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Felina had been sure she was alone when she dropped from the ancient garden wall and let the gnarled roots cushion her fall just as she knew they would. And yet when she looked up, the caretaker stood on the moonlit path as if summoned. Again.
“Well,” he asked, arms crossed over his chest, “since we meet again, you might as well tell me what you’re looking for.”
He did not sound angry.
Felina sighed.
“Got anything that helps against greedy aunts?” she asked.
He shrugged, held up a twig of something Felina recognized. She blanched.
“Maybe something less… drastic?”
They walked. Felina knew she should be afraid, but when the man held out his hand, she took it without hesitation.
At the garden pond, the caretaker knelt, filled a tiny vial, and held the water out to Felina.
“It will take the memories away,” he said. “This is the most generous offer I can make you.”
Felina hesitated. “Will it make Aunt Falca forget she wants to kill me?”
“You can forget you inherited all that money,” he said. “You can live your life unburdened.”
Here, with me, he did not say, but Felina heard him all the same.
Silently, Felina watched a fish swimming in oblivious circles.
A noise. A quiet laugh. “The lady with the garden shears,” the caretaker said, amused. “That’s her?”
Falca hacked at the thick vines, entirely surprised when the wrought-iron gates finally swung open. She stepped inside. She sank to the lawn, crying, when curse and beauty finally caught up with her.
“I belong here,” Felina said as she pressed the vial into her aunt’s hand. “You don’t. If you ever want to be family again, drink this before you come back.”
Then she walked back to the moonlit figure waiting for her.