is too great, and although I am fast, I am not fast enough; two months in captivity have left me sluggish. The distance between us grows and grows until he is completely out of sight. I bring the group to a halt.

  As Claire, Sophia, Sheppard, and I come to a stop, Nate blows by us, ignoring my shouts telling him not to bother. It’s futile and he knows it just as well as I do, but he runs like a man with something to prove, and I don’t have the energy to go after him. He stumbles back to us a few minutes later, empty-handed, gasping for air, and staring dejectedly down at his feet, as if blaming them for not carrying him fast enough.

  “What do we do now?” asks Sophia, still panting.

  “He’s long gone by now. We chased him about as far outside of our territory as possible. I don’t think we’ve got anything to worry about, but let’s finish up and get back to Reina so we can report it,” says Nate.