“What do you mean, you think it ate your roommate?” Liza’s toast hovered in midair. A blob of blackberry jam oozed off the corner and plopped onto the table.
“I thought it was just a plant,” Mikhail muttered. He broke his blueberry muffin into sections, then crumbs.
“And?” Liza was impatient at the best of times.
“It’s not just a plant.” He smushed the crumbs into a sticky patty and decided he wasn’t hungry. “I mean, it’s a plant wall that takes up half the room, so I thought it was more than one plant.”
“You’re earth,” Cleo said. “How did you not know?”
He squished a blueberry against the wrapper and squirmed. “I haven’t had herblore and botany yet. Or poisons, or any of those. I didn’t grow up around this stuff like you all did.”
“That’s true,” Liza mumbled around the entire slice of toast. Her jam-smeared face was sympathetic. “We shouldn’t have expected you to know the magical world’s dangers. But we’d better help you learn fast.”
Cleo tipped her head sideways in silent agreement.
“I…you really didn’t notice your roommate’s been missing for three days?” Oren’s dark brows furrowed as he leaned toward the others, his bulk casting a shadow over the hard boiled eggs. The bowl of three dozen vanished into the gaping paw he called a hand.
“You sound like Professor Kelvin,” Cleo remarked.
Mikhail shrugged and silently agreed with her, remembering the interrogation from the good professor half an hour prior. “I’m an only child. I’ve never had a roommate before. Strath and I don’t share classes, so I just thought he was getting up early.”
Liza pointed another slice of toast at him. “Aha!” Her thumb slipped on strawberry jam and she hastily secured her food. “Something happened. Spill it.”
He looked at the ceiling and tried not to look glum, since he already probably sounded like an idiot. “It seemed fine. Until his plants started spelling out messages.”
“Messages from Strath?” Cleo’s cool analytic interest caught his attention. “Is that why you think it ate him?”
“No…” He felt the blood drain from his face all over again. “It spelled ‘you’re next’ in miniature chrysanthemum blossoms.”
***
Whoops, way to bury the lead dude. 😀