Bramble Burn Read online

  Rats poured out of the slit, dying as Kjetil fired steady shots into the mass. Some of them tumbled back in, others were cannibalized. There were so many.

  “Now would be good,” Grigori said urgently, giving the restless Twix space. He couldn’t do anything unless the mass of rats reached them, and if they did, he would have to run before they overwhelmed him.

  “Yes,” she murmured; her mind on the roots. The ground was hard, and whatever spawned the slit resisted, so she poured on the coals. Her staff pulsed, glowing with amber circuits. She snarled and heaved, pulling the roots tight, tumbling dirt into the crack. Rocks and broken concrete crushed rats as roots twisted and wove, filling the slit with wood and power.

  Juniper raised her head and took a deep breath, aware that sweat soaked her shirt. She felt Twix tense and tightened her knees, barely keeping her seat as he swooped and grabbed a twitching rat, gobbling it like a naughty dog slurping compost.

  “Twix!” she shouted, but it was too late. “Stupid beast. That better not be poisonous.” There was no point stopping him from snatching another, but she forced him to walk toward the park as he chewed.

  Grigori looked over his shoulder as he followed. “Do you think that will hold them?”

  “Time will tell. I hope so,” she said, a bit tired. Good thing she planned to hang out in her tree today. She could set up the greenhouse and build up energy for tomorrow; she’d need it.

  Apparently the monsters felt she’d had enough fun, or the oak’s new defenses were doing their job. She reached the tree with no more problems and unloaded her stuff.

  When she put the last bag on the kitchen floor, Kjetil was gone.

  She looked at the bracelet he’d given her, running her thumb over the medical insignia. She wasn’t sure what to think about him or the pack’s interest.

  “I’m going to work on the stoves and set up your lamps,” Grigori offered. “I’ll put the beans in Ziploc baggies in the cooler.”

  She nodded absently and opened the door to the upstairs. The greenhouse shutters were open, the space flooded with light. Rows of raised wooden beds filled with soil awaited her attention. She opened one of the packs she’d brought from the farm, sorting bulbs and seeds.

  She started a salad bar first, filling the raised beds with lettuce, greens, onions, cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers and herbs. Squash, peas and corn had their own space; popcorn, sorghum and sweet potatoes another. She planted turnips, potatoes, carrots and cabbage, staggering their rate of growth to give her a continuous harvest, then got to work on her cash crops.

  Truffles were expensive, so she started them first, tweaking the soil so that oak roots grew in the bed and inoculating them with the fungi. While she was at it she added black morel and Portobello mushroom spawn, then moved on to coffee beans.

  The cocoa seeds would become small trees, so she gave them a place of honor. She formed a lattice for the vanilla bean orchid vines, smiling as the sprouting plants filled the air with the scent of growing things. It had taken a long time to gather tropical plant seeds, and she’d had to learn how to properly ferment and process some of them. Each plant had special needs, and she loved learning how to care for them, producing a superior plant. She might live in an armored tree, but to her, this was the true magic.

  She had saffron and strawberries by the time Grigori poked his head into the greenhouse.

  “Hey, I have the stove ready…” He blinked, looking around in awe. “You did all this? Just now?”

  Despite her fatigue, she grinned. “Like it? I haven’t started the orange tree, but I figure fruit can wait.”

  “Wow. I guess you won’t starve.”

  “Nope. Want some veggies for your mom?” She formed a woven basket, grimacing as her bracelet vibrated in warning. Fine, fine. She’d cool it for the night. She filled the basket with cherry tomatoes and basil, adding greens for her own dinner. She’d had a busy day, and salad with fresh bread sounded good.

  “Yeah. She’s always up for groceries,” he said gratefully.

  She handed the basket to him and went downstairs, happy to see he had the hobo stoves set up. A pan of steaming water was ready, so she made tea, suddenly ravenous. “You want some salad? Or do you need to take off?” By the light, it was early afternoon, but she didn’t want him wandering in the dark.

  “You don’t have to eat salad. I can take you to the Indian place I told you about. You’d like samosas, and Mr. and Mrs. Chandra are excited to meet you. They think you’re a celebrity.”

