# The Wild Wood

### Book One of the Sevens Series

## Julie Anne Nelson

#### Young Mountain Publishing
Copyright © 2012 by Julie Anne Nelson

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum
_For_

_David Lincoln Atchison_

_"P.D."_

* * *

_You once challenged me to learn The Flight of the Bumblebee on the flute._

* * *

_I could never do it, but this book is my answer to your challenge, though my fingers danced along totally different kinds of keys._

* * *

_Miss you every day._

* * *

_And will love you forever._
_Away, away, from men and towns,_

_To the wild wood and the downs—_

* * *

—Percy Bysshe Shelley, _The Invitation_

### Contents

1. One Step

2. Not Always So

3. A Good Man

4. The Match

5. The Gift

6. Dumb Chicken

7. The Foulest Tide

8. Home

9. Tasty

10. Drastic Ends

11. Unexpected Consequences

12. Control

13. The Source

14. The Golden Light

15. Watched

16. Limitless

17. Becoming

18. When the Sky Wept

19. Love and Hate

20. Consumed

21. The Downs

Special Offer!

Discussion Questions

History/Geography Questions

The Wild Wood Playlist

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by Julie Anne Nelson

## 1

# One Step

I was supposed to be feeding the goats. And the stinky chickens. I was supposed to be anywhere but lurking beneath a slightly open window, getting raked by a thorny rosebush, all to eavesdrop on my parents and the man who had cursed every day of my life.

"Did he just say something about _lice_?" Dusty whispered next to me.

"Shhh."

"No, I think he just said something about lice. Are you responsible for _lice_ now too?"

I glared at the humor in my brother's blue eyes that peeked out from between strands of mussy—and not at all clean—blond hair.

"He said _vice_ , not _lice_ , you moron," I whispered, fighting the inappropriate smile straining to break free. I shouldn't find any of this funny, but when looking at the amount of scrapes on Dusty's face and arms and my matching ones, it was difficult not to.

But then Pastor Rowe's voice rasped right above where Dusty and I crouched, "When they turn, it will be Cecily leading them. She is where it will begin. And the likely beginning will be their seventeenth birthday."

"Pastor Rowe," my mother said. "She's a good girl. She's done everything you asked. She's never even spoken to the other six girls."

"I believe she is trying to be good, but I believe she will fail."

The humor fled from Dusty's eyes, as rage took its place. I grabbed his arm to keep him still.

"Evil can't hide forever, Mr. and Mrs. Daye. You must prepare yourselves and continue to keep a vigilant watch over your daughter."

"We always do," my father said.

Three sets of footsteps sounded on the wood floors, moving away from us and toward the front door. Dusty and I remained frozen.

After a few seconds, Dusty bumped his shoulder lightly against mine. "You know he's a vicious windbag."

"He is, but that doesn't make him wrong."

"You aren't evil," he said in a serious tone before the sparkle returned to his eyes, "... any more than any other older sister. Last one to the barn has to kiss a goat."

I didn't kiss a goat—at least I would never admit to kissing a goat—and thankfully, Dusty and I had to hurry with our chores, so his goat-related mocking didn't have a chance to commence. As soon as we finished, we rushed up the steps and into the house for breakfast. Our plates were ready, heaping with food. Dusty dove in before prayers, which elicited a smack to the back of his head as our father entered.

I looked up at my dad. The gentle kindness in his eyes always struck me. I could never know how many horrible things he'd been told about me since my abnormal birth or about all the evil things I was supposedly capable of, but he never once made me feel like anything other than his perfectly normal girl.

Dad winked at me. "Say your prayers, Dusty."

Dusty worked to swallow the large piece of sausage that was probably burning his throat. He coughed briefly, eyeing the glass of water our father wouldn't allow him to have until his prayer had ended.

"Almighty Dunn, you have shown great mercy over our family..." Dusty glanced at me for help, but I just smiled. "You really are a great God. Almighty. And all that. If you could show us great favor and keep Pastor Rowe away from the house and get him to shut up about Cecily and the sevens, that would be really great too."

"Dusty," our mother chided over the gulping sounds as Dusty downed his entire water glass.

Dusty set his glass down and rolled his eyes. "What? It's _my_ prayer."

"You shouldn't talk about the sevens like that, or Pastor Rowe."

"Your mother's right," Dad said, moving from behind Dusty to take his seat. "You shouldn't say it, even though we both agree."

Dusty's nose crinkled. "Why has he been coming to the house more?"

I listened a little too intently and watched as my father shook his head. He looked to Mom, who subtly shrugged her shoulders.

"We're not really sure," Dad finally said. "But he seems more convinced that he's right—not that he's doubted that for the past sixteen years."

"What do you think?" The words sounded like mine but they'd emerged without my permission.

"We think you're our daughter," my father answered.

"Dad, you know what I mean."

"Cecily..."

"Please... I don't ever ask because you've asked me not to, but _why_?"

Dad's shoulders slumped. "Why does he think you're evil or why...?"

"Why was I born on July seventeenth at seven forty-seven p.m.? Why were six other girls in Dunlowe born at exactly that moment? How is it possible... and is he right about me?"

"All things are possible, Cecily," my mother answered. "And all is Dunn's will. We can't know what everything means, but you have never done a single thing in your entire life that was evil. That I know more than anything. Pastor Rowe is confused, that's all. Now eat your breakfast, and I don't want to hear another word about this."

"Yes, ma'am." I looked at my plate and forced myself to take a bite of toast, while Dusty shoveled his food down.

The clock on the shelf behind me chimed.

"You better get on to school," Dad said. "Mrs. Dumphry's only getting meaner as she ages. Broke a ruler on me more times than I could possibly count, though she still made me try—and probably still has the total hidden away on a list somewhere."

At the mention of the unquestionably evil hag, I jumped up from the table and hurried to gather my books. Dusty raced me to the door where our parents waited. My mother kissed my forehead, while handing me a packed lunch.

I lurched a bit into my father's embrace and felt him kiss my head.

"Be mindful of the traditions," he whispered into my ear, as he did every day. As if I could ever forget them and what breaking them could do to my family and me.

After our very familiar four-mile walk to town, Dusty rushed to join a scuffle behind the schoolhouse, while I walked to where students gathered. I raised my head and allowed my eyes to search for Nate's face without ever letting my gaze linger on the six other girls who shared my birthday. Nate hadn't arrived yet, so I kept my head down and waited, wishing my best friend, Laura, hadn't been sick for so long. Without her, or Nate, I stood alone.

And when I stood alone, I hated Dunlowe. I hated Pastor Rowe. I hated the _traditions_ he'd created to keep the sevens under control. When I was younger, I dreamed of escaping Dunlowe, but Pastor Rowe killed that dream for all the sevens by carrying his hate throughout the country of Stoughton.

"Good morning, Miss Daye," Nate's lovely voice said from behind me.

I spun around to see his perfect smile, full lips, dimples, freckles, dark hair, and lovely green eyes. Seeing his face washed away all of my fears and gave me hope. What he wanted with a wispy girl with wispy hair who may or may not be a servant of evil, I tried not to wonder, just to be grateful that, for whatever reason, he did love me—no matter what his father thought.

"Careful, everyone might notice that you like me," he whispered as he looked around at the others standing in front of the schoolhouse. "If Mrs. Dumphry weren't looking at me right now, I'd kiss you."

"So, you lack courage, Nate? Is that what it is?" I teased. It was sensibility, not a lack of courage, that made all of the students fear the wrath of Mrs. Dumphry. And public kissing would certainly violate the traditions: sevens must behave with proper decorum at all times, lest evil be drawn forth out of willful recklessness.

When I glanced up at Nate's face, his look of hurt or anger surprised me. "I'm sorry," I blurted.

His lips curled up a tiny bit into a rueful smile and his eyes locked on mine. Before I could apologize again or have the sense of what was coming enough to stop him, he leaned down the six inches separating us in height and pressed his lips against mine. His hands gripped my arms, holding me in place and keeping me from pulling away to save him, or us, from the retribution that was surely coming.

"Cecily Daye! Nathaniel Rowe!" Mrs. Dumphry screeched.

I expected him to pull back, but I was wrong. The kiss became more overwhelming and the passion between us deafening. I knew the others were talking around me and that there was a scurry of activity, but there seemed to be a veil between me and Nate and everybody else. But that veil shattered when I thought of my father's earnest words and all that could be lost by not just me, but by my mother, because of this kiss—because of my failure to obey. I tore myself away from Nate, breathing in gasps.

While Mrs. Dumphry gesticulated wildly, her words a well of hatred, my mind became trapped in a memory. My mother bound in a pillory, because I had broken the traditions. Her neck forced into the larger circular hole, her wrists in two smaller ones, as the wood and metal closed to trap her standing there while the rest of the town watched. The guilt I felt then choked me now and my shame overpowered everything, even the love I felt for Nate.

His eyes flashed to mine as Mrs. Dumphry closed in, all her rage set on me. "It was _my_ fault—not hers," Nate said.

Mrs. Dumphry's movements ceased as she took in the crowd around us and everyone—even the other sevens—staring. "Look away, you creatures of evil," she ordered to the other sevens and turned her cold eyes on me, as a chill snaked up my spine.

Nate stepped in front of me and squared his shoulders. "It's my fault."

Mrs. Dumphry's eyes widened and she said in a haunting voice, "When in the grips of evil, even the most decent can fall."

Pastor Rowe's words dripping from Mrs. Dumphry's mouth caused my stomach to turn.

Nate took a small step closer to her. "I'm ready to be punished, Mrs. Dumphry."

Mrs. Dumphry shook her head slightly as she appraised Nate. "Later, when your father can attend and guide us in the proper punishment—and the decision of _who_ exactly should be punished."

Students scurried ahead of Mrs. Dumphry as she turned abruptly and headed up the steps to the schoolhouse. I followed, ducking Dusty's accusing stare along the way. I already felt bad enough and still had the entire day to wait to see what would become of a beautiful kiss poisoned by an ugly town.

I kept my head down as Mrs. Dumphry began to teach, refusing to meet Nate's pleading eyes, refusing to risk doing anything that might hurt the people I loved, including Nate. But a bustle at the doorway brought my eyes up, and before I could know whether I should be looking or not, Morgan Black hurried into the room. For the briefest of moments, our eyes met. Before I could look away, I saw worry in her eyes, behind her glasses; deep, dark circles under them; and an unhealthy, weary-looking paleness to her face. Her black hair against her skin always made her look really white, but this was different. She looked unwell.

Of all the sevens, Morgan was the one I thought I would like. Something about her seemed special, beyond the fact that she had one green eye and one brown eye—something Pastor Rowe hadn't known when he'd inspected her on the day of her birth because her eyes had been blue. I couldn't help but wonder if her unique eyes would have been a reason for the pronouncement of evil on all the sevens. And I couldn't help but feel dirty to know that Pastor Rowe had inspected me too, just like all the sevens, when we were only hours old. Naked and cold on the floor of the worship hall—a perfect introduction to life in Dunlowe.

Morgan stood in front of the class, waiting to be recognized, just as a seven should. When Mrs. Dumphry finally condescended to look at her, Morgan said, "I apologize, Mrs. Dumphry. I gladly accept any punishment for my tardiness."

"After class, Miss Black. I won't waste another minute of our educational time on deviants."

I felt bad for Morgan, catching the ill wind from Mrs. Dumphry's anger at Nate and me. This just wasn't a good day for the sevens, whom, from my seat in the back of the room, I could tell were more guarded than normal, except, of course, for Stephanie Trench. If we sevens had a queen, Stephanie would claim that tiara. She was the only seven from a wealthy family—the only one in town—and lived to be prissy and mean. Of course, the traditions protected me, and the other five, from her bullying—an odd silver lining to being a seven.

But it wasn't just her money that caused people to revere her. The ogling eyes of the boys in class—my brother sadly included—told the other side of the story. Stephanie looked exactly the way princesses in storybooks were supposed to look—cascading blonde hair that hung in curls, perfect pale skin, rich blue eyes, and ruby lips. More than once, her beauty had been used as proof that the sevens weren't evil. Perhaps I should have thanked her, but I never would.

After six subjects, a lunch break spent alone in the classroom while the other students felt the sunshine, and twelve times called to the board to answer questions I had no way of answering, Mrs. Dumphry cleared her throat. "Zoe, please ask Pastor Rowe to join us."

Zoe leapt up with self-important glee and rushed out of the classroom—it figured she would be so delighted to see Nate and me punished, she was Stephanie's best friend after all.

I felt myself slinking down and jerked back up, determined to take the blame before my mother did.

The church and school were separated by a small courtyard, so I wasn't surprised at Pastor Rowe's quick arrival or Zoe's puppy-dog look beside him—she really might be pretty if all the ugly inside weren't shining out. The minute he entered the room, I felt my familiar relief that Nate looked nothing like his father. Pastor Rowe's shiny bald head reddened when he spoke, and even his long beard seemed to judge me.

In answer to Pastor Rowe's questioning look, Mrs. Dumphry said, "We've had an occurrence."

"Involving the sevens?"

"Of course."

_Of course?_ Like we messed up every day? Lying hag. I bit my lip to keep from making everything worse, while praying that Dusty kept still.

"No," Nate said, standing up. "This had nothing to do with the sevens, Father. It had to do with me and my lack of self-control. Cecily is blameless, as are the other sevens."

"I did not ask for your opinion, Nathaniel."

"And yet you've taught us over and over that when we feel called by the Great God Dunn to right the wrongs around us, we should—that we have a responsibility to. Would you really want me to ignore that..." He paused, and I knew him well enough to know it was intentional. "... and everything else you've taught me?"

In the slight loosening of Pastor Rowe's shoulders, I knew Nate had won, but I couldn't help the sinking feeling that one day he wouldn't.

"Then, Nathaniel, you will own this punishment and the rest of you are dismissed."

"Morgan, your tardiness will be dealt with tomorrow," Mrs. Dumphry quickly added as we filed out of the room.

I wanted to look back at Nate, to let him know how grateful I was, but fear kept me moving.

"Nice going," Dusty chided once the crowd separated enough that we stood alone.

"Can you not say anything right now? He's going to hurt Nate."

"Better him than you."

"Don't say that."

Dusty's nose scrunched while he looked around, seeing the wardens—Pastor Rowe's assistants—watching us. "You going to wait for him?"

I nodded.

"Not here."

"Not here," I promised.

Dusty turned toward home and took a couple steps before turning back, wearing a lopsided smile. "You know I'm ratting you out, right?"

"Do your worst. Nothing they do or say will make me feel worse than I already do."

"Cecily, lighten up. You kissed a boy—you didn't cause an earthquake or sacrifice a goat."

"I didn't," I said, while giving him the smile he wanted. "But you know those goats have it coming."

Dusty resumed his walk home, but called back, "If you feel that way, you probably shouldn't be smooching them."

From the branches of our favorite tree, I watched Nate walking toward me, his smile undimmed. I started to climb down, but he scampered up into the tree with me.

As he leaned to kiss me, he said, "Now, where did we leave off when school interrupted our morning?"

It wasn't like me to stop him from kissing me—actually, it was unprecedented—but I lightly pushed him back. I took hold of his hand and found red patches and the darkness where bruises would form in a few hours.

"They hit you?" I whispered, wishing I'd asked a less stupid question.

Nate kissed my cheek and moved slowly to kiss my neck, caressing me with his lips and then resting his face against mine. "Cecily, I'm so sorry I put you and your family in danger. Nothing is worth that. But kissing you was worth what they did to me. Don't doubt me. I love you. No matter what that means... now or forever, it won't ever change."

Though his words were strong and believable, there was something almost too strong and too deliberate in them. And then I knew his father had said something about me, something nasty. I woke up early every day and did my chores, I did my homework more days than I didn't, and I'd never done a purposefully mean thing in my life. But here in Dunlowe, I would always be just one step away from evil.

## 2

# Not Always So

"Don't cry," Nate pleaded.

"What did he say?"

"It doesn't matter. When we're old enough, I'm going to marry you and we're going to make a life together, here... or maybe we'll find someplace else."

I shook my head. "There's nowhere else for a seven to live—you know that."

"It's been years since that happened."

"Years? Morgan's parents are still dead, Nate. And what did they do to deserve that? They tried to get her away from this place." _Away from your father_ , I thought but didn't say, and then my brain seemed to hiccup. "Marry? Did you say _marry_?"

"Of course I did. You're going to be my wife... oh, was I supposed to ask first?"

"You don't have to ask. It's enough that you would," I blurted and then paused, allowing my brain to form thoughts again. "You really aren't worried that your father is right?"

