Chapter Seven

Luckily for all involved, Hunter and Jerbo did not remain partners for long. Despite her plucky demeanor, Mrs. Kissiae was a sharp woman and realized after a single class that those two were not good for each other. And so she switched things around. She partnered Hunter with Ium and Jerbo with Willow, hoping her star student could talk some sense into him.

As it turned out, Hunter and Ium worked well together. Ium was more understanding than Jerbo proved to be, and traded tips, tricks, and trivia about the specimens they were studying with Hunter. Another quirk of Headhold demons was, predictably, very high intelligence. And Hunter was not only a magical prodigy, but very well-read. Needless to say, they got along quite well.

"Hey, uh, Ium?" Hunter asked on the midweek day.

"You want to know if you should ask Willow out?" Ium asked, his eyebrow raised in a way that told it was less a question than a statement of fact.

"I don't have a lot of experience with, you know, people my own age," he said. He'd given Ium the same story as he'd given Willow about being homeschooled by his uncle. It wasn't untrue so much as it was not the whole truth.

Ium glanced over at Willow working with Jerbo on pruning the school's predatory flower, a faint glow of attraction rising that he routinely pressed down. Willow was cute, smart, and as kind as anyone he'd ever met, but she wasn't his type. He glanced at Hunter with a thoughtful look. The new student had become something of a good acquaintance in the last few days, and he honestly wanted to help him.

"I think it couldn't hurt to try, if you do so with good grace," Ium offered. "You two seem to have grown very close in such a short time. If you ask her out and accept her decision to try or not, you won't damage your friendship," he said.

Hunter thought that over. It made a lot of sense. "I still don't know," he said. He hated being indecisive, but Willow was one of his first real friends.

"Well, there's no rush," Ium said. "Make sure you know what you want before you commit to anything." He snipped a leaf from a plant and set it in a book to dry and press.

"Yeah. Right," Hunter said absently. No rush. If only he knew.

Across the greenhouse, Willow glanced back at Hunter and smiled at her new friend making a new friend of his own. She felt her cheeks warm before shaking it off and continuing her work pruning the predatory flower. She scratched at the plant's tickle spot, the sensation distracting it from the sharp pains of snipping leaves and offshoot stems from its body.

"How's she doing?" Jerbo asked, pouring scoops of blood meal into the flower's garden box.

"She's fine. As soon as these pesky stems are gone, she'll be good as new," Willow said cheerily.

"That's good to hear," Jerbo said, his cheeks staining with pink as he rubbed the back of his neck, "but not the 'she' that I meant."

Willow arched her eyebrows at the comment. "Uh, I'm doing great," she said, recovering most of her usual demeanor. Then a thought occurred to her and she glanced at Hunter again before looking back to Jerbo. "Actually, can we talk?" she asked.

Jerbo blinked as his blush deepened. "Uh, yeah. Of course!" He cleared his throat after his voice had cracked. "Wha- what about?"

"It's about Hunter," she added innocently, which brought Jerbo's spirit crashing down and a faint scowl to his face. Though he tried to soften it for Willow's sake.

"What about him?" he said distantly, turning back to his task.

"You don't seem to like him very much," Willow commented, somewhat dryly. "And I don't like seeing my friends in some kind of silent war. So what's wrong? What did Hunter do?"

"He just-!" Jerbo bit his tongue as he forced himself to think through his response. "I think he's a little suspicious, okay?" he said. "I mean, the guy shows up out of nowhere and says he's been homeschooled his whole life. But he's so good with plants that he becomes the second best in the class in a week and a half?! It just … It doesn't add up."

"Are you jealous?" Willow asked in genuine surprise. Jerbo had never shown interest in class rankings before. At least, not to her. In fact, the Troublemakers as a whole seemed to hold the idea in general disdain.

"No!" Jerbo said heatedly, before blushing harder and clearing his throat again. "Sorry. No, I'm not jealous."

"I really hope this isn't some macho thing about him having more scars," Willow commented. "I doubt he enjoyed getting those."

"No, it's not about scars, either," Jerbo said levelly.

"So, what is it about?" Willow asked. "If you really don't want to tell me, I'll respect that. But if I can help," she turned and placed a hand on his arm, "I want to do what I can. Please."

