“You still have your willstone,” he presses. “Could you help us?”
I look around at the squalor and despair surrounding me. There’s nothing to burn and no source of energy. “Right now I can’t even help myself,” I say. The boy goes quiet, his last ray of hope snuffed out.
I look at the lambs. There are well over fifty people here, crammed close to share their body heat. A dark thought occurs to me. They’re all dying anyway. I push the thought away, clinging to my humanity for as long as I can.
The day drags by, marked only by the change in position of the shafts of dusty light piercing through the darkness. As the light lengthens, the lambs grow restless. Panicky. The doctor is on his way.
At sunset, the doors burst open and the lambs start screaming. They push to the back, stepping over one another in a desperate bid to get away. I stand where I am, hiding the boy behind me. Let them try and take him away from me.
Armed men push into the room, laughing. Enjoying the chaos and fear of a riot. They avoid me, shouting for everyone to steer clear of me. I notice that they are guarding one lean shape in the middle of their group. His long, silky black hair is braided with vulture feathers.
“That’s him!” the boy squeals, hiding his face in my skirts. “That’s the doctor.”
I know him. The shape of his sensitive mouth, the way he walks, even the curve of his broad shoulders is as familiar to me as the moon in the sky because he gave these features to someone I love more than I love anything. I stagger forward, thinking that if I come closer to him his face will somehow change. That he won’t be who I know he is.
“River Fall!” I shout, hoping beyond hope that he doesn’t respond. But he turns to me. Tears burn my eyes and grip at my throat.
“Lillian,” he says. No emotion. There’s nothing inside of him. He comes toward me and his guards move swiftly to pin me down with their noose poles. I’m too stunned to fight. They capture me by the neck and push me against the wall, choking me. The boy lets go of my skirts and rushes forward, attacking my assailants with his little fists, and gets himself captured.
“No,” I beg. Not River. He’s the gentlest, kindest man I’d ever met. “It can’t be you.”
“Where is my son, Lillian?” he asks, his deep voice rumbling.
“I don’t—” I stop and reach out for Rowan. I can’t feel him at all in this world. There’s simply no vibration where his huge and powerful presence should be. “He’s dead, River.”
River’s eyes blaze and he comes toward me, snarling. “He’s alive! He’s alive and he will set all this right again,” River says. He makes a wide gesture with his arms, taking in not just the horror inside the barn, but the broken world outside the barn’s doors. “My son was taken by another ranch and they hold him hostage. I send them food”—he points at the lambs, spit flying from his mouth—“and they keep him alive. But he’ll be back. Rowan will be back and he’ll fix everything. My son is the most powerful mechanic ever. He’ll fix all of this.”
His grief has made him mad. River grabs the boy by his hair, and pulls. I try to scream, but the noose poles cut off my air. I strain and grab, pressing against the rope, but the boy is out of reach. River drags him by his hair to the back of the barn, where the chopping block lies. The boy is screaming and begging, and in a moment I hear him scream even louder.
Inhuman sounds. Almost like a hawk. I wonder if River is taking his arm or his leg …
Lily didn’t struggle or try to end the memory, but Lillian spared her and stopped. She knew Lily had seen enough anyway.