"Don't be stupid. You aren't evil, and the others might be mostly moody and obnoxious, but they aren't evil, either. So, you were all born on the same day—who cares? Maybe exactly nine months before July seventeenth was a great night for romance." Nate blushed, igniting the embarrassing redness warming my face. "Look," he said, clearing his throat, "you were born—you didn't hatch in an evil field. You were born, just like me and all the other people in town. Someday, this is all going to be a funny story we tell our children about how a superstitious man scared an entire country into being idiots. And we'll laugh." He leaned forward, his breath tickling my cheek just before he kissed me. "We'll laugh, Cecily, so don't cry now because it will ruin the joke later."

He kissed me again, and with no Mrs. Dumphry to stop him, we were lucky we didn't fall out of the tree.

Eventually, Nate hopped down and reached for me to follow. "Come on, let's walk to the south today, as far as we can go, and then I'll walk you home."

For today, south was probably a good idea since we didn't have as much time as we normally did, and south certainly only went so far. Dunlowe was already the southernmost town in the country of Stoughton, surrounded on three sides by thick woods. The Eastern Woods and the Western Woods held nothing more terrifying than bears or pumas, but the woods to the south—the Wild Wood—elicited more fears, rumors, and superstitions than even sevens did.

Nate carried the conversation during our walk, which was a relief to me. My mind was honestly too busy with two very different thoughts—emotions, really—profound joy that Nate wanted to marry me, and horror because Nate's father would never see me as anything other than evil waiting to happen. Pastor Rowe truly believed the only reason the sevens hadn't turned into minions of the dark ones was that we were never together. What would happen, I wondered, if I went to Morgan's house and had tea with her. Would the horns pop right out of my head? Would I start preying on the _hardly_ unsuspecting townsfolk?

My thoughts kept my mind so wrapped up that I didn't realize until the last second how close we were to the Wild Wood. I yanked against Nate's hand, attempting to move us quickly backward. But Nate didn't budge, and I certainly wasn't going to release his hand so close to this wood.

"Nate," I whispered, staring at the side of his face, while his eyes remained locked on the blackness beyond the first row of trees.

"Cecily, what if the theories about the Wild Wood are just like the theories about you and the sevens?"

Was that possible? Could there be a good—and not deadly—reason for the mysterious bones stacked in piles, the lightning storms that raged but never burned down the woods, the screaming, and the strange lights that seared the sky like the sun lived on the ground in the Wild Wood? I ruled: most likely not.

"It's against the law for us to go near the Wild Wood. I don't want to be responsible for unleashing all that lives in there."

Nate spun to face me. "I'm not saying we should go in there. I never want to go in there, and I don't want you to ever be this close without me here. You understand that, right?" he demanded, finally moving me farther away from the wood.

I nodded, but was still confused.

"I'm just trying to open my mind. Stories, so many stories, how can we ever know what's real? I believe my father is wrong about you. What else is he wrong about?"

"I don't know, but thank you for believing in me. I can't even imagine what my life would be like without you."

Nate smiled as he leaned to kiss me. His mouth kept mine busy, preventing me from saying what I most wanted him to know. So, I thought _I love you_ as hard as I could, hoping he could feel it. Maybe he could because his kiss became more passionate, rising in intensity but also lingering in pace. I reached and ran my fingers through his thick hair, grateful it was so full and long, longer than most of the boys in town.

_I love you_ , I thought again, unable to stop myself from giving my entire heart to him whether I could use words or not.

" _It was not always so_."

A voice. A voice in my head. A male voice. Deep, warm, and infinitely alluring. I pulled away from Nate.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, his eyes big and uneasy.

"No, of course not. I just want to be away from the Wild Wood. The sun's going to set... if I get back late on top of the school trouble, it'll just make things worse."

Nate wrapped his arm around me as he guided me toward my house. "Cecily, you know I love you, right?"

"Yes," I answered, a little afraid of where this was leading.

"Well, as much as I love you, I just really want to say that you are the loveliest _chicken_ in the entire country. You better be careful or one day your parents might check to see if you are sitting on an egg..."

I let out the breath I'd been holding and smiled as I snuggled against his body.

"... and they might give you seeds for dinner and make you stay in the chicken coop, which isn't going to make you smell very nice." He leaned to kiss the side of my face, while continuing to walk.

Nate could joke as much as he wanted, and I did know he loved me. But even though he could defend me and love me, he—like every single person I was allowed to talk to—had no idea what it was like to be one of the sevens, to spend every day dreading anything that would make me more different than I already was. And admitting I'd heard a strange voice, even to Nate, would certainly lead me somewhere I never wanted to go.

_I am never coming back here_ , I thought as we walked away. That was the only way to keep myself safe. Nate would just attribute it to me being a chicken, which I could more than live with. No voices. Never again. Then I wouldn't have to hide anything else from Nate—I already hid enough.

No more voices, not ever.

" _Okay_ ," the velvet voice said.

" _No more_ ," I ordered.

" _Okay_." It sounded like he was chuckling.

" _Stop_."

" _Absolutely._ "

I wasn't winning, and losing could be dire. I vowed not to think anymore about the voice or the woods, and held tightly to Nate as he was about to deliver me to my parents for the punishment I deserved and would gladly accept. But, for all the worry I'd experienced in my life, kissing Nate righted all the wrongs and made me believe I was born into this odd, little town for a reason. Just no more public kissing.

"I'm so sorry," I said for the twelfth time.

My father's face pained me even more than my mother's. I knew why. When Morgan and I were caught picking wildflowers only a few feet away from each other when we were children and my mom and Morgan's mother had been locked in the pillory for a day and a night without food or water, my father, for our family's sake, had stood by and done nothing. We'd all had to watch, Morgan and I in the front row. It was so hot that day my tongue latched hold of the roof of my mouth and wouldn't let go, but I couldn't drink water, not in front of my mother, with her soft, forgiving eyes.

I remembered Pastor Rowe attempting to whip up enough fervor to make the townsfolk throw things at the mothers, but it hadn't worked. Not even Stephanie had done it. We all just stared. My father's eyes changed that day and there were days I could forget everything haunted in them, but certainly not today. He looked just as he had then, powerless and all too aware of it.

"I'm sorry."

My mother stood, the same gentleness in her eyes, and walked toward me, wrapping her arms around me. "Sweetheart, we know you are, and you aren't in trouble. You're young, and young people are reckless. It's not your fault what people think. You know, my father went after your dad with a pitchfork when we got caught kissing behind the barn. I was the exact same age as you."

"I won't do it again, Mom. I promise."

She kissed my head. "I know you always do your best. That's all you can do, and I would never ask that you do more. I'm going to make you some cobbler."

I watched her walk away and lowered my head. I was really in for it now. My dad let out a deep sigh.

"I'm so sorry," I said—it was like a stutter I couldn't stop.

"Cecily..."

My breath held and wouldn't let go. Either he'd say something or I'd pass out.

"I'm sorry," he said, shocking me into gulping a breath.

"What?"

"I'm sorry for so many things, but you have to do better. Honey, he could take her away from us forever. He could take you away from us... from me. I couldn't survive it. I love you too much."

My tears let go as he moved to surround me with his strong arms.

"I'll do better. I promise."

The creaking of the stairs brought a grunt out of my father. "Should I go beat your brother for not staying in his room like I told him to?"

I grinned, and I was pretty sure there was an evil twinkle in my eyes when I said, "Don't let me stop you."

"They didn't even hit you," Dusty grumbled from the bunk above mine. " _And_ you got cobbler."

"I wish they would've hit me. Maybe I'd feel less bad. They did ask me to stay away from Nate for a little while."

"They were never going to punish you, not when you begged and cried for them to hit you and apologized like fifty times. You know Mom; she would do anything to keep you from being hit, and all those crocodile tears proved they'd already won. Be all tough and bold next time, they'll hit you, and you can spend more time with your little _boyfriend_."

Before I could say anything, Dusty peered at me over the side of his bed. "Could I ask you something?"

"What?"

"It's a question that could get me in trouble, and since I tried to get you in trouble, sorta, are you going to pay me back?"

"No, Dusty, _I_ wouldn't do that."

Dusty remained quiet so long my curiosity began rattling the bars like a caged chimp.

"Okay, but don't take this the wrong way. Okay?" he said.

"Okay."

"You... and the others..."

"The sevens?"

"Yeah. You can't be around each other or talk to each other, but can the brother of a seven... _talk_ to a seven he's not related to?"

It only took a second to figure out what this was about, and I laughed a little too loudly and mockingly. "You have a crush on Stephanie Trench, and you're asking me if, because I'm a seven, you are tainted too."

"You don't have to laugh."

"I'm sorry," I said, hating how pouty he sounded. "The answer is, I don't know. If she were to fall in love with you, which I'm certain she would, because you're more handsome than any of the other boys your age, it would be an awkward wedding, wouldn't it?"

I saw the reflection of the moon on his teeth and knew I fixed what I'd broken.

"It would be, but I wouldn't have to worry that you didn't get along with my wife... since you could never talk to her anyway." He chuckled, as he disappeared from my view.

"Like you would care if I didn't like your wife."

Dusty's face appeared again. "Of course, I would. I would never marry someone you didn't like. I promise."

"Really?"

"Really."

Oh, dear. That meant I should... "Dusty..." I said, sounding exactly like a chicken girl. "Do you like Nate?"

"Not really, but I like that he loves you, and that's enough."

"Thanks," I whispered, my heart in my throat.

Dusty giggled. "Do my chores for a week and my opinion of Nate will improve by leaps and bounds."

Only a few seconds later, Dusty's snores reverberated around our small room. Dusty always fell right to sleep, as though life were carefree. I envied him that. For me, the end of the day and climbing into bed meant all my worries and hurts lined up to be noticed. All the things I smothered to be able to function. Although this round of danger had passed, tomorrow was a new day to fail and hurt everyone I loved. Even in my bed, I didn't feel safe from the people who hated me. The walls weren't strong enough, the door not locked—nothing could keep them out if they ever really decided that the sevens didn't belong in the world.

And if anyone knew I was hearing voices near the Wild Wood, that day would arrive soon. I loved our farm, but for tonight, I hated that I lived in the southernmost house in the country of Stoughton.

Nightmares finally found me. Dunlowe swirled in uncomfortable colors and smells, and every place I saw was strange and new, and worse, all the faces of people I'd always known became unfamiliar. In my dreams, I was the stranger, standing alone, amongst those who railed against me. I could never find Nate, or maybe in the dreams, I didn't know him.

Like so many other times, everything became dark and sinister, and I stood, surrounded by trees, with the blood red eyes of monsters glaring at me. I turned away to hurry home and what I saw left me gasping: Dunlowe burned to the ground and not a single person living in it.

"What are you doing out here?" Dad asked as he entered the barn where I was hitching up the wagon.

I kept my eyes on the leather reins and mumbled, "Just trying to be helpful."

"Anxious to get to worship, are you?"

My eyes met his, but I held my tongue.

Dad's cheeks pinked up as he fought unsuccessfully against a smile. "I'm sure Pastor Rowe will be glad to hear that."

I mock scowled at him—he knew exactly what I was anxious to do, and it had nothing to do with worship. After a week of not seeing Nate, except at school, I was ready to run all the way to town for a few minutes with him, and I was hopeful I would get many more than a few.

As we rode into the field next to the worship hall, I saw Nate walking toward our wagon.

"Mr. Daye." Nate shook my father's hand.

"Nathaniel."

"May I escort Cecily into worship, sir?"

"A word first, son." My dad gestured for Nate to follow him away from the rest of the family.

I watched them as they talked, Nate's body rigid as he nodded to my father. When Nate returned to me, he smiled but his eyes held a grimness that unsettled me.

After taking hold of Nate's offered hand, I climbed down from the wagon. "What did he say?"

"Your father is a good man, Cecily." He squeezed my hand. "I've missed you."

"After worship..."

"... we'll walk so far we'll almost be able to see our future."

"Not to the Wild Wood."

Nate shook his head. "I'm never getting you back there, am I?"

"No."

"My future wife." He chuckled. "I think our kids will be half human, half chicken, and then what will people think?"

"That your father was right about me all along," I blurted before thinking.

Nate stopped instantly, blocking the entrance to the worship hall, causing the Kents and the Smyths to wait. His jaw clenched as he looked at me. "Don't ever say that."

I nodded. He believed in me. The last thing he needed was for me to doubt myself, especially while walking into the place where I would always be doubted.

Nate tugged me forward. "Come on."

Being in the worship hall with Nate made me miss the one other friend I looked forward to seeing, and occasionally making faces at. "Have you heard anything about Laura? Will she be here?" I searched for her face in the crowded hall and on the Hardy's empty pew.

"Her father came by the house last night and said she still isn't feeling well, so they won't be here." Nate heard his name called and smiled at me before going to sit with his mother.

I wished I could sit with Nate, but families were seated together, names on the pews and everything—which made Morgan Black appear all the more odd seated alone on her family's pew. I risked a peek and saw that she looked exhausted and noticeably vulnerable. My eyes quickly dropped, imagining going through the horror that she had.

After Morgan's mother had been punished in the pillory, her parents and grandfather decided to escape Dunlowe, to start again somewhere less cruel. They couldn't have known, and didn't until it was too late, that there was nowhere less cruel in all of Stoughton. Just two towns away, a mob caught and hanged her parents in front of Morgan, who only lived because the murderers were afraid to release her evil on their town. When she and her grandfather returned, I cried, but I couldn't do anything for her except beat myself up for picking wildflowers near her. If I hadn't done that and our mothers hadn't been punished, maybe she'd still have a family, instead of a very old grandfather who refused to attend worship in the presence of the man he blamed for the deaths of his daughter and son-in-law.

"Traditions," Pastor Rowe began, and I knew that no one in town had been drinking, gambling, or planting their crops improperly. The sevens were in for a very long service.

Traditions led to inappropriate behavior which unsurprisingly led to kissing. I noticed Nate's solemn face, but kept my eyes away from him. From where I sat, I could watch four families without getting caught by either Pastor Rowe or the wardens. The Harrisons were nice and boring, although their youngest son entertained me when he occasionally sent spit balls hurtling toward Mrs. Dumphry. The others were the Kents, Paynes, and Smyths—each interesting to watch, especially when traditions were the topic.

Mrs. Smyth always wrapped her arm around Millie, her daughter and a member of the sevens, whenever traditions were mentioned. I knew from Nate, and from watching Millie every once in a while, that she was a very shy, gentle girl. She always hid behind her dark brown hair and kept her eyes trained on the floor. Unlike me, obviously, she always followed the rules and had probably never even gazed at one of the other sevens. If I were the unruly chicken, she was the quivering sheep. I wasn't sure why she bothered me so much, but she did.

Abigail Kent, who sat next to her two little brothers, was very different from Millie. When the traditions came up, she stared right at Pastor Rowe with her shoulders tensed. Her hair was just a shade lighter than Millie's, and her eyes matched her hair exactly. Something about her brown eyes, squinting slightly, was mysterious... and hostile. Her parents just looked on without doing anything to stop her from staring. I guess that was what we were supposed to be doing, but I wondered what Pastor Rowe thought about the way Abigail glared at him.

After traditions and kissing, Pastor Rowe shared new horror stories of the Wild Wood gleaned from nearby towns. Amanda Payne's face lit up, her green eyes sparkling, and even her copious amounts of freckles seemed to shimmer. The five Payne children were the only redheads in town, and every single one had the exact same bright, almost glowing, red hair that naturally formed into tight curls, even on the boys. Amanda, a seven, never looked tense about being an oddity or the talk about traditions. She always seemed to be waiting for the stories of terror in the Wild Wood, as though this were story time and not the truth about a frightening place. For all her adventurousness though, she'd never dared look at the other sevens.

"News from Kilby: four boys went into the Wild Wood to play. Of course, they knew better, but young men are prone to poor decision making," Pastor Rowe said, staring at Nate. "Their bodies were found later that night, down river. The demons are all around us, just waiting for the moment we drop our guards, forget the traditions, and loosen our holds on our faith. They wait. Never forget that. In the name of Dunn."

"In the name of Dunn," we all repeated.

And finally, we were free.

## 3

# A Good Man

For five days, I'd looked forward to my walk—truthfully, kissing more than walking—with Nate, but I hadn't thought for a second it would go like this. Nate walked, holding my hand, but his brain seemed to be chewing on something so hard it was like I wasn't even with him. I didn't know what to say or how to help. I was just grateful that, at least, he held my hand.

We reached the bridge to Kilby before Nate stopped and finally looked at me, his eyes clearly troubled.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked.

"Of course not," he said, but his irritated tone made me doubt his answer.

I looked down.

"Cecily, look at me."

The chicken refused, but did feel a little better when Nate's arms encircled me.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "You didn't do anything wrong, but I did."

That brought my head up, and I shoved against him so I could see his face. "What? You don't have a crush on Stephanie Trench, do you?"

He flinched back. "No. Why would you even think that?"

I shrugged. "Everybody seems to... and you're acting so guilty."

