Lily? Where are you?
Lily heard Juliet’s voice in her head, waking her. She opened her eyes. It was so dark she may as well have kept them closed. Her head pounded and she felt dizzy. She tried to reach out to Rowan, Tristan, and Caleb but all she felt was an intense, stabbing pain when she tried to mindspeak with them. A seasick feeling gripped her, as if she were pitching around in the bottom of a ship. The pain had lessened somewhat, but it was still all she could do to keep from throwing up.
“Are you awake, girl?” a man’s voice asked.
“Where are you taking me?” Lily rasped. Her stomach heaved but nothing came out. She was completely empty inside.
“We’re not going anywhere, girl. Nowheres at all, at least not on this earth,” the man said. His voice rumbled with a mix of sympathy and amusement. “It’s the vertigo of being separated from your willstones that makes you feel like you’re being tossed about on the ocean.”
Lily put her hand under her and felt straw, and under that, rough stone. “Well, since there’s never been a boat made out of rocks, I’ll believe you,” she said, even though she could feel herself rising and falling on giant swells.
“Careful, girl. Logical thought like that could get you hanged,” the old man said, chuckling.
Lily sat up and tried to steady herself with her hands. If she could just fix her eyes on something, it might help. “Is there any light?”
“The only light they allow down here is magelight so as not to give you energy. This is a witch’s prison. An old, forgotten one.”
“And are you a witch?” Lily asked, swallowing down the bile burning her throat.
The old man laughed. “Not a lot of male witches running around, and most of them that are witches don’t rightly know it,” he replied, amused by something that Lily didn’t understand. She’d never even heard of a male witch before. “No, girl, I’m something they got no prison for, even if she did stick me in here.”
Lily lay back down, her eyes closing. She fought her mounting confusion and asked the most relevant question. “And what are you?”
“I’m a shaman, Lily,” he said. All traces of humor left his voice. He sounded serious and steady. “I’m going to teach you how to spirit walk.”
“So this is where you’ve been,” Lily mumbled as sickness overwhelmed her. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Sorry I’m late,” he said with genuine regret. “I was detained.”
She knew she should care that she’d finally found the shaman, but all Lily could feel was spinning blackness pulling her down and all she could think of was her sister. If she listened very hard, she could almost hear Juliet’s voice in her head.
Lily? Where are you? I’m trying to feel where you are, but there’s too much granite blocking the way.
Help me, Juliet. I’m in the dark.
* * *
Lily came to and saw a glimmer of magelight. She lifted her head—her neck complaining of a vicious kink—and quickly glanced around.
She was in a small room, no more than two paces in any direction. Three walls were solid stone and the fourth, all bars. There was a raised pallet with a thin mattress for her to sleep on behind her, but Lily awoke to find herself on the floor. She recalled being placed on the bed, but she must have rolled out of it when the vertigo became too much to bear. In one corner was a bucket; in the other a bottle of water. Lily memorized the placement of everything in her cell because she knew she would be given little chance to see it again.
Beyond the bars was an alcove, and then a hallway. Lily saw other cells surrounding the alcove, but they were empty. The shaman’s cell must be directly next to hers, out of her line of sight.
The magelight came from the hallway. At the foot of the hallway was a small desk. Lily crawled closer to the bars of her cell and peered at the source of light. A figure was bent over the desk. The middle drawer was open, and the man was looking inside it with a rapt expression. She couldn’t see what was in the drawer, but she could feel his eyes on its contents.
A shiver of fear went through her. It was Carrick, staring at her willstones.
“Please don’t,” Lily begged softly. “Please don’t touch them, Carrick.”
He startled and straightened, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Then he relaxed, as if he remembered that he was the one in charge. He brightened his magelight until he could see Lily clearly, and she could see him. His hawkish face held traces of Rowan, but the resemblance wasn’t a comfort. The chill in his dark, vaguely familiar eyes only made her more terrified of him.
“But you let my half brother touch them. Am I so different from him?” he asked.
