Five
Dash runs into his house to fetch the anti-nausea tonic, leaving me alone with his guardian colleague who makes it clear with her long sighs and deep frowns that she’s annoyed by this waste of time. The hole she opened in the ground closes up, and she stands there with her arms folded over her chest, staring past me.
Fortunately, Dash doesn’t take long to return. He hands me a small bottle made of brown glass. It’s suspiciously similar to the bottles Chelsea packages her herbal remedies in. I remove the lid and sniff the contents. “Jeez, Em, it isn’t poisonous,” Dash says. “Just drink it.”
I’m feeling horrible enough that I’m willing to risk the possibility of Dash playing a trick on me, so I tip the little bottle back over my mouth. The liquid doesn’t taste like anything, but I in