"I _am_ guilty. All this week, not seeing you—I hated it. But it gave me time to think and to really see what I did. Kissing you like that..."

Oh. And then... _oh_. "You aren't going to give up kissing me, are you? I want you to kiss me again... forever. Please, don't stop. Please."

Nate laughed warmly, his mood shifting back to one I liked. "You ninny—of course, I'm going to continue kissing you, but we have to be careful, more than ever."

"What did my father say to you?"

"He just reminded me of some things, that's all."

"That's all? That's all you're going to say?"

"Yes."

Feeling my jaw clench and my mouth about to spew words I wouldn't be able to take back, I turned away from him and stared unseeingly at the water below the bridge. Nate's arms reached around my waist and held me. A sliver of stubborn made me hesitate before I leaned into him and accepted his comfort.

I kept my eyes on the water as I whispered, "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Did your father... did he ever say he felt bad about what he did to my mother... to Morgan's mother? Did he feel bad about what happened to Morgan's parents?"

"What do you want me to say?" he asked quietly.

"It's true then. He wasn't sorry and he wouldn't be sorry to see me die."

I felt Nate shake his head. "That's not going to happen and you have to understand, he really believes he's right. We know he's wrong, but he believes. I've tried to make him see, but..."

"... but you can't. No one can."

"You know, it's not just you," he muttered.

I turned, still in his arms, and stared into his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"He has a lot of rules for me and for my mother. He controls everything, even whether my mother can cut my hair and how much. It's not just you."

An uncomfortable silence swallowed us for a few minutes. Maybe we were both bargaining, searching for a way to make things work out. I didn't find the key to my future, but I did find something that would help.

"Nate, there's something you can help with."

"Anything. You know that."

"Convince your father that when the sevens turn seventeen, we are the only ones who should be punished if we break the rules—not our mothers."

"But, Cecily..."

"Say you will, or I'll never kiss you again. I'm choking on shame all the time. My mother doesn't deserve this, no matter what your dad thinks. You can do this. You're the only one who can."

"But what if I do, and he hurts you?"

"Better me than my mother. Pretend you were a seven, Nate, and your mother was locked in the pillory or worse, hanged. You'd rather it was you. Don't tell me you wouldn't."

Nate's arms released me and his hands moved to cradle my face. "I'd rather it was me if he did that to my mother... or to you."

"Then say you'll help me."

"I'll help you."

"Now, kiss me."

And he did.

During our walk back toward town, we tried to start conversations, but each fell flat. Finally, I suggested we visit Laura, and we both perked up and walked as if we actually wanted to reach a destination.

Laura sat in a rocking chair on her front porch, covered in a blanket though it wasn't cold outside. Her long, warm brown hair hung loosely around her shoulders and her blue eyes seemed to have lightened to match her pale face.

With a smile, she said, "Hi."

I climbed the porch steps and hugged her before taking a seat next to her. "Howdy."

"Good day to you both," Laura's mother called from inside the house. "How nice of you to drop by. Give me a second, and I'll bring you some lemonade."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hardy," Nate called for the both of us.

Laura lightly punched my shoulder and in a conspiratorial whisper said, "So, I heard the news."

Nate wore a cocky grin that had me blushing. "What? About our criminal behavior?"

"Yes, you took up five hours at worship, didn't you?" Laura asked.

I smiled. "I think the Wild Wood took up about ten minutes, so we got four hours and fifty minutes."

It suddenly seemed really funny, and Laura's pale cheeks gained a bit of pink, which her mother noticed instantly when she came out with the drinks and a tray with fruit.

"Tell me everything," Laura begged.

Between Nate and I, we were able to tell stories about all sorts of things and people. I knew Mrs. Hardy could hear us, but she didn't say anything about how gossiping was wrong, and I was certain she wouldn't report us to Nate's father. Laura's energy grew as we told our tales. I even confided to her, and Nate, about Dusty's crush on Stephanie Trench.

After we'd been talking for a while, I noticed Laura's strength waning. "We should go."

Laura pouted. "No, please."

"We'll come back tomorrow," Nate said and leaned to kiss her cheek.

I held her hand in mine as she smiled at me.

"I'm trying to be well enough for your birthday," she whispered.

I hugged her. "If you're not up to it, we'll just come here after the party and have our own little celebration."

A look of pure gratitude shone on Mrs. Hardy's face. "Thank you both for coming."

"We'll see you soon," Nate said.

"Thanks for the snack," I added as we walked down the steps and out toward the road.

We did visit Laura on Sunday and on Monday and Tuesday. With only three days left of school, we got busy with tests and studying on Wednesday and Thursday. And then Friday, the minute Mrs. Dumphry said, "School's out," we rushed to the door. The sevens were crammed together in the fray—though certainly not touching—but quickly dispersed as soon as we were outside.

"Let's go," Nate said. He didn't touch me at all in front of others anymore.

I nodded and followed him away from town, knowing at least two sets of eyes were on us: Mrs. Dumphry's from the schoolhouse steps and Pastor Rowe's from the steps of the worship hall. Nate never looked back, but I knew he'd seen them.

Once we were safely away, Nate took hold of my hand. "Cecily, there's something I need to tell you, something that will upset you."

I wanted to stop and look at him, but he seemed insistent we keep walking... in the direction of my house.

"What?"

"My father gave me a choice last night..."

I drew in a panic gulp of air and held it.

"... I either had to go stay with my aunt and uncle in Darstel for the entire summer or I had to promise to spend less time with you."

My heart sputtered.

"It won't be so bad," Nate said, sounding like a liar for the first time. "Cecily, say something."

I looked up at him and finally stopped his walking. "I love you."

"And I love you. You can't believe this has anything to do with what I want. I only want you, but if I don't follow my father's rules, I'm worried he'll say you're leading me toward evil. What if he does that? What if he uses me to make your life worse? To hurt you? Or your mom? But I couldn't go to my aunt and uncle's place and not be here for you. What if you need me?"

"I do need you, and I don't know what to say." Tears lined up to force their way out of my squinting eyes. "I'm not given a say, because I'm one of the seven, soulless, hibernating evils of Dunlowe."

"No, Cecily, you aren't evil. You couldn't ever be evil."

"My birthday?" I asked abruptly.

"I can't come," Nate whispered. "I'm so sorry. My father has been spouting all this stuff about what it will mean when you turn seventeen. It's stupid..."

"That's when we're supposed to become evil, right?"

"He just thinks the number seven is bad and that when the sevens are seventeen, the town will finally know what you really are. What you really are is perfect and beautiful, but I don't think that's what he's expecting."

"Did you convince him?"

Nate stilled. "I brought it up, you know, testing the waters, and he jumped on it so fast it frightened me. I think this is what he wants, what he's been waiting for. You know how he couldn't get the townsfolk to turn against the mothers, but maybe he thinks that for the sevens, they'll..."

"You think the town will line up to hurt us."

"I don't know. Neither does he. They might surprise us all and turn on him."

"I'll walk the rest of the way by myself." I turned away from him.

He grabbed my arm, forcing me to turn back. "No."

"You're going to obey to protect me. Well, maybe it's time for me to obey to protect you. I never really believed you were in danger because of me, but it's clear your father believes that. I'm not sure anymore that he wouldn't hurt you in the process of coming for me. I put nothing past him."

"Cecily, stop. We're going to be okay. This is just until we're eighteen and we can get married."

I choked out an ugly laugh. "He's keeping you away from me so you'll forget me. Just wait, every night this summer, you'll have guests for dinner. Mindy's family. Zoe's family. All the less evil girls in town are going to be lining up at your doorstep."

Nate seemed to be actually shocked into silence.

"He's _never_ going to let you marry me."

A hardness emerged in Nate's eyes. "Then he doesn't know me very well... or at all." His hands intertwined in my hair, holding without hurting me. "You're already mine. Let him do what he wants and let's show him our love is made of something stronger than anything he's ever seen." He smiled. "And you're hardly going to be forgotten about for a couple of Stephanie's minions. Come on, let's get you home."

When we reached the farm, Nate stopped us beside the barn where we were still concealed from the house. "I love you, always, Cecily Daye. I'll come back as soon as I can, and I'll try to get my dad to allow me to see you some."

Nate leaned slowly toward me, his eyes watching to see if I'd pull away from him, but I wouldn't. This kiss would have to last me who knows how many days, and I was too selfish to give it up no matter how upset I was.

"I'll see you soon." He kissed my forehead before turning away and heading back up the road.

I watched him walk away, hating that this departure seemed final. When I turned toward the house, I saw my father sitting on the porch swing. He seemed to be waiting for me, so I walked toward the house rather than heading for the swing hanging from my favorite tree in the yard.

"Honey." Dad gestured to the seat next to him.

I sat down, and Dad put his arm around me.

"A man doesn't always know what to do. He can only do his best. Nathaniel is trying to do his best for you and you need to believe in him."

Since my dad hated it when I cried, I said nothing and only nodded.

"We've got to be careful now. I've got a bad feeling about the coming days. So, you be extra good and unless you're with Laura or your brother, I want you around here. Let's just get through your birthday safely, and see where we're at."

Hearing the fear in my father's words felt like a noose tightening around my throat. Was that his bad feeling, that I was going to die... or my mother was? Regardless, I was certain no daughter ever felt safe when her father was afraid.

"Pumpkin, your mom is very worried about you and made your favorite peach cobbler. So, even though cobbler doesn't solve all your problems, could you pretend it does so she feels better?"

"You got it, Daddy. Let's go help her, since we know Dusty never will."

Dad stood up and tugged me with him. Together, we walked into the house, and even with everything that worried me and the uncertainty I felt about life in Dunlowe, I was very grateful for my family. I sent a little thought out to the other sevens, that they could feel as loved and supported as I did. It was one thing to be feared, but at least whatever trials I faced, I was not the only one facing them—the rest of the sevens would share my fate.

## 4

# The Match

### July 17th

A month. Four Nate sightings, only during worship. Not one letter. Not one walk. Not one kiss. Hope dwindling. I wanted to believe in Nate and in his love, but absence and a frightened heart don't make for much faith. Nate knew I was a chicken; he'd have to know that chickens have very small, very fragile hearts that weren't meant for believing without some assurance.

The only things I had to hold on to were the deliberate way Nate watched for me before worship, and the tip of his head as my family headed for home—we hadn't even spoken once since the day school let out. Each week, as our wagon bumped along the road away from worship, I watched all the other girls—all non-sevens—surround Nate with smiles and wiles. His easy grin and relaxed shoulders taught me to doubt.

The insidious rooster crowed and it was officially my birthday, better known to Pastor Rowe as the day I might become a minion of the dark ones. All I knew about darkness was the anger in my heart that grew every day I didn't see Nate. If the townsfolk were so afraid of what I could become, it was terribly wrong of them to vex me so. If only I did have whatever powers they feared, I'd give them something to fear... perhaps there would be some screaming and cowering before my wrath. The wrath of the angry chicken... _nice_.

My one consolation on my lonely birthday was that from this day forward, only the sevens would be punished for breaking the rules, not our mothers. I could celebrate that. But, perhaps because of that fact, I noticed a recklessness awakening in my heart, a slight loosening in my desire to be good.

I got up and headed down to do my chores. My dad offered to let me out of doing them on my birthday—as was our family tradition—but what else did I have to do? There would be no real party; no one was coming. My dad had heard that the parties were going to be small at all the sevens' houses, except the Trenches, of course. They'd invited everyone in town, and probably some people from Kilby, to Stephanie's birthday extravaganza—everyone, except the six other sevens. The Trenches had even invited the six other sevens' parents and siblings. Dusty had begged my parents to be allowed to go. They left it to me and I freed him to enjoy himself, ordering him to bathe first, which he immediately consented to without argument. My misery shouldn't taint him, at least that was my initial motivation. A fierce craving for information arrived shortly afterward.

Would Nate be at Stephanie's party? Would Pastor Rowe? Stephanie was still one of the sevens, right? She hadn't outgrown her seven status because of being rich and glamorous—that just wouldn't be fair.

I finished my chores and found my father in the barn, shoeing one of our horses.

"I'd like to go to Laura's. May I?"

His shoulders stiffened. "I really wanted you to be home today."

"I'm home every day, Dad. Laura didn't look good yesterday, and she really wanted to be able to say _happy birthday_. She's the only one who does," I said, failing to keep my tears from falling.

"Oh, sweetheart, we will get past this. You can go. Take Bear though; I don't want you walking, and if anything happens—anything at all—you gallop home. Bear won't let you down."

Bear wouldn't let me down. He was solid and loyal, and the townsfolk could learn a lot from him. My dad quickly saddled Bear and gave me a leg up. Bear's bright chestnut color glistened in the sun, and his white blaze—which I saw when he occasionally paused to turn and check on me—looked almost magical.

Mr. and Mrs. Hardy stood outside their house when I arrived. Mrs. Hardy's back hunched and her shoulders quaked.

I slid off Bear and rushed up the steps. "Oh, no, is she all right?"

"She's still alive, Cecily, but Doc Forester says her heart just isn't strong enough... and she isn't going to last much longer," Mrs. Hardy said, brushing her tears away. "I'm so glad you came and on your birthday no less."

"Of course, I came. We're not really having a party, you understand. The only two people I would want to come can't. So, I'm here to spend the day with my best friend."

"Go on in. I'll bring you a snack in a little while. I don't want Laura to see me like this. I don't want her giving up or thinking I have."

"Okay." I walked away, wondering why Mr. Hardy hadn't said a word to me or even looked at me.

But all thoughts of Mr. Hardy disappeared when I reached Laura's room and found her the palest shade of white, under a blanket, too weak to sit up. Her breathing was shallow and strained.

"Cecily," she whispered more brightly than I thought she would.

"Hey, Laura." I hurried into the room and crawled onto her bed, holding her as I shared her pillow. Her body was cold to the touch, and I wrapped my arms around her to try to make her warm.

A twinkle lit her eyes. "Happy Birthday."

"Oh, yes, it's very happy... except I'm a freak, my parents are scared, and my stupid brother is going to Stephanie Trench's party."

"I heard from Nate that she's having a big to-do. Rich freaks get to have big parties, don't you know?"

I fought the pout aching to get free. "How is Nate?"

"Oh, Cecily, I shouldn't have brought him up. I know you miss him, and I hate that I get to see him when you don't."

"I would have him here with you every single day and never see him again if it would make you better. You know that."

"I do, but I'm not going to get better. The doctor told me. I'm going to die... _soon_ , but I made it to your birthday. I've really been trying hard. And Cecily, Nate loves you. He tells me every single day. Don't doubt him, okay?"

My heart chilled hearing her death talk, so I discounted it, fighting the choking feeling pushing in on my throat. "I'm trying not to doubt him." I lowered my eyes, too ashamed to look at her, as I added, "It's stupid, but is he going to Stephanie's party?"

Laura chuckled and then coughed a little. My eyes were on her then, studying her weary face, and I held her more tightly.

"You ninny, he can't stand her or her family and that they invited all of your families, like the other six of the sevens are trash, made him furious. His father is openly condemning the party, and he isn't giving people much chance not to listen. But everyone is going to go. It's a party in a big, pretty house. Maybe this party is the declaration that times are changing and that our town is tired of all these silly superstitions. Maybe one day, you'll be grateful to Stephanie Trench for being a snot who refused to cow to Pastor Rowe."

"That would be nice, considering Dusty is determined to marry her."

Laura laughed again. "I love you being here with me. It makes me not so afraid of what's next. Pastor Rowe came to talk to me about the end and the darkness that's waiting for me—the place where I will dwell until Dunn finds a hint of worthiness in me and raises me up. But he told me that, since I'm dying young, I haven't really had a chance to do good things, so I'll be in darkness for a million years or so. Quite the peppy guy, that one. And he just wouldn't go, so I faked an attack to get him out. Wonder how the Great Dunn will feel about that," she said with a hollow laugh. "Maybe _two_ million years of darkness."

A wistfulness drifted across her face. "The thing is, I don't believe in all that darkness. The world is just too wonderful to believe that. I believe in light and love, and since I'm going to die before I find love, I believe that one will be waiting for me. I've always thought that Dunn was like a bad fairy tale, where the princess gets eaten by toads and submerged in a swamp forever. Every time Pastor Rowe spewed all that fear about you, it just made it simpler for me not to believe in Dunn. If he couldn't see the beauty in my best friend, then what did he know about anything?"

"You really believe in me that much?" I asked, and thought I heard a squeak on the wood floor outside her room. We both turned to look but no one was there.

When I looked back, Laura was smiling at me, her eyes brimming with hope and life.

"Cecily, you and the sevens are magic, beautiful amazing magic, not evil, but wonders who will one day have the chance to shine. Even if I am trapped in Dunn's mud or whatever, I'll be watching you, always ready to be amazed in the journey you take. It won't be easy—I'm sure of that—but you have to have faith, not in anyone else, but in your own goodness and that you were born for a good reason, to brighten this world. I just wish I could always be here for you."

