Chapter 66: Chapter 66

Lily

“No,” someone hissed – a female voice, croaky with disuse, which Lily only vaguely recognised. “I won’t do it.”

The words tickled something deep in the far recesses of her mind. She had said those words before, once a month, every month, on the eve of the full moon. She felt a strange, distinct kinship to the woman that had spoken, and a spark of herself drifted down from the stars to land in her lap.

Lily looked at the endless rows of boots. She looked out to the sun, ethereal and hazy, and she thought of the world she had come from, and the person she had left behind, a little more of herself leaving with each day she spent in the cells.

“Yes,” said Apollo, and Lily could hear the mild, tight amusement in his voice even from here. “You will.”

“I can’t,” cried out the woman, and it clicked then – it was the witch, Eryne. “It is too much.”

“You shall.” That was Morvand. Lily pictured him rubbing his bony hands together, a sick smile curling the corners of his waxy lips.

“I do not care if you hurt me.” Her voice trembled, but she got every word out, as crisp and clear as she could manage. Lily’s heart twisted.

A thud. A low, pained hiss. Another dull, heavy sound – something hard striking something soft. Guilt snagged in Lily’s stomach, and it rotated where it sat, pulling the lost pieces of herself back into place.

“Hm,” Apollo huffed. “It seems she speaks the truth.”

“Then we shall find somebody else to hurt,” cooed Morvand.

The sound of it set Lily’s teeth on edge. She grabbed the scrubbing brush and clutched it tight, so tight that her knuckles turned white over bone. Dirty water droplets formed streams down her clenched fists, running in rivulets down her wrists like blood.

“You have already killed my family.” There was fresh, raw defiance in Eryne’s voice. “There is no-one left that you can take from me.”

“And yet you still continue to defy us,” purred Apollo.

Lily’s grip tightened impossibly further on the brush. Efaffion had wanted to kill Eryne; in fact, it was still their leading plan. Lily had given up thinking of alternatives. Lily had given up thinking of anything.

She cupped the spark between her palms and held it close to her heart. It drew in missing memories: of Elijah’s eyes, light and bright on a cold, sunny morning; of lazy kisses; of heated words and burning touches. The gaps were filled by things long since past: of her father bringing her a birthday cake; of Atticus, before he became the Alpha, before he became a bully; of Rose, hiding giggles behind her hand. And, somewhere deep down, somewhere beneath it all, Lily heard her father calling to her mother: “Hayleine,” he would say, fond amusement and exasperation blurring into one. “My Hayleine.”

Between it all wove the gleaming thread of determination. It was her impudence, her insolence, and her stark refusal to do anything she did not agree with. Lily listened, and with every word that the witch spoke Lily felt more of herself slot back into place.

She wanted to throw down the scrubbing brush. She wanted to storm in there, all righteous fury and eyes that held the judgement of the fates within them, and she wanted to grab Eryne and run. But a part of her – a part she was not accustomed to, a part she was not well-used to knowing – wanted to fight.

But now, Lily had something – someone – to protect.

“You will do as we say,” said Morvand.

“Or what?” Eryne’s voice wobbled, but she forced the words out.

“I think it is better if we do not say,” cooed Apollo. Lily could hear the smirk in his voice as clearly as if she were stood next to him. “That anticipation – that’s it, right there – is almost as delicious as your pain.”

Lily could not move. She was frozen in place by her anger. It simmered down into a low flame, licking and curdling deep in her gut. Every bit as present was the ice that held her: frost and flame, working as one to tell her to wait, to bide her time, to form a plan – whilst also urging her up and out to protect the witch, no matter the cost.

Torn, she stood – only to stop. What could she do if she ran out there now?

But the muffled thuds of punches and kicks landing made her blood run cold. Her head and her heart battled, making her fists clench and her muscles tense. And then, at last, the sounds faded – Lily had no idea how long it was that she had been stood there, tears streaking silently down her numb cheeks – and footsteps carved out hollows in the hallway.

With the back of her hand she scrubbed the tears away. This was not about her. It was that thought that propelled her towards the muted sounds of sobs. Lily barely saw the blur of daylight or wood that made up Red Ripper’s pack house. None of it mattered to her.

She had a purpose again.

“Eryne?” she whispered, peering through the doorway and out into the hall. She kept her weight back behind the doorframe, though she did not care if Apollo or Morvand found her and grabbed her. Not now. No; she leant her weight back so that she could grab the witch if she had to, to save her from their wicked hands.

Lily couldn’t see Eryne’s face. She was huddled in on herself on the floor, shoved back against the wall on the far side of the hall. Matted black hair, which looked more like a bird’s nest after a storm than actual hair, hung in limp, knotted clumps down over her pallid face.

On instinct Lily reached for the empty spot where her mother’s ring had once sat, and, when the now-familiar jolt of finding it gone flared, she let her fingers drop.

“Eryne?” she tried again. “Can you hear me?”

The witch did not move.

“Eryne?”

At last her head twitched. “Who is it? Who’s there?”

“Uh – it’s Lily. Please,” she stepped forward, glancing anxiously down the corridor, “let me help you.”

“You cannot help me. There is not a soul in the world that can.”

Lily hissed through clenched teeth. Eryne was bleeding. “Let me tend to your wounds, at the very least.”

“There is no point.” She stifled a sob. “Let me die. Then I cannot give them the power to hurt anyone else.”

Lily bit her lip. She knew what Efaffion would do – and what he would implore her to do, too. But she was not an eleve; she was not born of trickery and deceit. So Lily shoved her good sense aside and crept ever closer to Eryne, her hands held out in front of her like she was taming a wild but fragile beast. In a way, she supposed that summed her up quite aptly.

Eryne was clutching her ribs. Choosing to ignore her woeful words, Lily knelt down in front of her – low enough that she could meet her gaze. Pale, sad eyes met hers, crinkled and shining with tears. They looked too old to be in her young face; they held years that surely should not have yet been lived. That was what pain did, Lily reasoned. It carved and it moulded until a child became an adult, until the innocent were laden with the tragedy of experience.

“What happened to you?” she asked, keeping her voice low. They could come back at any second.

“I – I couldn’t let anyone else I loved get hurt.” She moaned, hands fluttering about her middle, and then she ducked her head until the veil of dirty hair hid her face once more. “They killed them all, one by one, until I had nobody to fight for. They said they had a spell to bring them back, but I – I would only be given it if I helped them. I was desperate. I–” her words were choked off, her throat closing as it thickened with bubbling tears.

“It’s okay.” Slowly – achingly, painfully slowly – Lily reached out and put a gentle hand upon Eryne’s grimy knee. “It will all be okay.”

“It won’t!” Eryne roared, scrambling backwards. “Weren’t you listening? There is no spell! They lied!”

“Please.” Lily’s voice broke. “Let me look at your injuries.”

Eryne hugged her arms around her middle. “No. They will know someone interfered. They will only hurt me more.” She sucked in a wheezing breath. “But – I – thank you.”

And then she stood on shaking legs and stumbled off down the hall.

Lily knew, then, watching her scamper away like a newborn foal, hair flicking from side to side as her eyes darted every which way for attackers – for Morvand and Apollo, most likely – that she could not do it. No matter the cost, regardless of the greater good, Lily knew that she could not kill the witch.