Chapter Forty-Four • Busy Signal • Lillith
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The spell circle is more of a spell triangle. Three points in the same clearing where I fucked Bastion during the Beltane rite. At the tip of each corner is another, smaller circle, where Wren, Bastion and Aemon have set up all of their tools and materials for the ritual.
I sit in the center, naked. Which wouldn’t be weird if Aemon wasn’t here. But he is here, and it feels a little weird, even though he hasn’t batted an eye or dipped his gaze past the curve of my collar bones even once.
I think I’m just... off. But I try to calm myself down about it, because at the end of the day, I don’t need to be on.
I’m not doing any magic at all for this whole thing.
I’m just the subject of the spell, not the caster.
It’s okay if my mind is fucked up, because my intentions aren’t the ones that matter.
But something feels so wrong. I keep checking and rechecking that everyone has all of what they need, and every time I do, they always have it handled.
So, what feels so fucking wrong? Why does it feel like disaster has already struck?
“Alright, I’m ready,” Wren says.
“Me too,” Bastion chimes in.
“All we need is for the moons to line up, then,” Aemon says, looking up into the sky.
They’re creeping along, almost in place. Almost there. As I sit there, watching the trajectory of the mother, maiden and crone, a pang of awful dread lances me through the gut. It’s hard to describe. It’s like an aura, but so much more intense.
“The moons are lined up, time to start,” Aemon says.
“Wait,” I say, standing up.
“Wait? We can’t wait, Lillith. Where are you—”
I’m already out of the center of the circle, running to my clothes where they’re folded at the edge of the clearing. I pick up my phone and unlock it.
“Lillith!” Bastion shouts, furious. “We have seconds to begin this rite! What are you doing?”
My screen is blank, and I’m confused for a moment before I remember to turn off Do Not Disturb. When I do, a stack of notifications takes up the entire screen. Dozens of calls from that unknown number. Texts from Oren and Fletcher. Even one from Satoshi.
My skin goes cold and hot. My brain must be going offline, because I can only read some of the words, and none of them are forming entire thoughts in my head. Words like ambulance and third degree and induced coma.
Have I breathed at all? My heart is racing. And I’m hot.
But I cannot seize right now.
I open one of the texts with shaking hands. Oren’s.
Hey love, I’m not sure what’s going on. Damien’s in a bad way.
There was a horrible accident. Somehow the curtain caught fire during the show.
Most of us managed to avoid being caught up in it but he was in the back and he got covered by the flames.
Burns over 70% of his body. they have him in a medically induced coma.
The prognosis is bad. I know you can’t leave Del Lune but...
if any of your friends can get here to help his chances. We’re all fucking freaking out.
“Lillith!” Bastion shouts again.
“It’s too late,” Aemon says, smearing both hands through his hair.
I feel Wren’s hand on my bare shoulder and the sensation pushes my body over the edge. I look at her without really seeing her. I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe.
“Babe, you’re pale,” she says.
My ears ring and I know it in my bones. We’re past that point of no return. A seizure is coming whether I breathe slowly or calm myself down or not.
“I’m going to seize,” I say, and I can hear the frustration in it even though it sounds like I’m underwater.
Wren nods and helps me to lie down on her lap. The last thing I remember is the feeling of her bracing her hand on my shoulder and the vague awareness of her calling the others to help.
My eyes must have closed this time, because when consciousness starts to creep back up on me, I’m in darkness. I feel Bastion’s soft hand cradling mine, Wren’s fingers brushing through my sweat-damp hair.
“She’s going to want to leave,” Bastion is saying. “She’s the only one between us with enough healing magic to help him.”
“Well, that’s too bad. She can’t go,” Aemon says tersely.
“You don’t know Lillith like we do,” Wren says, sounding almost affectionate. “There’s no way we’re going to be able to stop her.”
“But we already know the foregone conclusion. You’ve seen it yourself,” Aemon says.
“Maybe if I go with her—if I can protect her—”
“But a full twenty-four hours away from the protection of the wards? Even yours aren’t that strong, Wren,” Bastion says. “Even if you got on a flight immediately, right now, and left as soon as Damien was healed—”
“I can at least create a Portal to the hospital,” Aemon says. “But I can’t go with you. And if I don’t tag along, then you’ll be on your own when it comes to getting back.”
“Why can’t you go with us?”
“I’m also protected by the wards here. He saw me trying to stop his cronies, most likely. And as lovely as Damien is on the eyes, I’m not risking my hide for him.”
