Chapter 1
A drop of blood leaked from the center of the flower, ran down a petal, and dropped onto the wooden bench. The sound of it hitting the bench was in harmony with the raindrops tapping on the tin roof of the small shed.
Ciaran blinked.
The drop of blood vanished before his eyes.
“Ciaran!”
The voice came from Mrs. Hanson, an old gypsy, who approached him from behind. He almost jumped out of his skin. Almost. He cleared his throat, loosened up his tie and smiled. “Mrs. Hanson, I am here for the flowers.”
“Certainly.” Her smile was crooked. Ciaran thought she had probably been a mysterious and very beautiful woman before things had gone wrong with her alchemical practice. She had crossed the dangerous grounds of natural medicine and had paid a dear price. “I’ll get the ribbons and wrap them for you.”
Ciaran nodded in appreciation and returned to examine the flowers.
The purple strikes and swirls on the white petals of the Mountain Avens he had chemically engineered looked perfect. He understood why Juliette liked these wild flowers. They were plain, free, and determined, just like her spirit. He had created the purple strikes on the petals to make the flowers uniquely hers. Or maybe, to reflect her in his mind.
She had fallen in love with the flowers when they were on their honeymoon in Ireland over a year ago.
She’d intrigued him since the very first time they met. He was checking out a rare book in the library at Oxford University. She approached him, a total stranger, and asked if she could borrow a few dollars for a cup of pumpkin soup. Who could say no to her brilliant smile, magnificent flaming red hair, and eyes that contained a sea of innocence.
She did have a perfect explanation for asking. She wanted the soup. The shop was closing, so there wasn’t enough time for her to run back to her dorm for the money. And after she got her soup, he walked her home to get his money back. At least, that was his excuse.
One thing led to another, and the next thing he knew, he married her despite his mother’s objection.
“These flowers are cursed.” Mrs. Hanson’s voice interrupted Ciaran’s concentration.
“I beg your pardon?” Ciaran had never raised his voice to Mrs. Hanson, or to anyone, but this statement not only demeaned his work and his belief in science but also his intentions to Juliette.
Mrs. Hanson shrugged as she wrapped a sheet of tissue paper around a pot of Mountain Avens and affixed a bow to it.
“I’m not a believer, Mrs. Hanson.”
“Then you should start believing.”
“You’re wasting my time. What’s the problem with the flowers?”
“You and Juliette are my good students. I don’t want one of you to end up dead. I’ve been watching these flowers grow every day in my lab. They aren’t normal. A couple of them turned red and bled drops of blood before they died yesterday.”
“And you didn’t think to let me know?”
“I’m letting you know now. You think I should have called your headquarters and wormed my way through an army of your minions just to tell you your little flowers died under tragic circumstances?”
Ciaran shrugged and pushed the pot of flowers away.
“So you don’t want the flowers now? You believe me that they’re cursed?”
“Of course I don’t believe you. But you’ve said it now, and I don’t feel comfortable giving them to Juliette anymore.”
“Very well then. It’s your decision.” Mrs. Hanson smiled and turned on her heel to leave.
“Mrs. Hanson!”
“Yes.”
“Never mind.” Ciaran turned and strode out of Mrs. Hanson’s little lab. There was no way in hell he was going to ask her whether the curse would still have an effect even if he didn’t touch the flowers. Ciaran LeBlanc is not superstitious, he scolded himself.
He invented medicine that could change the landscape of science. He understood and accepted the fine line between science and fiction. He understood the human cognitive system and how theology worked on the human mind.
People had different beliefs. He could tolerate the differences. But a curse? Hell no. He wouldn’t even mention it to Juliette because it was ludicrous. Juliette was a scientist.
He accidentally stepped on a bunch of wild daisies on his way out. As he moved his foot away, he saw trace of blood.
He jumped off the flowers, but the blood vanished right in front of him.
What the hell? He shook his head. He had been working way too hard in the last couple of weeks on a new project. It must be fatigue. Ciaran left Mrs. Hanson’s house in a hurry.
He needed to go home.