Firewalker (31 page)

Lillian. I have to go underground to continue following Lily and her coven.

Go, Carrick. Stay close to them, but don't be discovered.

As you wish, My Lady.

*   *   *

Lily slept very little that night. Her mechanics tried to help, but they had to use their own faltering stores of energy to do it. Until she was healed and the injury dealt with, her mechanics could only mask her pain—and they couldn't keep that up for long. They were all tired, cold, and hungry.

After only an hour Lily demanded that they stop, and she gutted it out alone for the rest of the night. Every bump on the tracks brought pain, jarring her out of whatever doze she managed to fall into and the night turned into one long half sleep that was more torturous than it would have been if she'd simply stayed awake. Her mechanics tried to give her comfort by smoothing her hair and holding her hand, but as Lily had already learned, pain builds a barrier between the hurt and the whole. It leaves the sufferer isolated, with nothing but an ocean of time to cross.

Lily could feel herself rising up on her raft, and she could hear Lillian calling to her from the Mist. Lily didn't want to go back to the barn. She fought it, but Lillian was better at directing the currents in the spirit world, and like it or not Lily felt her raft being drawn into Lillian's memory.

… I stay in a huddle all night. I back myself into a corner, knees drawn to my chest, watching the lambs watch me. They keep their distance—too beaten down to approach me. Or maybe I just make them sad. Seeing me, they're probably all reminded of their own first night in the barn.

I hear the sounds of the Woven outside. The chittering noises they make in the dark. My skin crawls. Dawn comes and light seeps through the cracks in the roof, illuminating shafts of dusty air. The feeble sun is not enough to warm anyone in this never-ending winter. I am so low on energy that even I'm shivering.

One of the lambs creeps forward—a little boy no older than seven or eight. He holds out the edge of his shawl, offering to share half. I know it's awful of me, but before I accept I check him for bloody stumps.

“It's okay,” the boy says, understanding my hesitation. “The doctor hasn't caught me yet.”

I look down, ashamed of myself. The boy is sweet and I smile, gratefully accepting his company. “The doctor?” I ask.

“He takes our arms and legs in a way that doesn't kill us,” he whispers. His eyes are blank with terror and he presses against me, trying to warm his emaciated body. “He's the most scary of them all.”

“How often does he come?” I ask, my own fear feeding off his.

“Every day when the sun goes down,” he says with haunted reverence.

We spend the morning clinging to each other. We don't talk. When a canteen of water is passed around at noon I refuse, allowing the boy to drink my share. He thinks I'm being kind, but really I'm only doing it to protect myself. I doubt anyone who gets put in the barn gets fed, but the less food or drink I allow into my body, the longer it will take for me to pass my willstones. The extra dose of water gives the boy a burst of energy—enough to speak anyway.

“Are you a witch?” he asks, half holding his breath in excitement.

I nod and mime swallowing my willstone. He smiles at me brightly, and then his face falls. “They took mine and smashed it. They smashed all our willstones to make us quiet.”

That's why they're all so docile. And why our captors had no qualms about throwing me in the barn with them, no matter how strong a witch I might be. If the lambs don't have willstones, I can't claim them and fill them with power so we can fight our way out. The boy nestled against me has talent, too. He senses I'm a witch and he feels the need to be close to me. He could have been a mechanic.

“You look like the Lady of Salem,” he whispers.

I smile at him, but I don't answer. I don't know if admitting it would get me killed faster or not.

“You still have your willstone,” he presses. “Could you help us?”

I look around at the squalor and despair surrounding me. There's nothing to burn and no source of energy. “Right now I can't even help myself,” I say. The boy goes quiet, his last ray of hope snuffed out.

I look at the lambs. There are well over fifty people here, crammed close to share their body heat. A dark thought occurs to me. They're all dying anyway. I push the thought away, clinging to my humanity for as long as I can.

The day drags by, marked only by the change in position of the shafts of dusty light piercing through the darkness. As the light lengthens, the lambs grow restless. Panicky. The doctor is on his way.

