Page 7

6

SEVEN YEARS AGO

EVIL

“ S tephanie, remember we have a court date in two weeks, to see if Penelope can come and live with us again….”

I sigh as I hang up the phone from speaking with my mother—the one who is blocking the inheritance I should have received after my sister’s death. I knew my sister planned to leave me enough money to clear my debts, but I never expected her to be killed so soon, alongside my brother-in-law.

The mob said it made sense. I couldn’t inherit if they were both alive. I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I needed the money. It was either them or me, because it wasn’t murder, it was survival. They were already in a miserable marriage, I was just helping them along.

What I didn’t expect was for Mom to want custody. It was never part of the plan. She loved her freedom too much. I should have known better than to expect her to trust me. She never did.

Hayley, my sister, was the golden child—the one who went to university, got married, had a child, and stayed close to our parents. Whereas, I was the one who was always getting in trouble. I was kicked out of university, I got a divorce even though we were only married for six months and dated for even less time - I was the one always getting into trouble. Mom never missed an opportunity to remind everyone. She even questioned out loud—to anyone who would listen—whether she should take on the responsibility of motherhood again, because of me. She wanted to know that I was a troublesome daughter, so her worst fear was having another child like me. She seemed to think it was funny. The problem is, so did my sister—and my dad.

I leave my car, to head to the market, the one which will solve all my problems. The market is a world unto itself, lanterns swing low over stalls: dried herbs smell of earth and magic, crystals glimmer like trapped stars, and loads of jars of substances which remain nameless.

A man with no eyes hands me a jar of teeth. A child giggles in a corner stall, licking something bleeding. This place thrives on the supernatural and the twisted.

I roll my eyes and move through the crowd, with my long coat and hood to hide my identity. I pass stalls without hesitation, my gloved hands brushing aside curtains of beads and silks as I navigate deeper into the bazaar.

Finally, I reach my destination—a dimly lit stall tucked into the farthest corner of the market. My heart pounds in my chest, and I realize my hands are clammy despite the cold night air. I’m nervous—no, terrified—and I can’t shake the feeling the seller is unhinged.

The vendor, Madame Sorina, stands with her piercing green eyes locked onto me, sharp and unsettling, as if she’s peeling back layers of my soul. Her thin lips curl into a knowing smirk, and I shiver involuntarily. It’s not just that she knows what I’m here for—it’s as if she seems to know everything about me.

"I hear you have what I need," I manage, my voice quieter than I intended, as I become the one thing I didn’t think I could be, scared. "The blossom that blooms under the moon."

Madame Sorina tilts her head slowly, her smirk spreading into something almost predatory. “Ah, the Moonshade Blossom,” she purrs. “Precious, dangerous, and fleeting. Are you prepared to pay the price?”

I nod, my throat dry, but I feel so uneasy as she continues to stare at me. Unable to maintain this staring competition, I break the silence.

“Do you have the Vine extract?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. Dr. Sinclair assured me I’d find everything I need here, and I can’t afford to leave empty-handed. One million dollars is riding on this, and I have to make it work. I’ll need to practice on Penelope first—no room for mistakes on the big night. One misstep, and not only will I lose the money, but next time there’s a car accident, it’ll be mine.

Sorina chuckles softly, making me feel even more nervous than I was before I entered the market.

“Ah, the Nervevine serum. Dangerous tastes you have, lady. But you already knew, didn’t you?”

She bends down, moving slowly, her bony hands disappearing beneath the counter. When she straightens, she’s holding a small crystal vial, its surface catching the dim light. The liquid inside churns, dark green and almost alive, swirling like it has its own wicked intent. She cradles it carefully, as though it might lash out if provoked.

“This,” she says, her voice low and deliberate, “will do exactly what you want. Paralyze the body, leave the mind awake. No whispers, no twitches. Just… watching.”

My stomach churns, but I keep my expression neutral. “Good,” I reply. “I’ll need it fresh.”

