“Got it,” Una said, already crouching low like the fighter in Rowan’s image.
They didn’t exchange punches as Tristan and Rowan had—they grappled. Una’s new style of fighting relied on her getting in close and zeroing in on fragile little bones or crucial nerves. Rowan taught her how to get right up against her opponents and knock them off balance while she took a joint and broke it, or shot in like a surgeon to skewer a vital artery. By the end of Una’s grappling session, both Juliet and Breakfast looked like they were going to upchuck from all the gruesome images Rowan had conveyed to them.
“My girlfriend’s an assassin,” Breakfast said disbelievingly when Una brushed the sand off her clothes and sat down next to him. She kissed him loudly on the cheek. “I am so doomed,” he said, grinning.
Juliet looked seasick. “I don’t think I can do that,” she said.
“I don’t expect you to,” Rowan replied, holding in a laugh. “For you and Breakfast, I’m going to focus more on self-defense, rather than attack. Which is incredibly useful for protecting Lily.” Rowan’s tone turned deadly serious. “And that’s what this is all about. Protecting your witch. Never forget that without you, she’s nearly defenseless, although a powerful witch will always have a few last-ditch tricks up her sleeve. I’ll teach you those later, Lily,” he said, tossing Lily a brief image of a witch throwing fireballs and forked tendrils of lightning from the palms of her hands. “But without a witch, a mechanic is as good as dead. Protecting your witch is more important than your individual life, because if she dies, all of her claimed are left without her strength. If you care about each other you must protect Lily first, and you must protect her to the last. Do you understand?”
They all nodded solemnly as the weight of this responsibility settled inside them.
“This is about that guy,” Tristan said, his voice low and rough. “The one that you chased last night. Who is he?”
Rowan started to answer, but Lily stopped him. “No, Rowan. Let me.” She took a deep breath and shared a memory of Carrick from the oubliette. For half a second she let all of them feel what she had felt when he touched her willstones, and then she cut off the sensation before any of them could scream.
“Son of a bitch!” Tristan spat.
“He should be torn apart,” Una growled.
“Who is he?” Breakfast asked, his face stony.
“My half brother, Carrick,” Rowan answered, looking down at the sand. “All I know of him is that he was raised by a vile man. Carrick knows just about everything there is to know about torture. And he’s here for Lily.” Rowan looked Tristan in the eye. “Can I count on you? Can I count on you to never leave her?”
Tristan nodded. Rowan looked at each of them in turn, waiting until they all nodded in silent agreement.
“Wait. There’s something else you need to know. Carrick has a witch fueling him,” Lily said. She turned to Rowan. “You know her better than I do.”
“I’ll explain through you,” Rowan said quietly.
Rowan allowed everyone to view a few of his memories of Lillian. He showed them how she started out idealistic and progressive, then how she disappeared for three weeks and came back terribly sick and inexplicably changed. Finally, he showed how she started hunting scientists with a maniacal single-mindedness. He let them all see one moment of his father’s body, dropping through the trapdoor on the gallows while Lillian stood no more than two steps away, before he abruptly ended the flow of images.
“We’re fighting you?” Una asked disbelievingly.
“A version of me,” Lily answered. “You need to understand that no matter how strong I may seem to you, our enemy is just as strong and she’s had years more practice. She’s mastered things that I’m still struggling to understand. She brought me to her world—something that had never been done before—and now she’s sent Carrick here to bring me back to her.”