Firewalker

by Josephine Angelini

  “Holy shit!” a strange voice yelled. Lily saw a person stumble into the light of her bonfire. It was Scot.

  “Scot, help him!” she pleaded desperately. He stared at her floating form, his jaw dropped in shock. “Now!” she commanded.

  Scot managed to snap himself out of it and he tackled Carrick, knocking him off Breakfast. They rolled and twisted across the ground. Lily heard Scot scream. Breakfast righted himself, reared back, and hit Carrick with everything he had. Carrick tumbled away from Scot, who was gasping and gurgling in the snow. A pool of black blood fanned out around Scot’s head. Carrick had cut his throat.

  Lily! What’s happening?

  Rowan, it was a trap! Come quick!

  Breakfast knelt next to Scot and pressed his palms against his neck as if he could hold back the tide of blood. As Scot clutched at Breakfast’s arms, drowning in his own blood, Carrick scrambled to his feet and reached a hand into the collar of his overcoat.

  “Lillian,” he called, clutching his willstone. Lily saw a brilliant flash of magelight that haloed Carrick for a split second, and then he disappeared between the trees.

  Rowan, Tristan, and Una arrived a moment too late. Rowan took a handful of steps down Carrick’s escape path, and stopped.

  “He’s already too far,” Rowan said through gritted teeth.

  Tristan threw himself down next to Breakfast, tearing at the hem of his shirt.

  “Tie it off,” Tristan said, wrapping the rag around Scot’s neck.

  “Here,” Una said, joining the circle around Scot’s head. “My scarf.”

  “Everyone just stop!” Breakfast snapped. “Rowan, do something!”

  “The cut is too deep to heal,” Rowan said regretfully. “It’s almost to the spine.”

  The frantic motion around Scot slowed and one by one they all sat back on their heels. Lily let go of the power loop, her witch wind died, and she dropped back down to earth.

  “Let me see him,” she insisted, running forward and sinking to her knees by Scot’s side. The snow around him steamed with the heat of his spilled blood.

  “He’s dead,” Tristan said, closing Scot’s vacant eyes.

  * * *

  “I should have claimed him,” Lily said. They’d been sitting in the snow for twenty minutes, the fire popping behind them, trying to come up with a plan.

  “I should have known he was following us when we saw that car back up behind us on Winter Street,” Tristan said.

  “How?” Una asked, grimacing. “You’re not Jason frigging Bourne.”

  “There’s no point in trying to assign blame to anyone but the murderer,” Rowan said. “Scot is dead because Carrick killed him. The end.”

  “What do we do?” Breakfast asked.

  “We could bury him here. Hide the body,” Una suggested weakly.

  Tristan shook his head, laughing bitterly under his breath. “It doesn’t matter if they find the body or not, Una. If he goes missing, who are the police going to think is responsible? Probably the last person who got into a huge fight with him, threatened to kill him, and then sent him to the hospital.”

  “They’re going to suspect all of us, not just you, Tristan,” Lily said, holding up a hand before Una could say something sarcastic. “They already do suspect us. Agent Simms isn’t going to quit. Ever.”

  “Yeah,” Breakfast said quietly. “They’ll keep looking until they find his body and once they do, we’re all screwed.” He looked at Scot’s corpse, which was covered with bits of their clothes, fingerprints, and who-knows-what DNA. “Even if we burn him, we’d probably leave something behind on accident.”

  “I’m not going to jail,” Tristan said, his voice leaden.

  “Me neither,” Una agreed.

  “I don’t know if we can avoid it at this point,” Breakfast said. “I mean, we might get an insanity plea to work if we all start babbling about magic and parallel universes.”

  “No,” Lily said sharply. “No one in this world can know about magic.” She conveyed one brief image of the battle she fought against Lillian. She showed them how—with her power in them—her army of Outlanders had fought with impossible strength, speed, and ferocity. “Can you imagine our jacked-up world with those kinds of soldiers in it?”

  “It would be a bloodbath,” Rowan said. “The Woven aren’t the only reason my world is so sparsely populated. There was an era in our history when witches regularly sent out their armies to fight each other.”

