Trial by Fire (25 page)

“You’re growing another limb made out of crystal. The rest of your body will try to stop it like it’s an infection, but it isn’t. Fight the instinct to pull your hand away.”

The itch was intolerable. Her stomach churned with sick acid. Her heart pattered randomly like rain on a roof. “I’m scared.”

“I’m here. Be brave, Lily. You can do this.”

Her whole body felt like it was burning. Sweat trickled between her breasts, soaked her hair, and dripped off the end of her nose. The itch clawed at her until she wanted to dig her skin off. Lily forced herself to keep her hand over the willstones even though it felt like holding her hand over an open flame—like her flesh was crisping and melting off her bones.

“It hurts,” she whimpered.

“I know, Lily. I know it hurts,” Rowan said, his voice rough.

Three stones lit up and began to glow. A large one maintained a steady brightness, but two smaller ones twinkled and flared as if they were trying to muscle their way in and outshine the big one.

“You’re nearly there. Keep going.”

In desperation, a part of her reached out and grabbed onto the string connecting her to Rowan. She clung to it while the rest of her thrashed about in a sea of fire. Lily screamed in pain.

At the sound of her scream, all three of the glowing stones jumped off the velvet and smacked into the palm of her hand. Lily wrapped her fingers around them and crumpled onto her side.

The three stones pulsed in her hand, taking their first, tired breaths. Lily pulled her knotted fist up to her face and opened it carefully. Cradled in her palm were three new hearts she would wear outside her skin for the rest of her life. The littlest one had a shy golden glow to it. The medium-size one looked a bit pinkish and even though it was still exhausted from its birth, it somehow managed to flash at Lily like a cheeky little flirt. But it was the largest stone that commanded Lily’s focus. It wriggled with platinum filaments of light that rose and sank in the smoky depths of the stone as if it were an endless well of light and dark. The large stone was strong and confident, and Lily knew it could outshine the sun if she asked it to.

“Three stones,” Rowan whispered. His face grew fearful. “Unbelievable.”

And then she passed out.

Gideon looked up at the window on the top floor. Rowan’s wards were so strong that even though Gideon stretched his meager talent as a mechanic to its limits, he couldn’t even sense that there were people up there.

A mechanic’s first responsibility is to detect the physical needs of his crucible and to alleviate any block or discomfort while she is enspelled, sometimes to the point of keeping her heart beating and her lungs breathing for her while she is transmuting matter and energy. Mechanics were built to be sensitive to physical needs. Even the name mechanic came from the fact that first and foremost they were to tend to the machinery of a witch’s body while every ounce of her being went into her willstone. And Gideon couldn’t even sense a top floor of the building, let alone feel a heartbeat up there. Rowan’s strength was terrifying. And infuriating.

When Gideon was young, he used to look at windows at night. Just behind the glass were perfect lives that glowed inside a perfect frame. They always seemed happy with what they had. Gideon didn’t know if he envied those people or pitied them, but he couldn’t deny that they fascinated him. He realized that he was staring at a window again, wishing he were on the other side of the glass. It had been so long since he’d done that.

“Are you sure she’s up there?” Carrick asked.

“She’s there,” Gideon replied, failing to keep his tone in check. He never should have gone up there. Never should have shown his hand like that to Rowan. Carrick gave him a sideways glance, hearing Gideon’s petulance.

“What are your orders?”

“Set up a permanent guard,” Gideon snarled. “I want this building watched night and day.”

“The Councilmen forbade this.”

“The Councilmen are overcautious,” Gideon said coolly, finally able to rein in his emotions. Carrick nodded in deference, and Gideon continued. “Only hire guards who haven’t been claimed by Lillian. And no one with any ties to the Council or the Coven.”

Carrick exhaled sharply. “You don’t leave me many options.” Carrick regarded Rowan’s dark windows for a moment. “I’ll need something in return.”

Gideon gave him a calculating smile. “How much?”

“Not money,” the Outlander replied. “At least, no more than it requires to find the special sort of help you need. No, if I’m going to run this right, I’ll need more than money. I need the authority to do it. A title.”

