Oran slapped a hand over the tiny wound. “What the hell was that?”

“A truth serum.”

“That’s...” He gazed around the room as if confused about why it had started to spin.

“Cheating?”

“Yes.”

“Who says I have to play fair? The Cartel certainly isn’t. Now tell me about your work as the Master Gardener.”

“Not me. Nope. I’m...going to be sick.” Oran heaved, vomiting onto the floor.

Janco jumped back just in time. Great, a puker. It happened from time to time. A nasty smell invaded the small room. Lovely.

“Who is the Master Gardener?” he asked.

“Bavol doesn’t know.”

Talking to a person under the influence of goo-goo juice required a certain level of patience. “Know what?”

“He’s working for us.” Oran giggled. “Shh. Mr. High and Mighty is really a traitor.”

“Who’s us?”

“The Cartel. Although I suggested Alliance...it’s a stronger...” He swept a hand out. “You know.”

“Word?”

“Yep.”

Janco tried again. “Who’s your boss?”

“Uptight know-it-all.”

“Really? I heard...”

“Don’t listen. She thinks she knows it all, but really...nothing.”

Ah. “But she’s Owen’s wife.”

“So she says.”

“Were the hothouses Selene’s idea?”

“No. Bavol’s. He built...little bitty one.” Oran spread his thumb and index finger about an inch apart. “Clueless to the potential.”

“What about the Harman trees? What do they do?”

“Oh...that.” He made a dismissive sound. “Uptight know-it-all’s pet project.”

“But it must be important.”

“Not to me. It’s a weed.”

“You don’t know.”

“It’s Ixian. Not my area of expertise.”

He was getting closer. “It’s Selene’s area of expertise.”

“It’s unnecessary. I provide plenty of Theobroma.”

“Always good to have a backup plan.”

“She’s killing people.” Oran stood up.

Holy snow cats. Janco kept his expression neutral, although his heart danced a jig in his chest. “That’s to be expected.”

The man wobbled on his feet. “Bavol and I...we...never, not...ever experimented on people. She...” He sank onto the bed. “She’s gone now. Took her poison and left.”

“Where’s she been doing this?” Janco asked.

“Plot behind...” He gestured to the window.

It took Janco a while, but he learned the location of Selene’s lab. He pricked Oran with Leif’s new sleeping draft and waited for Oran to succumb.

With his time running out, Janco sought the garden plot Oran described. He found rows of young trees stripped of their bark. A small building next to it appeared to be empty. Janco picked the lock and slipped inside.

The smell almost knocked him off his feet. No mistaking the acrid stench of death mixed with bodily fluids. He held his breath and lit a small lantern, planning to do a quick search of the room. Cages filled with dead bodies lined the back wall. Their open, lifeless eyes didn’t reflect the light.

The place had all the paraphernalia of a laboratory—beakers, burners, containers and hoses. Nothing else remained that might help them discover what exactly Selene had been doing. Would it be too much to ask for a journal filled with notes?

Sick to his stomach, he turned to leave and spotted another door. Also locked, but he fixed that in seconds. More cages, but this time, people stirred awake inside them. He froze.

“Isn’t it a bit early for breakfast?” asked a woman, pushing up on her elbow as she squinted in the light.

Janco debated. There were four of them. He should bolt, but he couldn’t. What would Yelena do?

“I’m not with them,” he said.

All four scrambled to their feet.

“Are you here to rescue us?” asked an older man. The skin clung to his skeletal face and gaunt arms.

“I...can’t,” Janco admitted. “I’ll be lucky to escape myself. Please tell me what’s going on.”

“Why should we?” spat the woman. “You’re not going to help us.”

“Not now. But I promise I will do everything I can to return and free you.”

They appeared doubtful. Given their circumstances, Janco didn’t blame them. “Look, I’m working with Yelena, the Soulfinder, and we need to know what Selene’s been doing so we can stop her. We’ve been doing everything we can to upset the Cartel’s plans.”

“I doubt you’ll be able to stop them, young man, but if you piss them off, I’d die a happy man.” The older man gestured to his companions. “We’re the survivors. Selene’s been injecting people with sap from the Harman trees. With each batch, she adjusts the concentration. By the time it was our turn to test the sap, she had determined the right dose, and it didn’t kill us.”

“It did something worse,” the woman said bitterly. “We can’t use magic anymore. It’s all dead air.”

Holy snow cats just didn’t seem strong enough for this news. Janco stared at her, speechless for the first time in his life. His mind processed the information, turning it over. A small part of him thought magic had caused nothing but trouble, and he’d be happy to see it gone for good. But one thing his friendship with Yelena had taught him was that it wasn’t the magic that was evil, but the person who used it to do evil. He finally found his voice. “Do you know if there is a cure?”