She started crying and so did I. I clung to her all afternoon, after she cried herself to sleep. Mrs. Hardy checked on us and wept when she saw the look of peace on Laura's face as I held her. Laura woke several times, and we talked more and more as my birthday drifted away. Just before sunset, Mrs. Hardy came in followed by Nate.

"I'll leave you three alone." She turned and walked away.

Nate pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down, taking hold of Laura's hand.

"You came," she whispered, everything about her weakening.

"Of course, I did." Hearing his voice brought more tears to my eyes.

Laura gave Nate an accusing glare, though the corners of her mouth turned up. "Look what you did."

"I know, but I like weepy, chicken girls." He reached his hand out to me, which I took, while attempting to stop crying like an idiot.

"You two are going to have cute half-chicken children, and I expect every one of them to be named Laura, girls or boys—doesn't matter. They will be made fun of about the half-chicken thing anyway... the names won't cause that much more drama." She laughed, but her voice was so weak now it scared me. "Just promise me you will always believe in each other and in love, okay?"

"Okay," we both said together.

"Cecily, it's going to be dark soon. You should get home. I don't want you out tonight. Nate, will you make sure she gets home?"

"Yes."

My entire body froze in place. "I don't want to go."

Her eyes softened looking at me, like she was remembering every laugh we'd ever shared. But then I saw her strength, her determination to be strong... for me. "It's time. I should spend the rest of my hours with my parents. Look in on my mom sometimes, okay?"

I sobbed, unable to stop myself, as I kissed Laura's cheek. "Thanks for always being a freak's friend."

"Being a freak's friend was absolutely the best decision of my life. I love you, Cecily, and remember to believe in your goodness, because goodness is in every single part of you."

"Thank you."

"I love you too, Nate. You two take care of each other, always."

Nate had tears in his eyes as he kissed her cheek. "We will. We love you, Laura."

Walking out of her room, I felt drained of everything. My legs wobbled, and I felt sick. She wouldn't be there the next time I came. She was going to die tonight; she'd held on to be able to say happy birthday, and now she was going away forever. But maybe we were wrong. Maybe morning would come and I would visit and she would be there. I could believe in _maybe_... maybe was good... better than just planning for the end.

Nate gave me a leg up and mounted his horse. We rode in silence, and I wasn't sure if that was because we had nothing to say or too much to say. Maybe Laura had said all there was to say. We loved each other and just had to believe in goodness, even as the sun set on the seventeenth anniversary of my birth.

When we reached my house, Nate dismounted and helped me down, though it was hardly necessary. I was lean, but I wasn't that fragile.

Nate squeezed my hand. "You'll stay in tonight, right?"

"Yes."

"Please, stay in and don't do anything odd. Be boring."

I forced a smile I hardly felt and hoped he would play along. "I'll be a dull chicken."

"Convenient, I love dull chickens." He leaned to kiss me.

My breath caught as his lips touched mine and I disappeared into him.

"Yuck!" Nate said after Bear swiped a big, wet kiss on the side of his face.

Leave it to Bear to make me laugh at a moment like this. "He doesn't think you were doing a good enough job and was trying to give you pointers."

"What? You want me to lick your cheek?"

"I didn't say he was right, and besides, you told me to be boring... and cheek licking is more odd than exciting, but definitely not boring."

Nate smiled at me, a genuine loving smile, but then it faded and his eyes tensed. "I've got to go. My father's expecting me."

I nodded.

"I love you, Cecily Daye." His voice was so believable—maybe I could believe.

"I love you too, Nathaniel Rowe."

Nate gently kissed me again, before mounting his horse. "Be dull," he ordered and turned his horse. In just a moment, he'd galloped away, sending a dust cloud streaming toward me.

I turned away when there was nothing but dirt to see. My dad, waiting in the barn, looked relieved I was home and not at all like he'd been spying on me. He took care of Bear, while I helped my mother put dinner on. My parents tried to be joyful at my birthday dinner, but I couldn't pay much attention to their conversation because I was busy trying not to cry. Dusty's empty chair felt like a betrayal. I knew it wasn't fair because I told him he could go, but somehow the fact that he did hurt me anyway.

After dinner and some blackberry cobbler, I went to my room and directly to bed, weary from the day, worried about Laura, and just hoping that the night would end and that seventeen would be the year of the very boring chicken.

"Is she here?" a voice shouted, shattering my sleep.

"Of course, she's here. She's asleep in her room," my dad answered.

I got up and looked out the window. Oh good, a posse, with burning torches. Nice. So much for boring, but the chicken part was accurate enough—I was terrified.

I couldn't see my dad, but heard him ask, "What do you want?"

"Has she been here all night?" Of course, Pastor Rowe would have to be here.

"Yes, since she left Laura's house."

"Ah... her work was done," Mr. Samson, one of the Pastor's wardens, said.

"What work? Comforting her dying best friend?"

"Dead," Pastor Rowe declared, like that word wasn't the knife it was. "Laura Hardy died at seven forty-seven tonight."

He kept talking, but I froze. Laura was gone. My best friend, who thought I was magical and good, had died and the man who'd cursed my life since my first hours was alive and screaming about how her death was my fault.

"... and seven bonfires mysteriously started near the Wild Wood at seven forty-seven. The town council has voted that the sevens must remain at their homes until we determine the extent of the danger to our town."

"We'll keep her here."

The men and their torches rode away, their horses' hooves rumbling on the dry dirt. The door to my room burst open and my parents rushed toward me.

"It'll be okay," I crooned over and over as they held me.

Dusty stood in the doorway watching, his face difficult to read.

After a few minutes longer than I thought I could keep my tears reined in, Dad stood up, revealing the proof of the rogue tears he busily brushed away. "Let's try to get some sleep."

Mom got up too, and they walked out of the room. Dusty came in and sat next to me on my bed.

"Cecily, I heard them... I didn't know... please, I didn't know..."

"Know what? What's there to know?"

"All of their superstitions are stupid, and when I was at Stephanie's party, her brothers and Charity's brothers... we were talking about how stupid it is and we decided to have some fun with their fears."

My heart sank. "Fun?"

"We lit the fires. It was supposed to be a joke, nothing more. I didn't think how they would take it and I didn't know about Laura. I didn't know that they would come here and make Mom and Dad cry."

"Dusty..." I said, trying not to tear him apart. "Can't you feel how afraid I am? And Mom and Dad? Nate is staying away because he's worried about me. And you light fires near the Wild Wood for _fun_?"

"I didn't think... and I wanted Stephanie's brothers to like me so that maybe they would be okay with the fact that I like her."

"Well, long live Stephanie Trench then, because if they find a way to bring me down for this, she won't be far behind. After last night's party that Pastor Rowe spoke out against, Stephanie is a larger target than even me."

"I never wanted to hurt you or her... I'm sorry," Dusty stammered.

"Yeah, well, it's the one thing I've always known. There are only six people in this town who know what it's like to be me, and the rest of you, including my own brother, have no idea. Go to bed, Dusty. Hey, tomorrow, you can go light some more fires while I'm stuck here forever. Maybe you can even pay my respects at Laura's funeral, since I won't be allowed to go."

"I'm sorry."

Sorry. I was sorry too. Boys should be allowed to be stupid sometimes, but in Dunlowe, one stupid act could be the match that lit my world on fire.

The pounding jarred me awake and by the time I was sitting up, men stormed into my room, their hands snatching me off the bed and dragging me down the stairs. The screams of my mother and the shouts of my father and brother barely overwhelmed my heart's pounding. Into the night air, still in my nightgown, they carried me, not worried that they'd shoved me into walls and doorways along the way. They bound my hands and feet and tossed me over a horse, and my body thumped painfully as they rode at a gallop, as though the Wild Wood chased.

Relief filled me that it was me and not my mother facing this night. Happy Birthday to me.

## 5

# The Gift

"Take her into the cell," Pastor Rowe ordered. I was slung over a wide shoulder and carried into the one-cell jailhouse attached to the back of the worship hall.

I wondered if I'd see the other sevens, but when a warden lit a candle, I saw the empty cell. Whoever held me dumped me from his shoulder and I crashed to the floor, unable to catch myself. My shoulder took the worst of it and I grunted against the instant throbbing, powerless to do anything to ease it. My hands and feet remained bound as the cell door clattered shut just as someone extinguished the candle.

In darkness I remained. It matched my cluelessness. If this was about the bonfires, surely, I wouldn't be the only one here. This had to be about Laura. How could her death be turned against me? All I'd done was love her and do everything I could to help her.

I wanted to cry, but I'd run out of tears when I'd wept for Laura. So, I closed my eyes against the pain and the darkness and reached out for dreams.

"Cecily," an urgent voice whispered. "Cecily."

My eyes opened and I flinched against the light now in the cell. Dawn had come; somehow that surprised me.

Nate knelt beyond the bars. "Are you okay?"

My answer evaporated in my awareness of where I was and where he was, and the weight of the bars between us.

"Cecily, answer me. Are you okay?"

I just stared at him. Accusing.

"I'm trying to fix this. I'm trying to do the right thing. Have you given up on me?"

That brought me back, and I swallowed. "I'm hurt. I'm scared. And I really tried to be boring, but it didn't work. And Laura's gone. And yes, I guess I still believe in you."

His eyes wore instant wounds. "I love you."

"And I've always loved you."

"Be brave. I'm going to save you."

Then he was gone, leaving me to wonder if my feet would still work after they'd tied them so tightly. Everything pounded in my body, but nothing as forcefully as my heart.

"Bring her," Pastor Rowe ordered, and the cell door creaked open.

They lifted me and dragged me outside, where it appeared everyone in town had gathered. My mother cried out at seeing me, but I couldn't find her in my body's rapid movement, not until I was jerked against the pillar in front of the worship hall and the ropes were severed from my hands and feet.

"If you move, you declare your guilt."

Pastor Rowe shoved me to the center of the crowd, and I stood on wobbly legs just a few feet from the pillory.

"Cecily Daye, you have been accused of a crime and must answer for it." Pastor Rowe moved into my space, closer than he'd ever been to me, probably since I was just a baby to be inspected.

I shook my head, trying to clear it and force the pain away. Silence greeted me and I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. "What have I been accused of?"

"Turning Laura Hardy away from the Great God Dunn in her final hours."

"What?" sprang from my mouth.

"Did you mock the Great God Dunn to a dying girl? Did you allow her to mock her god?"

My brain, scrambled by everything that had happened, failed me completely. "What are you talking about?"

"Laura confided to you, didn't she? That she didn't believe in Dunn or her fate, because of you?"

"I... she..."

"Answer the question!"

"She didn't believe. I didn't argue..." I stammered, accompanied by gasps from the crowd.

Pastor Rowe moved nearer, and I flinched away from the hatred in his eyes, which only brought him closer.

"Your best friend lay dying and you let her defy her god. Only an evil being would do such a thing." He turned to face the crowd. "I've warned you all, over and over, of the danger we have in our midst. The sevens are evil, and we've managed to keep them under control, but now, as they grow older and stronger, not even our goodness can stop the evil from growing. Cecily Daye is evil and must be punished."

The hushed crowd said nothing. Nate said nothing. I searched for my parents and found them standing silently to the side. Dusty's face contorted in rage, but my father's white-knuckled hand thankfully kept him in place. My father protected my mother and brother, just as I wanted him to, but the haunted, broken look in his eyes was even worse than when my mother had been pilloried.

"The pillory is her punishment. A day and a night to understand the price of her evil and to feel your chastisement at her betrayal of our faith. I assure you, sparing her pain now will only bring you pain later. If anyone is caught giving her food or comfort, she will remain in the pillory for another day. Tomorrow, we will assemble to decide if her crimes have been duly punished and decide on the future of the sevens in our town."

The top of the pillory whined as a warden lifted it, and I knew better than to fight as they towed me toward it. When I felt the combination of wood and hot metal, heated by the summer day, I involuntarily flinched away and was jammed back into the device that shut so forcefully it threw my neck forward.

My hands clenched in the holes that held them and my entire body shook as I tried to come to terms with being caught in a trap. I forced my trembling legs to hold me, to keep from being strangled and improving Pastor Rowe's day. I hated the tears that fell, but couldn't stop them. I kept my eyes on the ground, though my shame was hidden from no one.

The silence pressed in on me and I was foolish enough to hope that the town wouldn't give in to their rage and Pastor Rowe's hate, up until I heard Mr. Hardy's anguished cry.

"Because of you, I'll never see my daughter again, not even when I die. You are evil!" I watched as his arm wound up, but didn't comprehend what was happening until a rock hit my forehead.

I cried out as blood seeped down my face.

"Stop!" my mother screamed, but other voices quickly shushed her. My father tackled Dusty until he lay trapped on the ground under my father's knee.

Mr. Hardy staggered toward me, his hands clenched in fists that I flinched from even though I had nowhere to go. "I heard you... talking to her. I _heard_ and I should have said something—should have done something. Should have dragged you out of our home, where you'd always been welcome."

"Why didn't you?" I whispered.

His face screwed up so tightly he was barely recognizable. "Because she _loved_ you. You made her love you and then you stole her from me forever!"

I closed my eyes, waiting for the blows his fists and his rage were capable of, but they didn't come.

Nate's voice inspired my eyes to open. "The only one with any cause for true vengeance has now had it. Will vengeance destroy evil or feed it? Or is mercy better to bring goodness out of someone who might be confused?"

"Mercy," Mrs. Hardy said, and I raised my eyes to look at her pained face.

She looked like she'd aged ten years since I'd seen her the day before, and her body trembled. My worries about myself faded when I saw the apology and guilt in her eyes. She didn't believe I deserved this; she knew I loved Laura. That bolstered me to face Mr. Hardy, who I was surprised to see on his knees clutching at the ground in his grief for the loss of his only child.

I would face this, without complaint. If I was the target that brought Mr. Hardy one ounce of relief from his pain, then that was what this trapped chicken would do.

Mrs. Hardy walked slowly to her husband and knelt beside him. "Come home with me. You've done enough."

His sobs choked out and he seemed to argue, but then rose and, without a backward glance, walked away with his wife. Their departures seemed to soften the crowd. Some stayed, but many left. When I glanced at Pastor Rowe, I recognized his disappointment. Maybe he'd intended to force everyone to stay, but the Hardys had ruined that.

Blood tickled my cheek as it continued to fall and I saw in Nate's eyes the image of powerlessness that I'd first seen in my father's when I was only seven. I hated it, probably as much as Nate hated that he couldn't do anything about my bloody wound without trapping me for another day.

"Father, the bleeding..."

"Her life is in Dunn's hands now. Step away from her." Pastor Rowe turned to his wardens. "Post guards. No one is to touch her, but if they do, alert me immediately."

With that, he walked away, leaving the dwindling crowd that still included some sevens. Charity, Millie, and Amanda had slunk away with the rest of the crowd at the first possible moment. But Morgan remained, standing alone. Abigail stood, though her mother and little brothers pulled at her to come with them. And most surprising, Stephanie remained, her bearing as proud and defiant as ever, but there was nothing like judgment in her sky blue eyes.

For the first time in my life, I felt the connection to the other sevens that only existed because of Pastor Rowe's persecutions. I saw in the others' eyes the knowledge that they could be in my place and I in theirs.

Nate looked at the other sevens. "This isn't helping."

"Then your daddy better put up a few more pillories because as long as she's here, so am I," Stephanie literally spat at Nate.

"Go home," Abigail urged her mother. "I need to stay."

"No, honey, this is a mistake."

"And it's mine to make. Agreed?" Abigail pressed.

With a look of pure fear, Abigail's mother pulled her small boys away and walked toward their wagon.

When my eyes found Morgan's, I expected her to flinch from the memories of our mothers in the pillories, but instead, I found strength.

"I'm here for you," she whispered.

Nate looked to me, his eyes pleading. "Tell them to go. Do you think he's not watching? That others aren't watching?" Nate turned to face the other sevens. "Don't you see this will hurt her?"

They stared blankly at him.

"If he thinks you being here brings her comfort, she'll be stuck here with her bleeding head for days. Cecily, tell them to go."

"Girls, you get on home," Dad said. "Nate's right. You're hurting her right now and it's going to get worse."

I watched the certainty in their eyes waver, but instead of just leaving, they looked to me. I nodded as best I could, knowing that every word I said would only bring us more risk. They each nodded to me, and one by one, they left until only my parents, my brother who'd just been freed from my dad's hold, Nate, and whichever warden spied on me remained.

