I wondered why so many gardens around the world focused on the healing power of plants rather than their ability to kill… I felt that most children I knew would be more interested in hearing how a plant killed, how long it would take you to die if you ate it and how gruesome and painful the death might be.

-The Duchess of Northumberland

Henry had his nose buried in a comic book as Regina drove them ever onward down the highway. Regina said that they were in for a long drive that day. She seemed anxious to get to their destination, or at least to get away from the werewolf town. They had stopped in Texas to pick up some supplies for their trip, and she had bought some books and snacks for Henry and a kong toy for Hank to get them through the trip without having to stop too often. Henry was content with that plan. He was enjoying the comic she had gotten him. It was much more violent than anything he had ever read before. It was all about a war between people with horns and people with wings, but it took place in space and had all kinds of ghosts, aliens, and monsters, too.

Regina was listening to some slow jazz song on the radio about a muddy river. Henry would pause his reading every once in awhile to look over at her.

"What's on your mind, kid?"

"That was nice of you to save the hiker man, even if he was kind of a jerk," Henry said.

"I suppose."

"I think I know why I found you."

"Oh, you found me, did you?" She chuckled a little as she said it.

"Yes. And I think I know why. I can help you help people."

"What? Why?" she asked.

"So you're not an angel. And you kill people. But maybe if I help you help the good people, and you only kill the bad people, it will make up for all the bad stuff you've done."

"I'm not sure what to say to that," she said.

Henry just shrugged and went back to reading. The drove on in silence for awhile, until he broke it again, this time asking, "How much farther?"

"It'll be awhile still."

Around them the landscape began to change. From the dry deserts and shrublands of Texas, the plants began to get greener and more lush. They began to see more lakes and ponds alongside the road, until eventually they were driving through the bayous of Louisiana. The trees were huge and twisted here, and covered in scraggly stuff that Regina called Spanish moss. Even inside the truck, Henry could tell it was warmer here than it had been in New Mexico.

The city itself was sprawling and colorful. Henry set aside his comic book and pressed his face against the window to watch it all pass by. Everything was a mix of old and new. There were cathedrals that had seen centuries nestled right up against gas stations and nail salons. Stone angels with crumbling faces stood on pedestals covered in spray paint graffiti.

"What're those things?" he asked as they drove by a field of small white buildings.

"Graves. The soil is too shallow to put people in the ground, so they just stick them on top here."

They drove into the central city, to a neighborhood with bright buildings and elaborate iron railings on the balconies, and pulled up in front a pink house tucked behind a high metal fence. There was a little courtyard out front with a collection of potted plants and fountain with a statue of raven in the center. Regina was the first out of the truck. She got Hank's leash and let him hop out after her. Henry hesitated, feeling suddenly nervous, though he wasn't sure why. The building looked innocuous enough.

"Coming?" Regina asked. He took a deep breath and got out of the car, following her through the courtyard and up to the front door. A thick black awning gave them some relief from the Louisiana sun at least. The door knocker was styled in the shape of a snarling dragon's head. Regina lifted her hand to use it, but the door opened before she got a chance.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

The woman who answered the door made Henry want to hide behind Regina, but he forced himself to stand still. She was tall and pale, with blonde hair that fell in perfect, neat waves around her face. She wore a black dress and a fancy black choker necklace that reminded Henry of a chandelier. Her southern accent was drawling and slow, but she said her words with precision. She looked from Regina to Henry, and when her eyes were on him, he felt like a rabbit being stared down by a fox.

"Hi, Mal," said Regina.

"Oh, I cannot wait to hear what fucking mess you have gotten yourself into this time," said the woman, Mal. Her arm was propped up against the doorframe.

"Can we come in?" Regina asked.

"Fine. Get in here," she said, lowering her arm to let them pass.

"Thanks," said Regina. She put a hand on Henry's back and gently pushed him through the door, before following after him.

Walking into the house was like stepping into a horror movie taking place in the 1800s. Thick purple curtains covered every window and the only light came from an ornate chandelier hanging over the living room. The furniture was all pink or black and looked so fancy that Henry felt nervous at the thought of even sitting on it. The floor was completely covered in layered rugs, which along with the velvet curtains, muffled all sound within the room. Hank seemed to pick up on Henry's discomfort and leaned against him.

"Want to tell me why you're here?" Mal asked. She moved gracefully, like a video Henry had once seen of a jaguar, and sat down in a winged armchair. Regina fiddled with Hank's lead for a moment.

