Read Online Malevolent (The Puzzle Box Series Book 1) by K.M. Carroll - Free Book Online
Authors: K.M. Carroll
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housing." But the stench of the poison made my bruised stomach roll, and fear made my movements slow and clumsy.
I retrieved a fresh box from a stack of extras, and transferred the frames to them, queen first. They clung to their home, trusting me to save them.
Every beat of my heart was fresh pain, and not from the fight. My bees, my friends, were dying. Already their bodies littered the pavement: crawling, kicking, suffering. I threw the poisoned boxes into the orchard and spread clean earth over the toxic spots on the cement.
Mr. Stockton drove up in a golf cart. He regarded my actions, then climbed out. "What's wrong?"
"A vandal with Raid. Call the other beekeepers. They must move their bees before it's too late."
Mr. Stockton blanched--he had paid thousands of dollars for these bees, and without them, he had no almond crop. He retrieved his mobile phone and began making calls.
The other beekeepers converged on the area, and we worked long past sundown. We replaced half the hives, and we removed the new hives from the affected area. They all noticed the damage to my face, and asked me who the vandal had been. I only replied that I had driven him off, and that he now looked worse than I did.
Clouds rolled in from the ocean, laden with water. They poured their contents into the valley and onto the surrounding mountains, and helped to rinse away the poison.
The other men sought their warm beds, but I remained out in the wet and darkness until my bees were settled in their new hives.
My damaged body had begun to stiffen. Pain nagged at my joints. I limped back to my camper and climbed inside. There I opened a container of salve I had made from the wax of my bees, and dabbed it on my injuries. As it touched my skin, the life motes stored in it blazed to life, turning the salve a glowing gold. The death motes within me drew the life inside, repairing and healing me. It was a delicate balance--life and death, sickness and health, furious energy and quiet serenity.
I pleaded with God for two hours to spare my bees. Another prayer lingered beneath this one that I dared not utter.
Please spare Libby .
Chapter 5
Libby
Despite the pouring rain, I ventured out the next morning to find Mal.
It seemed like I walked miles out to the garage to get the golf cart. I wore a coat, and over that a raincoat, and the cold still ate into my vitals. Yesterday's energy was a half-remembered dream. Had I really walked all the way out to the bee station, and then the blueberry field, where I had dumped Robert? The thought of attempting all that now made me want to crawl back in bed. I had forgotten my knife, too, and couldn't bear going back for it.
I left Suki at home, and drove through the dripping, muddy orchard to the bee station. It was a gray, rainy day, just cold enough for a veil of mist to hug the horizon. A good day to stay indoors with a cup of hot tea and a book. Maybe after this visit, that's what I'd do. All I needed was a little honey.
Mal was the only beekeeper to brave the weather that day. His scarecrow frame was draped in a brownish raincoat, and he wore rubber boots. He scrubbed at the pavement with a push broom, flinging chunks of muddy water off the concrete slab. As I pulled up, he stopped and regarded me from under his dripping hood.
I sat with both hands on the steering wheel and listened to the rain drumming on the cart's roof. I didn't want to stand out there in the wet. But before I could force my mouth to form the words, Mal walked to the cart, broom in hand. "Hello. How are you today, Libby?"
His eyes were gray-green, like the rain. His hair was slick and dark with moisture under the hood, and bruises colored his left cheekbone purple and yellow. He reached the cart, pushed back his hood a little and stared at me.
He exhaled softly, "Oh."
I held out my bandaged hand. "I broke up with Robert yesterday. He bit me in revenge. But all I need is a little more honey, and I'll be okay."
Mal set his
I retrieved a fresh box from a stack of extras, and transferred the frames to them, queen first. They clung to their home, trusting me to save them.
Every beat of my heart was fresh pain, and not from the fight. My bees, my friends, were dying. Already their bodies littered the pavement: crawling, kicking, suffering. I threw the poisoned boxes into the orchard and spread clean earth over the toxic spots on the cement.
Mr. Stockton drove up in a golf cart. He regarded my actions, then climbed out. "What's wrong?"
"A vandal with Raid. Call the other beekeepers. They must move their bees before it's too late."
Mr. Stockton blanched--he had paid thousands of dollars for these bees, and without them, he had no almond crop. He retrieved his mobile phone and began making calls.
The other beekeepers converged on the area, and we worked long past sundown. We replaced half the hives, and we removed the new hives from the affected area. They all noticed the damage to my face, and asked me who the vandal had been. I only replied that I had driven him off, and that he now looked worse than I did.
Clouds rolled in from the ocean, laden with water. They poured their contents into the valley and onto the surrounding mountains, and helped to rinse away the poison.
The other men sought their warm beds, but I remained out in the wet and darkness until my bees were settled in their new hives.
My damaged body had begun to stiffen. Pain nagged at my joints. I limped back to my camper and climbed inside. There I opened a container of salve I had made from the wax of my bees, and dabbed it on my injuries. As it touched my skin, the life motes stored in it blazed to life, turning the salve a glowing gold. The death motes within me drew the life inside, repairing and healing me. It was a delicate balance--life and death, sickness and health, furious energy and quiet serenity.
I pleaded with God for two hours to spare my bees. Another prayer lingered beneath this one that I dared not utter.
Please spare Libby .
Chapter 5
Libby
Despite the pouring rain, I ventured out the next morning to find Mal.
It seemed like I walked miles out to the garage to get the golf cart. I wore a coat, and over that a raincoat, and the cold still ate into my vitals. Yesterday's energy was a half-remembered dream. Had I really walked all the way out to the bee station, and then the blueberry field, where I had dumped Robert? The thought of attempting all that now made me want to crawl back in bed. I had forgotten my knife, too, and couldn't bear going back for it.
I left Suki at home, and drove through the dripping, muddy orchard to the bee station. It was a gray, rainy day, just cold enough for a veil of mist to hug the horizon. A good day to stay indoors with a cup of hot tea and a book. Maybe after this visit, that's what I'd do. All I needed was a little honey.
Mal was the only beekeeper to brave the weather that day. His scarecrow frame was draped in a brownish raincoat, and he wore rubber boots. He scrubbed at the pavement with a push broom, flinging chunks of muddy water off the concrete slab. As I pulled up, he stopped and regarded me from under his dripping hood.
I sat with both hands on the steering wheel and listened to the rain drumming on the cart's roof. I didn't want to stand out there in the wet. But before I could force my mouth to form the words, Mal walked to the cart, broom in hand. "Hello. How are you today, Libby?"
His eyes were gray-green, like the rain. His hair was slick and dark with moisture under the hood, and bruises colored his left cheekbone purple and yellow. He reached the cart, pushed back his hood a little and stared at me.
He exhaled softly, "Oh."
I held out my bandaged hand. "I broke up with Robert yesterday. He bit me in revenge. But all I need is a little more honey, and I'll be okay."
Mal set his
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