  “Over what?” Breakfast asked.

  Rowan gave a half smile. “You’ve felt what it’s like to have a witch in you, but you haven’t felt the Gift yet,” he said in a deep voice. “When you do, you’ll understand.”

  “We don’t have to show them warrior magic. We can just show them medicine and kitchen magic,” Breakfast said hopefully. “And it could be a good thing. Do you know how many burn victims would be saved because of what you taught us the other day, Rowan?”

  “No. No magic in this world. The shaman was very clear about this when he taught me how to spirit walk,” Lily said. “You can’t steal advanced technology from one world and bring it to another without something terrible happening. It doesn’t matter what your intentions are. Just think it through. It’d be like introducing the plague to a bunch of people who’ve never even had the sniffles. I won’t be responsible for genocide just because I don’t want to go to jail.”

  “So we can’t tell the truth.” Una looked at Lily, her cat-like eyes narrowed. “Our only hope is to run, but there’s no place in this world we can hide. Not for long.”

  Rowan looked up from the ground and around at the group, the first to catch on to what Una was suggesting. “You can’t leave Lily,” he said fearfully.

  “Hang on,” Breakfast said, his brow furrowed. “Una, are you saying we should go with Rowan to his world?”

  “Doesn’t it make more sense than staying here?” she said, her excitement building.

  “No. It doesn’t,” Breakfast said.

  “Stuart, I just found out who I really am inside. For the first time in my life I feel like I understand where I fit. I’m not giving that up,” she said, eyes blazing. “And anyway, we’re mechanics. We are magic, so we don’t belong in this world. We might even be a threat to it because eventually someone is going to find out about us.”

  “But if we go, we won’t be able to do much magic without our witch,” Tristan said.

  “Then she should come,” Una said.

  “No,” Rowan said sharply. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “More dangerous than this?” Una argued, gesturing to Scot’s dead body.

  Rowan nodded sadly. “You have no idea.”

  “Tristan,” Una implored. “Back me up.”

  “I’d go in a second,” he said with a shrug. “My life here is over anyway.”

  Una looked at Lily hopefully, biting her lower lip.

  “No,” Rowan said.

  “Yes,” Lily countered quietly. She looked at Rowan. “It’s never going to end unless I go back. And who’ll be next? Juliet? My mom? Rowan—I can’t run from Lillian any more than I can run from myself, and it was stupid of me to even try. I have to go back.”

  Rowan’s face crumbled. Lily felt that unthinkable thing well up in him again.

  Back to her army. What will I do…, he thought before shoving a new, dark idea away.

  Rowan, if I use that army, it will be to fight Lillian. How could you ever think anything different of me?

  I don’t want you fighting at all! Your last battle against Lillian almost killed you.

  She sighed, frustrated. As soon as she decrypted one confusing part of Rowan’s feelings it seemed another even more baffling emotion swooped in to take its place. She honestly didn’t know what he wanted from her, probably because he didn’t know himself.

  “So, we’re leaving,” Breakfast said disbelievingly.

  “I am,” Una said, uncertainty creeping into her eyes. “But I can’t force you to come with m
e.”

  “If you’re going, I’m going,” he growled. “I told you—you’re never getting rid of me. Even if I have to follow you to another universe.”

  “Good.” She smiled, suddenly shy, and took his hand.

  Tristan stood. “I have paper and pens in my car. We should let Scot’s family know where to find him. And we should all leave notes for our families.” He looked at Lily, one corner of his mouth tilted up in a regretful smile. “It isn’t right to just disappear on people.”

  They hiked back to Tristan’s car in silence. Lily reached out to Juliet in mindspeak and shared what had happened and how they had come to the decision to worldjump. Juliet fought Lily leaving at first, but she stopped when Lily pointed out that their mother could be next.

  I wish I could go with you, Lily.

  No! It really is unbelievably dangerous there, Juliet. And anyway, you need to stay with Mom.

  Aren’t you at least going to come back and say good-bye, Lily?

