Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Lily by Laura Hollingsworth. All graphics by me.
It's going to be a really long day. And I haven't slept a bit. For the second night in a row. Lily mused as she lay in bed in the chilly pre-dawn. She had been playing the day's events over in her mind, thinking about Bender, Storm's impending trial, her brother's absence. And Saint.
She had thought about the supper they'd had several hours ago. She had been tense all day, dreading the moment when Saint came home from his shift at the jail and walked into the kitchen. All day she'd wondered if he was going to say anything about what had happened the night before, or be noticeably angry. When he finally did appear, he did neither. He had glanced at her once or twice, an intense, unreadable look in his dark eyes, and then spent the rest of the evening completely avoiding having anything to do with her.
Lily found this to be even more unnerving than if he'd come in angry or upset, but at least his attention wasn't on her. He had bantered lightly with Tommy, fielded a few rude questions from Luis, and generally acted as if nothing had happened. She hoped Jesse didn't find out about...well....anything. It won't help matters.
She was wide-awake, her mind was noisily speculating and analyzing everything and everyone. She had no idea what hour it was, and was frustrated by her inability to relax and go to sleep for any length of time. Dawn isn't too far off. She sighed, exasperated, and sat up. Well, this is stupid. I'm just going to get dressed. I might as well go where I can putter around and not wake anyone else.
She shrugged into a clean blouse and skirt, tied an apron around her waist, and gathered her hair into bun. Taking her lamp, she headed down the stairs, crossed Fiona's garden and slipped quietly into the long stone building that housed the kitchen.
The warm yellow light from the lamp threw long shadows into the quiet darkness. Of all the places here, the kitchen was Lily's favorite. It was cozy and familiar, with the comforting scent of cooking and lard. She'd first met Fiona here, first started out with a fresh slate here. She sat down contentedly at the table and set her lamp down.
I might as well go on and start the stove. That way, by the time Fiona shows up, it will be good and toasty in here. She caught a faint whiff of tobacco smoke and sweat, her nose crinkling for the flash of second before a rough, callused hand clamped over her mouth and jerked her roughly off the bench.
Her eyes went wide with shock and her scream muffled against the hand clamped painfully over her face. She stumbled, off-balance against the bulky intruder and clawed at the powerful arm that held her still. The glowing end of a quirly hovered at the edge of her vision, it's other end clamped in her assailant's teeth.
"So, you're 'the plain one', eh? Feisty," a hoarse, raspy voice said softly, almost lovingly into her ear. "I guess 'the pretty one' is lucky she slept in this morning. Well, Miss McMillian, don't know what you and your brother did, but it must've been really something."
Whaaat? Lily squirmed desperately, trying to at least free herself from the hand clamped onto her face. The man was fairly tall, thick in the chest and arms. His cool skin was disturbingly smooth, and gnarled as if it had been stripped off and stitched back on inside out. Revulsion crawled in her belly as she tried to wrench her jaws open to bite his hand. He was pulling her upwards, keeping her toes just touching the floor. She fought for breath as her vision swam, her feet kicking hard at his legs. Oh...oh dear Lord, has he done something to Jesse already?
He struggled to drag her over to the unlit woodstove. She saw with growing horror that the large tin of grease that was usually on the stove was now lying on the floor in a greasy puddle, it's contents splattered down the nearby wall and on the ivory-colored linen curtains that hung there. He spat his quirly out into the mess and it began to smolder.
Lily bent her knee and, leaning into the intruder's arm for support, brought her foot behind her with all her might. He dropped her as her foot slammed into his kneecap. Her starved lungs sucked in a great drag of air, but before she could scream, he was on her, his twisted, ruined hands closing around her throat.
Colors floated and swirled in Lily's vision, and she clawed at her attacker's distorted face. Nonononono...you are not taking me away from Jesse...you aren't doing that to us... rage and terror and terrible sadness burned through her in horrified waves.
"Damn, you're a fighter," he grunted in pain, breathing hard. "And I'm enjoying this, but we're gonna have to cut this short. Goodnight, gal." He spun her around and shoved her hard into the stone wall. She yelped as a blinding white sun exploded behind her eyes, and then the room went silent and black.
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