Page 21 of Shift of Morals
She snorted. “Soren? Absolutely not.” Moira’s eyes glittered with laughter. “Haven’t you heard? He’s an unrepentant womanizer.”
Chapter
Six
The shop’s air felt stale, heavy with an unfamiliar tang of magic. I stilled just outside my office door, a chill running down my spine. Setting my purse down, I crept through the back on silent feet, keeping my eyes peeled for anything strange or anyone who wasn’t supposed to be here.
I sent out a soft pulse of magic, but the plants were alert, not alarmed. Seconds later, I discovered the door to the walk-in fridge wide open. A sound of dismay escaped me as I walked inside.
The preservation pouch holding the bouquet pulsed a faint crimson color, malicious magic beating at me. I grimaced and inspected everything inside. The rot hadn’t penetrated anything else yet, but I needed to get this thing out of my shop before it did. Every display or arrangement I built had a protective shield and preservation spell woven into the plant’s life force, something I did for my own peace of mind.
And thank goodness I had. If I’d left everything unprotected, I might have lost thousands in inventory.
The front shop door opened, Moira and Ash’s laughter floating through the space.
“Guys, can you come back here?” I called.
Their conversation stopped abruptly, and moments later, three faces appeared. Ash recoiled, his handsome face paling. “What happened?”
“The walk-in’s door was ajar this morning. Something happened to the bouquet, but I haven’t opened the pouch yet.”
“No one went near that awful thing once we put it back last night,” Moira confirmed.
Ash nodded. “I double-checked the latch before I left. Everything was sealed tight.”
“Dammit.” I put my hands on my hips and glared at the thing that was fast becoming the bane of my existence. “I need to check the flowers.”
Ash grimaced. “Are you sure? I say we set the thing on fire.”
“I’m inclined to agree, but maybe that’s what it wants.” I reached out and grabbed the pouch, magic soaking into my fingers.
“The table is clear,” Moira said.
Tess let out a moan of dismay and floated behind Ash as I hurried over to the table and set the bouquet down. With trembling fingers, I opened the pouch and pulled the bouquet out.
No one said a word for a long moment.
Tess broke the silence. “It’s dead but not dead.” A note of awe trickled through her voice. “Cool.”
“Not cool,” I said with a shake of my head. The once vibrant green leaves had turned brown and were curling up. All the blush-colored flowers were leaking a strange, dark-colored sap. “I’m going to lift it. Bring over a pan or something we don’t need so the thing doesn’t ruin my table.”
Ash hurried back with one of those disposable foil pans, sliding it under as I lifted the flowers. Once it was situated away from my table, I slumped onto a stool. “Maybe weshouldset it on fire.”
“I’m game,” Moira said.
“I plan to speak to Hazel tonight. If she’s not here in twenty-four hours, I may just do that.” I pulled the pouch over. “Mind staying here while I wrangle this thing back into the pouch, just in case something goes awry?”
“We got you,” Ash said, though everyone put some distance between them and the bouquet.
I snorted before reaching for the heavy gloves I kept in one of the table drawers, reserved for working with thorny vines. This one was metaphorically thorny, and I no longer wanted to touch it with bare skin.
As soon as I made contact, the pouch pulled away of its own volition, as if it didn’t want to touch the thing any more than she did. I tried again. Same thing.
“Crap.”
Moira came up.
“Gloves,” I barked.