"I just needed some advice."

"It's been a long time since you came to me for advice. I thought you were doing just fine on your own."

"I'm not exactly on my own at the moment." Regina sat on one the couches.

"Ah yes, the little snack. What's your name?"

"Henry," he said, choosing to look at his feet instead of at Mal.

"My name is Mallory St. Clair. Why don't you give Regina and me a chance to talk in private. You can wait out in the courtyard if you want. And take the dog with you."

Henry nodded, and took Hank back into the little front garden. He sat on the edge of the fountain, wishing he could know what they were talking about, but he was also glad to be out of that place. Mallory may be Regina's friend, but she was creepy. A real crow landed on top of the stone one in the fountain and cawed. It tilted its head a few times back and forth, looking at Henry, and then flew away.

"A fucking human child, Regina. What the hell were you thinking bringing him here?"

"Did you expect me to leave him in the car? It's like 100 degrees outside."

"It's barely 80. Don't exaggerate," said Mal, crossing her arms. "And just how did you end up in this situation?"

"I killed his foster parents."

"Tell me you at least got rid of the evidence?"

"Yes, just like you taught me."

"Good girl," said Mal.

"And I couldn't just leave him there alone. So I brought him with me. He's a pretty good kid, but strange."

"What do you mean?"

"He seems more aware of things than I would expect a ten year old to be," said Regina.

"Do you think he's a cryptid? He doesn't smell like one." She said it disdainfully, as if it were the worst thing in the world to smell like a human.

"I don't know, but it does make me a little curious about his birth parents."

"So what now? What the hell are you going to do with a child while you tour the country murdering people and fleeing as soon as you're done? Even I know that's a shit life for a child."

"It's better than where he came from."

"Congratulations," said Mal, with absolutely no emotion in her voice. "Well, you came for my advice, so here it is: wipe the kid's memory, dump him at a baby drop, and go on your way."

"I can't do that," said Regina, hissing a little as she said it.

"Then why the fuck did you ask for my advice? You knew what I'd tell you."

"Well, I'm keeping the kid. But I could use your help. I may have gotten a bit sloppy with a kill before I got to the foster parents. I'm worried that-"

Mal stood from her chair, cutting Regina off from what she was saying.

"What the hell did you do, Regina?" She started to pace a little, hands on her hips. Regina watched from the couch, nervously twisting her hands together.

"I was just so hungry. He thought I was a prostitute, and I let him think that. So we went to a motel and I fed on him. But I couldn't burn down the whole place, so I just burned him."

"Jesus, you know there is nothing like an unusual death to get the B.C.C. on your back. Are they after you?"

"I don't know. I don't think so," said Regina.

"Well, I'll let you stay here tonight, but you better be gone by morning."

Regina nodded. It was probably the best she could hope for.

Henry wasn't thrilled about staying the night in Mallory's creepy house, though he had to admit it was an interesting place. Regina was tired from the drive, and was napping in one of the guest rooms. Mal had given Henry one look up and down, told him not to touch anything, and then retreated upstairs. Henry walked around the house, not touching, but taking a good look at all the weird things that Mal had. Beyond the sitting room, he found a room with a harp and a piano, a dining room with a long table, and a several locked doors. There was kitchen with a bunch of old fashioned appliances that looked like they hadn't been used in a decade, if ever. Only the fridge was modern, a big black shiny thing. Henry pulled it open to find stacks and stacks of blood bags, the kind that hospitals used. He shut the fridge quietly and continued his exploration, coming across a door in the back of the house that opened into a bright glass greenhouse. It was hot and humid inside, but he liked it more than the dark and silent rooms of the house.

Henry stopped and sniffed some little white flowers that looked like Queen Anne's lace. There were also some pretty purple flowers, a dark purple tomato-shaped fruit, and green and red plant that looked like a vase with a leaf for a lid. He didn't figure Mallory for much of a gardener, but she must have quite the green thumb to keep this place looking so beautiful. Hank whined a little from the doorway, refusing to step fully into the greenhouse. Henry sighed, but returned to the house. They went back to one of the houses long hallways, where Henry took a tennis ball out of his pocket to throw. Hank bounded down the hallway, his long ears flopping behind him and grabbed the ball. He chewed it a bit, giving the whole thing a nice layer of saliva before bringing it back to Henry.

"Gross." Henry took the dripping ball and threw it, harder this time. It flew down the hallway, bouncing once and then ricocheting off the wall and through an open doorway.