  She looked at the salad she’d been about to prepare. He looked so happy at the idea of samosas, whatever they were; she reluctantly decided to give the place a try. Besides, she’d get tired of salad soon enough. She put the food away and loaded the chilled beans and tomatoes in a saddle bag.

  It turned out that samosas were fried pastry filled with spicy meat and potatoes, and she liked them. She still hated curry and chai tea, but the grilled chicken and naan bread were good. She even liked the thin cashew cookies, but she refused to eat rose petal anything. If she wanted flowers, she’d eat her hedge.

  Mr. and Mrs. Chandra were gracious, and she liked them. Natives of India, Mrs. Chandra had a dot in the middle of her forehead and wore traditional garb. Her husband was short, dark, and sported a mustache.

  Juniper gave them a canister of oil and promised to try the cookies Mrs. Chandra would make. The lady seemed to think Juniper needed mothering, and she clucked over Grigori like someone who’d seen him grow up.

  “She’s friends with my mom,” he admitted sheepishly while the lady attended their other customers.

  Juniper nodded and let him negotiate a trade of saffron threads for lunches, an equal number for both of them. A little saffron went a long way, and if she worked it right, the owners might become her distributors.

  “I like this deal,” Grigori said as he hefted the pack he’d borrowed. He didn’t live far, and it would be dark soon. “Don’t plant any cherries on the way home.”

  “Yes, mom.”

  His eyes flashed with good humor. “And don’t talk to strangers.”

  She gave him a little shove and mounted Twix. “Remember, I’ll be busy tomorrow. Do whatever you’re doing when you’re not bugging me.”

  She was full, so she kept Twix to a fast walk on the way home. The early evening was pleasantly warm, the sky gold and pink with sunset. She spared the cherry trees a glance, but sensed they were doing their job plugging the hole.

  This time the hazards were human.

  They waited for her, stepping out of a ruined apartment building to block her way to the park. Five lean young men and a woman, all of them armed with weighted clubs and knives. One had a loaded crossbow.

  The leader had a gun.

  Juniper thought about the rules for dealing with wild animals. With wolves, it was climb a tree. With bears, one played dead, and with bulls, it was run.

  She couldn’t do any of that.

  “Here’s how it’s gonna be,” the leader said. Tattooed, of medium height and mocha skin, he wore jeans, a wife-beater tank and a mean expression. “You’re going to pay us not to hurt you, or we’re going to mess you up.” The tattoos continued up his bald head.

  She raised her brows and glanced at her tree, only five hundred yards away. He must have felt safe in the middle of concrete and stone. Twix stood ominously still under her, his ears pricked. He snorted softly, steel muscles sliding under his skin.

  The man with the crossbow shifted; his eyes on the Black Adder. He didn’t notice the roots pushing through concrete, twisting loosely around his ankles.

  Fear made the pulse pound in her throat, but anger kept her centered. She brushed a thumb over her staff, and it flickered with power.

  The thug drew his gun. “Don’t be…ah!” He screamed as the roots attacked, anchoring his feet, twining around his knees. Too late he realized he was trapped. Fury flared in his eyes as he raised his gun. It roared, and Juniper screamed as blood bloomed on her inn
er arm. It felt like fire, and her magic ripped into him in retaliation.

  Green light surrounded him as the roots holding him wrapped him tight, fusing, warping into a fat, angry cherry tree. The trunk was a large, bark-covered man’s face with snarled beard-roots and branches like a twisted crown. One by one, his gang was swallowed whole, buried alive in bark, petrified like victims of a wooden medusa.

  She rubbed her vibrating bracelet. “Yeah, yeah.” She glared at the trees and headed for the oak. Now she’d have to pass them every time she left the park.

  On the bright side, so would everyone else. She didn’t feel good about it, but her arm reminded her she’d been defending herself. Nobody could fault her for that.

  Once inside her tree, she glanced at her arm to confirm it was a flesh wound and wrapped it so she wouldn’t have to mop her floor. She took care of Twix and showered, doctoring her arm with unicorn glue.

