Season of the Dragonflies by Sarah Creech Read Free Book Online

grapefruit on a plate above the flame. The rock warmed, and on it she centered the deer musk pod, a gift from one of her favorite animals in the forest. Mya had been tracking him since she was eight years old. This deer resembled the musk breed of Russia or China, except he had antlers and the long teeth in the front. And just yesterday she had found him dead in a meadow clearing inside the forest. This morning they had gone for him, and Luke draped a scarlet cloth on his body and Mya wrapped a ring of wild tea roses around his head before they removed the hairy pod from the shaft of the deer’s penis. And then they buried his body underneath Mya’s favorite weeping willow tree.
    An hour later the musk pod had shriveled to the size of a kiwi. Mya slid the oven mitts onto her hands and removed the pod from the crystal. She tied the shrunken skin around the pod with a piece of hemp rope, walked over to the side of her workshop, and lifted the sheer white curtain that barricaded her collection of yarrow, bloodroot, and rosemary gathered from the landscape around the cabin. Mya hung the pod on the wall to dry next to a bundle of wild mint hanging upside down, and then she shielded the wall again with the curtains.
    With this rarest of musks, she would make a perfume more potent than Zoe Bennett could’ve ever wanted. Mya had asked Zoe what she could do to fix this problem, and she promised Zoe that she would do anything for her. All Zoe desired was “more sex appeal, a respectable Marilyn Monroe kind,” and Mya said, “That can be done.”
    But she wouldn’t give Zoe exactly what she wanted. She had broken her contract, if not in letter, then certainly in spirit. The Lenores carefully timed and calculated whom they offered the perfume to, ensuring there would be only one or two superstars, depending on the industry. Zoe had abused her privilege, and Mya had no intention of letting anything happen to Lenore Incorporated. The business mattered more to her than anything else in her life. No, what Mya intended to make for Zoe was the ultimate in repulsion. Once Zoe used Mya’s new formula, she’d be done in Hollywood. Forever.
    The smell of her mustard sauce entered the workshop, and Mya tossed her gloves on the table and hustled into the kitchen, where the short ribs had already been removed and positioned on top of the stove. A duffel bag had been placed on the kitchen table. Mya froze and said, “Luke?”
    She looked over her shoulder, her heart pounding, and repeated his name without reply. Then she walked over to the window above the kitchen sink to see if his truck was parked out there. And the only person she didn’t want coming to dinner ascended the front steps. She wore all black and it didn’t flatter her. Mya opened the door and said, “Lucia?”
    â€œSomeone’s home, that’s a relief,” Lucia said, and stopped at the top porch step. “Still trying to burn down the house?”
    â€œI was in the workshop,” Mya said defensively. Neither Lucia nor Willow would ever let Mya live down the one time she started a grease fire by leaving olive oil in the cast-iron skillet. She’d been distracted by distilling irises. “The dragonflies,” Mya said, and stood firmly in the center of the doorway.
    â€œThey were here too?” Lucia said. “Is Willow home?”
    â€œTomorrow.”
    A firefly crossed in front of Lucia’s face, and she swatted like it might sting her. She took a deep breath and said, “The air’s so clean. I’ve forgotten air like this even existed.”
    Mya said, “Why’re you here? What happened?”
    Lucia said, “Can we continue this interrogation tomorrow? I’m tired.” She tilted her head to the side and said, “Aren’t you going to let me in?”
    Mya moved to the side to let her pass.
    â€œSmells good,” Lucia said. She picked up one short rib from