Witch's Pyre

by Josephine Angelini

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she said. “I have no reason to trust either Alaric or Lillian, but we’re going to need both of them or we don’t stand a chance against the Hive.”

  Even that might not be enough, Rowan said to Lily in mindspeak. He came around the deck from the other side.

  “Getting Alaric and Lillian to work together might not be possible,” Rowan said quietly. “It’s not just them. The people who follow them hate one another.”

  Lily set her jaw. “Then what’s the point of going back? Why even try to save them if they’re too stupid to save themselves?” She looked out at the moon-clad water. “Alaric calls Lillian the enemy. Lillian calls Alaric the enemy—but we’ve seen the real enemy of that world. Now we have to make them see it, too. If we can’t do that, what the hell good are we?”

  Rowan nodded once. “Okay. Who should we go after first? Alaric or Lillian?”

  “You’re not serious?” Caleb said, scowling at Rowan. “You actually want to go and try and talk to Lillian?”

  “That’s what our witch is asking of us, Caleb,” Rowan replied reproachfully. “And is it any more than asking Lily to go to Alaric after what he did to her?”

  “Alaric isn’t half as bad as Lillian,” Caleb argued.

  “Are we talking about the same guy?” Una snapped. “Alaric. He’s the nut with the nukes, remember? That guy is about to bomb the whole eastern seaboard and you think he’s more trustworthy?”

  Caleb looked down. A silence followed while they all tried to picture how a confrontation with either Lillian or Alaric would play out.

  “So, we’re really going to try to fight the Hive?” Tristan said, his voice husky with fear.

  They sat with that thought, each recalling his or her focus of dread. For Lily it was the sound—the buzzing that made her skin pucker and her insides watery. She heard the door slide open behind her as she suppressed a shiver.

  “Fake ID guy is lined up for tomorrow morning,” Breakfast said, joining them. “He isn’t cheap, though.” He looked around, noticing the ashen faces and the tight mouths, and realized he’d blundered into a delicate moment. He sat down tentatively next to Una. “Are we remembering Juliet?” he asked.

  “Well, now we are,” Una said, rolling her eyes. She stood up and went back to the party.

  “What?” he asked as the rest of the coven followed Una inside.

  The party never really ended; the coven just crept off into quiet corners to try to get some sleep. When morning came, Lily woke to find Rowan in the kitchen, making omelets for Tristan, Caleb, and Una.

  “Breakfast is off with Miller,” Rowan told her as she shuffled in.

  “He’ll be back with the rental in a few hours,” Una said in between forkfuls of egg.

  “But I haven’t picked up the money yet,” Lily said.

  “Miller said he’d front us,” Caleb said, eyes narrowed knowingly. “Generous of him.”

  “Huh,” Lily chuffed. She really didn’t like involving Miller any more than he already was.

  “He insisted,” Rowan said. “We’ll pay him back and be out of here by tonight.”

  She went to the glass door again, pulled it open, and looked out at the shoreline. Bower City had changed it to enlarge the port in a place that had only a small natural cove, but she recognized some of the features. Using the perfect recall that her willstone afforded her, she laid one view on top of the other, making a palimpsest of the two shorelines in her mind. They were hauntingly similar, yet each one was unique.

  “Lily? Oatmeal or pancakes?” Rowan asked. “You need to eat.”

  Lily startled and turned to see Rowan standing close to her. “Do you think a place can create a unique vibration? Something no other place in no other universe quite matches?”

  Rowan breathed in, smelling the clear air blowing in through the open door, and shut his eyes. Lily saw his willstone flicker as thought ran through the crystal and became energy. She followed those fairy lights, weaving closer to him until she could feel the heat of his skin and smell the spice of his body. He opened his eyes and Lily leaned back. His face softened.