  She’d had to make sacrifices when she came here, and most of her books had been left behind. When she had money, she’d have to ask her mother to box and ship them here. The freight would be painful, and in the meantime she’d have to find a library.

  She took out her phone and reluctantly turned it on, checking messages. There were several nagging texts and matching voice mail from her mom, most about her brother. Since she didn’t want to know what her brother had done now, she ignored them.

  The phone rang, startling her. She didn’t get many calls, and she didn’t recognize the number. She answered cautiously, “Hello?”

  “Hey, Juniper! Just wondering if your tree is on fire tonight, because I could use take out again,” Mia said cheerfully. “Otherwise I’m stuck with paperwork.”

  Juniper smiled and sat on her bed, leaning against the wall. “No, but I did run into some monsters.” Human monsters, but still. “Nothing serious, but I did get scratched.”

  There was a brief silence as Mia calculated her gift for understatement. “I’ll be right there.”

  Juniper smiled, warmed by her concern. “Don’t bother; I already glued it.”

  “Did they attack your tree, or was it on the way in?”

  Juniper thought about the way the gang had waited for her. She needed an early warning system, needed more trees. She didn’t want to be surprised again.

  “Juniper?” Mia asked, concerned.

  “Sorry. I was wondering how much a bullet proof vest costs. Monsters are one thing, but I need to think about better protection.”

  “Someone tried to hurt you,” Mia said flatly. She sounded sure.

  Juniper thought about how Kjetil seemed to know her movements, how he’d implied she was being watched. Was Mia’s call part of it? She sighed. “The local gang tried a shakedown. I refused, the leader shot me, and I defended myself.”

  “Are they dead?”

  “Define dead, because the trees holding them are definitely alive.”

  There was a long silence. “Dead would be good. I’m glad you’re okay. Where is the wound?”

  “Inside my upper left arm.” Admitting it made her realize how shaken she was. She’d almost died.

  “Are you inside your tree now? Are you safe?”

  “Yes. I’ll be all right. I just…needed to talk.” Now that she’d admitted it, she realized she was cold with shock. She tucked her feet under her covers and focused on breathing.

  “Do you need me to come over? I’d bring back up.” It was a generous offer, considering Juniper’s address.

  “I’ll be fine. I’m heading out early tomorrow, so I won’t be home for a while.” She needed to anchor the second tree, and she would be tired. “I’ll have my phone off, but I’ll try to check my messages tomorrow night.”

  “Okay. Please call if you need anything,” Mia said, concern in her voice. “And Juniper? Please be careful.”

  “I will. Good night.” She felt better, but it would be nice if she had a tub to soak in. There was plenty of water, but the greenhouse storage tanks only made it lukewarm. Maybe if she had a way to heat it, she’d consider a tub.

  She fell asleep to thoughts of water, and dreamed of angry cherry trees.

  Chapter 4

  She rose at dawn and packed a lunch, unsure how long she’d be gone. She checked on her greenhouse and looked at the cherry tree gang down the street. She hesitated, but she needed peace of mind. She drew on her staff and sent out a small pulse of power. Five of the trees opened, spilling naked, terrified thugs like noxious grubs. They were coated with sticky sap, and as they escaped, the trees shook leaves over them, coating them like walking bushes. It didn’t disguise their nakedness, but it would be extremely difficult to remove.

  The sixth tree didn’t open; there was no point.

  She took no pleasure in his death, but she refused to mourn him, either, not when he’d clearly meant to kill her.

  The morning was warm and birds greeted the sun, chirping happily. She rode along the outer edge of the park, surveying the utter lack of trees. A giant skeleton lay on the outskirts, the reptilian nose poking over the boundary; it would make a good source of bone meal. An armored truck lay overturned near it, a hole punched in the side. With the early morning mist, it looked like a war zone. Nothing grew bigger than a weed in the entire park, and the trees had been burned to stumps.

  She reached the edge of the park, frowning as she realized it extended past the boundary on her map. It had grown, but she’d talked about that with the city, and that was why she had a year to contain the Bramble. The city didn’t want her delaying so that she could claim more land, but they made allowances for the spread.

