Trial by Fire

Lily could feel Rowan’s body soaring, feel the rush of pure force pouring into his limbs. Knife in hand, he slashed through the armored back of a Woven and was on to his next victim before the killed creature could even scream. Caught in her column of witch wind, Lily kept absorbing more heat, changing it, and spilling it into Rowan as he used it. She was the hand of power inside Rowan, bearing him up so he could do impossible things.

His body leapt and spun. It crashed down with tons of force, smashing the Woven beneath him. His arms reached and whirled. He punched and grabbed, slicing through the ranks of invaders like they were no thicker than shadows. He pushed their enemies back, out of the confined space of the cabin and into the clearing so he could kill them more easily.

Even though she could no longer see the battle, Lily’s senses still seeped into Rowan’s. She was with him in his skin, feeling the thrill he felt with her power inside him. Every muscle was stronger than steel and every bone nearly unbreakable. She felt his lithe body all around her, moving and stretching. Her heart pounded with his, thrilling with the purest rush Lily had ever experienced. And right on the edge of his mind, she saw a flash of fear—fear that she would take him over entirely.

She realized that she could control his actions if she wanted. More. She could control his thoughts, his speech, even his dreams. And something in her pinched with lust at the thought of doing it, of taking all of him. Lily realized with a start that she desperately wanted something that she knew was despicable.

Don’t give in, Lily. I know it feels good, but you have to let me keep myself. You don’t know how to fight them.

Lily struggled with herself, resisting not only the desire she felt but the itch of curiosity. It was wrong, and she knew it, but still she wondered what it would feel like to own Rowan completely. Lily’s conscience cringed.

I swear I won’t, Rowan.

She schooled her thoughts and focused on the battle instead of her internal conflict. Out in the clearing, Rowan stood at the center of a pile of growing carcasses. The Woven had to climb up the dead to come at him. Several times one or two peeled off from the main group and tried to get past Rowan to the cabin. Rowan was vigilant and stopped all of them before they got close to Lily. Their numbers seemed to be endless.

As the fire behind Lily began to sputter and fail, the witch wind buffeted her unevenly, knocking her around like a doll. Lily gritted her teeth and waited for it to be over. Finally, the howls and squeals of the Woven ended.

They’re all dead, Lily. Now we have to burn them.

I’m so tired.

We must. Or more are sure to come.

Still using the strength Lily was struggling to pour into him, Rowan pushed all the carcasses on top of the pile in the clearing and then set it alight. As the bonfire began to rise and Rowan’s need for super-human strength ended, Lily allowed herself to sever the loop of power she was channeling. The uneven witch wind stopped blowing, and Lily fell out of the air in a heap. A fatigue she’d never felt before hollowed her out from head to toe, leaving her motionless on the cabin floor.

She saw Rowan’s boots coming toward her and thought about how she’d seen them up close like this before—when he had found her in the grate after chasing her through the streets of this other Salem. She wasn’t in any better condition now than she’d been then, and the similarity made Lily chuckle.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Rowan said gently. “Don’t cry.”

Lily wanted to tell him that she wasn’t crying, but her throat had closed off and her eyes were blurry with tears. He picked her up. His skin was wet and cool. He carried her to a cot and propped her against the wall, his fingers stopping to press several points on her body like he was reading something written in Braille under her skin. His hair was wet—all of him was wet, she realized. Lily ran her hand up his arm and over his bare shoulder, smoothing the beads of water away.