Trial by Fire (18 page)

“Okay.” He paused, giving Lily another strange look before continuing. “Well, our bodies are electric, and we all use salt for a number of things—nerve impulses, muscle contraction, extracting energy from food. But a crucible’s body speeds through these processes differently, and at an accelerated rate. As a result, you generate huge amounts of energy. You also use up a lot more salt.”

“Is that why I freaking love Fritos?” Lily asked. He didn’t get it. “Forget it. Keep going.”

“Witchcraft and salt go hand in hand. Your body practically runs on it,” he said, summing it up. “And I’m out of salt.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s just a craving.”

“When you crave something, it means you need it.” He breathed a laugh and his eyes momentarily turned inward. “A crucible’s craving is her mechanic’s mandate.” The way he’d said that made Lily think it was something he’d learned by rote, and that it had a much deeper meaning than was immediately apparent. “Trust me, in another day or two, this is going to become a big problem for both of us,” he continued. “And I can’t bring you back into Salem just yet. Not for another three or four days, at least.”

“Okay. Is there any way to get more salt?” Lily asked equitably.

“Yes. I could kill an animal, and you could drink its blood.”

Lily gave Rowan a withering look.

“Look, you don’t have to eat the meat,” he began, his tone near to pleading.

“I’m not drinking blood, Rowan.”

“There are no other sources of salt out here. Otherwise, we have to go back to Salem.”

“Then we go back to Salem,” Lily said simply.

“Right. Because that’s the smartest choice,” he said sarcastically.

“I refuse to consume any part of any animal. It’s not an option.”

Rowan paced around the fire, biting his lower lip to keep himself from speaking.

“Just say it,” Lily said, jumping to her feet.

“Fine. I really want to know if there’s a universe, any universe, where you’re a reasonable person who knows how to compromise even a tiny bit?” he yelled back at her. “Does every version of you have to be so ridiculously stubborn that you won’t even do the littlest thing I ask?”

“Drinking blood is not a little thing,” she sputtered incredulously.

“You do realize
who
you look like?”

“Yes!”

“And you realize that you’re a bit conspicuous?” He pointed to her bright red hair. “And that it would be nearly impossible to get you back into Salem right now without someone spotting you from, say, a mile away?”

“So cut off my hair. Dye it,” Lily said, her voice wavering when she realized what she was saying. Rowan’s angry expression switched to surprise, and Lily strengthened her resolve. “Do what you have to do. But I am not drinking blood.”

Lily saw the first tress of her hair fall at her feet and nearly told Rowan to stop.

She heard his knife slice through another hank, and tears started welling up in her eyes. She tried to tell herself it was just hair, and that she’d never liked her hair to begin with, but that only made her cry harder. If she didn’t like it long, how much worse would it look short? Lily’s breathing skipped with tears and Rowan’s hands stilled.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked quietly.

“No.” Lily’s voice came out high and childish. She cleared her throat and continued. “It’s too late anyway, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Keep going.”

He lifted another lock and cut through it. “I think short hair will be really flattering on you,” he said optimistically. “You’ve got a beautiful face. It shouldn’t be covered by hair.”

Lily watched more strands fall to the ground. Her neck could feel everything, even the weight of Rowan’s eyes as he looked at her. She felt exposed.

When he was finished cutting, Rowan took up a bundle of Lily’s shorn hair, a twig, and some twine from his pack. He sat down next to her while he wrapped the hair onto the end of the twig, binding it tightly with the twine. He trimmed the ends of the hair bundle evenly, and in a few moments he’d fashioned a rudimentary paintbrush. Lily watched every neat motion of his hands. His dexterity fascinated her so much she momentarily forgot about herself.

“Nifty,” Lily said, truly impressed.

“We’re almost done,” he said, smiling encouragingly at her. He stood behind her and began painting the dye he’d made in his small cauldron onto her hair. Rowan dyed her hair in layers, getting all the way down to the scalp. He piled the dyed hair on top of her head, being very careful not to stain her face or neck with it. As he worked, the stench of the dye kept intensifying.

“That smells awful. It’s making my eyes sting,” she said. “What’s in it?”