Gideon nodded once. “Done. You are now a—what do you think will fit? Captain of the city guard?”

It cost Gideon little to bestow that title. Carrick’s salary would be paid by the city of Salem, not him. He could have his father arrange the appointment easily.

Carrick held out his hand, palm up, in the old way. Gideon laid his palm over Carrick’s and slid his hand up until the two men were grasping each other’s forearms firmly. Gideon briefly recalled that this was an ancient way of proving that you had no blades strapped to your arms and could therefore be trusted. He smiled. Sometimes the Outlander ways were so quaint.

“Done,” Carrick replied.

Sunlight was streaming straight down through the skylight when Lily finally awoke. She sat up and looked around.

She felt completely rested for the first time since she’d come to this world. In fact, she’d never felt this good in her life. The sun was warm on her skin. Lily sensed that she could take that energy, change it, and use it for another purpose. She lay in bed, piecing together why she’d always hated the dark. It was because all kinds of heat and light fueled her, and being separated from the light weakened her. Lily opened her hand and looked at her three willstones. Rowan had been right. She was changed forever.

Lily sat up and saw a glass of water on the bedside table. A tiny card was propped up against it. It said, T
HIRSTY
? in bold uppercase letters. Lily realized that she’d never seen Rowan’s handwriting before. She stared at it, sipping her water, memorizing every swoop and curve.

She swung her legs out of bed and noticed that she’d somehow struggled out of her robe while she slept. Rowan had left a stack of clothes on the floor next to her, with its own accompanying card that read N
AKED
?. Lily laughed quietly to herself and got dressed. The soft button-down shirt and pajama pants were way too big, but she figured it was better than the robe she’d drenched with sweat during the night.

Lily turned her willstones over in her hand, a stunned smile on her face as she dressed slowly, soaking in every detail. The shape and smell of Rowan’s shirt filled her with so much tenderness that she didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. Lily realized with a start that she was changed in more ways than one.

She went down the hall, marveling at how aware she was of everything. The feel of the clothes on her body, the texture and springiness of the wooden floor under her feet, everything from the taste of the air to the muffled sound of her steps was clearer to her now. Sharper. Even something as mundane as walking down a hallway became a revelation. She was starting to discern all the different forces at play when she put one foot in front of the other. She could feel the air pressure changing as she moved through it and knew that with a subtle variation in energy—one tiny adjustment inside her willstones—she could will the air around her to be as motionless and silent as a vacuum.

She realized that this was how Rowan could move so quietly and sneak up on her. Thinking she’d give him a taste of his own medicine, Lily silenced her footsteps and moved toward the sound of voices coming from the dining area. She stopped at the same place she’d stood as she waited for Gideon to leave, wondering if Rowan would sense that she was there like he had the night before. She stifled a giggle, imagining jumping out and scaring him.

Rowan and Tristan sat at the table where she and Rowan had eaten dinner the night before. They were drinking tea and speaking in lowered voices. Rowan was dressed in all white—white linen pajama pants and a white T-shirt. She’d gotten so used to seeing him in all black that she was startled for a moment. His hair was tousled, and he looked younger and more vulnerable. He was beautiful. Lily had no idea how he’d become so precious to her so quickly, but he had. She lingered behind the corner, enjoying the rare opportunity of watching the person she adored without him knowing she was there.

“Whatever happened to keeping her out of your head?” Tristan asked, dismayed.

“I didn’t have any other choice,” Rowan said with a tired shrug. “Believe me. I’m regretting it.”

Lily leaned back into the wall, the giddiness she’d felt suddenly chilling and turning to dread inside of her.

“What even gave you the idea?” Tristan asked.

“I thought about how she’d healed her ankle. It was a long shot, but I figured she’d already transmuted energy inside herself using my stone, and it was only one step farther to then pour it back into me.”

“That’s one hell of step, though.” Tristan paused, then his voice dropped. “Do you think she could invade a stone? Take it over without permission?”

“I don’t know. But that is the next step after this one,” Rowan said, allowing the thought to hang ominously in the air. He scrubbed his hands over his face a few times. “We’re in a lot of trouble.”

