by Debra Dunbar
Yeah. I left the vine and headed further into the field to check on the case of Phomopsis I’d healed yesterday. Rounding the end of the row, I came to an abrupt stop and stared with horror at the mess before me.
The vines that were the picture of health when I’d seen them last were now black and rotted, the leaves slimy and decayed. If that wasn’t bad enough, the canes had been ripped from the ground and crushed as if someone had driven back and forth over them with a cement roller.
What had happened? I glanced around to see if anyone was watching then bent down to touch the stems, nearly vomiting from the foul sensation. Had this been one of the plague demons, pissed off at DiMarche for some reason and determined to see them fail. Or…I looked around once more…was it an elf? Had Hallwyn come to check on the plant, sensed that someone had used magical means to fix it, and reversed the process with a vengeance? She needed job security to stay here and off Elf Island. A rival healer might take her job.
The plant wasn’t just sick. The healing hadn’t just been reversed. Whoever had done this had been pissed. And if they demonstrated this much rage on a grapevine, then what would they do if they discovered I’d been the one who had healed it?
I scurried over to where I’d been assigned to prune and tie for the day. If Hallwyn really was that much of a bitch that she couldn’t deal with a mystery person anonymously healing the vines, then fuck her. And if Richard or one of the executives at DiMarche had screwed over a pair of plague demons, then fuck them. I hated the thought that these plants were going to suffer, though. Maybe if I just went behind Hallwyn and healed what she’d attempted to, I could fly under the radar.
Or maybe I should mind my own business, learn all I could at DiMarche, then head for New Orleans at the end of the summer.
This internship wasn’t exactly as I’d expected. I didn’t seriously think I’d be coming to a well-known, high-volume operation and jump into their management team, or have a significant role, but I did have visions that I’d be doing more than manual labor for the month. It sounded horribly snobby, but I had a botany degree and although I liked my co-workers, none of them had college degrees. Most of them had backgrounds in landscaping, and a few had worked commercial farms. I’d learned everything I needed to about pruning and tying and record keeping in the field. Maybe I’d soon be moved to the winery to shadow those doing production, or work with the distributors, or learn the role of their chemist, then I could forget all about these poor vines.
Determined not to be the crazy overachiever, I actually took my lunch break today. All the field employees took lunch at the same time, giving us an opportunity to get out of the worst of the midday heat. Tromping back through the fields to get my cooler and join the others, I gave Rosa a wave and jogged to catch up with her.
“Trade ya lunch?” I teased her.
She shot me a narrowed glance. “Right. Like I’m going to trade my cazuela for a bologna sandwich on white bread.”
“I’ve got lemon cookies.”
For some reason Rosa couldn’t resist cookies. The more mass-produced, the better. She wouldn’t be caught dead buying a box of them at the grocery store, so I acted as her supplier.
“An empanada for two lemon cookies,” she proposed.
“Chicken? Or cheese?”
“Pork.”
Yum. I’d never had her pork empanadas before. I wondered what kind of spices she was using. “Deal.”
Rosa smiled smugly. “Not a word, right?”
I’d keep her Keebler cravings a secret. “I’ll slide them to you when no one’s looking. Maybe even wrap them in brown paper.” Like sex toys or a porno mag.
She nodded. “So what do you think of this elf woman? You know more about plants and their diseases than anyone I’ve met. Do you think this magic stuff of hers is really going to work, or did Richard just blow a ton of money on a pointy-eared figurehead?”
I decided to walk a political middle line on this one. “Even if the magic doesn’t work, the elf-employee is going to be a status symbol. Richard can always slap her on the ads next to Matthieu.”
Rosa laughed. “Right now they’re exotic and strange, but that won’t last if they don’t prove their worth or pull their weight. The corporate world runs on profit and loss and shareholder return. A pointy-eared blonde isn’t going to be worth squat if all she can do is smile for a couple of ads. And I’m not even sure she can smile.”
