Whether it was out of fate, guilt, greed, or an agreement he made with the late Ferdinand Malloy, Master Eli Pendleson continued to care for Harriet even though he had no fatherly compassion apart from how he treated his menagerie of dogs and birds. Unfortunately, Harriet needed a lot of care, she was so frail and so weak.

To give her strength and sanity—more for the sanity of everyone around her than her own—Harriet took three medicines at the start of every morning. Doctor Harrison prescribed them just for her, taking the money from Pendleson and turning the other way when it came to strange side effects like glowing on the full moon and craving wasabi-peas.

“Don't talk about my mother!” She hissed.

“Fine.” Pendleson answered carefully, making sure to keep his voice low. She sighed and whisked her scarf back over her shoulder. “If you look over there, you see we changed the lilacs for some Birds of Paradise.”

“Mmf.” Was Harriet's reply, half to the flora and half to the third bottle, which tasted thick, like ink. Half of the flowers they planted flushed Harriet into the house. Their smell was three times as potent when the rain blew wind from the sea. The smell of lavender made her see things. Usually things with theme songs.

“Peck wanted to see you.”

“Not interested.” She said harshly as she reached for the chocolate milk and cleaned her teeth with it.

“You can't cut things off like this, Harriet.”

“Just not now. Later. I'll do it later.” Harriet's fingers tingled as a weight lifted from her chest. She could breathe again. Now all she needed was a shower.

“I want you to take these, as well.” Pendleson said, as he handed her a small white book and a ring designed for a larger finger.

The last thing she wanted to see was that stupid ring again. She felt it in the pit of her stomach.

“This is Harrison's.” She pushed them back.

“He's giving them to you, for the time being. What with you living in cardboard under the highway to avoid us.”

“Don't make it sound like he cares, Pendleson!” She growled harshly, and for good reason: Harrison had only managed to poison her twice. He only managed to make these stupid drinks because Pendleson had the keys to his prison cell. He only managed to be a human being because he had a cell-phone number, but beside that there was very little that proved to her the man had a pulse and a soul to use it.

“Harriet, he doesn't want you to die.” Pendleson told her with old eyes tinted dark like monsoon water.

“No! He does!” She retorted nastily. “The last time I borrowed this ring the doctor said he'd murder me if he didn't get it back. I really believe him.” Her nose arched up at the old man as he put away the tray on a garden stool and spoke slowly and quietly to calm her down.

“He won't murder you.”

“Maybe not.” She answered tartly, her black eyes glaring from hot shadows under her bangs. “But he will watch me die. It's something you've all been waiting for!”

With a wolfish whine in her throat, Harriet tossed her charcoal curls out of her face when the breeze picked up her coat.

It wasn't really scarf weather but Harriet was always cold and always sick. She was forever cursed with too many insufficient scarves and too many insufficient doctors.

Pendleson was still unable to answer her. It wasn’t like they could really honestly deny it.