“Only if she goes bad,” Tristan corrected.

Rowan looked at Tristan, and a tense moment passed between them. “She can work inside another person’s willstone, she imprinted
three
of her own, and she’s just as convinced that she’s right about everything as Lillian ever was.”

“So what are you saying?” Tristan asked in a low and serious tone. “That we can’t trust her?”

Rowan’s face looked pained for a moment before it grew unyielding. “No. I don’t think we can.”

Lily stopped breathing, too stunned to move.

“But she’s still her own person, Ro, with a completely different background and upbringing. I don’t think we should paint her with Lillian’s brush just yet.” Rowan didn’t answer. “There are things about her that are different,” Tristan continued. “She’s funny. Did you notice that?”

“Lillian was funny,” Rowan replied, a touch defensively.

“No she wasn’t,” Tristan said, rolling his eyes. “Rose-colored glasses, my friend.”

Rowan changed the subject. “Gideon came poking around. Looking for a witch strong enough to catch my attention.”

“One of the prisoners he took from the raid must have talked. Gideon’s been on the warpath looking for a new witch in Salem ever since.”

A thought occurred to Rowan and he stiffened. “The Woven bodies at the cabin. I burned them, but it left one hell of an ash heap. If Gideon hears about them, he’ll know that a witch was involved. A powerful one.”

“We can have Caleb send a team up to get rid of them. How many did you kill, anyway?”

“Over forty. She’s strong, Tristan. Just as strong as Lillian ever was.”

Tristan cursed under his breath. Then he looked up at Rowan and gave him a knowing smile. “How was the claiming?”

Rowan looked down at his tea, frowning. “Too good. And too soon. I wish I could take it back.”

They lapsed into silence. Lily wanted to crawl into bed and never get up again, but it would be Rowan’s bed, and she didn’t want to sleep there ever again. She decided it was no use trying to run away or hide. She took a step, making sure it was audible. Rowan’s head snapped around in surprise.

“I didn’t hear you come down the hallway,” he said.

She shrugged at him coldly and his eyes widened. Lily hoped it was with hurt. She wanted to punish him. After everything they’d been through together, Rowan still believed she was evil. He’d been inside her head, shared some of her most intimate and painful memories, and yet he still thought she was going to become a tyrannical murderer like Lillian. She turned away from him, and toward Tristan.

“It’s really good to see you,” she said. She smiled warmly at him.

“And you. I like your haircut,” Tristan said, smiling back. A blush reddened his cheeks. His eyes darted over to Rowan and his smile faded. “I have clothes for you.” He picked up a bundle from beside his chair. “And a message from Juliet.”

“Juliet?” Lily said excitedly. She crossed to Tristan. “Is she okay? What happened when she got back to the Citadel? Was she upset with me because I didn’t try to mindspeak with her again?”

“Whoa!” Tristan said, holding up a hand. He passed the bundle to Lily, laughing under his breath. “I have no idea about any of those things. The letter’s sealed.”

Lily had to take the bundle awkwardly with one hand. “I need to put these in a necklace,” she said, unclenching her fingers slightly around her willstones.

“May I see?” Tristan asked, leaning forward expectantly.

Lily suddenly felt shy. It was almost like he’d asked to see a mole or a tattoo she had on a sensitive part of her body. She reminded herself that everyone here wore their willstones around their necks and she shouldn’t be so touchy about it. She opened her fingers and Tristan inhaled sharply.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, his face entranced. His compliment pleased her enormously, although she wasn’t quite sure why.

“Thank you,” Lily said, grinning. “I’m quite attached to them.”

Tristan laughed at her little joke, his breath brushing against her willstones. It sent a pleasant shiver up her back.

“One of each color. What do you think that means?” Tristan asked, and looked up at Rowan, who was watching the two of them with a guarded look.

“Do the different colored stones mean different things?” Lily asked.

“No,” Rowan answered. “No one knows why most stones are smoke, some rose, and a very few are golden.”

“That’s not entirely true, Ro,” Tristan countered. He looked at Lily. “Some people say the color of the stone can tell you about the personality of the wearer.”