Jerbo swallowed at the sight of Willow looking up at him with those large, round, green eyes. Her hand on his arm felt like the warmth of a campfire. He took a deep breath. "Willow, I-"

Jerbo was cut off as Bram was sent flying across the greenhouse, kicked by a dragontail sprig. He crashed into a glass display case that had appeared earlier in the week, housing a specimen to be cultivated for the Emperor's Coven … and the glass shattered in his wake.

"Bram!" Mrs. Kissiae shrieked with shock and fear.

Behind the glass, the dark purple growths that littered the plant's pink stem swelled and burst to release a cloud of dark spores that rapidly filled the glass and began to spill into the greenhouse. The teacher summoned her staff, capped with a spider palisman, and conjured a great circle that formed a barrier to contain the haze. But the haze seemed to eat at the magic of the barrier, forcing Mrs. Kissiae to expend even more power to keep it up. The students formed barriers to support their teacher, but it didn't seem to help much.

"What about Bram?" Amelia gasped, the force of the spreading haze like keeping a falling cliff face from plunging into the Boiling Sea.

"I don't know," Mrs. Kissiae admitted, her svelte frame trembling under the pressure.

And like an answer to a prayer to the Titan, a yellow blur lanced through the barrier like gelatin with hardly a ripple in its wake. Bram's limp form was tossed through the barrier to slide to the teacher's feet, wracked with wet coughs even in pained unconsciousness.

Behind the barrier, the haze began to swirl and writhe. A brief window was formed to reveal Hunter spinning his staff overhead. With a cry of exertion muffled by the barrier, he slammed his staff to the ground, and from Lil Rascal's inert avian form burst a cascading web of thin lightning that filled the barrier with a writhing cloud of darting, flickering lights. The stress was too much for the barrier and it was torn to shreds that faded into wisps of magic.

But out from the glass poured not black haze. Merely grey smoke, and the shambling, exhausted form of Hunter leaning on his staff. He groaned at the litany of tiny burns that littered his skin before he collapsed to the greenhouse floor.

"Hunter!" Willow cried out, rushing to him and cradling his head in her lap.

"Bram!" Ium, no longer distracted by maintaining the barrier, shouted in a similar tone of voice. He knelt to his fellow demon's side and checked his pulse before putting an ear to his chest. "His breathing is labored," Ium reported, visibly holding back tears. "They both need to go to the nurse."

"I agree," Mrs. Kissiae said, forming another, smaller, barrier to plug the gap in the glass case. "Jerbo, please find Mr. Babel. We will need his help with this." Jerbo glanced at Willow tending to Hunter before nodding and going to retrieve the Construction teacher.

As Ium and Willow carried Bram and Hunter toward the infirmary, Mrs. Kissiae pressed her lips into a thin line and examined the plant that had caused all of this trouble. The specimen was almost entirely undamaged, which was something of a blessing in the grand scheme of things. Principal Bump would have been displeased if the stream of school revenue that caring for the plant represented were cut short, especially so soon. Not to mention, the Emperor's Coven would have been … upset … had their project been harmed.

But her students had been put in danger by it.

"I really should have planned better for a plant that earned the 'witchbane' title," she commented bitterly to herself. "Not to mention 'mourning glory'."

Though compelled by duty as a student to continue her school day, Willow carried a heavy lump of dread for Hunter throughout the rest of the class that made her feel a thousand pounds heavier. And it was only the period before lunch! As she left the greenhouse and made her way to the cafeteria, she couldn't help but wonder how she could possibly get through the rest of the day.

So it came as a shock to see Hunter sitting at their usual table, silently eating and covered in adhesive bandages while everyone else chatted. Willow quickened her pace, her eyes wide behind her glasses, until she was running across the cafeteria and sliding to a stop to settle by her friend and … crush.

"Hunter?!" she gasped, both in relief and exasperation. "How are you feeling?" She pressed her hand to his forehead to check for fever. "Why aren't you with the nurse?! Do you have any idea what you were exposed to?!"

Willow's tirade was cut short as Luz, ever the faithful friend, clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle her questions. The cafeteria was almost entirely silent in the wake of her outburst. Everyone seemed just … stunned at the display from the typically mild mannered girl. Then they all seemed to shake it off and return to their meals and conversations with only occasional glances at their table.