At sunset, the doors burst open and the lambs start screaming. They push to the back, stepping over one another in a desperate bid to get away. I stand where I am, hiding the boy behind me. Let them try and take him away from me.

Armed men push into the room, laughing. Enjoying the chaos and fear of a riot. They avoid me, shouting for everyone to steer clear of me. I notice that they are guarding one lean shape in the middle of their group. His long, silky black hair is braided with vulture feathers.

“That's him!” the boy squeals, hiding his face in my skirts. “That's the doctor.”

I know him. The shape of his sensitive mouth, the way he walks, even the curve of his broad shoulders is as familiar to me as the moon in the sky because he gave these features to someone I love more than I love anything. I stagger forward, thinking that if I come closer to him his face will somehow change. That he won't be who I know he is.

“River Fall!” I shout, hoping beyond hope that he doesn't respond. But he turns to me. Tears burn my eyes and grip at my throat.

“Lillian,” he says. No emotion. There's nothing inside of him. He comes toward me and his guards move swiftly to pin me down with their noose poles. I'm too stunned to fight. They capture me by the neck and push me against the wall, choking me. The boy lets go of my skirts and rushes forward, attacking my assailants with his little fists, and gets himself captured.

“No,” I beg. Not River. He's the gentlest, kindest man I'd ever met. “It can't be you.”

“Where is my son, Lillian?” he asks, his deep voice rumbling.

“I don't—” I stop and reach out for Rowan. I can't feel him at all in this world. There's simply no vibration where his huge and powerful presence should be. “He's dead, River.”

River's eyes blaze and he comes toward me, snarling. “He's alive! He's alive and he will set all this right again,” River says. He makes a wide gesture with his arms, taking in not just the horror inside the barn, but the broken world outside the barn's doors. “My son was taken by another ranch and they hold him hostage. I send them food”—he points at the lambs, spit flying from his mouth—“and they keep him alive. But he'll be back. Rowan will be back and he'll fix everything. My son is the most powerful mechanic ever. He'll fix all of this.”

His grief has made him mad. River grabs the boy by his hair, and pulls. I try to scream, but the noose poles cut off my air. I strain and grab, pressing against the rope, but the boy is out of reach. River drags him by his hair to the back of the barn, where the chopping block lies. The boy is screaming and begging, and in a moment I hear him scream even louder.

Inhuman sounds. Almost like a hawk. I wonder if River is taking his arm or his leg …

Lily didn't struggle or try to end the memory, but Lillian spared her and stopped. She knew Lily had seen enough anyway.

Do you understand now, Lily? Do you understand why I couldn't explain what I had learned to anyone? Why I pushed Rowan away and wouldn't let him see my memories of the cinder world—not even to make him understand why I had to stop Alaric and his scientists?

Yes, Lillian. You didn't trust yourself enough to only show part of the cinder-world memory. You were afraid Rowan would keep digging until he found his father. He's relentless when he wants to see a memory—like when he wanted to know what Carrick had done to me in the oubliette.

When I first came back I was so weak and sick my mind would have been an open book to him. No one must ever know, Lily. No one but us.

Caleb told me that River was the first person you hanged. You did that in case you failed and the bombs went off, didn't you? You killed River first to make sure he never became that thing in the barn.

If Rowan ever knew, it would change him. I broke his heart, but seeing his father like that would break something much deeper in him. Something much more precious. Have you ever seen Rowan's core?

Yes, Lillian. It's like a diamond—pure and strong.

His father gave him that. Rowan makes all of his moral decisions based on what he thinks his father would do. Seeing River in the barn would take that compass away from him. Do you know what love is, Lily? Real love?

I'm not sure anymore.

Love is being willing to become the villain so that the one you love can stay a hero.

*   *   *

Lily awoke with her head in Una's lap. Her sore arm was bound tightly to her chest.

“The train's beginning to slow,” Una said. “We think we're pulling into a station.”

