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means you’ll do the listening.” His dirty fingers caught up a handful of her hair.
    Then tightened slowly.
    Silver swallowed. She slid her hand behind her until she felt the comforting edge of her little gardening trowel, thrust into her back pocket. At close range it would give this swine a considerable jolt. “Oh, I’m listening,” she said coolly. “I just hope it will be something worth listening to.”
    The dirt-streaked fingers tightened. “And ye’d better keep listening too. I’m only going to say this once.” The man tugged her closer, muddy brown eyes flat and expressionless. “Ye’re going to leave Lavender Close, Miss St. Clair. All of you. That means yerself, the boy, and anyone else ye got working here. Crate, barrel, and carriage. Anyone staying might just get hurt.” The beady eyes hardened. “Hurt real bad.”
    Silver shoved down her fear. “Why? Why would you do this? What do you hope to gain by—”
    “No bleeding questions!” The dirty fingers clenched. “If ye don’t listen, then accidents’ll start to happen. All kinds of accidents. Like this.”
    Stunned, Silver watched him nod to one of his burly companions, who hefted a barrel from the ground and dumped its contents over a lavender bush. The man fumbled on the ground and a moment later the fragile leaves exploded into flame.
    Silver struggled furiously. “Stop! You can’t just—”
    The hard fingers tightened, jerking her still. “Shut up and listen. In three days the big accidents start, understand? An’ after four days more, things start to disappear. Tools. Crates.” The muddy eyes crinkled at some private joke. “Aye, it’s one week ye got.”
    Silver lurched wildly, kicking the man’s shins, oblivious to his hands clawing at her temples. “You wouldn’t dare!”
    “Oh, no?” His cold eyes taunted Silver. “Do ye want to find out?”
    “But why ? Who are you—?”
    “Shut up or I’ll make ye shut up!”
    Silver felt her knees start to shake. Only by raw force of will did she keep from slumping to the ground. “If it’s seeds you’re after, I’ll give them to you. I’ll take you there right now. If it’s lavender or some of the other fragrance oils, then—”
    Brown Hood only laughed. “Seeds, Mr. Harper. The saucy little piece thinks we want her seeds!” The man’s big body shook with sudden, explosive laughter. “Gawd Ole Mighty, that’s a good ‘un. Here’s what we think o’ yer bloody flowers, missy!”
    At his nod the next shrub was set to the torch.
    Silver watched in horror as another cloud of purple blooms burned red-orange, then wasted away to ash. Who were they? Why were they doing these dreadful things?
    Propelled by a wave of fury, she launched out at her attacker, clawing at his neck and shoulders. For a second his mask slipped and her nails met skin.
    Cursing savagely, the man in the hood tossed her into a row of alba roses. Thorns bit at Silver’s arms and legs, but she pushed to her feet and ran at the accomplice who was even now starting to kindle another bush.
    Her captor caught her arm and shoved her back like a wisp of dandelion fluff. “Best step aside, missy. Wouldn’t want to get that nice face o’ yers burned, now, would ye?”
    Tears blurred Silver’s eyes. The sharp scent of lavender mingled with smoke and ash. Her chest hurt and her legs felt as if they were stuffed with cotton.
    Her captor only laughed. “Seven days, Miss St. Clair. Just ye remember that. Otherwise next time all the flowers’ll go! Like this one.” He set another plant to the torch, then waved to his fellows and strutted back toward the woods.
    Silver barely heard. Her head pounding, she pushed to her feet and ran for the stream, praying she could save her beloved lavender.
    ~ ~ ~
     
    His right boot had a hole in it.
    Silver remembered that much. As she tossed down the last bucket of water, feeling smoke burn her eyes, she couldn’t seem to forget that dirty, jagged opening.
    If he had a