"Whew," Luz breathed. "Thank goodness for teenage short attention spans," she laughed before sitting next to Willow. "Mind telling us what that was all about?"

Willow looked at Hunter, whose wide eyes were practically begging her to not broach the subject. "Hunter was in an accident during class in the greenhouse," Willow said guardedly. "He was hurt dealing with a crisis, which he averted on his own, and sent to the nurse with Bram." She paused and considered her next words before sighing. "I'm just surprised he's up on his feet, is all."

The other three in the group traded glances before deciding to trust Willow and take her story at face value. If there was any problem, Willow would tell them. Otherwise, it wasn't their business. Different tracks in the school tended to leave each other be.

As the conversation started back up at the table, about some upcoming project in Amity and Luz's Abominations class, Willow kept sneaking glances at Hunter. He seemed unfazed by what had happened … and, as much as she tried to brush it off, Jerbo's warning echoed in the back of her mind.

Suspicious.

As school let out, it found Willow dragging Hunter to the greenhouse to care for the plants after hours. It was a program that she had joined early on, coinciding with some of Gus's weekly HAS meetings and now with Luz and Amity's weekly "tutoring" sessions in the library. As if they weren't just kissing in the secret room Luz had told them about.

Willow had asked Hunter to accompany her, trying as hard as she could to use Luz's "puppy eyes" that seemed to work so well. She knew she had been pink-faced as she did, her gaze boring into Hunter with a sense of … intimacy. What she didn't realize was that he was onto the fact that she wanted to talk to him alone … and that the blush had gone a long way to convince him as he'd mirrored the unconscious reaction.

And so here they were, surrounded by greenery.

Hunter tried to appear irritated at being in the greenhouse after school hours, but he couldn't find it in himself to mind. The room was peaceful, aside from the occasional more animated plant that might try to harm them, and Willow's presence was soothing to him. He found himself casting glances at her out of the corner of his eye as they tended to the plants, giving general maintenance such as watering and fertilizing. Her demeanor was confident here, more than he'd ever seen her. As if she knew exactly who she was and was meant to be.

He had something similar, but it had been foisted upon him by Belos and didn't bring him much comfort.

Even as he watched her, Willow was keeping an eye on Hunter. She was still wondering about his seemingly miraculous recovery earlier. She had known a bit about that particular plant before the incident, the one now held behind a glazed cage of iron bars and glass to form an airtight and shatterproof restraint. And she'd consulted one of Mrs. Kissiae's books since then, and the descriptions of the plant's haze had been … frightening. At the same time, they had fanned the flames of her curiosity and concern for Hunter.

"Hunter?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?" he asked distantly, fascinated by watering a plant originating from the desert of Palm Stings; every time he poured some water to muddy the barren soil, the plant soaked it up until the soil was cracked and parched again. He chuckled as he watched intently at the phenomena, and his expression made her giggle before she remembered what she was about to do.

"Do you know why everyone was so scared of that plant today?" she asked.

Hunter blinked and put down his watering can before turning to look at her. "I assume the spores are toxic or something," he commented. Then he spread his arms and spun in place. "But I'm fine, really," he said. And she could tell he truly meant it.

Which was why she was so concerned.

"They are toxic, in a way," she said, adjusting her glasses as a faint feeling of nausea welled in her belly. "It's called the mourning glory," she explained, "mourning as in sadness, not early day." She bit her lip and began fidgeting with her hands. "But it has another name," she continued. "They call it … witchbane."

Hunter arched an eyebrow, suddenly feeling a little sick himself. "Why do they call it that?"

"The haze of spores affects a very specific part of witch anatomy," Willow said, the dread in her belly intensifying. "It causes fever, dizziness, nausea and migraines for several days after exposure …" She paused, barely squeezing the next words out, "by attacking the bile sac."

Hunter's stomach felt like it had dropped to his feet. 'No, no, no. Please don't ask-!' he silently begged the Titan.