  I don’t know if I can, Jules.

  Lily looked up at the rest of the group. “Do you guys want to go home and say good-bye to your families in person?” she asked.

  “We can’t run the risk of being separated. Carrick wants you all to panic and scatter,” Rowan objected gently. “If you split up to go to your homes, I guarantee Carrick will be waiting for one of you. It’s what I’d do.”

  “And all of us going to each other’s houses together would take too long,” Una added. She looked down at her blood-soaked clothes. “We’d get caught for sure.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t put it past Simms to come by my house at dawn. Or any one of our houses,” Lily said.

  “She likes to drop by and harass suspects,” Tristan said bitterly. “She came to my house every day for a week straight after you disappeared, Lily.”

  “It’s probably better if we just leave letters and go now,” Una said, her voice rough. They all stopped and looked at one another, their faces saddened as the enormity of their decision sank in.

  “Wow. This is it,” Breakfast said, stunned.

  “Yeah,” Una said, nodding and looking blankly at the ground.

  Lily reached out to Juliet and let her know of their decision to leave immediately. While the sisters discussed what Juliet should tell Simms, Una and Breakfast helped each other compose farewell letters for their families. Tristan insisted on being the one to write the letter for Scot’s parents. He knew them best.

  “What are you going to say to them?” Breakfast asked.

  Tristan shrugged, at a loss. “I guess I’ll tell them he died trying to save someone else. Maybe thinking he died a hero will help.”

  Breakfast gave Tristan a doubtful look, but he didn’t object. What could any of them really say to their parents besides good-bye and I love you?

  “Tristan,” Rowan said, pulling Tristan aside. “Do you have chains or rope in your car?”

  “No. I have bungee cords,” he said, opening the trunk. “What do you need them for?”

  Lily answered for Rowan. “You’ll have to tie me down so I don’t instinctively jump off the pyre when you burn me.” A heavy pause followed. “There’s no other way to worldjump, you guys,” she said calmly. Something occurred to her, and the words were out of her mouth before she could recall where they’d come from. “I’m a witch. And witches burn.”

  They placed their good-bye letters in a neat row on the dashboard and left the car doors unlocked. Dawn was near. They were running out of time.

  “The people in the house over there will report an abandoned car when they wake up,” Tristan said, gesturing down the block. “We should go.”

  They hiked back through the woods and built Lily’s pyre.

  Juliet. I’m leaving now. Take care of Mom.

  I will. Promise that you won’t stay away forever.

  Lily stared at the pile of logs in front of her, unable to answer her sister. She didn’t know if she would ever be back.

  “Let’s do it,” she said, nodding at Rowan.

  She approached the unsteady heap of wood carefully. This pyre was much smaller than the one that had fueled her in battle and, thankfully, it lacked the intimidating stake jutting up from the center. Instead, Rowan had ordered that one long birch log be laid across the top. The pyre was still large, and Lily’s legs were clumsy with fear as she climbed onto it.

  Or was it excitement that was making her stumble? Now that she smelled the wood sap and saw the white, splintery guts of the split logs, she remembered the power of the pyre as sharply as she remembered the pain. It coiled in her like lust.

  “You won’t burn for long. Remember, you don’t have to last through an entire battle this time. Just long enough to worldjump,” Rowan said, helping Lily lie down on top of the long birch log. His hands shook and his eyes were wide. “If it’s too much—”

  “It won’t be,” Lily whispered. She guided his mouth to hers and kissed him. As he kissed her back he pushed her arms over her head and bound her wrists tightly to the birch log beneath her. When he pulled away he kept his eyes locked with hers. “Tristan. Tie her feet,” he said.

  Lily felt Tristan strapping down her ankles with the bungee cord while she and Rowan stared at each other. She could feel Rowan’s need and fear mirroring her own. On the pyre they were always one.

  Tristan and Rowan moved back and Una stepped forward, a makeshift torch blazing in her hand. She looked at Lily with a mix of fear and pride in her eyes while she touched the torch to the logs under Lily’s body, setting them aflame.

