Show me what happened between you and Scot. I saw a fragment of that memory when you claimed me, but not the whole thing.
Why? You’re leaving. I’m done sharing myself with you.
She felt the sting in Rowan’s chest as keenly as he did. Worse, even. Lily realized that the problem with loving someone more than she loved herself was that when she hurt him, she was the one who was hurt the most.
When it was dark, the group went down to the beach and built a bonfire. They trained until dawn. Rowan barely let any of them sit for a moment to rest.
“Dude. We have school in the morning,” Breakfast complained, panting.
“When you get to school, you can take energy from Lily,” he replied unsympathetically. “With a witch to fuel you, you can go days without sleeping or eating.”
“And what about me?” Lily asked.
Rowan wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I have herbs that will keep you energized. You’ll be fine.”
You want them trained as soon as possible so you can leave as soon as possible, right?
He didn’t answer her, but she could feel that sting in his chest again. Hurting him hurt her, but she couldn’t seem to stop doing it.
When Rowan finally said they were finished for the night, Lily and Juliet trudged up from the beach alongside each other with the rest of the group several paces behind.
“I’m actually okay with the no sleeping thing,” Juliet said, yawning. “Been having horrible nightmares, anyway.”
Lily’s skin pricked. “About what?” she asked in a low voice.
“Dad. He was getting—”
“Tortured,” Lily finished for her. The sisters looked at each other, their faces mirroring the other’s dread. They both broke into a run at the same time.
“Lily, wait,” Rowan yelled.
They didn’t stop. Lily and Juliet ran side by side, their fear entangled. “Please, no. Please make it have been a dream,” the sisters chanted under their breath.
When they were still a block away, the sisters could see a police cruiser and an unmarked car parked outside their house. Their legs got rubbery and heavy as they stumbled across their front yard. They saw their mother standing at the door in a tatty old bathrobe, surrounded by officers and Agent Simms. Samantha’s hair was a ball of angry red tangles and her eyes swam with confusion that bordered on hysteria.
“Girls!” she called out, the pitch of her voice sliding up to a shriek. “It’s your father!”
Lily and Juliet stopped running at the same time. They knew instinctively that running wouldn’t help anyway. Their father was already dead.
CHAPTER
8
The police were there for hours. Tristan and Rowan got questioned first. Rowan, because he didn’t have any form of identification he could give to the police, and Tristan, because the authorities had gotten accustomed to suspecting him of foul play where the Proctor family was concerned. Rowan handled the questions calmly. Tristan was defensive and confrontational, especially with Simms.
At some point, the police turned their attention to Lily. They told her that they knew about the bonfires on the beach. They’d also heard that odd things were happening down there. Strange, howling noises had been reported, and eerie, pulsing lights had been seen from a distance.
Lily could barely discern their muffled questions through the monotonous hum that had taken over her mind. She saw their lips moving, but it took time for her to string their words together. In her thoughts she played the “nightmare” she’d had about her dad over and over.
The beating he’d taken had been real. The blood. The begging. Carrick’s face looming above—watching the pain he inflicted with such hungry interest. And she had ignored it. She could have found him, saved him, but she hadn’t believed it could be real. She hadn’t believed Lillian would ever go that far. Her father had never understood why he was being hurt, but Lily understood. Now she did, anyway.
“Miss Proctor? Lily?” an officer asked.