Sorina doesn’t answer immediately; she has an eerie smile as she turns away. Her movements are slow, deliberate, as if she knows I’m hanging on to her every motion. When she turns back, she’s holding a small, velvet-lined box. With a theatrical flair, she flips it open, and there it is—the Moonshade Blossom.

The flower is breathtaking, it has silvery petals which shimmer faintly as though they’ve captured and held moonlight itself. I can’t help but lean closer, studying every detail, though I’m careful not to touch it.

"Careful now," Sorina warns. "Even its scent can lull you to sleep if you linger too long. Have you brought gloves?"

I glance at my trembling hands and nod stiffly, fumbling to retrieve the gloves from my bag. The scent should’ve made me sick. It didn’t. Nothing does anymore. There’s no turning back now. I need this, and I need to get it right.

I slide on my gloves, I delicately lift the box, my movements precise. There’s no hesitation, and no wasted motion. Reaching into my coat again, I produce the envelope with the bills and hand it to Sorina without a word. She takes it in her hand, nods, and tucks it away.

“Do you have any poppies?” I nearly forgot the men have another fetish. One in which Penelope has to be sleeping when they are with her.

She nods her head. “Here. You can have them for free. I rarely sell them anyway, there are other alternatives like Valerian which are grown in the wild.”

I don’t know why she is giving me a lesson on plants, then again if this works out well and I get all of the money, then maybe I’ll be buying more plants from her. I can spend a lot more time in the casinos and not worry about having to pay the bills, because if I don’t win in the casinos, then Penelope will be making me money I always dreamed of possessing. It’s a win-win situation. Penelope used to cling to me when she was younger by calling me her favorite aunt. Now, she’s just a means to an end, and I’m down with that. It’s life. Maybe in the future, she can do this professionally and make a ton of money from it. She’ll thank me for introducing her to this way of life. I’m sure of it.

Closing the box, I slip it into my bag and secure it tightly. I walk away and smile, at the idea of never being in debt ever again. Without another glance, I turn and disappear into the flow of the market.

I’m in the car, I’m so excited like a kid in a candy store, as my eyes trace to the box on the passenger seat. Usually, I keep to the speeding limits, because I worry about getting a ticket, but today there’s nothing on my mind but calculating the amount of money I’m going to make Thanks to Penelope’s therapist . It really is a good day.

Once home, I lock the door behind me, then I head to the kitchen, placing the box on the counter before beginning my work. I slip on gloves and a mask, ensuring my movements are as deliberate and precise as a surgeon’s.

My phone vibrates, someone is calling me. Maybe it’s the Doc, because something has gone wrong, and I shouldn’t go any further. I start to panic, my heart begins to race. I yank my phone out of my pocket, not checking who's calling, before dropping the mask from my mouth.

“Stephanie Ann Johnson. I’m worried about Penelope!”

I roll my eyes, wishing that I had checked the caller ID—and wishing I had never taken this call.

“Mom!” I snap.

“Yes. I want to talk to my grandchild. I want to make sure…”

Before she can even finish her sentence, I do what I should have done a long time ago—I block her number. Later on, I’ll get my lawyer to send the papers for Penelope to sign later. The ones to ensure that she never sees her grandparents ever again. This will help me get a restraining order against them.

I sigh, remembering where I was, and erasing the call I just had from Mom.

I retrace my steps by putting on new gloves, and a new mask. Then I lift the lid. I pluck the petals one by one, each silken fragment handled with care. I crush them in a mortar and pestle, the faint, heady aroma rising as the nectar is released. I mix the extract into a neutral syrup base, swirling it until the liquid turns a pale, otherworldly silver.

I pour the syrup into a small, dark vial and seal it with wax, etching an obscure symbol on the glass with a steady hand. This vial will remain hidden, locked in a carved wooden box that no one would suspect holds such power.

The Moonshade Blossom’s potency will last for weeks—just enough time to ensure it can be used as needed. It’s a weapon disguised as a remedy, and its creation is a secret I intend to keep.