It took a few minutes for me to gather the courage, but I managed to raise my eyes to see the horror of this moment reflected back at me from my family's eyes. My mother openly wept, her hand covering her mouth. My father shook, but I could see he was trying to settle himself for me. Nate looked guilty and shamed, clearly feeling responsible for failing me and being born to such a man. But it was Dusty's look that crushed me the most as he sobbed, hunched over, and when he raised his gaze to mine, I saw the silly boy I'd always known disappearing before my eyes.

As the hours passed, I felt weaker, my head hurt worse, and my exhaustion grew. But in equal measure, my heart expanded as my family stood by me, as Nate stood by me. In my thirst, my tongue felt like cotton in my mouth and I wished my family would drink because it did no good for me to think of their suffering—but maybe that was what Pastor Rowe really wanted.

I tried to hold my head away from the burning metal, but finally gave up and rested against it, giving my mind freedom to wander. Abruptly, a dream I'd had the night before, just before the wardens had come, pushed at me. But I knew it was more than a dream, it was the fuzzy memory that often teased at me in my sleep, but never gave me anything more than the knowledge that the sevens and I shared a secret that could get us killed.

My child-sized body moved in amongst thick woods to a place where I was needed, where my hands and heart could help someone or something. But I could never see more than that no matter how much I tried, which frustrated me more as the day continued and I had nothing else to think about.

Through the daze of my weariness, I heard the voice and wondered if I were dreaming as he said, " _The gift you gave—the life you saved—has never been forgotten._ "

"What?" I asked aloud.

Nate looked at me, clearly surprised to hear my voice. "Cecily?"

I shook my head, not completely sure what I'd heard and certain I shouldn't speak. But then the sky above me cracked open and warm rain fell, hard enough to cleanse the dried blood from my face, but not enough to hurt. A gift. I opened my mouth to take in as much as I could and swallowed over my parched throat as I watched my family do the same, and I knew we'd make it through this.

Morning came and I could barely see over my intense headache and the hunger clenching my stomach. Nate and my family looked as weary as I felt and as concerned, as the townsfolk returned. I knew I'd apologize for anything just to be able to lie down and sleep. The sevens arrived, along with their families, except for Morgan, who always came alone. I wondered that her grandfather wouldn't even come today, when the sevens were more vulnerable than ever.

Pastor Rowe cleared his throat and looked around at the crowd, as though counting to ensure enough were assembled to begin. "In the matter of Cecily Daye's crimes against Laura Hardy and the Great God Dunn, I have prayed, as I am sure you have, and we will decide her fate after we have resolved other issues that face our town. First, the bonfires that raged near the Wild Wood."

Dusty stepped forward. "That was me."

I rattled in the pillory, hating how trapped I was when Pastor Rowe turned his attention on my brother.

"We..." Dusty said, but stopped. "I mean _I_ was just having some fun. It didn't mean anything."

Stephanie's and Charity's brothers said nothing. Cowards.

"Did your sister tell you to do it?"

"No!"

"Yes, I did," I practically screamed. "I did it. I told him to do it. Please, don't hurt him."

Dusty moved closer, his eyes pleading. "No, Cecily, it was me."

"A liar is before us," Pastor Rowe seethed, "and surely wears the last name of Daye. We will return to this problem once we have solved the others. Zoe, step forward and give your testimony."

Stephanie's slimy best friend, Zoe? What did she have to do with anything? My mind stuttered, desperately trying to figure out what was going on here.

"Pastor Rowe," she whimpered. "Please give me a blessing, because I'm so afraid to share what I've seen and heard."

Pastor Rowe's look of pure benevolence as he gazed at quivering Zoe made me choke back disgust and enough vile words to condemn me forever. He laid his hand on her forehead, whispering his blessing.

"Thank you, Pastor." Zoe turned to address the crowd. "Stephanie Trench has been my best friend all my life, and I thought if she followed the traditions, she could be good. But what I saw and heard at her party scared me so much I had to come to Pastor Rowe."

This is what Pastor Rowe wanted, an excuse to get to Stephanie. Was my punishment just an added treat?

Zoe trembled before her audience. "Early in the day, Stephanie talked about how grand her party would be and I was so excited and happy for her. But then, she told me that people were silly for thinking she was cursed when she carried the most powerful magic ever."

"Magic?" Pastor Rowe asked. "She said _magic_?"

Zoe nodded emphatically.

"And?"

"And she said that she hoped the birds wouldn't ruin her party because she hated them."

Pastor Rowe's voice lowered and the crowd leaned closer. "What happened to the birds, Zoe?"

Tears pushed out of Zoe's hateful eyes. "They died. I saw them later, like they'd fallen from the sky, bunches of them. She's cursed. She's evil."

Mr. Trench, who was a large man with a bald head except for twelve rogue hairs, moved forward, as though he owned the ground he walked on and everyone in his path. "The birds died. Birds live and die. Their deaths had nothing whatsoever to do with my daughter."

Zoe stepped behind Pastor Rowe at Mr. Trench's approach, but Pastor Rowe held his ground. "Stephanie must answer to the charges, just as Cecily did, Mr. Trench. Stephanie, step forward."

I couldn't keep myself from looking at her—her beautiful gold, satin dress where everyone else wore cotton dyed in bland colors, her shiny hair seeming to catch all the sunlight, and her large blue eyes. I stood before the town in a plain muslin nightgown, and yet, my resentment for the queen of the sevens was smothered by the look in Pastor Rowe's eyes as she approached.

"What do you say to the charges against you?" Pastor Rowe asked.

Stephanie's chin ticked up. "Charges? I didn't like the birds, but I didn't kill them. Zoe's just jealous that I had a big party, that my house is _so_ much prettier than hers, and that I'm more beautiful than she will ever be."

"And magic?" Pastor Rowe said.

"I was tired of being treated like a curse when I've done nothing wrong, so I made up the stuff about magic. I was just telling stories." Her voice shook slightly as she added, "Sometimes, it's hard to be one of the sevens, so I tried to make it so I was special instead of the way you treat us." I felt pride that she dared to speak up to him and indirectly, for us.

"You think my concerns for our town are foolish, is that it?"

Stephanie looked at him with cold, deliberate eyes. "I think you should have killed us when we were babies or just left us alone, but this middle road of persecution is disgusting. What if a child of yours was born on July seventeenth? What if your wife gave birth to a daughter who was an oddity? Would you have her examined for marks of the dark ones? Would you?"

Stephanie wasn't a chicken at all, and I was terrified for her. She didn't have the sense to see what was coming or that Pastor Rowe was manipulating her.

"I would do what is best for our town, as I always have," he said, his voice soft and more sinister. "You don't like me, do you, Stephanie?"

"I don't like what you say about the sevens," she said, fumbling over her words. She finally felt the danger.

"Then you would ask that I turn from the Great God Dunn's guidance that you, and the sevens, be prevented from becoming evil by being watched and kept away from each other. You haven't always stayed away from the others, have you?"

Stephanie looked confused. "What do you mean? I don't even look at the other girls, and I know I wouldn't like them if I did."

"You looked at Cecily yesterday, didn't you? You wanted to stand with her. You and a few other sevens, I believe. But that is another matter. The question you must answer before the town is: have you ever met with the sevens without others around?"

My eyes locked on Stephanie's confused and fragile face. She was as trapped as I was.

"Answer me!" Pastor Rowe stormed.

"There was once..." Stephanie said, and shocked whispers shot through the crowd.

"Once?" Pastor Rowe asked. "Haven't I always said that once was all it would take to bring forth evil?"

"We were little, and it was weird..."

Don't tell him, Stephanie. Don't tell the truth, I pleaded in my mind. This way was the way of madness, fear, and, maybe, death.

"... we all sleep-walked near the Wild Wood. None of us went there on purpose. We never intentionally broke the rules. We were only seven years old, and it was scary."

The town might have been surprised, but Pastor Rowe wasn't. "Seven... and shortly after that, Morgan and Cecily broke the traditions and their mothers paid for it. Isn't that right?"

"I don't remember that," Stephanie stammered.

"I do. After that night when evil drew you forth and through you worked, you sevens began to disobey, and we are now seeing the fruits of your labors. Cecily destroying Laura's faith, robbing her of her place at Dunn's side. You killing birds, boasting about your magic. And then there were the fires at the Wild Wood, where you little, _harmless_ girls snuck to practice your evil."

It was coming, wherever this had been leading from the beginning.

"May I have the chance to speak?" Nate asked his father.

"Of course, Nathaniel. What do you have to say?"

"All my life, I've seen the sevens try to follow the rules, even when they were so little they couldn't possibly understand them. I didn't, and I'm only a month younger than they are. I know you've all seen it too. I've seen only goodness, only decency. So birds died. And Stephanie made up stories. And Cecily..."

"Yes? Cecily?" Pastor Rowe prodded.

Nate's eyes flickered to mine before returning to stare down his father. "Cecily is the most wonderful person I've ever known, and the fact that my father can't see that or what she means to me makes me question why the Great God Dunn would ever choose you to guide our town."

Pastor Rowe flinched back. "Do you see?" he demanded of the townsfolk. "Do you see what Cecily Daye is capable of? Causing my own son to question me?"

"No... it wasn't her..."

I felt like I couldn't breathe. I saw the end of this even if Nate and the others couldn't. I saw a plan bigger and stronger than any of the rest of us. I saw us hanged for a reputation we could never escape. Unless I did the last thing Pastor Rowe expected.

"It was me. In the name of the Great God Dunn, help me! I don't want to be evil, even though I've allowed evil into my heart. Cleanse it. Purify it. Please. Help me!"

Pastor Rowe stepped back and turned on me, his eyes wide.

"I lit bonfires to signal that evil lived. I killed the birds, because I hated them for being able to fly. I brought the sevens to the Wild Wood to strengthen our power. I robbed Laura of her faith. I took control of Nate's mind and turned him against you. It was all me. Help me. Forgive me. Save me." I pulled my eyes up to the sky and cried out, "Dunn protect me! Save me from my evil! Please!"

Tears fell as the crowd stared and I continued to beg for help. I heard the comments over my sobs, cries to help me. Reminders that if I were truly evil, I wouldn't have been able to invoke the name of Dunn. For all of it, my family, the sevens, and Nate—whose love had been used against me—remained silent.

"Yes, we must purify her through punishment," Pastor Rowe declared, but his voice sounded uncertain, and I knew, no matter what he did next, I'd won.

This round went to the chicken.

I held onto that thought as tightly as I could as I felt the back of my nightgown cut from the neckline to my low back and stretched wide. Even though the air outside was hot, my terror inspired goosebumps to flash across my naked back. But still, I fought to keep our survival in my mind as the whip seared my flesh, until after twenty-five lashes, the pain stole my consciousness and I was temporarily freed from this fight.

## 6

# Dumb Chicken

Dusty glared at the lone rider coming up the road and cursed. "It's time."

"I know," I said. "I'll see you after. Just stay outside, okay?"

He nodded, and I watched the violence in his eyes flickering at me. I remembered very little about the first couple weeks after the whipping, other than the pain that never ceased to burn. Even now, six weeks later, the deep scars on my shredded back reminded me of every one of the lashes I'd endured. But the look in Dusty's eyes reminded me of the lashes I hadn't felt, the ones that had continued long after I'd passed out. Those were the ones Dusty told me about, the ones that had changed him and the way he looked at Pastor Rowe, like he might kill him with his bare hands. The ones that killed the carefree, mischievous boy my brother had been. I missed the old Dusty, but not all the magic in the world could bring him back now.

I headed up to the house for my daily meeting with Pastor Rowe, who was counseling me in how to fight the forces of evil. As far as my back and I were concerned, he knew more about evil than I did—who better to teach these lessons? And though our sessions were the longest two hours of the day, if they kept the sevens alive, I'd never complain.

Every meeting began with my confessions, but I'd memorized them and now delivered my little speech without much thought and with manufactured feelings. Then Pastor Rowe taught strategies to avoid evil, ending with his ruling as to whether I was ready to rejoin the community by attending worship and school. Each day, he'd declared me unfit to be around the townsfolk, not that I was surprised, but I was going crazy never leaving the farm.

Pastor Rowe studied my face in silence for several minutes. "Cecily, I think it's time to test your commitment to fighting the evil within you by rejoining worship, and if all goes well, school next week. You'll have new rules to live by and will never again be trusted as you were. Every member of our town is tasked with watching for signs you have caved to the darkness. Are you ready to submit to the new traditions?"

"Only by Dunn's grace."

He smiled slightly at my correct answer.

"You will no longer sit with your family during worship. You will sit right in front of me, to gain the most from my teachings and Dunn's power. You will never again look any of the townsfolk in the eye, unless they first address you and only after uttering Dunn's name."

Nothing shocking so far.

"As both Laura and Nathaniel have been the victims of your evil, you are never, under any circumstances, to look at or speak to my son again and you are never to go near Laura's grave. What you did to that family—a crime that can _never_ be undone—is so shameful, it makes me wonder if I am doing the right thing by allowing you to live amongst us."

He paused and I felt the weight of his stare, though my eyes were respectfully downcast.

"Nathaniel's recovery from your poison has brought back the son I remember: respectful, content, and in love with a more suitable young woman. He and Zoe are very happy, and I won't be surprised if they ask to become engaged." He waited a few seconds, maybe looking for open wounds, and then asked, "Do you submit?"

I nodded, ignoring the pain that ripped through my heart.

Pastor Rowe seemed almost giddy, and turned and walked toward the window, clearly savoring my surrender. "You were sent here to test us all, I truly believe. The forces of darkness are watching us right now, speaking in our ears, tempting us. But for your evil, we might not notice their smooth and persuasive words." His voice lowered and he seemed to be speaking more to himself than to me. "It's difficult to wait for the moment when people will really understand what is going on here and that the end is already set down."

He shook his head slightly and turned his attention on me. "I will see you tomorrow at worship. Remember, one sign of evil from you and I will have no choice but to remove you from our town forever."

"Thank you, Pastor Rowe."

This round definitely didn't go to the chicken. As soon as he and his horse disappeared down the road, I ran as fast I could to the southern end of the farm. And even though I was out of breath and risking losing my life, I climbed the fence and continued running, all the way south, to the edge of the Wild Wood, where I let out a scream that told more truth than I had in the past six weeks.

I was so tired of saying I was okay, promising to do the right thing, swallowing down the pain, ignoring the scars on my back, and seeing how much Pastor Rowe had changed my family. I couldn't escape. Before I hadn't seen the cage, not really. But now I couldn't avoid it, not even in my sleep, when I woke screaming and thrashing to escape the pillory's jaws.

As I stared into the darkness of the Wild Wood, I remembered the last time I'd stood here—with Nate, _loved_ —and I wished I had the courage to disappear beyond the trees and never trouble my family or the town of Dunlowe again. Nate could marry his lovely, treacherous bride and have a nice, boring life. Zoe certainly wasn't a chicken, more like a snake. She'd fit beautifully into his family.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself and realized that, in everything that had happened, I'd almost forgotten the voice. But so close to the edge of the wood, I remembered it clearly. And that made me remember something else. Something from when I'd first woken after my whipping, when I'd had a fever, chills over every part of my body other than my fiery back. Bits and pieces of that time flashed in my mind. My mother's weeping. And my father's. Dusty's swearing. Cool bandages. Promises that the pain would end. And the voice. Always soothing. Nurturing me. Taking away my pain somehow with visions of breathtaking places. Blues that drew me away from the red-hot singeing always following me.

I'd thought I dreamed it, but now, standing near the Wild Wood, I knew with complete certainty that it had been real. He'd been with me.

" _Are you there?_ "

Silence answered me, and I turned away, hating the stranger for denying the truth. But I turned back. __ " _Are you there? Please._ "

" _I'm always here_ ," he answered, and I breathed deeply, relieved more than frightened.

" _It was you, wasn't it? You helped me_."

Silence again, but less stark this time.

" _I did all I could, though it was hardly enough_."

" _Why did you do it?_ " I asked.

" _Why did you?_ "

I knew what he was asking. Why had I made myself the sole target of Pastor Rowe's cruelty? I fumbled over answers in my head, trying to find the right way to explain and finally just blurted the first thing I thought. " _Because it was the only thing I had the power to do_."

" _Same reason I did what I did_."

"Cecily?" Dusty asked, leading me to practically jump out of my skin. "Sorry," he muttered when I turned and he caught a glimpse of how frightened I was. "What are you doing here?"

I didn't have an answer that wasn't a lie.

Dusty tried to read my face, but gave up. "Come home. Come with me."

Worrying about me had aged Dusty and that wasn't fair. So, as much as I wanted to stay and learn more, I walked to him and then with him back to our farm and into the cage of a life I was born to live.

I followed my family into the worship hall the next morning, dread expanding with each step. The townsfolk hadn't had to suffer the insult of my presence in six weeks, weeks in which not one person came to check on me. At least with my eyes downcast, I wouldn't have to look at them, but I heard the silence that greeted my entrance.