  “When I first met you I kept scanning you over and over. Everything was the same. Every cell in your body was Lillian’s, but you weren’t her.” Rowan frowned. “In the cabin, right before you claimed me, I wondered if by letting you claim me, would Lillian be claiming me through you? But no, it hasn’t been that way. Maybe every person has their own vibration, regardless of how many versions of us there are, and if every person does, maybe every place does, too.” His brow furrowed. “Because you can feel it. You can feel that this place is different from any other, and it’s not just the way it looks or smells. It just is different somehow. Like you were different somehow.”

  Lily looked out at the water and felt the pulse of the ocean as it battered the shore. She felt the heat of the sun hitting the earth and radiating back in waves. She felt the wind press and push, lift and swirl, random and rhythmic all at once.

  “I can’t find it,” she said.

  “You will,” Rowan replied confidently. “Now, oatmeal or pancakes?”

  Lily smiled at him. “Pancakes. Please.”

  Rowan moved away from her to go back to the stove, and Lily found herself following as if every step he took tugged her along behind him.

  A few more people stopped in while the coven waited for Breakfast and Miller to return, and Rowan fed them, too. One of the guys might have even been the owner of the house, but he didn’t seem too concerned that a stranger had commandeered his kitchen. He wandered in, ate, and wandered out saying, “Thanks, Robert. Excellent hollandaise, by the way,” to Rowan, as if he was accustomed to having someone else prepare his meals.

  “Yeah, thanks, Robert,” Una said, snickering.

  “Should we tip you?” Tristan asked, stretching out the joke.

  Rowan grinned and took his ribbing happily. Slowly, in increments, they were accepting him back.

  Breakfast and Miller returned with the rental car before noon. Breakfast rolled up, arm hanging out of the driver’s side window and bass thumping from the tinny speakers of the doublewide soccer-mom minivan.

  “Hey, fancy lady. Want a ride in my precision automobile?” Breakfast catcalled to Una.

  “How can I resist,” she deadpanned. “The color tan gets me all worked up.”

  Breakfast parked and jumped out of the car, chasing Una around lecherously. Miller got out of his truck and came over while the rest of the coven checked out the rental.

  “Seating for seven,” Caleb said, and then checked himself. They were only six now.

  Lily felt heat race through her—the ear-burning, voice-thickening kind that comes before tears. She cleared her throat and smiled for no reason.

  “I go to Yosemite all the time,” Miller said, looking disturbingly hopeful at Caleb’s mention of an extra seat. “There are so many hidden spots I could show you. Really special stuff.”

  It took a second for Lily to catch up, but she assumed that Breakfast had told Miller that they were going to Yosemite as a cover story.

  “Well, unfortunately we have to leave today,” Lily said. “Now, actually.”

  “I could leave today,” Miller said, his optimism increasing. “I could have a bag packed in ten minutes.”

  Damn it, Lily said to her coven in mindspeak. Doesn’t anyone have a real job in this state? Someone help me get rid of this guy.

  “Look, Mills. My man,” Breakfast said, putting a hand on Miller’s shoulder and pulling him aside, “this is a hard time for us. A friend died. It’s sort of a memorial trip, you know?”

  While Breakfast let Miller down easy, Lily took the keys to the car. “I’ll be back with the cash,” she said.

  Rowan got in the passenger side and buckled himself in before anyone could tell him not to, and they drove to the Walmart off Route 1. Lily waited in a short line at the money center. She did not tilt her eyes up at the surveillance camera behind the
counter, but as she picked up the cash Juliet had wired to the money center, she knew. They were on borrowed time now. She and Rowan took to the aisles to shop as quickly as they could without seeming suspicious.

  “This will fit Caleb,” Rowan said, holding up a pair of jeans.

  “These will fit,” Lily said, correcting him. “Jeans are plural.”

  “I always wondered why,” Rowan replied, a quizzical smile on his face. “It’s one article of clothing.”

  “Yeah, but there are two leg holes.”

  “Nope,” Rowan said, shaking his head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “You know what? It doesn’t,” Lily said, a smile dawning on her. “It really doesn’t make any sense at all. We should just start calling them jean.”

  Rowan cocked his head, letting the sound of the word marinate, and pulled a face. “That doesn’t sound right.”