“Rowan’s never touched my willstones. He wouldn’t hurt me like that.”
Carrick sneered at her. “But I would?”
Lily wanted to answer him. She wanted to say “obviously” but she didn’t dare. The drawer was still open and she was still his prisoner. She shut her mouth.
“What did my half brother show you about me?”
“One memory—a fragment of a memory, really. You were skinny and bruised.”
“Did he pity me?”
“He felt bad for you.”
Carrick’s eyes flashed. “Then why didn’t he help me?” he said through clenched teeth.
“Because he was just a little boy.” Lily shrugged, like her answer was obvious.
“Later,” Carrick barked. Lily jumped, sensing his anger unhinging him. His eyes had a wild look to them. “I mean later, when he was set up at the Citadel and his life was nice and plush. Did he ever think to find me or help me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” she pleaded. “He only had one memory of you. Carrick, he didn’t know you.”
“But he knew what I was going through. What was happening to me.” He broke off for a moment to calm himself. “Everyone knew.”
“He was too little. He didn’t understand.” Lily threw her hands up, losing patience. “I don’t understand.”
“But you defend him.” Carrick stared down at her willstones. “You defend him because you love him. And you love him because he’s special. Because he got taken to the Citadel when he was seven while I got taken to hell.”
His hand hovered over Lily’s stones. She pulled herself up the bars, tears already streaming down her face at the thought of him touching her three little hearts.
“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’?” Carrick asked. Lily nodded desperately, hoping for any way to relate to him, to reach out to his humanity. “It’s a lie,” he said quietly. “There are things that a person can live through that make him weaker. Things that can leave you less than you were before. Maybe you’re about to experience one of them.”
Suffering descended on Lily like a claw from the sky.
* * *
Lily? Where are you?
I don’t know, Juliet. They haven’t said. This is all I have.
Lily replayed the brief images she’d seen—the cell, the alcove, and the desk.
Darn it. There are oubliettes like that everywhere. Can you be more specific?
Gideon and Carrick. That’s all I’ve got, Juliet. Find them and you’ll find me.
Easier said than done, Lily. They’ve disappeared. No one’s seen them in the city for days. Are you okay?
I’m in pain.
* * *
“Hey, girl. Lily girl. Are you dead?”
Lily uncurled herself from the ball she’d rolled into. Her nerves were still twitching with pain, but at least the worst was over. After she’d stopped screaming, Carrick had put her willstones back in the drawer and left. As a parting shot, he’d asked her whether or not she felt stronger, but she’d been in too much agony to engage in his repartee. She wanted to kill him. She counted that as a good thing. It meant she was still alive and kicking.
“Not yet,” she croaked in answer, unclenching her cramped fists.
“Good to hear. Let’s get started,” the sha
man said enthusiastically.
Lily crawled through the dark toward the bottle of water. “Are you serious?”
“Best time to learn how to spirit walk. Right after a near-death experience or a great shock, like a fever or a seizure.”
“Huh. Go figure.” She thought about the seizure she’d had at Scot’s party, and how she’d seen herself from afar, like she was floating over her own body. “That actually explains a lot,” Lily said, and raised the bottle of water to her lips.
“Put down that water, girl,” he admonished. “You’re starved, which is fantastic, but dehydration is the real key.”
“Fantastic?” Lily asked, not too sure she agreed with his word choice. Her mouth was so dry it felt sore. “Can’t I have one sip?”
“Absolutely not,” the old man replied. “Usually I’d take you to a sweat lodge after your fast. You’d be allowed water there because you’d be sweating it out faster ’en you could drink it. But there’s no hope for a sweat lodge in this freezing cold, now is there?”
“Not really,” she said, putting the water down. It was mostly ice, and she’d have only gotten a few drops out of it anyway. “Wait. How did you see me pick up the bottle? It’s pitch black in here.”
“Darker than the inside of a cat, isn’t it?” The shaman cracked himself up.
“Ah, sure?” Lily said hesitantly. She didn’t have much experience being inside cats.
