Witch's Pyre (Worldwalker #3)(64)

“I was busy saving your lives. I didn’t have time to stop and ask if that was okay with you,” Lily snapped acidly.

“Lily, there are a lot of things that you can justify when you say you’re doing it to save lives,” Breakfast replied in an uncharacteristically harsh tone. “It starts with the little stuff. Going through emails— the people don’t even notice, right? Like we didn’t notice when you possessed us. But that’s the start of a long and slippery slope. Are you sure you want to go down it?”

Given a moral equivalent from her world, Lily couldn’t maintain the illusion that she was right anymore. She shook her head and dropped her chip. “Do you think Caleb will forgive me?”

“I don’t know,” Una answered. “You haven’t lost him yet, but you might if you don’t knock it off. Got it?”

“I got it,” Lily said.

“Good.” Una relaxed and smiled at Lily. “And thanks for saving our lives.”

Lily smiled back, a lump forming in her throat. “I can’t lose anyone else,” she said. “I can’t. That’s why I did it.” Her voice was high and thin. “I’m sorry.”

“Let us deal with Caleb,” Breakfast said.

Lily agreed and finally tucked into her food. After eating she went upstairs for a long shower and a change of clothes. Her bedroom smelled like other people. The police had searched her things and most of her stuff was in boxes. Lily stood in her towel and looked around like a guest, wondering if she could sit down on the bedspread. She wasn’t angry or upset that some faceless stranger had read through her eighth grade homework, or touched her collection of snipped hospital wristbands from her sickly childhood. She was too numb to be insulted and she’d been through too much to mourn any one particular loss properly. And she knew there was more loss to come.

Despite what she’d said to Una and Breakfast about not being able to lose anyone else, she knew that if she faced the Hive, the chances of them all surviving were slim. And yet she was still going back and taking them with her.

Lily opened her dresser and pulled out a stack of her T-shirts that implored anyone who crossed her path to save the children, save the whales, save the world. She used to think she was a crusader—the good guy in the white hat. She had no idea what that meant anymore. Lily put the T-shirts back and closed the drawer.

She heard someone tap lightly on her door.

“Yes?”

“Lily, do you have a second to talk?” Tristan pushed the door open and saw that she was only wearing a towel. He dropped his eyes. “Sorry, I’ll come back.”

“Seriously?” she said, brows raised. “You see me stark naked practically every other day for some kind of ritual. What is it?”

He wavered in the doorway, half in and half out of her room. “It’s Rowan. There’s something—” He broke of f and turned.

“Samantha’s getting anxious,” Rowan said, appearing at Tristan’s side. “She says you should claim her quickly so we can leave right away.”

“Did she say why?” Lily asked. Rowan shook his head. He waited for Tristan to leave first, and then closed the door so Lily could get dressed.

She came downstairs in a gauzy dress that lay open at the throat to display all three of her willstones. Her mother was dithering about, wringing her hands, and unable to focus her eyes on anything for more than a moment.

“We should really go, Lillian,” she said.

“Why? What’s going on?” Lily asked, trying not to sound too frustrated. Usually when her mother acted like this Lily couldn’t get a decipherable answer out of her, but this time was different.

“She’s coming,” Samantha said. “Or is she here?”

“Who? Who’s here?”

“Simms.”

Rowan ran to the window and looked out. “Everyone outside,” he rasped. “Quick, get Lily on the pyre!”

Lily felt Tristan’s hand on the small of her back, urging her forward. “Come on, Mom!” Lily yelled, worried that she would get left behind. She saw that Juliet grabbed Samantha’s hand and pulled, when something occurred to her. She hadn’t claimed her mother yet.

They scrambled outside to see cars had already surrounded the house silently in the dark. Floodlights burst on, blinding them, but Lily could still hear feet pounding against the ground and the huffs and gasps of men running. Caleb made it to the pyre first and threw a lighter on it. Flames exploded up and out of the wood and the dizzy smell of gasoline hit Lily in a wave with the heat.

“Rowan!” yelled a voice that made Lily’s skin crawl. She didn’t mean to stop running, she just froze when she heard Carrick.

He said something to Rowan and Rowan growled something back. It was so strange to hear Rowan speaking in his native tongue that it took a moment for it to register in Lily’s mind. Carrick spoke again, and Rowan attacked him.

Rowan wasn’t being fueled by Lily yet, but his hands flew to the silver knives on his belt so fast it was difficult to see them. He dropped down on a knee, wove past Carrick’s block, and slashed back to hamstring his half brother. Carrick did something like a handspring, narrowly avoided losing his leg, and bounded forward again with a knife in one hand and an ax in the other.

Carrick spoke again and swung at Rowan with a weaving, flowing motion, and then they started to exchange blows in earnest. They stabbed and blocked, darting in and out, trying to get inside the other’s guard.