"Hunter …" — there was only one explanation for his unheard of resistance, something she'd only ever heard about and very rarely — "... do you have magic?" she asked timidly, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

Hunter felt his knees buckle as the words hit him like stones. He fell backward onto a workbench and struggled to maintain his breathing. She knew. She had reasoned out his greatest shame in a week and a half of knowing him and he felt his face betray him as he winced at the truth, sweat beading his brow and the color draining from his face. It was more damning than an outright confession …

He slumped to his knees and buried his head in his hands. "... No," he admitted. He flinched, curling in on himself against what he knew would come: scornful laughter, cruel names, and any other form of verbal abuse. She might even attack him outright, maybe control the plants to hang him by his ankles as he was powerless to stop her.

He flinched even harder at the feel of contact on his shoulder … but pain didn't come. She was … placing a hand on his shoulder? He felt the faintest pressure of her fingertips lifting his chin, and he slowly rose to meet her eyes. Green eyes that were level with his gaze and shining with unspilled tears.

"I'm so sorry, Hunter," she whispered. And though there was pity in her voice and her gaze … it didn't hurt him. I was diluted to all but nothing by the gentleness and caring and empathy that they held. "I can't imagine what that must be like." She closed her eyes slowly, a single tear falling down her cheek.

Hunter's heart wrenched at the sight of Willow crying. He caressed her cheek with his thumb, brushing the tear away. The action felt far more intimate than he could have imagined it would. "It's not your fault," he said. "A lot of my ancestors were powerless. My uncle found me and helped me survive when my-" He cut himself off as his heart wrenched again at the thought, of what he had almost let slip. Somehow it was even worse than before.

"Did I ever tell you that people used to call me 'half-a-witch' Willow?" she asked.

"What?" Hunter asked in shock. "Why?"

"From the age students are supposed to choose a track, my dads put me in the Abomination track," Willow revealed. "As good as I am with plants, I'm about as bad with those mud monsters," she said with grim humor. "And I was in Amity's class, back before we met Luz. When she was as bad as Boscha in her own way, sometimes worse." She clenched her hands as years of memories started to well up. "It was awful," she admitted.

"Oh Titan, Willow …" Hunter said, his pain diminishing in the wake of what she had revealed to him.

They sat there on the greenhouse floor, unthinkingly wrapping each other in a comforting embrace, their foreheads touching. Tears continued to slowly pour from Willow's eyes, both from the memories of her time between Amity and Luz's friendships and for Hunter's sake. Hunter even shed a tear of his own at the thought of Willow, the kindest person he'd ever met besides possibly Luz, going through anything like his childhood.

After a time — who knows how long? — they came back to their senses and looked up for their eyes to meet. And both of them felt it again: that tension, that draw. The inexplicable pull toward each other. They drew slowly closer, spurred by the sheer vulnerability they had shown each other and the closeness it had wrought. Their eyes fluttered closed as they crossed the last bit of space between them.

Their lips touched ever so gently, the contact like a spark.

And then the door slammed open to reveal Jerbo and they separated quickly. "Hey Willow, I-" He froze at the sight before him, the color in his face draining so fast he looked like a ghost.

"J-Jerbo," Willow greeted shakily, unsurely. Frustration at another interruption warred with her natural caring nature. In the end, she couldn't bring herself to say anything, even being found wrapped around Hunter and him around her on the greenhouse floor. Hunter, who didn't like Jerbo at the best of times, felt no desire to hide his own frustration from his face.

Jerbo retched and fled the doorway.

With silent agreement, the two witchlings helped each other up off the floor. Their gazes met again and they were lost in each other for a few long moments, both thinking about what had just happened before Jerbo's arrival. Their eyes closed again and their foreheads touched.

"We really do need to talk," he whispered.

"I know," Willow replied. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," he agreed. He drew away from her, suddenly conscious of the late hour, and left the greenhouse first to fly away. Willow watched him go through the expansive windows before she collapsed onto a stool. She'd have to leave very soon to be home on time, but not right now.

For the moment, she could wonder about what might have happened if they hadn't been interrupted.

So, now we know what the plant was. Hope y'all think that's at least somewhat plausible for the Boiling Isles. And I hope you all liked the update!

Even more romantic tension ans it was so fun to write. If ya'll liked this, leave a review! I love hearing your thoughts.