Page 46 of Sweet Poison

The boy with the sad, angry eyes but the gentlest touch was always unpredictable— nothing like anyone I’d ever met. That was who Madden Hunt has always been to me. Hot and cold and the most interesting creature I’ve ever encountered.

He raises an eyebrow, looking at me expectantly.

Feeling a bit confused. I glance down at the mushrooms. “This is anamanita mushroom, specificallyAmanita muscaria.” His blank stare urges me to explain further. “It’s also called the fly agaric.”

“Huh…”

“Huh?”

“Keep talking…”

My frown deepens, no more confused than before but still I give in and share more about my favorite mushroom. I think for a second about a fact that might interest him and when I do, I blurt it out. “Did you know this type of mushroom and shamanic rituals have been linked for centuries?” As soon as the fact leaves my mouth, I wish I never said anything. Why would he know that?

Madden raises an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. “Shamanic rituals?”

“Y-yeah…”

“They use these mushrooms? For what?”

I can’t help but smile at his curiosity. In this moment I’m taken back to the times he used to sit next to me asking questions about things he had zero knowledge on.

“As an ancient hallucinogen,” I take a deep breath before continuing. I shared this rare fact with Mom and Dad the first time I spotted an Amanita in our garden. “Shamans in Siberia and Northern Europe consumed them to induce altered states for spiritual and healing practices.”

“So, they used the mushroom to get stoned?”

I snort, causing his frown to deepen. Oh, great. Has my laugh offended him? If he didn’t think you were a huge dork before, Willow… he definitely knows now.

Taking another deep breath, I whisper softly. “Eh, not exactly no.”

“Carry on…” he whispers looking at me with eyes that feel like he is staring right through my soul.

“W-what?”

“I want to know more.”

“You do?” I ask incredulously.

Why does he want to know more? He looks anything but interested so why is he asking for more? Then the image of my large and tattooed father sitting with my fairy-like Mom asking her questions about plans that he really has zero interest in and the bright smile on her face when he does.

I asked my dad once if he loved plants as much as he loved Mom, and he replied, “Fuck no.” Curious, I asked why he was so interested in them. He looked at me, love shining in his eyes, and said, “It's not about the plants, Willow. It’s about your mom. The sound of her voice calms the dark shit in my head, and the look on her face while she talks about things she loves makes me fall even more in love with her. I’d ask her about shit in a can and listen to her for hours if only it makes her smile.”

But Madden isn’t my father… or maybe he’s… could it be? No… don’t be naive, Willow. He’s just being polite.

Looking down at the red and white mushroom again, a curious and fun fact pops up. One my cousin Azariel shared with me one Christmas Eve. “These cute little mushrooms have been linked to the origins of Christmas and Santa Claus? Did you know that?” I ask and look up at Madden’s face to find him looking at me instead of the mushrooms. He’s looking at me as if I’m more interesting than the fungi. Huh…

Madden shakes his head no and says nothing.

Trying not to lose my nerve, I continue. “The red and white colors of Santa’s suit are thought to be inspired by the amanita’s appearance, and reindeer were believed to eat them, which might explain why people used to believe reindeer could fly.”

Madden’s frown deepens, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “I thought the smelly fuckers are children.”

My mouth falls and he smiles and that’s when everything around us fades into nothing as I look at his perfect white teeth and brilliant smile. He smiled…

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

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