I wasn’t sure she could smile either. We rounded the tool shed and saw the others already sitting in a shady spot, opening their lunch boxes and coolers. Some had little folding chairs that they kept next to the shed for breaks, others just sat in the dirt. Shockingly, off on her own sitting in a golf cart next to the Gator was Hallwyn. I mean, of course she had to eat. I just expected that maybe she’d be up at the winery eating with the management, not down here in the trenches with us peons.
“Manny said the vine with black measles did look better after she magic-handsed it,” I told Rosa as we scoped out a spot where we could lean our backs against the shed. “So maybe she’ll be of more use than a publicity stunt.”
“As long as she’s not so good that we’re out of a job. I’m all for a healthy vineyard and all that, but if she starts magically tying and trimming, I’m gonna shank her.”
Rosa looked around, then slid me a brown paper bag. Inside were empanadas. With my mouth watering, I took one out and handed the bag back. With the same care to secrecy, I slid her a plastic bag with two lemon cookies inside. She crammed one in her mouth, quickly hiding the other as Manny approached.
“Did you notice? We have been graced with the presence of royalty.” He jerked his head toward Hallwyn who was sitting primly in the golf cart, frowning at a strawberry.
“She ate inside yesterday with Matthieu,” Rosa told him. “Guess he either scored or she was so icy-cold that he gave up.”
I winced. Matthieu was notorious for offering a private tour of the cellars to any attractive female employee. And in this case, “tour” was a code word for a quick fuck against the wine racks. There wasn’t usually a second invitation, so anyone who took the tour pretty much knew this was a hit-it-and-quit-it encounter. Not that anyone had a problem with that, but the thought of Matthieu trying to get into Ms. Genetic Purity’s pants was disturbing.
“Maybe she’s just too busy to go all the way back to the winery for lunch,” I said. “She’s probably swamped running back and forth across a thousand acres, trying to diagnose at least twenty different diseases and heal damage.”
Manny snorted. “Henry said she made the powdery mildew in field twelve worse. He finally made up some mite infestation to get her out of the way so he could spray. I saw you detour down row six, Amber. What do you think about that black measles case?”
Crap. “Looks better.”
Rosa shrugged. “I guess she’s on the level then. Either the powdery mildew is gone by tomorrow, or her skills are disease specific.”
Or she’s a fraud. I looked over at the elf. Hallwyn was picking at a piece of bread, and for a second I felt sorry for her. She looked so wooden, so numb sitting there alone with her lunch. But she was an arrogant jerk who was supposed to be an expert. It’s not like she’d been friendly or tried to be civil to any of us. She’d insulted me, insulted the others, acted as if she were better than any of us here, better than any human. What did I care if she was eating all by herself?
Chapter 10
The heat was so bad that everyone was soaked in sweat at quitting time. Jorge was late getting to the field, so I offered to collect everyone’s clipboards and wait for him while they all headed back to their air-conditioned trailers and homes. Once my co-workers were gone, I read through everyone’s notes, writing down what problems were in which field and row, and the plants infected.
I know. I couldn’t help myself. In spite of chanting “It’s not my problem” all day, I still felt very much like it was my problem. I’d just make note of all this to help Jorge. Yeah. Or
I’d use the list to check up on Hallwyn and make sure she was doing what she was hired to do.
Or I’d sneak out and heal things on the sly, a tiny bit at a time and hope that whoever was infecting the vineyard didn’t notice. And that Hallwyn didn’t notice. Nobody notice the half-elf sneaking around after work doing her weird laying-on-of-hands.
After I’d compiled everything, I looked at the paper with the tightly written lines both front and back. This was bad. Even if Hallwyn had the skills she was supposed to have I doubt she could have turned this vineyard around in time to save the harvest. No wonder Jorge was looking stressed lately.
“Those for me?”
I looked up and saw Jorge with his hand outstretched. I hadn’t even heard him drive up.
“Yeah.” I handed him the stack of clipboards. He took a look at the list I’d been compiling.
