115. Lily
LILY
Time had already gone sideways, but as she watched Seb crash through a window, hurled by Fateful Lightning, it folded in on itself completely, and so did her mind.
She slammed her arms together, the same way she had at the equinox bonfire, but with unmetered rage behind it.
Her wall of cheap mirrors shattered outward, hurling glass over Hawleyhurst and Braithwhite.
And then she was vaulting, somehow, out of a broken window, the glass slicing deeper lacerations in her palm, and tumbling down the roof.
She landed against the crenellations with slightly more grace than Seb had, and she crawled to him, pulling his head into her lap.
He was breathing shallowly, but his eyes were closed.
Blood mingled with the gutter water below him, sliding away to be spit out by gargoyles over the edge of the roof.
“Seb,” she whispered. “Sebastian.”
He groaned in response, and then she shook him, in case she needed to keep him awake, because she didn’t know what else to do.
Braithwhite and Hawleyhurst slid down the roof toward them.
Lightning—terrifying and real—flashed overhead.