"Come here, Cecily," Pastor Rowe called.

I kept my eyes on the floor as I walked up the aisle toward him, and the chair in the front of the room where I would sit and face him, no longer allowed to entertain myself by watching anyone else.

His hands touched my back as he turned me to face the townsfolk and I fought the almost irresistible urge to flinch from him. Through my clothes, I felt him appraising the raised scars he'd made on my back. Instead of raging, I wanted to cry, knowing he was glad he'd destroyed my back and that he'd left his mark on me.

"Cecily has completed much work to recover from her evil, but we know there is no remedy for what she is. You all know the new rules to keep us safe, but I would still advise as little contact with Cecily as possible. In many ways, she's not really a member of our town anymore. She's foreign and a proven criminal, remember that. The manners you would show each other are clearly too good for her. But we are gracious people and will allow her to attend school and worship, while being ever mindful of her place in our society.

"Take your seat," he said, and I obeyed, choking on my _place_ in their society.

When we got home, finally, I climbed out of the wagon and stood dumbfounded, not even sure what to do or where to go. A look passed between my family, and my dad said, "You both go on in. I'd like to talk to Cecily."

Mom and Dusty walked away and I still stood, just outside the barn, my mouth open, my eyes blurry with unshed tears, and my heart hollow.

"Cecily," he said, his voice firm.

"I'm _foreign_ now. I was born here... in this house. How did I get to be foreign and bad and a criminal? What did I ever do?" I cried. "I did nothing, only take the blame so that he wouldn't kill anyone. I didn't do anything wrong. Daddy, I don't understand."

Dad pulled me to him and hugged me hard. "You didn't, honey. You are a good girl."

"Then why does he hate me so much?"

He didn't say anything, just held me and rocked me, allowing me time to settle a little bit. When my tears slowed and I breathed normally, he released me and led me to the bench outside the barn. He gestured for me to sit and sat next to me.

"I've thought for a long time about this, since the day you were born in fact. It may not help you much, but it helps me to remember that we can't ever know what is inside another person, what challenges they've faced, and what shaped them. Before we can judge someone like Pastor Rowe, we have to admit that we don't know why he thinks the way he does, why he believes about you the way he does. I'm not saying he's right to behave the way he does or that he should have done what he did to you, but since we can't leave—since I can't do anything to protect you without risking your mother and brother—I've had to learn to accept."

He looked at me, a profound weariness in his eyes. "Maybe I shouldn't have... maybe I should have stopped him. Maybe I should go to his house right now and challenge him to a fight..."

"No," I said. "I don't want that."

"I don't want you to be sad, to have no friends." His eyes grew more watery. "You aren't foreign, you're my baby girl."

I couldn't stand to see him hurting. "I'll get through this, Daddy. I'll be okay. We'll all be okay."

Lies were easier to tell the more times you told them, at least I was counting on that.

That night, as I lay in bed hearing Dusty snore, I thought about what my father had said and all the things Pastor Rowe had ever said to me or about me. I sat up and moved to the window, watching the moon hovering over the sky. Pastor Rowe was out there somewhere, probably at his house, busy controlling his family and talking to Dunn about me and my evil ways.

After glancing in Dusty's direction, I quickly changed clothes and tiptoed out of my room, down the steps, skipping the sixth one that always squeaked, and headed to the back door. I pulled the door shut behind me and hurried away from the house, my thoughts consumed with the stupidity of what I was doing. I kept near the woods but not in them, because as much as I loved forests during the day, nighttime made all forests as scary as the Wild Wood.

I walked past town and the graveyard that held my best friend, too afraid that Pastor Rowe had been right about what I'd done to Laura to consider approaching it, even now. I moved past the quiet road that led toward the Trench mansion until I stood near the woods closest to Nate's house. I kept in the shadows of the trees and out of the direct moonlight.

Only one candle was lit in the downstairs study. I wished I had the courage to move closer, to peek in the window, but I remained where I was, questioning even more my decision to leave my warm bed and risk my life here. But part of me had to come, had to do something. Dad had told me that we could never understand anyone else's reasons, but maybe I could. Maybe I could find the answer, why I was so hated and feared.

That _maybe_ was the reason I'd come and it kept me in place when the door to the house opened and Pastor Rowe walked to the railing of the wrap-around porch and stared in my direction. I was too frightened to breathe as he continued to watch the woods and even more terrified when something or someone moved behind me. But whatever it was grew quiet and I told myself it was just a bunny or something.

Like that we remained, Pastor Rowe watching the woods while I watched him, until the hopelessness of this stupid mission overwhelmed me. I wouldn't and couldn't ever understand why he hated me. He wouldn't tell and I had no way to ask. I was glad those thoughts comforted my father, but a question without the possibility of an answer didn't help me at all.

### Seven Months Later

"Cecily, come on, we're going to be late," Dusty called, as though I weren't hurrying, but the ground was so muddy from all the spring rains that my shoes kept getting stuck.

Dusty seemed to be able to skate above the mud in some magical way that kept him from getting mired. No such luck for me.

I hurled my foot out of the muck, causing the subsequent mud spray to cover me. "Just go, okay? I don't want you getting hit because of me."

Dusty paused and looked back at me, his brow tightening.

"What?" I asked.

"I'll stay with you... I'd rather you not show up alone."

"There hasn't been any trouble in months. The world didn't end. My eyes grip the ground and I do everything they ask me to do. We're fine."

Dusty walked back to where I stood, reaching his hand out to me. "Come on, slow poke, let's go."

The smile I unleashed on him made him laugh, as he took my hand and tugged me toward school.

Although life had been going along just fine, my family never forgot how close things had come to disaster. I tried to hide my unhappiness from my family, but they had to know. No friends. No Nate. It wasn't much of a life. By keeping my eyes on the ground, I hadn't had to see Nate at all, especially not Nate with Zoe. But I'd heard them and moved away as quickly as possible, glad I didn't have any evil powers, because if I did, that girl was going to explode into a charred, clumpy mess.

While I pretended for my family, I didn't for the voice, not that he'd answered since the day I ran to the Wild Wood. But that didn't stop my blathering about everything I felt, everything I thought, and every secret thing inside me I'd never shared with anyone. He'd said he was always there, and I believed him. So, even though he never said a word, I felt him listening and believed he was my friend—the only one I had.

Fortunately for Dusty and me, when we arrived at the schoolhouse horribly late, all the students stood outside and Mrs. Dumphry was nowhere to be seen. Thank the Great God Dunn for that blessing. She did show, covered in mud and storming about getting stuck. Her mood made for a nerve-wracking day.

"Are you okay getting home?" Dusty asked after school. "I told my friends I'd meet them at the pond."

"I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Catch lots of fish, Dusty."

He smiled and headed to the north and I took the shortest path home, the one we always took, even though I'd rather have walked around Dunlowe, like Nate and I used to. At least if I were lucky, I wouldn't see anyone and would be able to look at the sky, the trees, and all the beauty in Dunlowe.

About halfway home, while walking near a patch of oaks, I heard my name in a somewhat shouted whisper. I turned toward the trees and saw him. Nate.

My eyes downturned and I moved quickly away.

"Cecily."

I took a step toward home.

"Please," he called.

Please? Please what? What could he possibly want from me? Or was he trying to get me to break the traditions so his father could kill me?

"Cecily."

I looked around for any sets of eyes that might be watching. I'd seen wardens in the woods sometimes, shadowing me, and they never failed to terrify me.

" _I don't know what to do_ ," I pleaded to the voice.

" _The boy is alone. No one watches. The choice is yours_."

I breathed a sigh that caught in my throat at hearing his voice, but my thoughts didn't have time to linger on him. Nate was waiting, and the choice was mine. What would I choose? I looked toward home and safety, then toward where Nate stood. Curiosity and maybe desperation led me toward Nate with my eyes fixed on the ground, the memories of my whipping pressing in on me. Finally, after many slow steps, I stood, concealed in the forest, staring at Nate's feet.

"Please, look at me," he whispered.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. Look at me."

I shook my head. "I'm not supposed to. Evil foreigner, remember?"

His hands reached out before I could step back and grabbed my face, jerking it up. "You don't believe all that, do you? He hasn't gotten to you, has he?"

I closed my eyes to avoid seeing him. "I don't know what you mean."

"It's me, Cecily. I know you better than that. Look at me," he said through clenched teeth while he shook me.

"You know me?" I asked incredulously. "How... when it's clear I don't know you at all?"

"Look. At. Me." He cursed, angrier than I'd ever heard him.

I drew in a deep breath and allowed my eyes to open, instantly crushed by the pain in my heart at seeing how beautiful he still was, how he still looked like everything I'd ever wanted.

"Why are you doing this?" I cried. "Don't you care about me at all?"

"Care about you?" Desperation and defeat warred in his eyes. "I love you."

"What?!"

He looked completely dumbfounded, but then his expression became more focused. "I love you. You didn't actually believe—you can't believe I care about _Zoe_. Have you completely lost your mind?"

If I hadn't before, I was certainly about to. "I don't understand." I shook my head and tried to free myself.

"No, you're not going anywhere." He held me in place, his fingers both gripping and caressing. "My dumb chicken, did you really think I didn't love you anymore? I watched my father use me to almost kill you. I watched you, so brave, take the most horrible punishment I've ever seen in order to save the sevens. He beat you... your blood pooled on the ground, but _you_ beat him. I figured the best thing for me to do was to help you, take a tool away from my father's vengeance: me. I picked Zoe because she deserves what's she's getting, lies and disgust. But I really thought you knew me well enough to believe..."

My shock seemed to paralyze my mouth, and I just stared.

With his eyes locked on mine, he asked, "Do you still love _me_?"

I nodded in his hands, and his mouth found mine before I could draw a breath. He kissed me so deeply I felt we were one, that we'd never been apart, and never would be again.

We kissed for long enough that I began to worry I'd be missed. Nate seemed to sense my concern and took hold of my hand and led me deeper into the forest, heading for my home by the most roundabout path. He filled the walk with questions, even painful ones about my back and everything I'd been through, and in turn answered all my questions, even the tough ones about whether he kissed Zoe: he did, but she had terrible breath and he kept his tongue to himself, no matter how much she pushed for more. He told me of his mother's unexpected pregnancy and all the news he could share about the sevens. It sounded like everyone was surviving just fine, which gave me comfort.

When we reached the spot where I needed to walk the rest of the way outside the trees' protection, he pulled me into his arms. "I still only dream of you. I don't know how we can be together, but I haven't given up. I don't want you to stop believing in me. Please, Cecily, promise me you can believe."

I nodded and leaned to kiss him again. "I believe."

## 7

# The Foulest Tide

For the next four weeks, every Wednesday, when Dusty went fishing with his friends, Nate found a way to meet me in the forest. Sometimes we spent our time attached at the lips and sometimes we talked; either way, life felt worth living again. I perfected my fake mope to keep my family from guessing about our secret meetings and hated that I couldn't share with them, but Nate and I both knew if one word reached his father, my life would end. I could only risk everything because I'd lived so many months feeling nothing.

On the fourth Wednesday, as we made our way through the woods, I noticed Nate was quieter than normal.

He paused, holding a branch aside for me. "Cecily, can I ask you something?"

"Anything. You know that."

"Why didn't you ever tell me about the thing with you and the other sevens at the Wild Wood?"

My stomach dropped. "It happened a long time ago, and my memories are really fuzzy."

"Will you tell me?" he asked, intensely studying my face.

"Why?"

"Because I don't like that there are secrets between us."

I scoffed. "I'm glad there are some secrets between us, mostly involving you and Zoe."

His face flushed, but not in a good way. "I've told you everything you asked."

"Okay." I said the word, giving him what he wanted but still didn't know what to do. He waited. It took a few minutes for me to surrender what I'd spent ten years hiding. "I don't remember getting near the Wild Wood. I just remember being there in my pajamas. It was one of the nights with the lightning storms, and I was there with the other girls. We were scared, and we didn't know where we were."

"And what happened?" Nate wrapped his arms around me.

"A man came out of the Wild Wood. I can't remember what he looked like, only that his eyes were red. He said he was sorry we were there. He hadn't meant for us to be called. Millie cried that she didn't know how to get home. He said we would be just fine, and he touched each of our foreheads and told us we would know the way. I remember knowing exactly where to go, and I remember climbing into bed and going to sleep. I thought it was a dream, not real at all, and I couldn't ask the others, so I told myself it was a dream. That's all I remember." I looked up into his eyes. "You believe me, right?"

"Yes," he said, holding me closely again. "Thanks for telling me. I thought maybe you didn't trust me anymore."

"I trust you. Now, will you tell me something?"

"Of course."

"How did your father know? How could he possibly have known about that... unless one of the sevens told him?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't know."

I nodded, disappointed but strangely relieved. "Okay, I've got to go."

He kissed me quickly.

"I'll see your feet at worship," I called back and heard his chuckle in response.

Worship came, but Nate's feet weren't there—just as he hadn't been to school since I'd seen him Wednesday. I sat in my front seat, the nearest witness to Pastor Rowe's nervous eyes and tomato-red bald head. He stammered more than normal and his lesson didn't make any sense. I wanted to look around to see if everyone else saw what I did, that Pastor Rowe wasn't well, but fear kept me in place. If he went mad, I didn't stand a chance.

Horses' galloping hooves attracted the attentions of everyone in the worship hall. Then footsteps thudded on the wood steps and the doors flew open.

"Dad, we need Doc Forester now!" Nate called.

I ignored all the rules and turned to see Nate's red face and desperate eyes. I wanted to rush to him, to help him with whatever he needed, but Zoe already played my role and I remained in my seat. His eyes momentarily met mine, and what I saw there brought me no comfort: an accusation. Pastor Rowe's eyes found mine and all the hatred and fear I'd ever seen in them seemed to double.

"If she dies, I'll kill you," he spat, before following Doc Forester and Nate out of the worship hall.

My family crowded around me and hurried me out of the hall and into the bright sunny day. Well, sunny over Dunlowe, but dark clouds lingered over the Wild Wood.

My dad lifted me into the wagon and said, "You stay here."

He approached Mr. Trench and Mr. Payne, as the other parents of the sevens joined them. I watched everything, too shocked to keep my eyes down. They only spoke for a few minutes and then each turned away, collecting their families and heading toward their homes. As we rode away, I saw Morgan, seated on her horse, staring at me. Without her grandfather present, she had no one to talk to about what had happened. I wished I could help her, but I didn't even know how to help myself.

"What's going on?" I asked, attempting to keep my voice steady.

My dad didn't answer until we were away from town and then said, "Mrs. Rowe is in labor."

"What does that have to do with Cecily?" Mom asked.

"Things aren't going well."

"Poor Nate," I said. "But what does that have to do with me and the others?"

He didn't answer. It took a while for my brain to catch up, and when it did, horror latched onto my gut.

"Oh, no," I whispered.

Dusty squeezed my hand. "What?"

"Stephanie Trench."

"What about Steph?" Dusty asked.

"Oh..." Mom's hands covered her face.

Dusty's frustration grew, and I loved him too much to let that happen. "Stephanie didn't like the birds and they died."

"All that was stupid..."

"Yes, but she also asked Pastor Rowe what he would do if he had a baby girl who was an oddity... and his wife, who no one thought could have children anymore, became pregnant, and things aren't going well. If anything happens to Mrs. Rowe or that baby, Stephanie or I will be blamed and all of the others with us."

"She just said it. She didn't make it happen. She didn't..." Dusty sputtered as I tried to comfort him.

We reached our house, and as soon as the wagon stopped, my father pulled me into his arms and held me so tightly I couldn't breathe. His panic fed mine. My mother's hands caressed my hair, as though she were memorizing the feel of me. Every second, every touch, felt more and more like goodbye.

Dusty's eyes grew rabid. "I've got a slingshot."

"No," I said. "You stay out of it, no matter what happens."

"We're just supposed to let them take you and hurt you again? That's stupid. Dad tell her."

My dad leaned away and stared into my eyes. He pleaded with me, silently begging me to let him fight for me.

My words sounded calm and true. "Dusty, I want the Dayes to live. I want you to grow up and be a dad one day and have a life—that means more to me than my own. We can't fight them. We just have to accept."

Dusty bolted out of the wagon and away from us, cursing and spitting.

"Well, it's a good thing I don't swear like that," I said, attempting but failing to create a cheerful tone, "'cause with my magical powers and all, I might cause a tornado or something."

Their eyes attempted to lighten, but in the end, I watched them fall.

With my mother's hand in one hand and my father's in the other, I said, "Thanks for everything."

"Cecily..." my mother said, but I cut her off with a squeeze of her hand.

"No, let me say this. All I've ever wanted was to be your little girl and not just a seven. You let me have that, every single day. You've always given me just what I needed, and I know you'll give me what I need now, your love and trust and support—and the most important thing, your safety."

