Leopard 04 - Wild Fire

place of cloying perfume and malicious intent. Maybe Alberto had sensed her need of peace and sent her out to allow her space. He was a perceptive man in spite of his age.
    She began to mentally name the various plants and their uses. Scarlet passionflower blooms attracted and were pollinated by the hermit hummingbird. The flowering bromeliad’s nectar fed a variety of bats. An array of orchids grew both on the ground and up the trunks of trees, providing food for all kinds of birds and insects, including the orchid bee.
    Isabeau stopped to admire an epiphytic blueberry, the bright orange flower and bulbs a favorite of hummingbirds. Although they were usually found high in the canopy, Alberto had brought them within reach of the ground, which in turn brought the various species of hummingbirds closer to inspection.
    Many varieties of ferns grew taller than her, forming a beautiful, lacy jungle. All kinds of philodendrons in various shades of green, with different types of leaves, both split and variegated, towered above her as Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    well. The winding path took her up a small slope where the brush was far thicker. Here, small animals made their homes. She could hear the rustling and even scent them in the burrows.
    The next bank of plants was her favorite, all medicinal. Alberto Cortez even had the Gurania bignoniaceae , a plant that had extensive medicinal uses. The leaves and flowers could be crushed and the material applied to infected cuts or sores that refused to heal, something that often happened in the humidity of the rain forest. The leaves and roots could be brewed into a tea and taken as a potion to remove worms and parasites. The flowers could be crushed and made into a poultice and applied to infected sores. She knew of a half dozen more uses for the plant for various ills, although depending on where it was grown, the roots could be toxic.
    She frowned when she saw the large variety of strychnos , used in making strong curare for blowguns.
    There were hundreds of plants, both toxic and medicinal, all mixed together. There was even the plant she knew Adan’s tribe used for countering the frog’s poison used in their darts when they accidentally managed to get the poison on their skin.
    The garden had everything from small brush to exotic flowers. She even found a little bed of daisies that pleased her. It seemed a little incongruous beside the more brilliant bird of paradise, but the simple beauty of the daisies was not lost on her.
    She found herself following the little bed of common flowers. Around it, the brush grew thick with variegated leaves and fronds. Some of the leaves were so large that when it rained, they formed little umbrellas and the water ran down in tiny streams to the beds below, eroding the dirt. She crouched closer to examine the beds to see if the plants below were getting damaged. Some of the stalks were brown and withered as if they weren’t getting water—or had a fungus.
    Something—an animal—had been rooting around the flowerbed, digging for roots. There was evidence of birds as well, as though something had attracted them to this area. She crawled through the dying flowers to the middle of the bed and caught a whiff of decay. Her cat recoiled from the smell. Compost?
    She’d never smelled anything quite like it. It almost smelled like death.
    Her heart jumped and she looked around to make certain she was alone. The stench was overpowering and she could clearly see that animals had disturbed the area. She moved closer, her eyes examining the withered flowers. Around them, the dirt was freshly dug. Something small and white and shiny peeking out of the dirt caught her attention. Isabeau glanced nervously through the trees to see if Harry and Alberto could see her, but the foliage was too thick.
    Inching closer, she crouched low. The smell of decay grew stronger and her cat rebelled, urging her to flee. She brushed aside the dirt around that small white object and nearly leapt back. When she turned over the dirt, hundreds of small insects wiggled and protested. Very delicately, she pushed at the object to reveal more. She was looking at a partially decayed finger. There was a human body in the garden.
    Trying to breathe shallowly so she didn’t take in the smell, she stood up and stepped back carefully, her heart pounding. Philip Sobre had his own burial ground. The garden was an entire acre. He