  The heat came on much faster this time. As soon as Lily smelled the smoke she felt the fire. In seconds she was screaming.

  Lily! How can I help you?

  You can’t, Rowan. In fact, you have to go.

  Lily pushed him out of her mind. She knew that having him there would only make her focus on this world, rather than allow her to spirit walk and find the world she was seeking. In order to do that, she needed Lillian—and Lillian was always easy for Lily to find when she was in pain. Lily still hated her for what she had done, and when she wasn’t burning she knew she would remember that, but her hatred seemed to vanish when it was just the two of them, clinging to each other on the raft.

  I’m here, Lily.

  You’ve won, Lillian. I’m coming back.

  This isn’t a contest between us. You could have gone to your authorities and revealed your magic. You could have cleared your name and had the police hunt Carrick for you. But you didn’t choose that. You chose to be known as a murderer in your world. You chose your world’s safety over the safety of you and your coven—the good of the many over the good of the few, even if one of those few is you. You will be thought of as a murderer and a villain in your world. Like me.

  I may be you, Lillian, but I don’t make the same choices you do.

  This choice proves otherwise. The reason I killed the shaman and the reason I hunt the three scientists is because they did exactly what you won’t—what you’re willing to leave your world in order to avoid doing.

  What are you talking about?

  Do you really think three Outlanders, no matter how intelligent, would have the ability to invent and to build nuclear devices out of thin air?

  Explain.

  In a moment, but you must worldjump now, Lily, or you’ll die. Gather your mechanics and find me in the worldfoam. I will be your lighthouse.

  A vibration too large and too complicated to ever store in her willstone buzzed through Lily’s body like a swarm of bees. She called to the unique patterns in Rowan’s, Tristan’s, Breakfast’s, and Una’s stones as the heat and the pain of the pyre catapulted her leap up and out into nothing.

  One shining light called to Lily. She followed it through the numbness between the worlds and found Lillian. Her mission completed, her physical body tired and charred, Lily’s spirit gladly wandered into the Mist, where Lillian met her.

  Let me show you what I meant about the shaman, Lily …

  �
�� I heave into the basin until I’m shaking.

  “You should be in your bed, Lady, being tended to by Lord Fall,” Captain Leto scolds. He steadies me as I lean back against the side of his cot and dabs at my sweat-streaked face.

  “He isn’t back from the Outlands yet,” I rasp, shaking my head. And it’s a good thing, too. If Rowan had been at the Citadel, rather than out looking for me when I returned from the cinder world two days ago, he would know everything that had happened to me. He would have seen what happened in the barn.

  Never. He can’t. I can’t ever show him that, even if it means he never touches me again.

  “You have other mechanics,” Leto presses as he helps me off the floor and onto his cot. “Surely their care would be better than mine.” He gestures helplessly around his spare quarters on Walltop. He has little more to offer than a fire and tea. I can hear the wind howling at his door.

  “It doesn’t matter now,” I say. “There’s a tipping point with this disease and I’ve already passed it. I spent too long being exposed to something that damaged too many of my cells. I can keep this sickness at bay for a long time, but there is no cure for me now, Leto. Sooner or later it will take me.” I see genuine sadness in his eyes. I touch his arm and try to smile.

  “Captain,” a soldier calls from the other side of the door. “The shaman is here.”

  Leto leaves us, and the shaman joins me on the cot. He moves more slowly than he did just a month ago. He seems older. Tired.

  “Shaman,” I say, getting right to my point. “We must stop searching other worlds for a way to get rid of the Woven.”

  He studies my face, reading death there, and closes his eyes. “I’m sorry I got you into this, girl.” I see his wiry hands grip his bony knees. “But we can’t stop.”

  I’m confused. It takes me a moment to reassemble my thoughts.

  “I’m not saying this because of what happened to me but”—I falter and pause, taken for a moment by the savagery that crawls through my thoughts—“but because that cinder world I was trapped on was not of their own making. The few people left there—if you could call them people—told me that their destruction came about because of something that didn’t belong there. It was technology stolen from another world and it wound up being their destruction.”