“Darkness is good for our purpose,” he said, without answering her question. “Now. You need to lie down and relax.”
“That’s the best thing you could have possibly said to me right about now.” She felt her way across the straw-covered floor until she found her bunk, then gratefully pulled herself onto it.
“Now, here’s the hard part, girl,” the shaman said seriously. “I need you to empty your mind.”
“Piece of cake,” Lily mumbled.
“No. Don’t fall asleep.” The shaman’s voice was urgent. “Your spirit is a weak force. Like gravity. It works over vast distances, but the much stronger forces of the body and mind overwhelm the spirit in the short run. You must make the choice to put the spirit first. Let your will direct your spirit, and you can travel vast distances.”
Lily let the shaman’s words hang above her like thought bubbles in a comic book. Each idea was something she could see, suspended above her in black and white, but she didn’t try to think about them too hard. She just accepted them. Her spirit was whisper thin, easily overwhelmed by the howling demands of her body and the hard machinery of her logical thoughts. But as thin as it was, her spirit reached out past the stars and into other worlds.
“Okay. I see it,” she whispered.
“Good,” the shaman breathed. “Now, what do you hear?”
Lily. Are you in pain? We’re trying to find you.
“My sister. She’s looking for me.”
“You must go past that.” The shaman sounded sad. “I know you love her, and the other versions of the people who you love will guide you like bright lights into the other worlds. But Juliet’s mindspeak keeps you tethered to this world. In order to spirit walk you must go up, Lily. Jump up.”
She jumped. For a moment, Lily felt suspended. She looked down and saw her body lying on a dirty mattress. Her torn dress hung off her in ragged threads. Her face was streaked with filth, and her elbows, hands, and knees were rubbed raw and bleeding. She wasn’t looking with eyes—there was no light to see anything in the dank, cramped prison her body was trapped in—but Lily could see perfectly. She flew out into the alcove and looked around.
The shaman glowed like a pillar of fire in the next cell. The light of a thousand strange suns illuminated his body. Each sun showed him as a slightly different man. Lily saw him as old, young, beautiful, and dying at once. His spirit held every stage of his life inside him and refracted them back to Lily’s new farseeing eyes as if through a prism. He was everyman.
“There you are, girl,” he whispered, looking up at her. “Welcome home.”
Lily! Where did you go? Your mind went silent. Don’t leave me!
The screams of her sister brought Lily slamming back into her body.
I’m here, Juliet. I’m back. I’m sorry.
Lily pulled in a shuddering breath. The demands of her body assaulted her immediately, and she regretted coming back to such a dismal state of being. Everything ached. Without her willstones, she was cut off from the world again. Sick. She heard the shaman sigh.
“I couldn’t ignore her,” Lily mumbled, realizing she’d done exactly what he’d told her not to do. “She thought I’d died.”
“Well. I guess it would be worse if you didn’t love anyone that much,” he said. His voice sounded old and tired. “Get some sleep. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
* * *
Gideon was excited to start work. He didn’t know for sure if this divide-and-conquer strategy was going to succeed. He almost couldn’t believe that no other mechanic had tried it, except for the fact that it was really rare for a witch to have more than one stone. Maybe witches avoided bonding with more than one stone for this very reason, although if witches did it on purpose, they didn’t tell mechanics that. This other Lillian probably hadn’t known to limit herself to one stone.
It was small things like that which made Gideon suspect that this other Lillian didn’t have much experience with magic. He was even beginning to believe that she came from a world where there were no witches or magic at all. Gideon looked forward to going there one day. He imagined he would seem like a god among the non-magical people, which would be a welcome change.
Gideon saw how people looked at him, like he had no talent. He’d only gotten his position because of who his father was. It was true that he’d been presented to Lillian when they were children because his father was on the Council, but that was common enough. Lillian had claimed dozens of Councilmen’s sons, but Gideon was placed in her inner circle. He was supposed to have been special. Then she’d favored Rowan and Tristan over him and ignored Gideon. His one consolation was that Lillian had never claimed Tristan either. Gideon didn’t know why. Lillian had claimed hundreds, but in her inner circle, those who she saw and worked with every day, she’d only claimed Rowan and Juliet. A year ago, she’d been forced to claim Gideon and make him her head mechanic—but he was that in name only. And everyone knew it.
