Page 10 of Death and Divination
I got up to leave, only to stop dead by the door, staring at the plant on a bookshelf—a plant I hadn’t seen when I came in. Marcus’ office was typically spartan, neutral in color and full of sharp angles. But here was a plant with glossy leaves and clustered flowers.
Oleander.
My eyesight narrowed and red liquid welled on the stems, blood rolling down the leaves and leaving streaks of red behind as it dropped to the floor with a soft splat. A dark road. The foul smell of a rotting corpse. A moon breaking free from the clouds. But this time it wasn’t Marcus behind me; it was the man from the accident scenes. His presence felt heavy like a suffocating blanket, like the finality of the grave. His dark eyes held mine and he spoke, buthiswords weren’t of blame.
“Choose,” he commanded in a whispered voice. “A life for a life. Choose.”
“Stupid plant.”
Marcus’ voice jolted me out of the vision with such speed that I felt disoriented and suddenly cold.
“Darn Ducha and her plants. I told her I didn’t want any of those things in here,” he continued.
I picked it up, running my fingers across the bright blue pebbled surface of the pot, then touching the leaves that were so very toxic.
“Take it,” Marcus urged. “And take a few of the ones out in the lobby as well. Actually, pull up a box truck and take them all and Ducha with them. That woman’s going to be the death of me.”
Suddenly I got a vision, a flash of insight. And I smiled, because Duchawasgoing to be the death of Marcus, just not the sort of death he was thinking.
I left without saying a word about the vision. And yes, I took the plant.
