Witch's Pyre (Worldwalker 3)

is voice softer and more plaintive than Lily had ever heard it. He stepped toward her with his halting gait and went to take her hand. She stepped back, uncertain and a little frightened by the intensity of his gaze. Alaric understood then.

“You’re not my Juliet,” he said. Juliet shook her head and Alaric turned his gaze to Lily. “Where is she?” he asked.

Lily pressed her lips together and swallowed, hoping to soothe the tightness that was closing off her throat. Her expression was all Alaric needed. His eyes shut for a moment and a held breath came rushing out of him.

“How? When?” he asked, suddenly looking a little smaller and a lot older.

“Grace Bendingtree. Last week,” Lily answered quietly.

Alaric nodded, his eyes looking inward. Anger began to mount in him the more he tried to push it down, like a smelting fire that gains heat from pressure. “This Bendingtree has claimed the Hive?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“She made them,” Rowan answered. “There’s something you need to know about the Woven.”

Rowan switched between English and Cherokee in order to explain everything to Alaric. When words failed him, he showed his stone kin what he had seen in mindspeak, keeping Lily in the loop as he did so.

Images of Bower City, its busy port, its wealth, and the exceedingly long and healthy lives of its citizens were passed to Alaric. Then Rowan showed him the antique womb combs and explained what they had been used for two centuries ago. Alaric didn’t say a word. He just sat there, staring at the fire. When Rowan finally showed him Grace and the confrontation in the redwood grove that had ended in Juliet’s death, Alaric barely moved.

“She’s an Outlander,” was all he said, past anger. After a few more moments of staring into the fire, Alaric stood and faced Lily. “You can take all the braves safely to Bower City, and away from it again to get them out of danger?”

“In an instant,” she replied.

“Then you may dismantle my last bomb. I have no quarrel with the Thirteen Cities anymore,” he said. Lily breathed a sigh of relief, but Alaric waved a hand, cutting her off. “Don’t celebrate yet, because I agree with Lillian. She’s still got a bomb of her own, and I don’t doubt she’s going to use it.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Can you believe it? I nearly killed you for saying this last time we met, but I agree with Lillian,” he said musingly. “Bower City should burn.”

“No, wait. You don’t understand. The citizens don’t know what Grace has done,” Lily started to argue. Alaric turned away, uncaring.

“Put Carrick Son of Anoki in the yoke,” he ordered, and Carrick was dragged off.

“The people of Bower City are innocent,” Lily pressed, but Alaric ignored her.

Leave him be, Rowan advised Lily in mindspeak. Give him a chance to cool off.

Alaric stopped in front of Juliet. “I’m sorry if I offended you earlier with my over-familiarity,” he said politely.

“Not at all. I’m sorry for your loss,” she replied in kind. Alaric bobbed his head in acknowledgment and limped away from the fire. Juliet’s eyes followed him.

“Alaric, I still need to claim you,” Lily called after him. “I can’t jump you if I don’t.” He didn’t stop. “You’ll be left behind!” she hollered even though she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Alaric was even more stubborn than she was.

Lily woke and found Rowan sleeping next to her again. His hair had fallen across his eyes and she resisted the urge to brush it away.

She left him in her tent and went out into the camp before dawn. The night was mild outside of Richmond, and there was a faint layer of mist between the ferns and the sycamore trees. She touched some of the minds of her braves and asked them where he was. She followed the faint tugging of their minds to the other end of camp and saw him chained up next to a giant armored cart.

She thought she’d approached silently, yet he raised his head as she neared. His chains clanked and she rubbed the marks on her wrists at the sound. Carrick was locked in an oxen yoke, arms suspended alongside his head, the heavy wood of it dragging down his upper body.

She looked at the armored cart behind him. Its wheels were sunk deep into the soft earth. Lily trained her witch’s eye on it and saw no radiation, but she did detect a large amount of lead.

“Lily,” Carrick rasped. He said her name a lot. She didn’t know if he knew how it unnerved her. “Don’t worry. I already disarmed it.”

“So that’s the bomb?” she asked, gesturing to the armored cart.

“The only weapon more dangerous than you,” he said, laughing with the effort to keep his head raised. “Maybe that’s why you and Lillian are so obsessed with it. You can’t bear the competition.”

Lily’s brow pinched at the troubling thought, and she glared at him. “The only thing I’m obsessed with is saving as many lives as I can.”

“Liar. You think I don’t know you?” Carrick smirked. “I know you. Better than that pretty brother of mine. Oh, he sees the magic of you, but what he misses is the blood. All you witches are magic and blood. You more than most on both counts. You like the blood as much as you like the magic, but what you don’t know, that I can teach you, is you need the blood.”

She kept her face neutral by dint of will alone. “Where’s Lillian’s bomb, Carrick?”

“If I told you, would you set me free?” He saw Lily’s lips purse at the thought and chuckled. “No. Because you’d never set a monster like me loose in the world. So why should I tell you?”