“Are you serious?” Wren asks. “What about Lillith? Isn’t she your master, or something?”
Silence.
I open my eyes and swallow back the nausea that accompanies the spinning scenery. “That’s fine,” I say. “The portal is fine. We’ll come back on the first flight we can get.”
Bastion tilts to the side to meet my eyes, his golden brows arching with concern. “Are you going to be alright? Can you do this right after a seizure?”
“I’m not waiting until Damien goes septic or dies of shock,” I slur, forcing myself to sit up.
I reach for my clothes, starting to tug them on. Wren helps me latch my bra.
“I cannot warn you enough not to do this, Lillith,” Aemon says.
“I’m not letting him die.”
“You’re walking right into his trap,” Aemon snaps.
“FINE.”
The irritability that comes with the end of a seizure is hard to avoid. Everything feels like too much. Normally, I’d be crawling into bed to sleep this off, but I can’t do that. Bastion helps me stand up and helps tug on my sweatpants when my hands are too shaky to do it myself.
When I look at him, his frown is worried. “Lillith, is he really worth this?” he asks. “We don’t even know what this creature will do with you if he captures you.”
Some people are worth being devastated over.
“I can’t... live in a world where Damien doesn’t exist,” I say, my voice cracking on the truth of it.
“I’ve been so alone for so long. And I’m tired of this curse, or Aberrant, or whatever it is, being the be-all-end-all of my bloodline.
I’m tired of living in fear and being stuck.
If this thing catches me, if he steals my powers, this would be a good last hurrah. ”
“What if he kills you?” Aemon says, his expression serious. “What if you can’t even heal Damien? You told me yourself: your magic isn’t behaving properly.”
“Then I’ll die knowing I used my magic for its true purpose,” I say. “Saving the people that mean the most to me.”
Aemon shakes his head. “I don’t understand you. Nothing seems worth that risk to me.”
“That’s because you don’t know what it means to love anyone other than yourself.”
He flinches like I struck him. I hope the words did feel painful, because the fact that he won’t come with us speaks volumes of the kind of person... demon... whatever the fuck he is, and exactly how much he cares about Wren or me or anyone else.
“Maybe,” he says, the word sour. “Or maybe I’m just a coward.”
And it strikes me that he is.
He is a coward.
And Daisy was right about me—because when faced with death or even eternal imprisonment at the hands of a monster, the choice is still so obvious to me. I’m going to save the man I love. Because fuck this world for trying to take him away.
“Where are we going?” Wren asks.
Bastion hands me my phone and I search through text messages until I find the name of the hospital. “UVA Health University Medical Center in Charlottesville.”
Aemon nods and sighs. “You’re certain?” he asks me one more time.
I just glare up at him in answer.
“Right,” he says. “Give me about a half hour. Wren, prepare your best wards. You’re going to need them, with the amount of magic Lillith will use healing him.
It’s going to be like a beacon to that creature.
I’m certain he’s just been waiting for her to leave.
He may have even orchestrated this disaster. ”
“I’m going to call Oren,” I say.
“Alright.”
“I’ll get something of a cloaking spell ready for you,” Bastion says.
I don’t say anything else as I step away, dialing Oren’s number and slipping behind some trees for the illusion of privacy.
It only rings once before Oren picks up.
“Jesus Christ, is it good to see your name on my phone screen.”
My throat immediately tightens with a lump. “I’m so, so sorry,” I choke out. “We’ve been busy over here. I—we were trying to sort something out, and I had my phone on Do Not Disturb. Fuck. Are you and the others okay?”
“A couple little surface level burns from trying to get the curtain off Damien. Satoshi got kind of fucked up. Nothing as serious as Damien’s burns, though.”
“What’s happening with him?”
“They have him in a medically induced coma right now to prevent him from moving too much or being in too much pain. The major concern right now is infection and shock. He’s had a couple seizures from the toll it’s had on his body. Did you see my text?”
“Yes,” I say. “We’re on our way. I should be there in about half an hour.”
“Half an—how?” he asks.
“Aemon,” I say. “He’s going to make a portal for us to get there, but we’re going to have to fly back.”
“Holy shit. Please tell him I say thank you,” Oren says, his own voice breaking now. “Do you think you can heal him?”
“Yeah, I can,” I say. “We’re going to have to keep the staff distracted, but I’m going to fix him right up.”
“They’re saying the scar tissue could keep him from ever drumming again.”
“No scar tissue to worry about,” I promise.
“But what about you?” Oren asks. “I know Damien wouldn’t want you to come if it would put you in danger.”