be able to jump Odessa and get the gun away from her.
The gun.
Odessa had said she had Becca’s gun, singular, but at the restaurant, the bodyguard had been carrying a backup weapon at her ankle. Did she still have it? Would Odessa know about it?
With great effort, I opened my eyes and turned my head. Becca was on the floor next to me, her eyes closed. She lay doubled over, her head near my feet. She was pale, but I thought I could see her chest moving.
Odessa’s boots scuffed near the entryway again. I tried to turn my head back to where it had been, but I was too late. “Oh,” Odessa said, sounding put out, “you’re awake. I’ll deal with you in a minute.”
No point in pretending now. I opened my eyes. Odessa was walking toward us holding a massive roll of thick plastic, like you see at construction sites. She unrolled a big piece near my feet and stood up to look at her handiwork. I tensed, but she went to Becca first and picked up her wrist, yanking her toward the plastic. Becca moaned.
“Goddammit, you’re alive too?” Odessa sighed. “I gotta get more plants.”
I needed to stall, to buy Becca time to wake up and remember the backup gun. If she still had it. Time to figure out whether I could speak.
“Whuh . . . plans . . .” I croaked. Talking was actually easier than I’d expected, but my mouth was dry. I swallowed several times.
Odessa stood up, nudging Becca’s knees so her legs shifted onto the plastic. When she looked at me, her lips curved in a sneer. “The azaleas, duh. I got ahold of some yellow azaleas straight from Nepal. Should I assume you haven’t heard of mad honey?”
I had, actually—it had come up during one of Simon’s magic lessons. Mad honey was a naturally occurring psychedelic, sort of like peyote or certain mushrooms. Not magic in itself, but often used in rituals.
But I wanted to stall Odessa, so I just stared blankly at her. “The azaleas are toxic,” she said, enunciating with impatient precision. She pointed both hands in the direction of the manor like she was signaling an airplane to land, then moved her hands toward the back of the barn. “The bees eat the nectar, so the honey is toxic.” She pointed both hands toward me now, looking triumphant. “I gotta admit, I wasn’t sure what it would do to you. Y’all are my first test subjects.”
“Why?” I said, pleased with how well the word came out.
A look of great disbelief and outrage came over her face. “Why? Why?” She pulled the sidearm—a Glock, I thought—from the back of her pants and took a couple of steps closer so she could tower over me. “You of all people . . . God . . .” She rubbed her face with her free hand. “I can’t believe you have to ask me that. All that power, all that juice you supposedly have? Beau took that away from me.” She shook her head. “All he had to do was leave me in the car a little longer so I could die. But no, he took that from me. And then he took the Olympics.” She was warming up now, her face full of self-righteousness. From the corner of my eye, I saw Becca’s leg move. I kept my gaze on Odessa so I wouldn’t give it away.
“You could’ve . . . college . . .”
She snorted. “Why, so I could find a husband? Or so I could become a kindergarten teacher or a nurse, one of the vocations Beau finds acceptable?” She shook her head. “You know what I am to him? I’m one of them.” She pointed a finger toward the line of horses. “A prize pony to be trotted out and fawned over whenever he’s in the mood, then put away in the barn when it’s time to get shit done.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to look sincere despite my slurring words. “But you don’t have to do this.”
“Ha. I tried to get you to go home, but you wouldn’t listen to me.” She squatted down in front of me, shaking her head. “I gotta say, meeting you has been one of the great disappointments of my life. The strongest boundary witch in the world, everybody says, and you’re obviously barely keeping it together.”
Old anger began to bubble up in me. It felt a hell of a lot better than nausea