“What happened to that vine in field eight?” he asked. “The one with the Phomopsis?”
How to explain this one? “It looked like vandals. It was yanked out and squashed.”
He sighed. “At least they didn’t destroy one of the healthy vines. I’ll need to talk to Richard about putting in some additional security cameras.” He read down the list and shook his head. “This is bad. If we can’t turn this around, we’re going to go under. Maybe not this year, but soon. With all these diseased plants, I’m worried the only solution will be to uproot them all, treat the ground and leave it fallow for at least a season, then replant.”
“That would mean four to five years before you get a decent yield.” I frowned, knowing he was right about his prediction. During that time DiMarche would need to buy grapes and/or extract. They’d be at the mercy of what was available in the market. It’s not like they were a boutique winery, but they were at the high end of the middle, mass-produced market. It would be difficult to maintain their brand without their own vineyard supplying at least some of their grapes, and they wouldn’t be able to produce any wines with the estate label.
He looked down at the clipboards again. “Hallwyn seems to be helping, but not enough. There’s just too much for her to handle, I think. We called her in too late, and she just can’t get ahead of it all. Maybe Richard can get a team of elves in here for a one-time contract job, then Hallwyn can maintain the vines afterward.”
Hallwyn couldn’t do shit. Although I couldn’t get ahead of it all either. The last time I’d been able to heal plants on this scale had been the pineapple farm in Maui, and for that I had a goddess feeding me energy through Irix. Pele wasn’t here, and even if she was I didn’t think she’d be willing to help in this circumstance. Or maybe she would. She did seem to have a thing for Irix, and might be willing to assist in return for another sexual encounter.
But there was no Pele coming to the rescue of this vineyard. There wasn’t even a full elf coming to the rescue of this vineyard. All they had was me, and I could only do so much.
“Who did you get Hallwyn through? Maybe they can get some elves here for a one-time job.” Although if they were all like Hallwyn that would be a colossal waste of money.
“Magical Interventions. Sounds hokey, I know. A guy came around a few months ago dropping off cards. We were still getting used to the idea that there were such things as elves and angels. It seemed a bit of a stretch to imagine actually hiring one, but when Santor Winery brought one on, then Boone Valley, Richard started considering it. And when these infestations kept getting worse no matter how much we sprayed or dusted, he figured we had nothing to lose at this point. Well, beyond money. The placement fee was exorbitant, and she’s paid more than most of the management here.”
I frowned. It sounded like a scam to me. Although, elves were supposed to be skilled in these sorts of things. Maybe DiMarche had just gotten the one lousy elf. It made me wonder if Santor and Boone were having any better luck than we were.
Jorge patted me on the shoulder. “Go home. Manny said your boyfriend is in town. Relax. Enjoy the evening, and we’ll continue to fight the good fight tomorrow.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Manny had seen me with Harkel and not Irix. Great. I was going to have such a reputation as a ho by the time this internship was over.
Watching Jorge leave I made a decision. Taking one more look at the huge list of infected plants, I texted Irix that I’d be late tonight, then headed out to the fields.
Starting with the nearest field, I went down my list row by row and began to heal the plants. Two rows down I decided that I needed to change my plan of attack. It would be easier for me to keep track of the infected plants if I could clear each row and field before moving on to the next, but some infestations were less energy-consuming than others. If I kept on like this, I’d be worn out before I could finish half of this field.
Looking through my list I dug a pen out of my pocket and began to circle the plants that would be easiest to heal. My business classes called it the “low-hanging fruit” method. I’d take care of as much of these easier cases as I could tonight, then continue to work on the tougher ones in succession. Of course that meant I’d need to get more energy. How I was going to balance the day job, this second healing-the-vines job, then find the time to score sexual partners and maybe actually eat and sleep was beyond me. Somehow I’d make it work.
