Trial by Fire (34 page)

… A courtroom. This farce of a trial is over and it devolves into a circus of people screaming and shouting around me. At the center of the chaos is Lillian. She just stands there—silent. She won’t let me in her head, won’t answer me, won’t acknowledge if she can feel my hurt. I send it all to her. I hope the hurt goes away soon and turns into hate. I let her know that, too. How I can’t wait to hate her …

The betrayal Rowan had felt—and how staggeringly empty it had left him when he’d lost both his father and Lillian in one devastating moment—knocked the wind out of Lily. It was nothing like what had happened between Tristan and her. There was no comparing their betrayals. “How can you even stand to look at me?” she asked breathlessly.

“That’s the problem. I should look at you and see her, but I don’t anymore. Not since we spent that night in the tree.” He shook his head, smiling at the memory. “You’d been in shock for days. I woke up the next morning, and you told a joke. You did that for me. To put me at ease so I’d worry less about you. You’re still the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, but you also admit when you’re wrong. You’re thoughtful and kind, Lily.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she said.

He lifted his hand and touched her face, his fingers cupping the curve of her jaw. “Because I want to trust you. I want you to be everything I loved about her and nothing I hated. I want it so badly that I know I shouldn’t trust myself enough to trust you. But I guess I’m doing it anyway, even though I know you’re not staying.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“You want to go home. And when you’ve figured out how, you’re going to leave us, aren’t you?” Rowan ran his hand down her throat. His fingers slid lightly over her neck and collarbone, just barely touching the platinum edges of her willstones. Every place he touched tingled and tightened. She didn’t have an answer. Rowan suddenly released her and went to his bedroom door. “You need salt,” he said. “And I’m a bad mechanic for ignoring it.”

Rowan took her hand and led her downstairs. She followed him clumsily, her knees still wobbly, not sure what had just happened between them. Caleb and Tristan were in the kitchen, about to sit down to dinner.

“Oh good,” Caleb said. “No one’s bleeding.”

“We worked it out.” Rowan smiled and pulled a chair out for Lily, then sat down next to her. Tristan looked between them, his face stony. He stood up suddenly, his food untouched. “Tristan?” Rowan said. “Do you still want Lily to claim you?”

Tristan turned back. “Oh, so now you’re okay with it?” he said sarcastically.

“Would you just stop?” Lily said through a laugh. “Rowan’s had a hard time trusting me. I get why now, and we’re figuring it out. But even though this is hard for him, it really is your decision, Tristan, and no one else’s. So, you let me know when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” Tristan said, like he was on his last nerve. “I’m sick of being left out.”

“Okay. But later?” Lily asked plaintively. “I’m starving.”

After dinner, Lily claimed Tristan. She was much gentler than she’d been with either Rowan or Caleb, even though the urge to take him over completely was strong. She didn’t grab him or break off contact too soon. She tried to allow Tristan his privacy as she had tried with Caleb, but some kind of memory exchange seemed to be part of the process. Lily saw several of Tristan’s formative memories, some of the many women he’d been intimate with, including something currently with Esmeralda. But mostly she saw Lillian and Rowan. She wondered if Rowan knew how much Tristan both admired and resented him.

He knows.

Then why did you let me claim you, Tristan? Why not find another witch so you don’t feel like you’re always second to him?

Because you need me, Lily, and so do Rowan and Caleb. I can be a selfish person sometimes, but in the end I’d rather help my friends than help myself.

I know. That’s probably why I’ve always cared about you. No matter what universe we’re in.

Gideon kicked off his shoes and dropped down into his chair. The meeting with Roberts, Bainbridge, and Wake had not gone as he’d hoped. Gideon had told them where the other Lillian was hiding. One raid, and they would have the physical proof they needed that there were other universes and that Lillian had learned how to access them, but they’d balked. Roberts had sputtered like a fool, saying that they would need Coven approval for a raid, and if they were wrong, they’d hang. Gideon wondered how long that petulant old man would be alive and debated whether or not it would be useful to try to help him along with dying.

“You’d think they’d want to at least
try
to capture the other Lillian,” Gideon said, disgusted.

