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“I was just about to put the kettle on,” Rue said, leading the way towards the fence between their neighboring gardens.
Trailing after, Moon said, “Maybe something relaxing...lavender? Lemon balm? Oh, just surprise me—there are so many options and I’m too tired to decide.”
Moon’s two grey cats materialized out of the profusion of wildflowers and herbs, peering curiously. Clearly deciding that whatever the witch and the plant demon were doing was worth their while to watch, the two cats followed at a leisurely saunter.
Rue reached the wrought iron fence. At seven and a half feet tall—not counting the antler-like branches growing out of their head, currently covered in just-opened cherry blossoms and a scattering of buds—the plant demon towered roughly two feet above Moon and easily grasped the top of the railing between the spikes.
“We really should install a gate,” Moon mused aloud.
“No time for gates today, tea time is urgent business!” Rue declared melodramatically, and then easily vaulted over the railing, spiky fleur-de-lis finials and all.
Moon could not help but giggle. “I suppose this is the more fun option.”
In a fancy swirl of glittering gold and blue magic the witch hovered, then floated up and over the fence to land gently in Rue’s cursed garden. The cats silently wove themselves through the fence, their blank purple eyes glancing side to side at the carnivorous plants, which made a show of ignoring the cat-shaped-things that were almost certainly not actual cats because this is Hell. As far as the plants were concerned, Rue allowed Moon and the not-cats in the garden, and that was all they needed to know—for now.
A short trek along a rough dirt path through the lush crowd of botanical horrors abruptly opened up into a clearing. Sprouting from its center like a giant flower was a violet Queen Anne Victorian home complete with a three story turret, wraparound porch, at least two balconies, and an excessive amount of decorative moldings and iron railings.
Rue and Moon circled around the house to a small pond. Overhung by trees and with a small round table and two comfortable chairs arranged in the shade on the grassy bank, it was the perfect place for afternoon tea.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Rue suggested, indicating the chairs. “I will return with our refreshments!”
The plant demon disappeared inside the house while Moon settled into the cushions, admiring the giant lily pads and white blooms floating on the dark green water of the pond. Under the table the two cats-that-were-not-cats wound sinuously around Moon’s ankles and then ran off to play nearby, batting at nodding flower heads and dangling vine tips swaying temptingly in the breeze. The blue-haired witch grinned at their antics.
The soft rattle of porcelain announced Rue’s return. They had donned a fresh apron over their brown waistcoat and rolled their long cream shirtsleeves above the elbow, nearly up to the arm garters. Thick vines like leafy tentacles protruded from the exposed jade green flesh of Rue’s upper arms, and each vine was wrapped around a handle or container, assisting the demon with carrying a truly stunning number of tea trays and serving ware.
Moon stirred in her seat, instinctively moving to help.
“Thank you very much, but allow me! This is meant to be an opportunity for you to rest.”
In a matter of moments a picturesque array of tea, sandwiches, and pastries materialized in front of Moon, complete with white linen tablecloth and napkins dotted with pink petals floating down from the cherry blossoms on Rue’s branch-antlers.
Rue sat down, tapping the teapot with a long index finger. “Something special, just for us: black tea with rose.”
“Oooh! You spoil me!”
“Exactly as you deserve. You are always helping everyone!”
Rue passed a fragrant cup of tea to the witch. Moon admired the teacup; the porcelain was painted with graceful lily of the valley, the small bell-like white flowers subtly shaded to look like tiny skulls. The witch was uncertain if it was a memento mori or a nod to Rue’s notoriety, in life and death, as a poisoner.
“Oh, I nearly forgot!” Rue exclaimed, fishing around in the pocket of their apron. “Here’s something for the Radio Demon’s cold. He can add it to his coffee.”
Delighted, Moon accepted the vial—then hesitated, excitement coming to a screeching halt as the witch remembered just what sort of plants grew in Rue’s garden. Raising an eyebrow at her friend, Moon cautiously inquired, “…What’s in it?”
“Opium, mostly. Also chloroform and cannabis.”
“Rue!” the witch exclaimed, dark blue eyes so wide with alarm that Rue could clearly see the pale reflection of the living world’s crescent moon within them.
“What? Opium suppresses coughs.”
“That will drug him, not cure him!”
Green lips curled into a devious smile and then carefully sipped at steaming dark tea. “But I guarantee he will feel better.”
“And no doubt run himself ragged while under that illusion,” Moon huffed.
Rue set their teacup on its saucer and considered for a moment. “It should make him feel relaxed. What you are describing sounds like his perfectionism mixed with too much coffee. Or maybe cocaine?” Their acid green eyes brightened with sudden inspiration, “I could add the latter to counteract—”
“No. Thank you,” Moon said firmly, lips pursed. Letting loose a sigh of frustration she dropped her head into her cupped hands. Muffled by her fingers, she muttered, “Maybe it is best to let his cold take its course, however frustratingly slow that may be. At least that way all of us will still be alive.” Peeking between her fingers the witch glared at Rue delicately nibbling a cucumber sandwich. It was as though the plant demon’s only concern was avoiding crumbs on the tablecloth. “The anxiety you give me!”
“Is met in equal measure by the anxiety you give me with your magical explosions. So many shattered antiques!” After a moment of the witch continuing to glare, Rue amended, “Well, perhaps not equally, as I have more or less learned to take those in stride thanks to the generous application of quake putty throughout my home. But I assure you there is no need to be so concerned, Moon—the bottle clearly states all ingredients and dosage, as is proper and professional.”
The witch peered down at the vial. It quickly turned into a squint. “Alastor is sick! He doesn’t want to read all of that. And your handwriting is absolutely miniscule!”
Absinthe green eyes went wide with innocence. “The radio demon is a deal maker; he more than most knows the importance of the fine print!”
A veritable waterfall of curly blue tresses cascaded over the chair as Moon threw her head back and groaned. “You are doing it again, aren’t you?”
“Doing what?”
“Setting people up for trouble and waiting for them to take the bait.”
Rue’s chin perched on their interlaced fingers, elbows resting on the table, the very picture of serenity. “I am an apothecary—I merely provide the means: tinctures, extracts, decoctions, concoctions, infusions… it is up to my customers to decide how to use their purchases. To their peace—or peril.” Slowly, like a leaf splitting beneath a pruning blade, Rue’s emerald lips parted in a sharp grin. Mischief glinted in their eyes. “But you are also correct, Moon. That is exactly what I do. More tea?”
“Yes, please. I need it to relax. And you can keep this.” The witch decisively placed the vial on Rue’s side of the table, shaking her head all the while.
Rue merely smiled while their vine appendages picked up the teapot and refilled Moon’s cup, leaving the plant demon’s hands free to select another cucumber sandwich.
“May I have one of those?”
One of Rue’s vines instantly snaked across the table, moving the requested platter closer to Moon. “Of course! As many as you wish, dear friend.”