“She was poison in a pretty bottle.”

“After moral poisoning, one requires physical remedies and a bottle of champagne.”

“Briarwood is the pretty poison. There is no cure for Briarwood.”

“If you drink much from a bottle marked 'poison' it is certain to disagree with you sooner or later.”

“Pretty,” said Cree. “It was very pretty.” She giggled as she stroked her green nails over her cheeks and smiled at Riley. “I suppose I let the poison go too long. I killed my parents and my younger brother and the cat. I do miss the cat.”

“She unscrews the cap, sniffs it, and then shrugs, dumping the entire contents into the bubbling brew. “It could be marjoram, but it might be mushrooms. I had a bottle of poisonous, green ones I dried out last winter on the solstice. Oh well.”Leaning out over the cauldron, she stirs thrice counterclockwise, using the wooden spoon with a handle about as tall as she is. Then she scoops a bit and brings it to her mouth for a taste.“No!” Jason and I scream at the same time.She blinks at us. “What?”“You just put something that may be poisonous in there,” I say.”