Property Values

An hour later, the SUVs were gone—dragged into the bog by the roots, sinking slowly into the peat. The bodies were with them.

Hazel sat on the steps of her porch, wiping the blood from her nose with a tissue. She felt hollowed out, her hands shaking slightly. Using that much power usually put her in bed for a week.

Dante walked over from his cabin. He had changed his shirt, but he was still covered in mud. He held two glasses and a bottle of very expensive bourbon.

He sat down next to her on the step. He didn't sit too close, but close enough that she could feel the heat coming off him.

He handed her a glass.

"No ice," he said. "Sorry."

Hazel took it. She downed the whiskey in one burn. "I prefer it neat."

Dante looked out at the forest. It was innocent again. The roots had retracted. The vines were just vines.

"So," Dante said, lighting a cigarette. The smoke curled into the damp air. "You're a witch."

"Chlorokinetic," Hazel corrected. "Witch implies a cauldron. I just... persuade things to grow."

"You persuaded a Chevy Tahoe to do a backflip," Dante noted.

"It was in my way."

Dante chuckled. It was a dry, raspy sound. He looked at her, his dark eyes scanning her face, the blood on her lip, the dirt on her sweater. He didn't look afraid.

"You saved my life," he said.

"They killed my fern," Hazel said defensively. "It was collateral damage."

"Right. The fern." Dante took a drag of his cigarette. "You know, the guys who sent that crew... they aren't going to stop. I'm technically exiled. A dead man walking."

"Well," Hazel said, pouring herself another finger of bourbon. "If they come back, tell them to stay off the grass. I just fertilized."

Dante smirked. He leaned back against the railing, looking at her with a mix of wariness and undeniable attraction. He was a monster who killed men for a living. She was a monster who could crush a building with a thought.

It was, frankly, a match made in hell.

"You know," Dante said, gesturing to the empty space where the SUVs used to be. "Having a security system like that... I think the property values around here just went up."

"Don't push it, city boy," Hazel muttered, though she didn't tell him to leave.

"I'm serious," Dante said softly. "I'm not going anywhere, Hazel. The soil here... it's growing on me."

Hazel looked at him. She looked at the blood on his hands and the gun tucked into his waistband. Then she looked at the forest, which seemed to be leaning in, listening.

She clinked her glass against his.

"Just bury your trash deep," she said. "And buy me a new fern."

"Deal," Dante said.

They sat there as the sun went down, watching the shadows lengthen in the woods, two dangerous things finding a strange, quiet peace in the dark.