This was Lillian’s fault. She’d pushed him to this. She’d claimed him, but then refused to utilize him, leaving him with no other option. If he couldn’t find true power in the witch system, then that system had to be overthrown.
Gideon had big plans. He was already talking to mechanics who specialized in growing willstones. They’d told him it might be possible to tailor them and make it so witches routinely bonded with more than one stone. His father was already drafting the legislature that would make it the law for all witches to bond with multiple stones so that they too could be controlled by their mechanics. Once that was pushed through the Council, the world was going to change. Witches would be ruled by their mechanics. They would still be a power source, of course. But Gideon saw a day when they wouldn’t be the only power, as they were now. In fact, after he surveyed all that the other worlds had to offer, the witches might just find themselves obsolete. And begging him for a job.
Carrick was already in the oubliette when Gideon climbed down the rope and joined him. The girl was crouched in the far corner of her cell with her arms over her head. Her willstones were out on top of the desk, and Carrick was staring at them. That was unfortunate.
“Let’s get something straight, Carrick,” Gideon said, sighing regretfully. “You’re not to try to touch her willstones, or even look at them again unless I tell you to. Are we clear?”
Carrick looked up at Gideon with a confused expression on his face. For a moment, Gideon thought he saw something foreign in Carrick’s eyes. Carrick shook his head as if to clear it, and his usual coolness returned. Gideon angled himself in between Carrick and the stone
s. He couldn’t take them from the oubliette. That kind of distance between a witch and her willstones would make her too ill to do anything.
He was going to have to find some kind of safe to keep the stones in so Carrick wouldn’t be tempted. It might take a few days to get something like that out here, but Gideon knew he’d have to make arrangements. Gideon had been avoiding Salem, lying low. He’d have to go all the way to Providence to buy a safe, but he didn’t have a choice about that now. Carrick was becoming attached to her willstones—and maybe to her.
“Are we clear, Carrick?” Gideon repeated.
“We’re clear.”
“Good. She should be weak enough now that it’ll be safe to run a little test.” Gideon picked up the edges of the handkerchief and went to her cell. The girl hugged her stomach, biting her lower lip to stop the nausea. It must be so disorienting to feel your willstones picked up by another and moved around while you sit still, Gideon mused. He didn’t know. He’d never had the displeasure.
“We can give her the littlest stone, and see if she can transmute a tiny bit of energy with it, while I hold the other two for safekeeping.” Gideon met her eyes, pleased to see a wealth of anger there. She really was just like Lillian. This was going to be so much fun for him. “I’m always going to keep at least one of your stones with me. Wouldn’t want you to get any ideas above yourself. Now would I, Lily?”
The girl’s glare dissolved into pleading. Now she was starting to get it. With two of her stones held hostage, Gideon was the one in control of her magic. Unless she wanted to suffer, she’d better do every thing he said exactly as he said it.
“This is a power storage cell,” he continued, putting a heavy but small black box in front of the bars of Lily’s cage. He handed her the smallest willstone. “I am going to give you a tiny bit of heat and I want you to turn that heat into electricity and put it into the storage cell. Do you understand?”
Lily nodded blankly. “You want me to charge that battery.”
“We’ll start there and work our way up. If you’re good, we can move on to something more fun. Remember, there’s a gauge on this battery, as you called it, so don’t try keeping any power for yourself. I’ll be watching.” He squeezed her other two willstones, still cupped in the palm of his hand to give her a taste of the punishment she’d get if she tried to trick him. Lily gripped her head, stifling a scream in the back of her throat. “If you’re good, we’ll keep working our way up to higher and higher levels of energy. Who knows how far we’ll go? Maybe all the way into another world.”
Trial by Fire Page 28