Do you wish I wasn’t here?
I want to say yes, but I can’t. You’re not safe. Everyone here wants a piece of you, but I guess I’m even more selfish than they are. I don’t just want a piece, Lily. I want all of you. I want you with me wherever I go, even if that puts you in danger.
Wherever you are is where I’m safest and happiest, Rowan.
I haven’t thought about being happy in a while.
Maybe you can start now. Maybe we both can. At least we’re together.
When we find Tristan and Caleb, I’ll consider it.
Rowan looked out the mouth of the cave, his eyes scanning the darkness.
Lily floated on top of her coven’s dreams, bobbing gently as if she were sunbathing in a pool of their sleeping minds. She sensed another mind floating along like hers on top of the sleeping minds of her claimed. Lily joined her other self, only to find that she had wandered into the Mist and into another one of Lillian’s memories. This time, Lillian didn’t choose to share another memory of the shaman. Her story, and therefore her reasons to support killing all Outlander scientists, had more to it than rational arguments about saving the planet from Alaric and Chenoa’s bombs. It also had gut-wrenching fear.
Before Lily could register the burned-out trees and the acrid air, she knew from the panic that enveloped her that Lillian had brought her back inside another memory of the cinder world …
… They’re coming after me with nooses on poles. They’ve finally smartened up and realized that my touch will kill them. I don’t know how many of them there are, and that’s a problem. I scramble through the thick underbrush, my breath rasping in and out of my lungs in fear. I can’t see. Not clearly. But I can hear them, and they’re getting closer. I run. Their baying laughter seems to come from all around me.
“Come on, pretty! Where you going? We’ll take good care of you,” they taunt.
I turn from the direction of their voices, and hear the whipping sound of rope flying through the air before I feel the net tangle around me. They drove me into a trap, I realize. A sob bursts out of me as I fall onto my side. I try, but I don’t have enough stored energy in my body to manifest either an electric current or a fireball. I haven’t had salt in days.
“We got her!” one of them hollers.
I have a knife in my skirt, but that’s not what I reach for. I know I’ll never cut myself out of these thick, oiled ropes in time. I snake my hand up to the willstone at my throat. My last resort.
“Quick! Before she swallows it.”
“I’m not touching her. Hand me the pole.”
While they bicker I manage to rip my willstone off its chain and swallow it. It’s huge and chokes me, but I get it down.
“Ah!” the first one growls, shoving the second one to the ground. “You were supposed to stop her.”
I hear more voices and the sound of many feet, but I can barely turn my head and can’t see more than five of them standing over me. They must have sent the whole gang after me. One of them in particular leans close. His face is scarred and he has the air of a leader about him.
“That stone won’t stay in her forever,” he says. A cruel glint lights his bulging red eyes. “And once we smash it, she’ll be a helpless little zombie. We can do whatever we want to her.”
I try not to show fear, but I fail. I shrink under his appraising look.
“She’s still healthy. That’s why I like the young ones,” another says eagerly. I can see saliva wetting the inside of his scabby lips and have to turn my head before I gag.
“Get her up,” the leader orders. “Use the poles to disarm her.”