  “It sounds awful.”

  “Jeans it is.”

  They went back to shopping, both of them smiling to themselves. Rowan had pretty much kept to the rule of staying several feet away from her unless he was saving her from imminent danger, but now Lily found herself edging closer to him. After catching her doing it a few times as they walked side by side down the aisles, Rowan didn’t move away. They filled the cart, each item they placed in it giving them the chance to be in the other’s personal space and, occasionally, even touch.

  They selected nondescript clothes with no labels or bright colors, black backpacks, and hoodies. They loaded up on snacks and water for the drive, stopped at a gas station, and then went back to the house to pick up the rest of the coven.

  Rowan and Lily followed the sound of laughter. The other end of the wraparound deck had an infinity pool where the coven was enjoying the summer sun. Past the pool, a grill stood off to the side by a fire pit that was surrounded by several teak deck chairs. A brick-red umbrella mushroomed cheerfully over the outdoor eating area, framing the scene, and drawing the eye out into the endless blue where sky met water.

  “All that’s missing is the dog,” Lily said, recalling Rowan’s dream of California.

  Rowan’s head snapped around. His smile was sad as he shook his head. “That’s not the only thing that’s missing.”

  He left her with Juliet and Tristan hanging between them, their ghosts pushing Lily and Rowan apart with invisible hands.

  “Tell me you bought me something cooler than this,” Una said as she held up a cardigan.

  Rowan laughed under his breath. Sorry, Una, but even you have to blend in while we travel. This is a big risk we’re taking, he said in mindspeak.

  But less risky than trying to travel in your world, Lily added, in case Rowan was gearing up to say it was too dangerous. He didn’t, though. Nor did he grumble about Lily taking risks that he didn’t want her to take. There were no safe options anymore, and no conscionable way to stay on the sidelines.

  “We’d better get our stuff together and go,” Rowan said.

  “Don’t you want to take a quick swim?” Tristan asked him as he paddled around.

  Rowan looked at the pool, and then out at the ocean and horizon that blended seamlessly with its edge—aqua to azure to sapphire to the clouds. “No,” he said, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

  The coven took turns cleaning up and changing into their new clothes. Caleb checked and double-checked the car and the supplies.

  “You know, if we’re missing anything we can stop pretty much anywhere and get it,” Breakfast told him.

  “I’m just looking,” Caleb said defensively. “I want to know what we have and don’t have.”

  “Forget it, Breakfast,” Tristan said, smiling. “Caleb lives to worry about supplies.”

  “You know, there are so many great trails in Yosemite,” Miller said, joining them. “It’d be a shame for you to miss out on them.” He was trying to sound casual, but the attempt only made him sound more desperate.

  He looks strung out, Una said in mindspeak. I feel bad for the guy.

  Don’t, Lily told her. He’s much better off without us.

  Miller was still waiting for some kind of acknowledgment of his offer, but no one spoke up. There was no delicate way left for any of them to say that he wasn’t invited, so they just ignored him and kept packing.

  “Thanks so much for all your help,” Lily said to Miller as they were preparing to leave. “Tell the guy”—she gestured to the house, indicating its owner—“that we said thank you.”

  “Sure,” Miller said. His face was tight with bitterness.

  As Breakfast pulled the mom van out of the driveway, Lily waved good-bye to him in a friendly way. He didn’t wave back.

  Carrick finally found the house they were staying at in time to watch the coven pack up their vehicle and drive off, leaving a forlorn young man in their wake.

  Carrick turned to his side and retched into the bushes. His vision was blurry and his head throbbed with every pulse of his heart. The blow he’d suffered from the Warrior Sister had left him unconscious for half a day. The Hive had left him for dead, and he might have slipped into the unwakeable sleep but for Lillian’s constant calling and prodding inside his mind.

  She would not let him die. Not while she needed him. She reminded him over and over that he was hers to kill, and no other’s.