“Black walnut husks.”

“They smell like pee,” she said, sniffling.

“No, they don’t,” Rowan responded cautiously. “Pee is why the dye smells like pee.”

Lily stiffened and turned her head carefully to look at him. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“You can’t make dye without a stripping agent, Lily,” he said pleadingly. “I don’t have any way to make peroxide or ammonia out here, but I do have uric acid in my urine.”

Lily faced front again.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

“No,” Lily said through gritted teeth, trying to ignore what was seeping into her scalp.

“You can rinse it off right now if it’s too disgusting. I’ll go catch a squirrel, and we don’t have to go back to Salem.”

“No thank you.”

“Lily, you really don’t have to—”

“Are you going to finish or not?” she said, cutting him off.

“So stubborn,” he said, more to himself than to Lily.

“I’m not stubborn,” Lily said. “I have conviction. And I’m not afraid to do something difficult in order to stay true to my beliefs.”

“That sounds familiar,” he said in a slightly sad way.

They lapsed into silence while Rowan finished painting her hair with the dye and they waited for it to set. When Lily was done rinsing the dried dye out of her hair in the stream, Rowan made another more careful pass at trimming her hair with his knife. He took his time, making sure it was even and that it fell properly around her face. Finally he stood back and gave her a satisfied nod.

Lily’s hand shot up to feel her hair. Rowan had given her what felt like a bob. She scrunched her damp curls, happily noting that he’d had the sense to give her some layers so she didn’t have pyramid-head.

“How does it look?” she asked anxiously.

“I think it looks great short,” he replied, still studying her. “But I’ve always preferred you with your hair up, so I can see your long neck.”

Lily was thrown for a moment. Of course, he was referring to Lillian, but it was still strange to hear Rowan speak to her in such a familiar way when she’d only met him three days ago.

“And the color?” she asked, unable to hold his appraising gaze.

“It’s dark,” he warned. “Outlander dark, which works in our favor. If you don’t let anyone see your light eyes, we might be able to pull this off.”

They broke camp quickly. While Lily washed out the cauldron, Rowan took care to make sure all of her hair was burned before he buried the black walnut husks and the embers of the fire under a few layers of dirt. In minutes, it was as if they’d never been there. Lily looked over her shoulder as they left the campsite and headed back to Salem, conscious of the fact that they’d left no soda cans or ugly plastic wrappers behind.

“What’s wrong?” Rowan asked, touching her arm.

“Nothing. It’s just that in my world we’re so concerned with everything being clean. Everything has to come in its own package.” She gave Rowan a rueful smile. “And it makes such a mess.”

His nose scrunched up as he puzzled out the contradiction. “Being clean makes a mess?”

“Unfortunately,” Lily said, nodding.

“I don’t think you’re doing it right then.”

“No. We definitely aren’t.”

“I guess every version of the world is flawed somehow,” he said equitably. “Nothing’s perfect.”

Lily walked beside Rowan for a while, wondering if she agreed with him. If there were an infinite number of universes, didn’t that mean that one of them
had
to be perfect? And if one of them was a paradise, then did that mean that another one had to be hell? Lily wondered how many versions of the world were better than this. And how many were worse.

“Teach me something,” Lily asked, breaking herself out of her circular thoughts.

One corner of his mouth tipped up in a quizzical smile. “Like what?” he replied.

“Teach me how to control my reactions,” Lily asked excitedly.

“That’s going to take more than one lesson. But we can start if you’d like.”

Rowan spent the next few hours showing Lily how to discharge unnecessary energy before it became a runaway reaction. Lily saw little sparks of energy flying off her skin, like glitter. It was pretty, but it required so much focus. Rowan said that a willstone would change the energy effortlessly, and without making her look so sparkly. They worked their way up from bark dust, and after a few tries, she was able to manage her reaction to a nettle scratch without Rowan’s fingers on her wrist.

“It’s not puffing up too horribly,” she said, peering at the angry red line that traced an inch across her forearm. Lily sniffed. Her head was starting to get congested.