“Are we in Richmond?” Lily asked.

“Not yet, but we're getting off anyway to heal you,” she answered. “I think we're in Baltimore, so we're not too far.” Una looked down at Lily. “That was some dream you had—if it
was
a dream. Felt more like a memory to me.”

Lily kept her voice low and her face calm even though she was anything but. “How much did you see?”

“One or two images,” Una whispered. She swallowed hard around a lump in her throat. “That wasn't you in the barn. It was Lillian, wasn't it?”

“Yes.” Lily sat up and looked Una in the eye.

“Who was the
doctor
?” The way Una said the word it was obvious she meant “butcher.”

Lily turned her head and looked pointedly at Rowan, who was caught up in a heated discussion with Breakfast and Tristan. Then she looked back at Una, her eyes begging. “Please, Una. He loved his father. He can never find out.”

“I know a thing or two about secrets,” Una replied. “About keeping secrets no matter how much they hurt, although lately I'm starting to think that maybe it's better when you don't.”

“Please,” Lily whispered again.

I won't tell Rowan, but maybe you should. I don't understand what was going on in Lillian's memory, but I could feel an emotion in you that I recognize too well. Shame. That never ends well, Lily. Trust me. The only way to end shame is to bring it out of the dark and into the light.

Lily and Una stared at each other.
Thank you, Una.

On top of the next train car Rowan, Tristan, and Breakfast were busy discussing what food to get at the station and how best to get it. Rowan was trying to explain to them that stealing wasn't the smartest thing to do in a world cloaked in wards, even though Rowan could break just about anyone's ward of protection if he chose.

“I traded for some money with Riley,” Breakfast said reluctantly. “But I wanted to hold on to it in case we needed something to pay the Outlanders.”

Rowan shook his head and smiled. “They're my tribe, Breakfast. We don't need to pay them. Just get Lily some salty food, but don't ask to buy salt directly. It'll look suspicious.”

As he spoke of her, Rowan glanced over at Lily and saw that she was sitting up. His eyes softened when they met hers and her heart hurt just looking at him. Luckily, he misinterpreted the source of her emotion.

You're still in a lot of pain.

I'll live.

The train stopped. Una and Rowan helped Lily down off the top of the train and brought her aboveground while Breakfast and Tristan stayed and went shopping around the station.

“We have to get you out of the city quickly. Cast a glamour before anyone recognizes you,” Rowan said urgently. Lily did as he said as they melted into the foot traffic lining the city streets.

Lily noticed that Una was staring up at the soaring architecture. It was the first time she'd seen a city in this world, and the scale was overwhelming.

Baltimore wasn't quite as big as Salem, but it was still New York City tall and compact. Yet it didn't look or feel like any city in Una and Lily's world. Vegetation spilled off every rooftop and terrace, and greenhouses dotted every block. Huge spiraling lattices, called greentowers, soared up into the sky, dwarfing even the tallest skyscrapers.

Rowan quickly explained to Una that vertical farming had become a necessity inside the Thirteen Cities after the Woven took over all the arable land outside the walls. All the structures needed to support vegetation or the people would starve to death inside their walls. The architecture made sense, maybe more sense than the way cities were constructed in Lily's world, but it was still strange to Una's eyes.

And then there were the tame Woven, called guardians, which were chained to the bottom of the greentowers to guard the precious food they supported. Una stared at the guardians, as unsettled as Lily had been when she first saw them. They looked like a combination of dog, bear, and tiger, but Lily thought that the eyes were different. They seemed intelligent—almost human. Lily looked at one of the guardians, and she could have sworn it was looking back at her like it was thinking.

As they hurried through the crowded streets, Una kept catching herself staring at everything like a hick. Lily could see her struggling to act casually.

“Yeah, those are weird-looking cars,” Una said under her breath as one of the sleek, futuristic automobiles hummed past.

“They call them elepods. They're electric cars, basically,” Lily said.