  Carrick had pulled himself up, the ground tilting and reeling, to find that Lillian had worldjumped him to Lily’s universe to follow and to watch. The glade around him bore the signs of the coven’s overnight stay and it showed him their path as easily as if it had been illuminated, but once the coven had reached the main road they had been much harder to track.

  His vision was damaged, adding annoyance to his list of problems. Carrick used all his senses when he tracked and didn’t rely solely on his vision, but it certainly helped. Unable to focus his eyes, Carrick had started to wander in the dark last night, perilously close to the edge of the cliffs. The throbbing in his head was so bad it had tempted him to give up, lie down, and die, but again Lillian would not allow it.

  She and Lily had finally come to an agreement about some things, but Lily was still too idealistic for Lillian’s peace of mind. Lily didn’t want innocents to die. How quaint. Lillian sent Carrick along behind them to make sure that if there was something distasteful that Lillian wanted done, she need not negotiate with Lily. Carrick would do the dirty work, if there was any to be found. And there was always dirty work.

  Her insistence that he continue on after the coven was an exquisite torture. Never had he been so called to sleep and so unable to attain it. When he tried to let himself slip off into the roaring dark, she had taken possession of his body, forcing it to stand, and denying him his release. Never had he been so cruelly driven. He had learned to love his witch for that, and could only hope Lily would be just as harsh with him as Lillian had been after she died.

  That time was approaching fast. The loss of Juliet had made Lillian’s inner fire burn twice as bright with vengeance. But twice as bright meant twice as fast, and soon, Carrick knew, she would be burnt out. He just hoped he was far away from her when she went. A witch that strong always took out others with her when she died, especially if she died in the middle of a battle, and Carrick couldn’t imagine his witch dying any other way.

  Carrick watched the large, tan-colored vehicle carry the coven away toward the main road and sank down on his knees next to his puddle of sick. He’d lost them again. For now. The numbers on the plate were sealed in his memory. The throbbing in his head turned to blackness.

  Carrick. Wake up. Carrick . . .

  Lillian roused his mind back to pain. He focused on the dull agony and took a long breath to savor it before opening his eyes.

  It was night. Blue and red lights flashed in the driveway and on the street surrounding the house where Lily’s coven had stayed. Men and women in uniforms paced about the grounds, searching. He saw a woman get out of a plain black car. Her boxy body and wiry, graying hair were famili
ar. It was the agent who had hounded Lily and her family on Lily’s last sojourn in this world. Simms.

  Find out what that woman knows, Lillian ordered.

  Carrick stumbled through the dark to fulfill her wish, but his body was weak. Lillian sent her strength to revive him. The throbbing was still there—Lillian hadn’t eased that—but now that it was mixed with power, the pain morphed into pleasure for him. His witch understood him so well.

  Carrick vaulted up the side of the house, a mere blur to the eye, and opened a window on the second floor. He crept through the house until he could position himself best to hear the agent’s voice. She was questioning the tenant.

  “No, I already told you,” said a hassled man. “I didn’t know any of them. One of them cooked me breakfast. I assumed he was a chef. Roger? Ronald? I can’t remember his name. I don’t interview the people who come to my parties, you know.” The man sounded like he was used to talking down to people. “There were two hot girls with them. That’s all I know.”

  “They just showed up and you let them in?” Simms asked, sounding skeptical. “All someone needs are two hot girls to get into your house?”

  “I brought them,” said another male voice. “I brought all of them.”

  “Mister . . .” There was a pause as Simms flipped through a small notepad. “Miller. How did you know the suspects?”

  “I didn’t,” he said. His voice sounded small and hollow. “I saw them walking down Route One and I picked them up.”

  “Are you accustomed to picking up hitchhikers and letting them into your friends’ houses?” Simms asked.

  “No. No, I never pick up people.”

  “So why did you?”

  Carrick heard him take a long, drawn-in breath. “It was her. Lily. She looked at me and I just stopped my truck. I don’t know why I did it. They didn’t even try to wave me down or anything. I just wanted to . . .” His voice trailed off. “Are you going after her?”