  She chose a walnut and placed it on the edge, leaving Twix on guard. She’d considered using an oak, but decided it would be fun to diversify, and might even make the boundary stronger.

  This was a poor district. A tree like this would be tempting firewood, so she needed to make it valuable enough that the products were more popular than the wood would be. It would take time, especially since she needed to provide the tree with protections, but it would also be fun.

  She closed her eyes and coaxed the nut from the shell, making a protective cage of shoots around her and Twix as she taught the tree what she needed.

  Hours later, she stepped from the tree and squinted at the afternoon sky. The local wildlife had been scared off, but there was a news crew, and they made quick work of swarming her.

  “Miss Baily! Can you tell us about your latest tree?” A woman with shoulder length, straight blond hair and a business suit asked. Juniper recognized her as Veronica Myles, the local news lady for Channel 6.

  Juniper sighed, but she’d known they were there. She might as well put them to good use. She took a long drink of honeyed tea from her thermos before answering hoarsely, “Yeah. It grows brooms and pens, as you can see.” She gestured to the handsome brooms with stout, walnut handles and black or red bristles. The pens looked like bark-covered, sharpened pencils and had a small scored place for personalization, and everything had the Iron Oak logo, a stylized tree. The pens said, “Genuine walnut ink.” She plucked two and handed one to the reporter, then picked a red bristled broom to tie to her saddle, next to her staff. She needed to sweep her floor.

  “Why brooms?” Veronica asked, admiring her name inscribed on the pen.

  “It will grow nuts in the fall,” Juniper said, dodging the question. It wasn’t smart to suggest it was to prevent stupid people from chopping a valuable tree. She nodded to the hollowed trunk. “There’s a water spigot inside, so anyone who wants to can get fresh water. It’s all free for now.” Water was always needed and would be available all year, making the tree even more popular. She mounted Twix, ready to leave.

  “Are you a philanthropist, Ms. Baily?” another man asked.

  She laughed tiredly. “I’m a business woman. Excuse me.” She urged Twix to walk away, and the reporters wisely gave him space, though Veronica followed her, stepping lively in sensible shoes. “I’d like to ask you a few more questions, Ms. Baily. Would you b
e interested in talking over dinner? My treat, of course.”

  “Tempting, but no; I don’t have time right now.” Juniper kept her eyes open for anything strange. Despite the crowd, she wouldn’t take chances.

  “Yes, but everyone has to eat.” Veronica’s smile was big and toothy, like a beauty pageant queen. Her orthodontist would be so proud.

  “No, thanks.” She nudged Twix into a trot that soon left the reporter behind.

  It had been a productive day. The first four anchor trees would be the hardest, requiring enormous energy to corral the Bramble’s wild magic. The energy would press against the support posts, and she would have to reinforce the trees. The plan was to plant trees an equal distance between the first four posts, east, west, north, south, until she had a strong fence. It was the same technique used in stretching canvas on a frame, except she was containing energy, not stretching it.

  Juniper would have liked to scatter seeds on the way home, but there was no point; the poisoned ground wouldn’t support them until she gave them individual help, and she simply didn’t have the energy. They wouldn’t survive without the necessary anchor trees, either.

  Her bracelet hadn’t buzzed, and she’d been careful, but she was tired. It was probably why she stopped to look at the streetlight. It glowed gently on the opposite side of the road, which was odd enough in the afternoon light. Stranger still, it stood in front of an abandoned brick store, a series of little streetlights under it.

  She felt a spurt of excitement. If it was a new plant, she wanted one! She pictured a row of them ringing the park and the road leading to it, banishing the dark. It would be so much safer, and she’d be able to see her enemies coming. It might also attract business and a better class of residents; it could be the beginning of revitalization for her neighborhood.

  Twix snorted, reluctant to get closer. He balked, so she climbed down and approached carefully. Anything that made a Black Adder uneasy called for caution, so she stopped six feet from the light, using her staff to send an energy probe into the ground, searching for roots.