It wasn’t going to work. Jorge was right, we needed an army of elves, not one half-elf and a completely useless full elf. After healing two dozen plants, I realized that I just couldn’t do any more and be able to walk out of here under my own steam. Plus Irix would be furious if I pushed myself so hard that I could barely manage to hunt. I was done. Time to go back to my trailer, throw down a quick meal, then see who in one of the neighboring towns would be up for a quick fuck.
I came to an abrupt stop just as I was about to round the next row. I wasn’t the only one in the fields after hours. Hallwyn was standing in front of one of the vines, muttering under her breath in what sounded like Elvish. She reached out to touch the leaf, a warm glow around her hands. Then she pulled back and spoke something that sounded suspiciously like a curse.
I took a step back to leave, but her super-duper elf hearing must have caught the sound of my foot on the soft ground because she spun around, green eyes huge in her pale face.
“What are you doing here?” she snapped, the look of panic quickly replaced by a haughty expression.
I held up my sheet of paper. “Working. How about you?”
She straightened and lifted her chin. “This vineyard is a mess of disease. I am eradicating the black measles on this plant.”
I walked closer. “Um, that vine has bunch rot. Botrytis bunch rot, to be exact.”
“Yes. I see that. But it also has black measles.” She turned her back on me dismissively.
“No, it doesn’t. Bunch rot and a minor cutworm infestation, no doubt spreading from the plants further down the row, but there is no sign of black measles.”
“That’s because I cured the black measles and healed all of the infected areas. I’m about to work on the other diseases. So if you’ll excuse me…”
I was smelling some serious bullshit here. And I really wanted to box this woman into a corner. “Oh, please proceed. I’m eager to see an elf work their magic.” I held my sheet of paper in front of me and stood respectfully, staring at the plant.
She turned to glare at me for a few seconds, then also looked at the plant, reaching out to touch a leaf. Again her hand glowed golden, but when she pulled her fingers away, there was no noticeable change to the vine.
“This branch rot often takes several healing sessions, and most likely won’t show an improvement until tomorrow morning.”
I nodded. “Bunch rot. And what about the cutworms?”
“They too will be gone. There is much to do here, and I only have the strength to do a few plants at a time.”
She did look tired. Actually she looked defeated, but still she straightened her shoulders and attempted to push past me.
“You�
�re a fraud.”
She froze at my words. I shouldn’t care. I should just let her run around pretending to help with her glowy-hands crap, but there was something seriously wrong at this vineyard. All this disease and infestation at one time, some of them only occurring with completely different environmental conditions. It wasn’t natural. In fact, I was pretty sure it was supernatural. Maybe it was those pestilence demons causing this veritable plague. Maybe it was a sorcerer, or another elf, or a rogue angel who was working this as a racket to get elves employed and take a cut. Maybe it was a rival vineyard paying a demon or magic user to take out the competition. I had no idea who or what, but something stank here at DiMarche and it was going to drive me crazy until I figured it out.
And this elf prancing around in her fancy shoes wasn’t helping at all. Did she not care? If she was in over her head, she needed to fess up and ask for help. Maybe Richard could hire another elf. Or a different elf.
Or maybe I could help her, if I wasn’t afraid that she’d kill me.
“I should execute you for such slander.” Her voice was low with a tremble that could have been rage or fear. “You should die for your insolence, but things here are not as they were in Hel and I am forbidden to harm a human. Instead I will tell you to keep your false accusations to yourself before I alert the management.”
“You’re a fraud,” I repeated. “You don’t know anything about grapevines, or their diseases, or the pests that damage them. The pesticides do a better job than you. You can’t even manage to heal plants, let alone eradicate the infestations. Was your family truly gardeners to the Wythyn royalty, or were they just in charge of the floral arrangements in the ballroom?”
I felt the slap across my cheek before I even saw her move. So much for harming a human. Although in all honesty, I wasn’t a human.
Hallwyn stomped out of the field, while I stared after her in shock. She hit me. An elf slapped me. I put a hand up to my stinging cheek and wondered what the heck I was going to do about it.