My dad seemed too overwhelmed to say anything and squeezed my hand and then his voice came out, even rougher than normal. "You've always been our perfect girl, and we've never believed any of that nonsense about the sevens..."

His words failed after that, maybe because believing something when you had no power to fix it just hurt all the more.

As soon as I could escape all the emotions of my parents, I did, seeking out the tree swing as a place to take stock of my life, while staring at the stupid goats. Dusty ended up near me, chewing on a piece of straw like it deserved to be tortured. His unhappiness cramped my peaceful time, and I stood up.

"Where're you going?"

"I need some time, Dusty. Please. I'm just going for a walk."

"Not to the Wild Wood."

I shook my head. "Just a short walk."

He nodded and I knew he watched me, so I kept going past where he could see me. After sitting behind a hay stack for close to an hour—and discovering that along with being uncomfortable, this _life stock taking_ was just about the most depressing thing ever—I stood up, ready to go help with dinner, when movement in the woods caught my attention. The setting sun hid the shape well, but I still saw the silhouette of a horse and rider. I couldn't see who it was, but I just knew and walked toward the trees.

Morgan dismounted as soon as I reached her. Thankfully, the sun dipped below the trees; unless someone knew we were here, no one would be able to see us.

"Hi," she said. "I'm Morgan Black," she added with an odd smile. "After all, we haven't ever been introduced."

"Hello, Morgan."

It felt strange to be face to face with her, although shadows blotted out most of her features.

"Hello, Cecily."

"Why have you come?" I asked. I didn't mean for my question to sound like an accusation, but it did.

"The baby was born, and she is blind with white eyes and screams as much as her mother has for the past few days." The calmness of her voice rattled me.

"How do you know?" Not my brightest question ever, but I had to ask something to fill the silent space and buy time for my brain to accept that we were all going to die.

"I keep watch on things. We have to be ready for a change in the weather."

I scrambled to throw together another question, which took a few minutes. It felt weird the way she let the silence grow.

"Mrs. Rowe has been screaming?" I asked.

"She's been insane for a few days. They haven't left her alone, because she was trying to hurt herself."

"And now the baby's screaming?"

Morgan grimaced. "In a way that might frighten the inhabitants of the Wild Wood into fleeing..."

"... and she's blind?"

"Completely. There was a lot of shouting in the house, and with the screaming, I couldn't hear and I was afraid they might see my horse... and me."

"Did they?" I asked, panic rising in my gut.

"No."

"What do we do?"

Her eyes showed the same earnestness I'd seen on the day I was whipped. "I don't know."

"What does your grandfather think?"

Morgan's head dipped slightly, and then her posture tensed and her head went back up, the movement seeming to take effort. "He doesn't," she said, her voice firm and then she drew in her own silence for a minute. "He died nine months ago, and I buried him. I didn't want the townsfolk trying to take my home away—or me away with it—so I didn't tell anyone."

My shoulders slumped and all my whining in the past year tasted like poison. "I'm so sorry. I wish I'd known."

"You couldn't have helped with that," she said softly, "but you did save my life—all of our lives. I never had the chance to thank you."

"Don't. It doesn't matter anyway. He's coming for us and there's nothing we can do to stop him." I waited for her to argue, to tell me there was still hope, but she didn't lie to me. "Have you talked to the others?"

"No, but I had to tell someone that danger is coming. I couldn't just go home alone, knowing..." Her words ran out, but didn't end. As her head snapped up, she said, "Cecily, you need to be ready."

"Ready for what? There's nowhere we can go and me crying _Dunn save me_ isn't going to work this time. They won't stop with scarring my back, they're going to kill us—Stephanie and me first, but they won't stop there."

"That's why you need to be ready, to decide if we're going to _let_ them."

"What?" I stammered. "Why do I have to decide?"

"I'm not entirely sure, only I know you will make the choice and we will follow you." Morgan sounded so certain, and I was pretty sure she'd gone completely insane. I was a chicken, not a leader. "Cecily, this is the beginning of a very brutal storm that will wreck upon us like the foulest tide. Whatever you decide, I am with you." Morgan glanced at the trees and seemed to only now notice the darkness. "Get home. I must go."

"Let me give you a leg up." I moved toward her, intertwining my fingers to make a step.

Morgan raised her leg and rested her knee against my hands, and I quickly shoved her up and onto her horse. In the moment we touched, a flash shot through my core. Morgan drew in a fearful gasp, clutching her chest. We both stared at each other's panicked faces, only to see those faces illuminated by a sudden and terrible lightning storm. The lightning burst so brightly near us that it almost seemed like day. The thunder so close shook the ground. Morgan's horse pranced.

"Did we do that?" I called to Morgan, but she struggled to control her horse as he sidestepped away from me.

She looked back at me once and then bolted away as the lightning continued to blast and the thunder rumble. I hurried away from the trees toward my house. I reached the steps and stopped abruptly when I saw my parents and Dusty standing on the porch looking at me.

"What happened?" Dad asked.

"I took a walk and the storm came."

Mom reached for the door handle. "Come on in. Let's have dinner and hope this nasty storm blows over quickly."

I followed my family in to eat dinner, too worried to eat much, and the minute I could, I raced to my room and hid under my blanket, hoping the storm would pass. Morgan's words tormented me, and I knew I wouldn't sleep. _This is the beginning of a very brutal storm that will wreck upon us like the foulest tide_. But did Morgan create the storm or just feel it coming? Did Stephanie Trench create a pregnancy and a blind baby with a few simple words? And if they did those things, what darkness were we capable of? For the first time in my life, I truly believed there was a good chance Pastor Rowe had been right about us all along.

"We're here to bring your family and _her_ to town," Warden Samson said to my dad. "It'd be better if you bring her, but we will if we have to."

I'd heard the riders come and expected them to rush to my room and drag me out like the last time, so I hurriedly dressed before they'd get the chance. Facing the townsfolk today and the fate that awaited me would be hard enough, but publicly wearing my nightgown just made it that much worse. As I heard my father's footsteps on the stairs and turned to see Dusty's outraged face, I wondered if I could be brave for them while Pastor Rowe killed me. Would it be hanging? Stoning? I cringed. One rock to the head had been more than enough for me to decide there were better ways to die—only, I couldn't think of a single one.

Because I didn't want to die.

A subtle knock preceded my parents' entrance, and their drawn faces proved I wasn't the only one who'd been awake all night. They both looked a little afraid to touch me, which made me even more uneasy.

"We should fight them," Dusty said from behind me, placing his hand on my shoulder.

The comfort I felt in his gesture surprised me, but I quickly said, "No."

My dad moved closer and pulled me to him whispering, "I'm sorry."

Mom took a turn at holding me, but said nothing.

"BRING HER NOW!" Warden Samson bellowed—he was in our house, probably at the bottom of the stairs.

I suddenly wondered why he wasn't rushing up them, binding me. Could he be afraid?

"Let's go," I said, pulling away from my parents so they didn't have to pull away from me.

"I'm afraid for you and Steph," Dusty whispered as the wagon came to a stop.

I heard his words, the first spoken on the way to town, but I couldn't answer. I didn't want him to hear me cry or choke out words over the lump in my throat.

My hands trembled as my father reached to help me down. Once on the ground, I felt the weight of all the stares and fought the urge to climb back into the wagon or to run in any direction. In an act of desperation, I searched the crowd for the six other faces that proved I wasn't alone in this. I found Millie, weeping, her head hidden against her mother's chest. Well, she was no help at all. Then I saw Amanda, daring Amanda, who raced her horse, jumped fences, but had never broken the traditions, staring directly at me, with almost a challenge in her green eyes. Abigail's closeness to her shocked me, and her brown eyes, squinted in anger, gazed at me.

Did they feel it too? The uselessness of following the rules now. Whether just Stephanie and I died today, or if the world were cleansed of all the sevens, everything our lives had been built on was over.

Dusty nudged me and I looked in the direction he was nodding and I saw them, the wardens, armed with shovels and pitchforks, mallets, and whips. My scars flinched from the whips and my feet followed. Dusty's arm encircled me, protecting me from the stares and the energy in the crowd. My parents remained close; their hands touched my shoulders in support.

Wagons continued to arrive, and I saw Charity's strawberry blonde hair as she stepped down, surrounded by all of her brothers and sisters and her worried parents. Every time I'd ever stolen a peek at her, she'd been daydreaming. Not today. Her eyes were focused on the crowd and her jaw clenched. She didn't look for the others, but I felt she knew exactly where we were.

"There's another one," I heard whispered, as I turned to watch Morgan. She dismounted, tied her horse, and walked toward the group, followed by a warden.

Without looking directly at me, she nodded and took up a place just fifteen yards away from me, nearer to Charity. Six down, one to go. And then I heard her, Stephanie, sobbing as her family's carriage came to a stop. Her brothers and father came out first, and then they badgered and cajoled until Stephanie came into view. She looked a wreck, her hair in tangles, her face blotchy and red, and her hands and body hiccuping as she sobbed.

Through gasps, she cried, "I didn't do anything... I didn't. I didn't..."

I remembered so clearly how strong she'd been, standing there, defying the traditions by looking at me and wanting to stand with me during my darkest time, and I actually felt sorry for her, for the snobbiest, meanest, richest, beautiful bully Dunlowe had ever seen.

Dusty shuddered as he looked at her.

"Go to her," I said, giving him what I knew he wanted. "She needs you—look at her brothers."

They stood away from her, even her father didn't seem to want to touch her. Maybe that was why her arms flailed, searching for support. I felt my parents move closer to me; I could afford to be generous with Dusty.

Dusty squeezed me before he let go and hurried over to take Stephanie's hand, shushing her and telling her everything would be fine. The way she looked at him with open gratitude shocked me, and I'd never been more proud of my brother in my entire life.

The crowd stilled, and I glanced around to see what they saw: the pastor's wagon approaching. The shrieks of both mother and child caused my stomach to heave because in those cries, I heard the end of the sevens. And I hated that I wasn't completely certain we didn't deserve it.

## 8

# Home

Once close enough, I saw that Doc Forester drove the wagon and Nate held his baby sister, while his father tried to restrain his mother. Both mother and baby seized and screamed, and tears to match Nate's fell from my eyes. The sounds of their wailing crawled inside me, feeling like spiders overtaking every inch of my insides. I wasn't alone. The townsfolk clutched at their chests as the contagion in the terrorized cries infected everyone within hearing.

When Nate's eyes found me, I didn't blame him for the look of betrayal that washed through them and over me. I had no way to defend myself, nothing I could do or say to make this right. If Stephanie or any of the sevens did this, we deserved to be punished.

And the crowd already agreed.

Pastor Rowe wouldn't need any great speech or vile accusations to condemn us, and the crowd knew it. The townsfolk stepped away from the sevens, even the sevens' own families put space between themselves and their flesh and blood daughters. That made sense, up until the moment I felt my own mother and father release me. I turned to search their eyes and found the worst things I'd ever seen, the things I'd never believed I would see in them: blame, hatred, and fear.

Where were my father's loving eyes, his belief in my goodness? Gone. My mother, who'd given me such warmth even when she'd been trapped in the pillory, turned from me and searched the sky as tears streamed down her face.

The only seven who didn't stand alone now was Stephanie, who still had my brother's arm around her. Millie wailed and fell to the ground, clutching at herself as she sobbed. Her weakness straightened my spine and sparked a hint of rage. I didn't do this—knowingly, anyway—no matter what they thought. Even as pointless as it seemed, I wasn't ready to die, not when I had no idea who I really was. I deserved to have my blame proved to me if I were going to give my life for this, and I looked to Pastor Rowe, who gave over care of his wife to a warden, while he climbed down from the wagon and walked to the front of the crowd. Nate followed, still holding his sister, whose crying had grown more normal as they'd approached.

When Nate moved past me, he quickly whispered, "Trust me."

I flinched. He still believed in me? How? But I quickly let the _how_ go and just reveled in the fact that I hadn't lost everyone. I wasn't alone. Six other girls, my brother, and Nate. Maybe not an army—and Millie had certainly already surrendered—but enough to be a family. And Nate had the power to save us; he was the only one who did.

The baby calmed after a few minutes, as did Mrs. Rowe. I heard a weird sound, a rumbling cry, turned to a whimper... and then something scratching and clawing. I looked to Morgan and knew she heard it too. Amanda searched for the source. Stephanie stopped crying and looked around, while Millie bawled louder. Abigail just looked angrier. The sevens heard the noise, but no one else did.

"I come before you today a broken man," Pastor Rowe said quietly, as the crowd leaned to hear. "All I ever wanted was the safety and well-being of our community. We didn't kill the babies born on a cursed day. We found ways to live in peace, ways to build our community up and thrive. I have nothing left to fight for, and I leave all future decisions to the people of this town. But I had to come and at least show you what is in your midst, what you have the power to fight now if you so choose. They have lived amongst us for their seventeen years and maybe they do not wish to bring darkness, but they, like the cows, are what they are. The cows bring milk, and the sevens bring darkness."

He took a moment to compose himself, but his voice quaked more as he continued. "My wife couldn't have children anymore and found herself to be with child. We thanked the Great God Dunn for his gift. But now we know it wasn't Dunn, but the dark will of Stephanie Trench. Harriet went mad, as did our daughter. A daughter who will never know us, never see our faces, all because Stephanie Trench willed her into existence as an oddity. See this, Stephanie... see what you've created with your evil." He took the baby out of Nate's arms and raised her up to display her ghostly white eyes.

The baby, whose face was beautiful and who had thick, dark hair underneath her lacy bonnet, began to shriek with horrible wailing and pain in her cries, but the tenor of the cries was familiar. The sounds, the scraping and whimpering, were coming from the baby. I moved forward without thinking, through the frozen crowd, until I stood next to Nate.

"Nate, I can hear her, the _her_ inside, the baby... let me hold her," I said, as I continued to watch the baby who turned toward me as she abruptly quieted, a smile forming on her small face.

Nate saw the change in her, but turned on me. "What?"

"I can hear her. She's trapped in there. I think I can free her."

He stared between his still-smiling sister and me, his expression torn. "No, Cecily, back away or I won't be able to protect you."

I stepped back, obeying him for now and looked to Morgan, who leaned against the fence, studying the baby whose cries shrieked out again as I moved away from her. Morgan—and possibly the baby—had figured it out too.

"I didn't do anything," Stephanie wailed.

"Who believes that?" Pastor Rowe's brokenness made him more compelling than his rage ever had.

The crowd began to rile. They called for Stephanie's capture, banishment, and someone yelled for her hanging. Dusty shielded her from those who moved too close, and I finally realized how much danger he was in—danger I'd stupidly sent him to face.

Stephanie reached for her father. "Daddy?"

"You're not my daughter anymore." Mr. Trench and his sons took another step back as the crowd began pushing in on Stephanie.

Dusty shoved some wardens away and one raised a mallet and let it fly, striking Dusty on the head and bringing him face down into the mud.

"Dusty!" I screamed, rushing toward him, only to feel my arms grabbed, nails digging in to hold me while I fought against them—fought against Zoe and Mrs. Dumphry, amongst others. If I were really evil, I should have been able to get free, but as it was, they pulled me away from my brother's still body, while I uselessly cried out to him.

Through my thrashing, I saw the townsfolk seizing the other sevens, more brutally depending on how much they fought. A warden yanked Amanda's red hair as she struggled. Abigail landed about five punches before they overwhelmed her. Charity and Morgan didn't fight and were lightly held.

I turned to Stephanie who knelt beside my brother, sobbing over his body, as my parents rushed toward them. My heart died in my chest, seeing her, seeing Dusty. Was he gone? Dead, because of the sevens? But Stephanie was still free. The townsfolk hadn't forgotten her, like Millie—they were afraid of her and what she could do.

" _Stephanie, please, use their fear_ ," I begged in my mind.

"What?" she asked, looking up and around.

"STOP!" Nate's voice silenced and stilled the crowd, bringing my attention away from Stephanie. "Look what you're doing!" He moved in front of his father. "You grab the girls who've never hurt anyone and you're afraid of the one who has. If Cecily and the others had any power of evil right now, you wouldn't be able to hold them. They are blameless. Stephanie is not."

No, Nate, not our lives for hers. No.

But he continued, "All our lives, this town has had reasons to fear the number seven. At seven forty-seven, the sevens were born. July seventeenth. Seven girls. I don't know what it means, but I can see we won't have anything to fear from the six girls who'll remain after Stephanie is dead. She deserves to die for all she's done to my family, to my mother and sister, but also for what she did to Cecily, who she forced to take the blame for all the evil that Stephanie herself has committed. Stephanie must die, but it will take all of us to do it... to overwhelm her evil. Release the others and help me destroy Stephanie, in the name of Dunn."

