“He’s in there,” Breakfast said, pointing to a door a few steps away from where Lily was standing. It was the bathroom door.
Breakfast kept a steadying hand on Lily’s arm while she knocked. Tristan didn’t answer her, but she could hear him talking to someone else in there. His voice sounded low and urgent. Something was terribly wrong. Lily pulled open the door.
At first it didn’t make sense. Why would Tristan be half naked in Scot’s bathroom? Then Lily saw Miranda behind him. She had her bare back turned away from the door, but Lily didn’t need to see her face to recognize her long, bleached-blonde hair.
“What?” Lily started to ask, and stopped herself. She knew what was going on—she just couldn’t believe it.
Tristan finally managed to pull his shirt over his head and noticed Lily’s condition. “Lily,” he said, taking a step toward her.
Revolted, Lily backed away from him, plowing into Breakfast. She latched on to Breakfast when her legs gave out. It felt as if her own clothes were smothering her. Her muscles began to twitch as the electrical storm in her overheated brain took over. Her arms and legs went rigid, and her entire body convulsed with the superhuman strength of a seizure.
Frightened voices rose up from the crowd that had gathered around the humiliating scene. “What the hell is wrong with her? Is she’s having a fit?” the voices murmured.
Breakfast guided Lily gently down to the floor as the seizure descended on her in earnest. Blobs of light in her eyes and a clanging in her ears crowded out all of Lily’s other senses. She couldn’t feel anything. She was on the floor, her fever eating her up inside, and then it all shifted.
She saw herself lying there, teeth clacking together, spine bowing and arching as her muscles pulled her bones and joints to their limits. She hovered there, above herself, watching her body tear itself apart. Then—she didn’t hear a girl’s voice, not exactly. It was fainter than that, like it was coming from far away, and the words were being placed inside her head.
You are sick in this world.
Lily wondered if she was talking to herself.
Come to me and be the most powerful person in the world.
But … I don’t want to go, Lily thought. The faint voice went away, and Lily fell back into her body.
She saw Tristan’s face, desperate and yelling over hers, but all she heard was the whoosh of the blood in her veins. She tasted leather and blood. Hands held her down. She felt herself being lifted and carried. Pale faces, frightened faces, flashed past her.
“Tristan?” she lisped. Something was in her mouth. She got her fingers to obey her enough to pull it out, and stared at a leather strap. A belt.
“It’s okay, Lily,” Tristan said, his voice high and fearful. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”
“Won’t make it,” she whispered. Her tongue was so swollen it filled up her mouth. “Too hot.”
“Okay,” he said, immediately understanding. “I’ll take you to Juliet.”
Lily saw Breakfast running in front of them. He opened the car doors and helped Tristan put Lily in the front seat and buckle her up.
“Oh my God. She’s burning,” Breakfast said in a quavering voice.
“Just leave it. There’s no time,” Tristan growled. “Shut the door.”
Breakfast obeyed and got in the back. Tristan sped to Lily’s house, and he and Breakfast carried her inside.
“Tristan? What’s going on? What happened?” Juliet cried as soon as she saw Lily.
“Some bastard slipped vodka into Lily’s drink. Get ice.”
Juliet ran to the fridge as Tristan and Breakfast carried Lily upstairs to the bathroom. Tristan put her in the tub and cranked on the cold tap, tilting her head under it. Lily sighed when the water spilled across her roasting forehead. Juliet joined them and dumped ice into the tub. Tristan’s face floated over hers. She wanted to cry and scream and push him away from her, but she couldn’t move.