That was strange.

Henry could have sworn that had been one of the locked doors last time he had checked. He walked over to it and looked at a stone staircase leading down into a dimly lit basement. Henry couldn't see the ball from where he stood, so he slowly stepped down onto the first step. Hank whined again from behind him, but Henry continued downward, stepping carefully as if he feared the steps would crumble beneath him. He reached the bottom, finding himself in a hallway lined with shelves of wine and old barrels. There was a heavy wooden door at the end of it and there was some light streaming through the cracks. Henry spotted the green ball where it had rolled under one of the shelves and went to bend down and grab it. As he kneeled down, he heard a noise from behind the door, what sounded like a soft voice.

Henry debated with himself for a moment, but then curiosity won him over and he walked over to the door and pressed his ear against it. He could hear the voice, a little louder than before, but he still couldn't quite make out what it was saying. He turned the knob and pushed it open as quietly as he could.

On the other side of the door was a small room with the same low ceiling as the hallway. The walls were decorated with paintings and old photographs of the same woman. She had reddish brown hair and a pretty heart-shaped face. Her eyes were dark and had a playful look, even in the old black and white photos from the days when no one used to smile. Henry could tell she was kind right away. His attention could not remain on the wall art, however, as there was something far more interesting happening in the center of the room. Mallory was standing with her back to him, leaning down over an open coffin. She was whispering quietly to whatever was inside. Henry moved forward, when she suddenly snapped upright.

"God, I can hear your little heart beating. What the hell are doing down here? I told you not to touch anything," she said. She didn't turn around.

"I'm sorry. I was playing with Hank and our ball rolled down the stairs." Henry, perhaps against his better judgement, walked closer to her, close enough that he could make out what was in the coffin.

He gasped when he saw it. The figure inside was burned so badly that it was barely recognizable. The skin was a charred wreckage, the hair and eyes were gone, and so much of the cheek had burned away that he could see the teeth.

"Would you get out of here?" Mal asked. Her voice sounded strange. Strained, almost.

"Is that the lady in the pictures?" he asked going to stand beside Mal. He looked up at her to see her eyes were a little red and puffy. Mal rubbed at one of them and took a deep breath. She nodded.

"What happened to her?"

Mal's shoulders slumped a little. "We're not like Regina. We can't walk in the sunlight like she can. If we try, it burns us up. But Rose got caught in the sunrise one day and by the time I found her, she was like this. I pulled her inside, but I didn't get to her soon enough. She was moments away from dying, so we froze her, Regina and I. We just froze her in place, unable to die, unable to heal, just asleep. She doesn't feel any pain."

"Will she ever get better?"

"I'm trying, but…" Mal trailed off. Henry stood by her in silence and then reached out and took her hand. She tensed, as if she were going to yank her hand away from him, but she didn't.

"Go on upstairs. I need another minute with her alone," she said.

Henry nodded and left her with the coffin, only stopping a moment to grab Hank's ball before running back up the stairs.

Mallory didn't come out to say goodbye when they left early the next morning. Regina said that was just her way, that she didn't care much for sentiment. Henry didn't believe that. If keeping your injured girlfriend in a velvet coffin until you could heal her wasn't sentimental, he didn't know what was.

"I wish there was something we could do to help her and the burnt lady," Henry said, once they were back in the truck.

"You met Rose?" Regina sounded truly surprised as she said it.

"Yep."

"We haven't found anything yet. They are incredibly strong vampires, but incredibly fragile. I don't know if she'll ever recover, but Mallory still has hope. You would have liked Rose. Mal was always more mellow and happier when she was around." Regina got a far off sort of look on her face. Henry knew just by looking at the photographs that he would have liked Rose, and he wished there was a way to bring her back. Maybe someday he'd find a magic spell or something.

"What are we going to do now?" he asked.

"We're going to go to a place that Mal told me about, a sort of haven for the strange and mythological beings. It's up North, in Maine. Seems like a good place to lay low for awhile."

"What's it called?"

Regina pulled out a note from her pocket and read off it, "Storybrooke County."

A/N: No Emma this chapter, but she'll be back soon.

Maleficent (with a healthy dose of Pam De Beaufort) gets to make her grand entrance. Slightly different take on the whole sleeping beauty story, but I hope you liked it.

Also, if you were wondering, the comic Henry is reading is Saga and the plants in Mallory's garden were hemlock, deadly nightshade, and a carnivorous pitcher plant.