“You mostly did it,” he said encouragingly. He reached out and pressed his fingertips to her pulse point. The red line disappeared, and her stuffy nose cleared. He grinned at her.

“Why can’t I do it like that?” Lily asked with a pout. “What I need is a willstone.”

Rowan’s smile faded. He looked at the ground as they walked, his lips pursed together.

“What? Don’t you want me to have one?” she asked.

“It’s got nothing to do with what I want,” he said.

“What does that mean?”

“If you get a willstone, you’ll have to be trained. You’d be a menace if you weren’t.” He pulled his lower lip through his teeth.

“So train me,” Lily said. His head snapped around and he stopped walking.

“Why?” he asked, suddenly angry. “Why do you want to be trained?”

“So I can control my reactions.”

“You’re lying,” he said dismissively.

“I’m not.”

“You’re not telling me the whole truth, Lily. I can hear it in your voice.”

“I want to control my reactions,
and
I want to go home!” she shouted. “Do you have any idea how I can do that? Do you know how to send me back to my universe?”

His eyes narrowed, warning her against using too much sarcasm. “It’s never been done by anyone but Lillian.”

“That means I have two options. I can beg Lillian to send me back—which I know she won’t—or I can learn how to do it myself. If she figured it out, why can’t I?”

“It’s not that simple, Lily. You seem to have all her potential, but crucibles start their training when they’re six years old. You have no idea how much you’ll need to learn to get to the point she’s at right now.”

“I don’t care what I have to do. Please, Rowan, I need to go back. My mother—”

Lily broke off, a wave of fear making her voice weak. She’d been so concerned with keeping herself alive the past few days she hadn’t had any worry left in her to spare for her mother. The worry came back as Rowan searched her eyes. Lily got that feeling again—the feeling that there was a secret language the two of them spoke that she’d forgotten.

“And if I train you,” he said softly. “How do I know you won’t end up exactly like
her
?”

“Because I’m nothing like her,” Lily replied, throwing up her hands like it was self-evident.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Lily said, offended. “How could you even think that about me?”

Rowan looked away, his hands planted on his hips. “This isn’t my decision, anyway. The sachem wants you trained.”

“And you don’t think I should be?”

“I think there are going to be a lot of people who are going to try to use you, whether I train you or not.”

He turned and started walking again, his brow furrowed in thought. Lily followed him cautiously. She knew not to push him to explain anymore.

“How is she? Your Samantha?” Rowan finally asked after a long silence.

“She’s sick, but still alive. I think, anyway.” Lily watched Rowan’s face. “You knew Samantha here?”

“Of course.” His voice sounded like it was coming from far away. “We were very close.”

“What happened to her?”

Rowan didn’t answer right away. “About a year ago, Lillian disappeared for three weeks.” He stopped again and swallowed hard. “Samantha said that Lillian was in front of us, inches away but beyond our reach. She said that Lillian was being destroyed from the inside out. We didn’t understand. Samantha decided that she had to go get Lillian on her own. She went to the pyre even thought she knew she wasn’t a firewalker. It killed her.”

Lily moved closer to Rowan until their shoulders were nearly touching.

“What’s a firewalker?” she asked cautiously.

“It’s the final level of witchcraft. Very few attempt it. Most die.”

They continued along at a stroll, both of them slowed by the thought of loosing Samantha.

“I’ve disappeared from my world just like Lillian did,” Lily whispered. “I have to go back, Rowan.”

He sighed and nodded. “I know.”

chapter 7

The temperature started dropping even before the sun went down. Frost fell, lining the leaf litter underfoot with flaky, white ice. Even Lily felt chilled. Rowan stuffed his hands under his arms as they walked, trying to stay warm.

“Come here,” Lily said, putting her arm around his waist. Rowan startled at her touch, but when she didn’t let go, he wrapped an arm over her shoulder and hugged her to his chest. His whole body was trembling.

“We need shelter tonight,” he said through chattering teeth.

“How far are we from Salem?”

“Hours. I won’t make it,” he replied honestly. Lily started rubbing his arms with her hands, trying to chafe some warmth into him. She was really cold, something she couldn’t ever remember happening to her before, but Rowan was literally freezing to death.