“Not necessarily.” Carrick stood by the window, looking out. “Being able to access other worlds may mean that the people no longer need witches to get them what they need. But if they no longer need witches, they may decide they don’t need Councilmen either. They’re afraid.”

Gideon cocked his head at Carrick, studying him. Whatever the Outlander lacked in formal education, he made up for with keen intuition. He certainly had an uncanny understanding of what people feared.

“Whoever holds the most power is the one in control,” Gideon countered. “And there is no greater power than this.”

“But you still need a witch in order to do it,” Carrick reminded him. “And the problem with witches is that they tend to do the controlling.”

A very good point, but Gideon hadn’t given up yet—wouldn’t give up until he solved this problem. Too much was at stake. If he could find a way to control just
one
witch, he might not need the Council or the Covens. With the ability to access other worlds, the possibilities were endless.

“The Council will never back us,” Gideon said. “We need to move without them. Get in touch with the traitor.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Let’s do it tonight.”

Caleb didn’t want to wait until morning to start work on the tunnel. With three witch-powered mechanics hauling rubble and shoring up the braces, Rowan figured they could have the rest of the tunnel dug out before dawn. It was decided that arriving in the Outlander caravan outside the walls would be safer at night, and the sooner they got out of Salem the better. Esmeralda had already needed to call in a few favors to hide the extra supplies they required, and no one wanted to tempt fate another day.

Reluctantly, Lily climbed down into the hatch with her candles in a knapsack, already exhausted from a full day’s work. The stuffy air choked her and made her light-headed. The dark smothered her, making her feel weak. Luckily, they didn’t have to go far before Rowan put down a square of black silk for her to sit on and began setting up the candles in a circle around the square. He lit the wicks, and their warm glow instantly filled her with energy, soothing her fears.

“It’ll be over soon,” Rowan whispered in her ear. He brushed his lips across her cheek, startling her. Before Lily could even gasp, he’d disappeared down the dark tunnel after Tristan and Caleb.

Lily sat down in her circle of light, desperately hoping that Rowan’s brief show of affection hadn’t been an accident. She closed her eyes and touched her mechanics’ minds to let them know she was ready to start channeling energy into them.

Finally! I’ve been waiting for this my whole life.

The thought had come from Tristan, and Lily could feel his elation when she unlocked the particular pattern that had grown between his mind and his stone and filled him with power. It wasn’t as overwhelming as when she’d poured all that power from the fire into Rowan’s stone when they’d fought the Woven. She still felt a thrill, but it was manageable, and she easily resisted the temptation to posses him. As Rowan and Caleb echoed Tristan’s exhilaration, she reached out to Rowan for an explanation.

Rowan? Why doesn’t this feel the same as it did in the cabin, or when we were fighting in the alley where Elias died?

It isn’t the Gift. It isn’t warrior magic. The scale is smaller, and the bond between us isn’t as intense.

But it still feels good?

Of course, Lily. It’s amazing.

Rowan? Are witches addictive?

I don’t know. Is being close to someone addictive?

No. It’s necessary. Everyone needs to feel close to someone else.

Then witches are necessary.

Lily knew there had to be a flaw in his thinking—people got on just fine in her world without witches—but she was too taken with the idea to pursue it. In her world, she’d been loved—by her sister, her mother, and even her Tristan—but Lily had never been necessary.

As the night wore on, Lily felt the tons of rubble moving under the hands of her mechanics because she fueled them, felt the circle of minds wrapped around hers because she was the touchstone, and she knew that Rowan had been right. In this world she was able to contribute things that really mattered to people, like clean water and antibiotics. She was important. Just as Lillian had said she would be.

Lily? We’re through to the other side. I’m coming back for you.

Lily stirred. She realized that she was lying on her side in the dark, and she couldn’t breathe.

Hurry, Rowan. The candles have burned out.

Why didn’t you tell me sooner?

I think I passed out. There’s no air in here.

Esmeralda was supposed to leave the hatch open for you.

It’s shut. Please hurry. I’m cold, Rowan.

Cold?

