Consider Brassica oleracea, wild cabbage, a single species of plant. Once humans got their hands on it, they bred it into useful and radically different cultivars. Cabbage, kale, collard greens, kai-lan, brussels sprouts, broccoli, and cauliflower, to name a few. Not to mention the cousins of the species, which included turnips, bok choy, rapeseed, and mustard.
If people did this for a moderately tasty plant, it was, therefore, foolish to think that there was only one cultivar of blood blossom, a plant that could affect ghosts in such an intimate way.
The blood blossoms ghost hunters had gotten their hands on had been bred to cause ghosts paralyzing agony when in close proximity. A good idea in theory, but short sighted in the long run. Especially when the cultivar was unable to affect half-ghosts in their human forms.
There were more interesting varieties.
The one commonly known as ghost nip, with its lily-like flowers, compelled ghosts to consume their stamens, which both induced a sense of calm and euphoria in the ghost and caused the ghost to begin producing pollen for the flower, which in turn would be spread to other flowers when the ghost moved on, fertilizing them. Those were valued among some ghosts as a recreational drug and reviled among others.
The tattoo rose's microscopic seeds would take root and spread delicate, glowing vines just under a ghost's skin, feeding off their ectoplasm. When prepared to reproduce, thumbnail-sized red flowers would burst from beneath the ghost's skin. The process tended to weaken the host, render them lethargic and hungry, but tattoo roses were also beautiful and, somewhat counterintuitively, had a notable stabilizing effect on the ghosts they inhabited. Many weak ghosts, or ghosts on the verge of dissolution, had been saved by the tattoo rose. It was lucky for everyone else, however, that the tattoo rose was not, like its namesake, permanent, but only lasted through three blooming cycles before fading.
Hanahaki was a very niche cultivar, one that subsisted exclusively on the stresses and emotions associated with unrequited or unconfessed love. It grew primarily in the mouths, throats, and lungs of ghosts unfortunate enough to have them. Although ghosts have no need to breathe, those afflicted often lost the ability to speak. It had been bred in one of the Cherry Kingdoms, as a punishment for one of the Empress's suitors.
Meanwhile, false poppies – named for their effect more than their appearance – made ghosts drowsy. There were stories of ghost falling asleep in beds of false poppy blood blossoms and waking only when their blooming season was over, roots having grown over their still forms. Less potent false poppies could, if one were careful, be harvested for sedatives.
Witch's clover was another one that had first been used by humans. Ghosts exposed to it became more suggestible, gullible, pliant, and vulnerable to other forms of control, such as hypnosis. A boon for a group of people who gained power from their dealings with ghosts. Of course, some ghosts had use for it as well.
The saltseed varietal had sparked the myth that ghosts were repelled by salt. In truth, the tiny, cubic white seeds of the plant simply absorbed ectoenergy so quickly and so efficiently that ghosts would recoil from it.
Then, on the opposite end of that spectrum, was the wishing rose, which would give any ghost who touched it a massive boost of ectoenergy—all while injecting them with one of its seed pods. Which would eventually explode to spread their seeds. The explosion typically wasn't fatal to the ghost, but that didn't mean it was pleasant.
None of this even touched on the hybrids Sam was developing. It was a tricky proposition. It was difficult to tell exactly what any given hybrid would be like, what traits they would pick up, what new traits might arise from the combination. None of the ones she had tried so far had the combination of effects she wanted.
However, she had a much greater ability to experiment than any other ghost or human. Her father's power combined with her human immunity to most blood blossom effects guaranteed it.
The hybrid she was currently carrying showed promise in early trials. Now, she was taking it to the real test.
She emerged from the great forest that had grown in the ruins of Amity Park and smiled at the sun on her face. Her dress of petals rustled behind her as her father's vines shifted behind her.
Ahead of her, on a small hill, stood a dome made of blood blossom vines and scavenged ironwork and glass. Concentric rings of blood blossoms, each containing a different mix of cultivars, surrounded it. She checked the health of the plants as she passed, revitalizing the ones that seemed to be wilting with a thought.
When she reached the dome, she gestured, and the vines peeled back, opening a hidden door as they went. It squealed, announcing her presence.
In another life, she might have thought about oiling the hinges. Now, it didn't even cross her mind as she entered her greenhouse, her miniature garden, which she had constructed for one person and one person alone.
