“And this is what you’re going to give him?” Wallace asked, watching as Hugo pulled a twisted leaf from the jar. The earthy scent was pungent, causing Wallace to sneeze.
“I think so,” Hugo said. “It’s unusual. I’ve never had someone take this tea before.” He stared at the leaf before shaking his head. “Probably nothing. Watch.”
Wallace stood next to him as Hugo poured hot water into the same set of teacups he’d used when Mei brought Wallace the first night. Steam billowed up as he set the teapot down. He held the leaf between two fingers as he lowered it gently into the water. Once it was submerged, the leaf unfurled like a blooming flower. The water began to darken to an odd shade of brown even as the leaf lightened in color to an off-green.
“What do you smell?” Hugo asked.
Wallace leaned forward and inhaled the steam. It clogged his nostrils, and he wiggled his nose as he pulled back. “Grass?”
Hugo nodded, obviously pleased. “Exactly. Underneath the bitterness, it has an herbal note with an aftertaste that’s like lingering honey. You have to get through the bitter to find it, though.”
Wallace sighed. “One of those things where you say one thing but mean something else.”
Hugo smiled. “Or it’s just tea. Doesn’t need to mean something when it’s already so complex. Try it. I think you might be surprised. It probably needs to steep longer, but it’ll give you a good idea.”
He thought back to the proverb hanging in the tea shop. Hugo must have been thinking the same thing as he handed Wallace the cup and said, “It’s your second.”
Honored guest.
Wallace swallowed thickly as he took the cup from Hugo. It wasn’t lost on him that this was the closest they could ever get to touching. He felt Hugo’s gaze on him as they both held the cup longer than was necessary. Eventually, Hugo dropped his hand.
The water was still clear, though the brown tinge had given way to a green closer to the color of the leaf. He brought it to his lips and sipped.
He gagged, the tea sliding down his throat and blooming hotly in his stomach. It was bitter, yes, and then the grass hit and it tasted like he’d eaten half a lawn. The honey afternote was there, but the sweetness was lost by the fact that Wallace hated everything about it. “Holy crap,” he said, wiping his mouth as Hugo took the teacup back. “That’s terrible. Who the hell would drink that willingly?”
He watched as Hugo brought the cup to his own lips. He grimaced as his throat worked. “Yeah,” he said, pulling the cup away. “Just because I love tea doesn’t mean I love every kind of tea.” He smacked his lips. “Ah. There’s the honey. Almost worth it.”
“Have you ever been wrong picking out a tea?”
“For people who come in here alive? Yes.”
“But not the dead.”
“Not the dead,” Hugo agreed.
“That’s … remarkable. Bizarre, but remarkable.”
“Was that another compliment, Wallace?”
“Uh, sure?” Wallace said, suddenly uncomfortable. He was standing closer to Hugo than he realized. He cleared his throat as he took a step back. “Man, that taste doesn’t leave.”
Hugo chuckled. “Sticks with you. I liked yours much better.”
That shouldn’t have made Wallace as happy as it did. “Was that a compliment, Hugo?”
“It was,” Hugo said simply.
Wallace took those two words and held them close, the bitterness he felt no match against the sweet of the aftertaste.
Hugo pulled out more leaves from the jar, setting them on a small plate next to the teapot and cups. “There. How does it look?”
“Like you went outside and picked up the first thing you found on the ground.”
“Perfect,” Hugo said cheerfully. “That means we—”
At the front of the shop, the clock stuttered loudly and then stopped, the second hand twitching.
“They’re here,” Hugo said.
Wallace wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. “Should I just…” He waved his hand in explanation.
“You can come out with me if you’d like,” Hugo said, picking up the tray. “Though, I ask that you let me handle him or any questions he may have. If he talks to you, you can respond, but do so evenly and calmly. We don’t want him to be any more agitated than he already might be.”
“You’re worried,” Wallace said. He didn’t know how he’d missed the tightness around Hugo’s eyes, the way his hands gripped the tray. “Why?”
Hugo hesitated. Then, “Death isn’t always swift. I know you don’t think so, but you were lucky. It’s not like that for everyone. Sometimes, it’s violent and shocking, and it follows you. Some are devastated, some are furious, and some … some let it become all they know. We get people like that more than you’d think, if you can believe that.”
He could. He thought he knew what Hugo was implying, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. The world could be beautiful—and it showed on the walls of the tea shop with the pyramids and castles and waterfalls that seemed to drop from the greatest heights—but it was also brutal and dark.
Hugo looked toward the kitchen doors. “They’re coming up the road. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” Wallace said immediately, and he had to fight the urge to block Hugo from leaving the kitchen. He didn’t know what was coming, but he didn’t like the sound of it.
“Good,” Hugo said. “Watch. Listen. I’m counting on you, Wallace.”
He walked through the doors, leaving Wallace to stare after him.
CHAPTER
14
Wallace paused in the doorway, frowning. The lights were on as normal, but they seemed … dimmer, as if the bulbs had been changed. Apollo whined, ears drooping as Nelson rubbed his head soothingly. “It’s okay,” Nelson said quietly. “It’ll be all right.”
Hugo had set the tea on one of the high-top tables, though it wasn’t the same one he’d used for Wallace’s arrival. Wallace went over to Nelson and Apollo, leaving Hugo to stand next to the table, hands clasped behind him.
He was different, now, even just standing there. It was subtle, and if Wallace hadn’t been watching Hugo since he arrived, he might not have noticed it. But he had, and he catalogued all the little changes. It was in the set of Hugo’s shoulders, the way his expression was carefully blank, though not disinterested. Wallace thought back to his own arrival, wondering if this was how Hugo had been then.
He tore his gaze away, looking around the room, trying to focus on something, anything, that would distract him. “What’s wrong with the lights?” he asked Nelson. He glanced at the door. “Did you turn them down?”
Nelson shook his head. “This is going to be a rough one.”
Wallace didn’t like the sound of that. “Rough?”
“Most people don’t want to be dead,” Nelson muttered, running a finger along Apollo’s snout. “But they learn how to accept it. Sometimes it comes with time, like you. But there are some who refuse to even consider it. ‘These violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die, like fire and powder.’”