Lily could feel a thrill of urgency race through Rowan. It pierced past the haze of fatigue that pressed down on her. Lily sensed Tristan and Caleb responding to Rowan’s alarm. They chased after him as he ran down the tunnel. Lily didn’t have the energy to give them any extra speed.

Lily heard a distant boom and the ground above her shook. Earth fell from the ceiling in a sheet. She felt rocks hitting her, cutting her. Then everything went silent.

Lily felt someone grab her. She screamed.

Rowan!

Lily, we’re cut off. There was an explosion aboveground that triggered a cave-in. We’ve been betrayed. I’m digging.

A strange man hovered over Lily in the dark. She could feel rough hands on her bare arms and legs. She was so weak she couldn’t even draw magelight from her stones.

“Lillian,” oozed a voice. It wasn’t totally foreign to her. She recognized it from Rowan’s memories.

“Carrick,” she whispered.

Rowan, help! Carrick—

Lily felt a web of ice wrap around her heart. Her body went rigid, her limbs wriggling with agony as Carrick ripped her willstones off her neck.

chapter 12

Gideon took the steps in his father’s keep two at a time. The Danforth Keep, much like the Citadel, had been built hundreds of years ago when the first witches rose from their pyres after the Salem Witch Trials and took over the continent. If only the witches had been hanged and not burned, they would have been wiped out, but apparently the constables of Salem hadn’t known that a rare breed of witches known as firewalkers had recently emerged. Since Carrick had explained to him how parallel universes worked, Gideon had often wondered what his world would have been like if that one choice, burning over hanging, had been made differently.

Gideon had been rushing since he got the message. The Danforth Keep was on the opposite end of Salem, as far away from the Citadel as one could get without breaching the city walls. And he’d had to traverse the city at first light, when every greentower was undergoing preparation to capture the scant hours of sunlight left during the autumn months. The traffic was murder, but unfortunately, there was no way to bring Danforth closer to the Citadel.

His father’s keep had been originally built to protect the Danforth family from the witches, and then later when witches and mechanics were found in the Danforth line, it became a satellite to the Citadel on the other side of town. It was widely know that Gideon’s ancestor, the original Thomas Danforth, had been the judge who’d sent half of Salem to the pyre. Gideon supposed that his father, the current Thomas Danforth, was not so different in temperament from his predecessor. Since the trials, hanging had become the customary way to execute all enemies of the Witch State, and many in Salem had dangled because of Thomas’s dedication to rooting out the scientist heretics for the Lady of Salem.

Gideon had gotten word from Carrick that his father wanted him to come directly to the dungeons, and Gideon shivered as he descended the many steps. He hated how medieval it was down there, but he knew that the cold and dark were necessary to deplete a witch. Even the solid stone construction served a purpose, no matter how ghastly it looked in the pale glow of magelight. The naturally occurring stone of the area, good old granite, had a hefty dose of quartz crystal in it. The single, clock-like vibration of quartz acted as a buffer from the varied and mutable vibrations created in willstones. If the walls of granite were thick enough, they could keep a witch protected from the magic of another—or keep her cut off from the outside. A witch could still do magic inside a granite keep, but it was nearly impossible for her spells to penetrate its walls.

At least, usually it was. Gideon knew that a witch as powerful as Lillian could do just about anything she wanted, which was why he was rushing when normally he would have waited for the greentower farmers to get where they were going before trying to brave the gridlock. His father wasn’t a mechanic. Thomas was a politician. He had no idea how powerful this Lily could potentially be.

Gideon arrived at the lowest level of the keep. He looked down and saw a slip of a witch with short, platinum-blonde hair lying on the damp floor in front of his father. Her whisper-thin dress barely kept her decent. She shivered and shook on the ground. Tears streamed from between her shut eyes. She was mostly unconscious, but still crying in agony. Gideon had to look closely to recognize her face, but the angular features, alabaster skin, and those heart-shaped lips that were so like Juliet’s were exactly the same. She was Lillian, but not Lillian. Carrick stood over her with something gleaming in the palm of his hand. Gideon froze when he realized what he was holding.