Page 130 of A Resistance of Witches

Rebecca ran as hard as she could, bracing for the pain she knewwould come. It struck her like a locomotive, a crushing, suffocating agony that drove spikes through her brain and collapsed her lungs. This pain felt personal—sentient, and vindictive. She could feel the book clamoring for Lydia, the spell that bound them together commanding Rebecca to let go, but still she ran. She could see the flames through the veil of pain and sprinted as Lydia screamed wordlessly into Henry’s hand. She reached the roaring fire and fell to her knees.

She was weaker than she’d been the first time she tried to burn the book. The weeks had not been kind to her. But the urgency was so much greater now, and she felt herself being driven forward by something more than her own power. She closed her eyes and imagined Noémie kneeling before her, reaching out to her. She imagined her father, heard him say,My clever girl. She saw her mother, could almost hear her whisper,Ma petite colombe.My little dove.

The pain was all-consuming now, a mountain of it sitting on her shoulders. The book seemed to know what she was planning, and doubled, then tripled its attack, pinning her to the floor. She pulled herself upright with great effort and, with both hands, thrust the book into the fire.

All at once, the book became a funnel of fury and power, with only one goal—saving itself. Rebecca looked back and watched through the fog of pain as the darkness leached itself from Lydia, who shuddered and slumped to the floor, then turned its predator’s gaze onher. Rebecca tried with all her might to drop the book into the flames, but her hands weren’t her own anymore. They gripped the book with a strength that wasn’t hers, her nails driving themselves into the leather so hard they split. She could feel a shadow on her back, clawing at her neck, taking possession of her limbs. The flames licked at her sleeves, held just above the fire. There was no air left in her lungs to scream. She thought she heard Henry’s voice, but she couldn’t make out the words.

She thought she heard Lydia say, “I’m all right. Help her.Go.”

There was a sound in her ears like airplane engines, but louder, so loud it was as if she were being erased. She felt someone dragging her away from the fire, the book still clutched in her hands. She saw Henry, and behind him, a deep-blue dome, filled with stars. The air flowed back into her lungs. A sob ripped from her chest, and then she was falling, floating in a sea of blackness, as all around her the stars winked out and went dark.

Thirty-Nine

“Is she alive?” The words caught in Lydia’s throat as Henry knelt over Rebecca’s unconscious body, pressing his fingers to the side of her neck. Her skin looked waxy in the firelight. “Henry. Henry, please,is she alive?”

He looked up, just for a second. “She’s alive.”

Lydia let out a gasp of relief. She quivered with exhaustion as she watched Henry give Rebecca’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, trying to rouse her. “How did you know it would work?”

Henry took Rebecca’s hand gingerly in his. “We didn’t.”

Rebecca whimpered, but she didn’t wake. Lydia wanted to go to her, but the book sat just inches from where she lay, and she didn’t trust herself.

“I’m so sorry.” Lydia hung her head in her hands. Evelyn’s blood still clung to her skin. “Great Mother, forgive me, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Hey.”

Lydia looked up. It took her a moment to realize Henry wasn’t speaking to her at all, but Rebecca.

Rebecca grimaced at some internal pain as she rolled onto her side.

“Go slow.” Henry whispered something else to her, something that sounded likedidn’t learn your lesson the first time?Rebecca laughed weakly in reply.

Lydia felt the shame like an ulcer in her stomach. “Rebecca…oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

Rebecca shook her head. “No time for that.” She nodded toward theGrimorium Bellum. “Finish it.”

Something fluttered inside Lydia’s chest, alive and afraid. She looked at the place where Evelyn had died, just moments before. The dust was covering her now, making her look like a statue on a tomb. The grief felt like water in her lungs. If she let it take hold of her, she wouldn’t be able to complete the ritual, and everything she’d lost would have been for nothing.

She looked at Henry, and at Rebecca. “You should go.”

Henry’s head snapped to attention. “We’re not leaving without you.”

“Henry, listen to me—”

He crossed the room and knelt in front of her. “We’re not leaving you. We’re all getting out of here together, right after you—”

“I won’t survive the ritual.” Lydia’s voice didn’t feel like hers. It didn’t convey any of the terror she felt.

“What are you talking about? You did it once already, just a few minutes ago. You can do it again.”

“I wasn’t alone before. I had the coven.”

Rebecca pushed herself up to sitting. Lydia saw her eyes roam around the chamber, taking in the dunes of ash that covered the floor. “Why did you do this? Why didn’t you let them help you destroy the book? You could have survived it.”

Lydia shook her head. “They would have killed me as soon as they realized what I’d done. And then they’d just find something else. Some new monster for them to unleash. They would have never stopped.” Sheswallowed. “My mother was going to help me finish it after they were gone, but she—” She gestured toward the place where Evelyn lay. Henry and Rebecca followed her gaze.

Henry spoke first. “Lydia, I’m so sorry.”

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