One person who was, aggravatingly, hiding from her. Again.
She rolled her eyes and surveyed her surroundings as the gate shrieked shut behind her.
It was hot and humid in the dome, the air full of luminous clouds of pollen, thick enough that even a person without allergies might have trouble breathing, might feel drowsy. More practically, it prevented the inhabitant from using a certain sound-based weapon.
The blood blossoms were healthy, for the most part. The ones whose vines comprised the main structure of the dome were thick and strong, their hanging blooms full of color. A version of false poppy, they kept the ghost contained within from destroying the dome in partnership with the saltseed planted around its base. Elsewhere in the dome, the more healing varieties were largely untouched. Although, the ghost nip had been destroyed. Again.
(How stubborn. She had planted them with the hope that he would, for once, relax.)
The fruits and vegetables, some ghostly, others largely human, which had been planted to provide more material sustenance for the garden's inhabitant, appeared to have been cared for and harvested since Sam's last visit. Good. She didn't want to deal with a pointless hunger strike.
The spring at the center of the dome burbled merrily.
"Danny," called Sam. "I have something for you. Won't you come out? We haven't talked for so long."
She could, of course, give him her gift without being anywhere near him, such were the powers her father gave to her, but she really did want to talk to him.
"There's nothing to talk about," said Danny, who was hiding in a tree.
"There's always something to talk about. My offer still stands. It gets boring without you, Danny."
"Maybe you should have thought about that before you used everyone else for fertilizer!"
"Well, I can't exactly take it back," said Sam. "It was something father decided on."
Silence.
Danny, scowling, jumped out of the apple tree. He stumbled somewhat on landing. The prolific blood blossoms combined with his sporadic eating habits and the heat had weakened his core. His skin was slick with sweat. Or, perhaps, he had taken a dip in the spring, earlier.
Sam felt a fond smile spread across her lips. It really had been too long.
"What do you want?" asked Danny, leaning against the trunk of the tree. He kept glancing at her but seemed unable to hold her gaze for any length of time.
She walked closer.
"It's good to see you, Danny. Isn't it enough for me to want to see a friend?"
"Yes," said Danny, bluntly. "Why don't you go see Tucker?"
Sam sighed. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Danny."
He flinched. "Stop saying my name," he muttered. "You aren't her."
Her smile became more forced. Well. He was back on that, now, was he? No matter.
She flicked her fingers, sending the miniscule seeds she had brought with her to Danny, and waited. Tattoo roses rooted quickly, and so did this hybrid.
She knew the process had started when Danny hissed and started clawing at his skin. She grabbed his hands, stopping him.
"W-what—" he started before Sam shushed him.
This hybrid had a number of useful features, having been developed from tattoo roses, witch's clover, and false poppy. It was, as was the case with all tattoo roses, impossible to get away from. The mild false poppy effects lowered the ghost's defenses and provided an analgesic effect that was necessary given the greater size of the cultivar compared to the typical tattoo rose. The contribution of the witch's clover was pliability, rendering the affected ghost docile and obedient. Finally, as an extra treat, Sam had discovered that the hybrid could last up to ten blooming cycles. Cycles she would use her abilities to draw out for as long as possible.
Danny sunk to his knees, his breathing, already heavy, becoming ragged.
"Hurt-sss," hissed Danny, shuddering.
Sam cradled his head, noting how feverish he felt, a welcome change from the frigid, hypothermic temperature he'd maintained for the months after Amity Park fell. "Shhh, shhh, it won't last long." She traced the slightly raised and vibrantly glowing skin that indicated the presence of a vine. As she did so, she started to feel the leaves unfurl and tiny buds begin to form. "There we are. How does that feel?"
Danny raised his head. His eyes were foggy, unfocused, his pupils blown wide. "Who?" he slurred.
"It's me, Sam."
"Hmn, Sam. Id'nfeels'g'd." He let his head drop back to her lap as small flowers began to force themselves out of the skin of his scalp.
Sam examined the flowers closely, pinching off the ones that seemed ill-formed. She would have to monitor Danny carefully for the next little while, to see how he adapted. He took so much care to cultivate. Truly, a tender, delicate, hothouse flower. But it was worth it.
After all, out of all the plants her father had given her, all the flowers in her garden, blood blossom cultivars included, Danny was surely her most prized.