Chapter 86: Codename: Aconite Chapter Thirty-Six

Thanks to me accidentally killing Haruspex in France, Silas and I have reached a dead end in our pursuit of Sathariel. Silas spends every waking minute obsessing over how to find him, while I have found alternate ways of occupying my time. I’ve been spending my days in my greenhouse working on my latest concoction. I began working on this particular cocktail a year ago, and after months of painstaking effort, I am finally on the brink of perfecting it.

There are an infinite amount of uses for most plants in the world. Even the most deadly ones can be used to create life-changing medicines. The trick is to find the balance. Killing someone isn’t hard, but mastering the use of poison is truly an art form. With my combined degrees in biology – with a strong focus on botany – and chemistry, not only am I capable of controlling how people die, but the rate at which they die and in some cases I can even dictate the symptoms.

Biochemistry is like a scientific orchestra, and I am the conductor. If a single instrument is out of tune or a performer is off rhythm the entire symphony is destroyed. It’s a delicate balancing act, and each time I perfect another symphony I feel high for weeks. Maybe one day I’ll submit some of my discoveries to a scientific journal under an anonymous name. Through my experiments, I’m able to do so much more than just kill people. By manipulating the right compounds of specific plants, I can virtually create any symptoms I want. The medicinal uses for such discoveries are limitless and could go towards saving more lives than I take.

I dip my pipette into the test tube, suck up a small amount of liquid, and place a drop onto a clear slide. I carefully place another slide on top and lift the slide onto the mechanical stage of my microscope. I lift my protective goggles onto my head, look through the ocular lens and quickly make an adjustment to the objective lens. A smile splits across my face as I watch the chemical compounds on the slide doing a beautiful dance that I’ve been hoping to see for a year. I did it! I finally did it! I’m not sure what the medicinal benefits of a cocktail like this could be, but who cares? I’m a genius!

I’m pulled from my excitement when I hear the door to my greenhouse open, I look behind me to see Silas stepping inside, waving his in front of him as if to move the humidity out of his path.

“Futu-ti Dumnezeii matii!” Silas exclaims, attempting to fan his body with his tight-fitted t-shirt, but the fabric is determined to remain clung to his body.

“Romanian has some of the most colourful and disturbing curse words of any language I know,” I say in bewilderment.

“What can I say? Moldovans are a colourful people,” he says nonchalantly, walking down the stone path as he looks over the many plants flanking him. “Is this where Aconite acquires her poisons?”

“Yes, it is. I suggest you don’t touch anything. Most of these plants are highly toxic to the touch, and I’m guessing your body is still recovering from your last poison experience,” I smirk, turning back to my slide.

As I make notes in my journal, Silas comes up beside me, peering at the lab equipment on my workstation. “What are you working on?”

“It’s a cocktail I’ve been working on for the past year. I’ve finally got it where I want it,” I say brightly.

He smiles down at me, his emerald eyes twinkling as the midday sun streams into the greenhouse. “You really love this stuff, don’t you?”

I nod cheerfully as he pulls up a chair, making himself comfortable. “How’d you know where I was?”

“Saw the door that leads to the stairs open. Got curious and decided to explore and found your secret greenhouse,” he says conspiratorially.

“It’s only a secret from my neighbours.”

He lifts up my journal and flips through the pages, turning the book this way and that with a look of confusion as he struggles to translate all the formulas written on each page.

“I’m good with a lot of languages, but this one is beyond my skills,” he says, putting the journal back down on the exact page as when he picked it up. I appreciate him showing respect for my work.

“Feels effortless to me,” I shrug. I take a tray of test tubes, carefully place them in my laboratory refrigerator, and seal the door shut. I walk back over to my desk and start working on my next slide.

“Why plants and poisons?” he asks curiously, glancing around at my greenhouse.

“I love the complexity of it. There’s this… poetic symbology to plants and the world we live in. The deadliest plants in this room are the ones with the most beautiful flowers. They’re incredibly deceptive, and yet at the same time, every plant capable of hurting you is also capable of healing you under the right circumstances. People and plants have a lot more in common than you think. We judge people and plants based on an aesthetic, knowing very little of what lies beneath, and we usually don’t know which ones are deadly until it’s too late.”

He blinks, staring at me in total adoration. “You’re a real-life Poison Ivy, even down to the biochemistry.”

“She always was my favourite comic book character,” I grin up at him.

“So, how does a woman who graduated top of her class at the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki, who is incredibly advanced in the field of biochemistry, go on to be one of the most reputable assassins in the world?” he asks curiously.

“Those dossiers sure were thorough,” I say with displeasure. I face him, removing the goggles from my head and leaning against my desk. “Honestly? Tradition. All the women in my family have been assassins for going on five generations now.”

He stares at me in disbelief. “Bullshit.”

I chuckle, shaking my head, “I’m serious. Remember the ring you complimented on our ‘date’,” I say, using air quotes for emphasis.

He smirks. “I remember it. I also remember how stunning you looked. I wrestled with myself all evening, torn between wanting to fuck you and needing to kill you.”

I smile at him, “Trust me, I was having the same internal war as you.”

“Good to know,” he smirks. “Now what about this ring?”

“It belonged to my Great, Great Grandmother, Besina Vespasiano. It’s a poison ring, which she used to kill her abusive father and create our family legacy.”

“So that’s why you wore it,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You planned to poison me during dinner.”

“Of course, but you were stingy and refused to share your glass with your date,” I say with mock disapproval.

“Thank fuck I didn’t, or I’d be dead right now. I know better than to let my food or drink out of my sight.”

“Smart man,” I grin in amusement.

“I can’t believe you come from a family of assassins,” he says in disbelief.

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, I’m just stunned because so do I,” he says proudly.

My jaw drops in surprise. “Get out of here, are you for real?”

“I’m the fourth generation on my father’s side,” he says with proud glee. “My mother is an assassin too, but she didn’t get into the business until after she married my father.”

“What the fuck are the chances? What are your parents names? Maybe I’ve heard of them,” I say, eagerly pulling up another seat.

“Well, my mother goes by the codename Ajna and my father goes by the codename Akephaloi.”

I shove him in astonishment, “Shut up! Your father is Akephaloi?!”