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My voice cracked. “Just let me go.”

Mom chuckled. “Oh, Moira. Why would I ever want to do that? You are the reason I’ve hung on so long.”

Most witches were not immortal, and those who were had something else in their bloodlines. Mom had stolen her immortality from me and countless others when I’d disappeared. Now that I was back, she had no need to find anyone else.

My immortality would fuel her youth for as long as my life force continued sputtering, and she wasn’t smart enough to tell she’d abused me too much. Even immortality failed when the host was abused far beyond its limits.

Mom spooned a glop of something into a bowl and shoved a slice of stale seeded bread into the gruel.

“No steak?” I croaked. “Poor service. Zero stars. Would not recommend.”

Liaza’s eyes blazed with fury. He’d make up for my mouthiness in our session later.

I stifled the shake in my fingers and watched as Mom pushed the bowl of gruel and bread into the cage.

With a push of strength and speed, I snatched the bowl before she could take it back. Sometimes she did that, just to teach me a lesson. What lesson, I didn’t know. I already knew she was a bitch, and I already knew I was starving to death.

Mom’s soft chuckle sent fury barreling down my spine. I’d kill her one day. I fantasized about how I’d do it every single night when I lay against the wall, peering at the small slice of stars visible through the tiny window in my cell.

She’d given me more food today. Since the woman never did anything without a reason, I frowned down at the bowl. I lifted my head to watch her.

“You’ll need your strength for later,” Mom said, her smile widening.

I looked down at my bowl and swallowed.

Her chuckle faded as she and Liaza walked away.

No spoon, no water, nothing other than the bowl of unrecognizable gray mash and bread. But…this is the first time she’d ever given me anything with seeds. I scooted my body against the wall, facing the cell door opening so I could see when she came back, and carefully removed the bread. Half of it was already soggy, but the other was still dry, allowing me to easily pluck the seeds from the surface. I took only the ones that might still be viable and dug through the bread to pluck more out. The ones baked inside were most likely dead, but I’d plant as many as I could down in the small hole I’d been digging at the edge of the wall.

Wherever we were, it was winter and freezing, but the house kept the soil from becoming too hard. The foundation was rotting away, so it wasn’t too difficult to pry up a little of the wood to reach the earth’s surface.

An insane, probably unviable idea was beginning to brew in my addled brain. Very little light streamed through the room, but the hole I dug was right where the most concentrated light fell for a couple of hours a day. Winter would be dicey. The days were cloudier more often than clear, but I had seeds, and even with my poor and unvaried diet, I could still produce some natural fertilizer.

Even the idea made me gag, but I couldn’t stay here much longer. Mom knew I was suffering, but she didn’t know I was actually dying. And I had zero plans to tell her.

Surprise, motherfucker! Your golden goose just kicked the bucket. Guess you better start saving for a face lift, you evil bitch!

I carefully unscrewed the headboard knob of the tiny daybed I slept in and shoved the seeds inside.

If there was anything I’d learned from Evie about flowers, it was soil prep. You could shove some seeds into any old soil, and they might grow, but if you took the time to nurture the ground, you were almost guaranteed to get great results.

I couldn’t grow the seeds directly in fecal matter. Too many chemicals—things like nitrogen and calcium and iron phosphate, not to mention good ol’ human-made microplastics. ’Merica for the win. But there were also beneficial bugs in the form of bacteria, tiny little living organisms that could help bring the soil back to life.

What I could do was use my body’s waste to boost the soil health and then plant the seeds and hope for the best. I wouldn’t have much time. Forty-eight hours for the prep, then I’d have to plant afterward. Time was not on my side.

Once I screwed the knob back on, I reached for the bucket they’d left me and peered inside.

I’d worry about bathing when this was over. Maybe if I got myself smelly enough, Liaza wouldn’t want to play.

With a grimace, I reached into the bucket and scooped out a small chunk of waste.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

Chapter

Two

EVIE