I fell forward when the gripping hands released, but scrambled up and toward Dusty, as Stephanie moved backward, away from the approaching mob that included my parents. I reached Dusty, shaking him, searching for life, but found nothing and I wept, ignoring everything else.

Stephanie's cries and the shouts of the townsfolk filtered through my ears, but I was too overwhelmed with grief to process anything else.

"Cecily," Morgan said behind me. "The choice."

"What?" I cried.

Morgan knelt beside me. "Stephanie's life? Do we fight for her?"

"I can't... not without Dusty. I can't live without him. It's all my fault..."

"Cecily..." Morgan pleaded, and I thought of Dusty, of what he'd want. He'd stayed with Stephanie, risking his life for hers, even after her own family abandoned her. He was the best of us. In that second, I knew if we allowed Stephanie to die, we were as evil as the town had always suspected.

I touched my hand to my brother's still-warm cheek and then stood up. Morgan joined me as I looked at the chaos. Stephanie's arms were spread wide as they tied her between two pillars on either side of the steps leading into the worship hall, and her legs quickly received the same punishment. Her cries filled the sky, but no one seemed to hear. The townsfolk gathered around, preparing to be unleashed.

Nate moved in front of Stephanie. "For my sister and my mother. For all the other evils Stephanie has brought on our town, she is marked to die... at our hands. Gather rocks!"

The townsfolk's frantic search of the ground gave me the chance to move around them and in front of Stephanie.

"Cecily, what are you doing?" Nate demanded. "Move away, I've saved you."

"And lost yourself. This is wrong."

"My sister? My mother? How can you say that?"

"I'm sorry for what happened to them, but this won't make either of them all right—it just makes us all murderers."

"See," Pastor Rowe said beside Nate. "It's as I always said. They are evil."

Nate's eyes flickered to me and I saw it, the moment his belief in me faded and turned to hate. The townsfolk turned their attentions back to Stephanie, to me, and Nate and the pastor. My family stood with them, even though Dusty still lay in the mud.

But I was not alone in front of Stephanie. Morgan, as promised, stood beside me, along with Abigail, Amanda, and Charity, every seven except Millie, who was busy gathering rocks—that girl was enough to crush my sudden belief in the sevens. After so much time trying to understand Pastor Rowe and why he hated me and the sevens, it came down to this, my cold, hard need to survive.

Nate and Pastor Rowe moved back, revealing the perfect targets for the mob and all of their assembled rocks.

"The sevens must die," Pastor Rowe shouted, and as I watched the rocks thrust out of Millie's hands as her parents shoved her to the front with us, a rumbling—not thunder—echoed from the trees. Louder. And louder. Enough to cause fear to break through the crowd.

"Kill them before their minions come for the town!" Pastor Rowe shrieked.

Staring into the murderous eyes around us, part of me felt relief to be looking at their faces rather than studying the dirt, ashamed and afraid of who I was. I was a seven. And these strangers I stood with were my sisters. To finally be able to deny the traditions filled me with a sense of rightness as I extended my hands to Morgan and Abigail, who were closest to me, just as the throwing arms raised to end our lives.

The moment our hands touched, and the rest of the sevens joined hands—except for Stephanie, who couldn't—lightning struck above us so powerfully the townsfolk dashed to the ground. The wide-eyed looks of the townsfolk probably matched the ones on the faces of the sevens as we glanced at each other. The lightning flashed again, followed shortly after by thunder so violent the ground leapt beneath our feet.

"Get Stephanie loose," I said, and Amanda and Charity went to work on the ropes, while Millie fell to the ground, sobbing.

The townsfolk only remained down for a second and then gathered rocks, hurrying to finish what they'd started. Arms raised to hurl stones and Stephanie wasn't freed yet.

" _Help me, Morgan!_ " I shrieked in my mind.

" _Finally, you can hear me_ ," she said. " _What do you want to do?_ "

"Get away from here," I answered aloud.

"Then bring a bigger storm."

"What? How?"

" _Just think it, and we'll do the rest_ ," Morgan said.

I ignored the faces, the hands, the rocks, and thought about the worst storm I'd ever seen over the Wild Wood. With each thought, each detail, the storm around us grew. Wind whipped at the townsfolk, driving them back. Lightning struck the trees. Thunder repeatedly brought the townsfolk to their knees, and those still up ran for cover as hail pummeled them back and away from us.

Finally, Stephanie was free.

"Come on, let's get out of here!" I called. "Help Stephanie," I said as I saw her, exhausted, leaning against the pillar.

"I'm fine," she said proudly in her bruised and bedraggled state, and spat in the general direction of Millie. " _She's_ the one who needs helping."

Stephanie pushed herself off the pillar and grabbed one of Millie's arms, while Charity took hold of the other, dragging her away. Morgan and Abigail remained with me, hands still in mine as we began to move away, slowly at first, and then we turned and ran toward the woods that would give us the best cover.

As long as we kept our line, the lightning continued, keeping the townsfolk at a distance, but they still followed.

"Where are we going?" Stephanie asked.

Millie wailed, "There's nowhere to go."

I didn't have an answer, but my feet seemed to know the way and led us toward the one place the townsfolk wouldn't follow.

"The Wild Wood, of course," Amanda said with a panting sort of chuckle as soon as she figured it out.

That brought Charity to a stop. "No."

But the shouts of the townsfolk spurred us forward.

"Better suggestions?" I said. "I'm open to ideas."

"We'll think when we reach the trees," Morgan called.

She was right; just reaching the trees presented a serious challenge. The townsfolk weren't giving this up. The baby, who had been silent through all the thunder and lightning, began to scream as we moved farther away.

" _I'm sorry, baby... I really think I could have helped_ ," I thought to her, and her screaming grew louder.

"Get more weapons!" Nate shouted. "If they get away, we'll never be safe!"

"Get them!" others yelled, but we reached the trees.

We released each other and ran, but Millie lagged behind, until Stephanie stopped, seized Millie's ears, yanking them until Millie screamed. "Life or death, Millie. Decide now."

Millie thrust herself away from Stephanie and quickly moved around her and toward the Wild Wood.

"That should have been done a long time ago," Stephanie said and followed Millie.

I turned back and saw some of the townsfolk, not twenty yards back, and more were certainly moving to the front of us on horseback. We were too obvious.

" _Morgan,_ _we need night... now_."

Her hand shot toward me and I grabbed hold, and like blowing out a candle, day ended.

" _How did you do that?_ " I asked as we ran.

" _I've always known what to do, but you are the one who has the power—I just guide it_."

We released each other's hands so we could run faster, still miles from the Wild Wood. The darkness protected us somewhat, but also slowed us, and I feared we'd made a mistake in bringing it, until I saw torches ahead. We slowed to move around them, carefully and quietly escaping the pockets of townsfolk in front of and behind us. Everywhere we looked, there were people- or possibly monster-shaped shadows, some seeming too big to comprehend, but regardless, we kept clear of them.

"Cecily!" Charity called.

I saw what she saw. The townsfolk, Nate at their lead, pitchforks and torches in hand, moved to cut us off from the one way to reach the Wild Wood from this forest, by crossing a river in the only place shallow enough to do so. We slowed.

"Cecily!" Nate's enraged voice brought my eyes to his shadowed form. "Give yourself up. Wouldn't you rather die than be evil?"

I actually hoped for a third or fourth option, but that wasn't something I really wanted to discuss right now.

"Cecily," he said, softer now. "We can take care of it here. It'll be quick. We were wrong to try to stone you. Fire is the only answer. Just do this, Cecily. Do what's right. You'll be with Laura, if you do. Wouldn't she want that?"

Laura? I knew exactly what Laura would want—she'd want me to live, and even making storms and shaking the ground she'd think I was amazing, because I still hadn't deliberately tried to hurt anyone. I suddenly wondered what would happen if I did.

Stephanie cried, "They're surrounding us!"

"Move closer," I ordered, as more men and women moved to encircle us. " _Got any ideas?_ "

" _They like fire_ ," Amanda said with a giggle.

I looked to Morgan. " _Can you do fire?_ "

" _I don't have to create it. They brought it_."

"Grab hands," I called. Each of the sevens reached for each other, but most reached for me.

The moment we all touched, the ground beneath us shook, knocking a few of the townsfolk on their backsides. Fire sprang from the torches into the trees near the townsfolk, causing them to shy away, leaving a clear spot to the river. We hurried, still holding on to each other, through the hole they made. I felt a surge of Morgan's focus and rain landed on us.

"I don't want to burn the whole forest down," she explained.

I couldn't help but smile. "Very thoughtful."

Our sloshing feet barely slowed as we crossed the river, and we released each other as soon as we reached the other side. Together, we raced through the woods while the shouts of the townsfolk drove us. Having no other choice because of a crevasse that divided the Eastern Wood from the Wild Wood, we left the cover of the trees just south of my farm and ran across the open field. I knew I'd feel a strange sense of relief when the danger came from monsters and not our town. But just twenty yards from the border, I stopped so abruptly I almost fell, seeing the line of people blocking our way: our families. All of our families, our parents, sisters and brothers—my heart sank when I thought of Dusty in the mud and then I flinched when I saw him, holding a pitchfork and a torch that revealed the bruise on his head. My heart leapt. He was alive. But the expression on his face finally sank in and then overtook me. Hatred.

"Dusty?" My voice came out like a small child's.

"Don't you talk to me. You're evil. And I believed in you. I always believed in you! How could you lie to me like that?!" His eyes broke with mine to look at Stephanie's. "You're all evil!"

And just like that, whatever force had kept me going failed and I staggered back toward the mob behind us, knowing Nate and his vengeance were close. All those torches and weapons would make short work of seven girls. I wouldn't have to feel like this for long.

" _Cecily, lead us... don't abandon us_ ," Morgan pleaded.

" _Please_." Charity cried as she looked at her brothers and sisters calling for her death.

Dusty's eyes, drawn with sadness, held me as I said, "I don't know if I'm evil or not, but I love you. And I'm sorry to do this."

I reached for my sister sevens, who clasped hands instantly, and thought of the pale, unnatural eyes of the baby and watched the eyes of our families turn white as they cried out in their blindness. I felt truly evil for bringing so much fear and pain, but was able to lead the others around our families and to the border of the Wild Wood just as Nate, Pastor Rowe, and the others closed in, all of them afraid to get too near our cursed families.

"Cecily!" Nate shouted behind us, but he was too late.

The first step into the Wild Wood filled me with both agony and solace, in competing measure. We released each other, but stood just inside the wood looking out on all we'd left behind.

"Grab hands," I ordered.

Stephanie crossed her arms. "No."

My willowy body might be no match for Stephanie in her tall and voluptuous—though ragged—beauty, but that didn't matter as I roughly shoved her into a tree that moaned at us. I ignored the moaning.

"Help me give them their sights back!"

"Fine," she said, glaring as my hands still gripped her arms.

As soon as the other sevens touched me, our families' wailing ended and their rage redoubled, and I turned away from them to look at the Wild Wood—our new home.

## 9

# Tasty

The moaning trees weren't exactly comforting. If only they'd moan loudly enough to overwhelm Nate's shouts for me to come out. Even after most of the townsfolk had left, he remained, but not alone.

I heard Pastor Rowe order the wardens to keep watch over the town in case we returned. Of course, even when we were the ones likely to die this night, they worried only for themselves.

"CECILY!"

"Nathaniel, come away," Pastor Rowe said, but his words lacked strength.

"CECILY!"

"He's going to wake everything in the Wild Wood," Stephanie muttered. "Are you sure we can't try silencing him... forever."

I didn't respond to her baiting. Instead, I followed the sound of my name.

Morgan stepped in front of my path. "Cecily, no."

"I'm not going out there. I just want to see him."

She moved aside but remained close. Behind a tree, just inside the border, I watched.

"CECILY!"

"Nathaniel, come away."

Nate ignored his father, while he continued searching for me. A part of my heart yearned to step beyond the tree and show myself, to give him what he wanted. But what he wanted was my death. No matter how many times I reminded myself of that fact, it never seemed real. My Nate would never hurt me or allow me to be hurt. My Nate believed in me, loved me, even when he had enough suspicions not to. Even when he kissed another girl, he'd loved me.

"CECILY!"

All the anguish in his voice drew me out, and I took a small step toward him over the inner protests of the sevens.

"I HOPE YOU DIE TONIGHT! I hope the monsters eat you. I'll be looking for the stack of bones they leave behind. I hate you! If you ever come back, _I'll_ be the one to tie you up onto a pyre and _I'll_ be the one to burn all the evil out of you!"

My Nate was gone, only his father's Nathaniel remained.

Silently, I turned my back on Dunlowe. "We should get away from the border and find someplace to rest."

"Can't we turn the sun back on?" Charity asked.

I glanced to Morgan, whose face I could see because there was just enough moonlight streaming down through the branches.

Morgan shook her head. "Now that we're in here, I think we should try not to do anything... odd."

"I thought by coming here, we'd finally get to be really, really odd," Amanda muttered.

I looked to Morgan. "What do you know about this place?"

"Only what my grandfather told me and what I read in his books."

"Which was?"

"That every rumor is true _somewhere_ in the Wild Wood."

As if in answer to her statement, eerie howling echoed through and against the trees.

"We could go back out. I think we should. And we could hide," Millie stammered.

"Forever?" Stephanie asked.

The sevens started speaking over each other about the merits of leaving or staying in the Wild Wood; I listened for a little while, but mostly tuned them out while I searched for other sounds around us. We weren't too far from water of some sort and that seemed like a good place to start.

"Cecily?" Morgan said.

My attention turned back to the sevens. "I'm sorry."

"Were we boring you?" Stephanie asked, as imperious as ever.

"No... well, maybe. I'm not leaving the Wild Wood. You can do what you want."

Millie cried, "We'll die in here."

"Maybe. Probably," I said. "But out there, to survive, I'll have to kill. And there are only two reasons why I can say I'm not a killer. One, because Laura believed in me. Two, because I didn't know what I was doing with all this power. Now, I know. I could hurt them... all of them."

It might have been my imagination, but the sevens seemed a little afraid of me just then, except Morgan, who said, "Our home is not there anymore; it's here. We might as well get used to that fact. And we need to rest, so, Cecily, lead the way."

I waited for any argument, other than Millie's never-ending whimpers, and then walked in search of the rippling sounds I hoped might drown out the awful, grating noises of the wilds and allow us to sleep.

" _Are you there?_ " I thought to the voice and waited to see if Morgan heard my silent question, but she didn't say anything. Sadly, neither did he. " _We're scared. And I don't know what to do. Can't you say something? Can't you help us?_ "

Abruptly, I realized in running here, I'd counted on the voice to save us, but with each step we took, I felt more foolish... and hurt. How could I believe in a voice when my family had turned on me? The voice could be attached to a monster just waiting to tear our skin off, and I'd had enough flesh ripped from me to last a lifetime. And even though the reasons not to seek out my stranger lined up, I still felt such letdown to discover he didn't really care after all.

The others followed me as we walked carefully around the now silent trees and found a spot near the river with nice soft moss around it.

I looked to the others. "Is this okay?"

"It's fine," Abigail said, shutting down any comments from the others.

Amanda plopped herself down, and Abigail sat next to her. I leaned up against a tree that didn't moan and slid down, weary to a degree I'd never reached before.

Morgan stared at me, looking unsure. "Could I sit next to you?"

"Morgan, we're all alive thanks to you," I said. "You can sit anywhere you like."

Morgan sat next to me, sharing my tree. Stephanie tried to find the softest place to sit and finally picked a spot that looked exactly like all the others.

"Come on, Millie," Charity said. She seemed to be the only one who wasn't completely annoyed with Millie's sobbing... or her earlier rock gathering. Charity reached for Millie, but Millie flinched away.

Seeing Charity's hurt expression, Millie said, "I'm afraid of the lightning."

"Does that have to happen every time?" Charity asked.

Everyone looked to Morgan, who said, "I don't think so, and it will only happen when we touch Cecily anyway."

Morgan extended her hand to me and I tentatively touched it. No fireworks, no lightning, not even a shock, just the feeling of warmth and love... sisterhood, I thought.

"Sisterhood," Morgan whispered.

I squeezed her hand. "You aren't alone anymore, Morgan."

She nodded and then glanced around at all of us. "I'm so sorry for all you lost, but I'm less alone and happier right now than I've been in months."

Charity sat down, leaning against another tree, and reached for Millie, who fearfully took her hand, letting out a sigh of relief in amongst her crying when nothing strange happened. Looking around at the faces—faces I was never supposed to see—through the dim light, illuminated only by beams of moonlight touching down near us, a sense of peace filled me, but also loss. To finally be together, we'd had every other person in our lives torn from us. That truth settled in on us in our silence, and the anything but silent sounds of the woods. I wasn't surprised that thoughts of Dusty brought my tears to life, and my sister sevens grieved with me—all but Morgan, who held my hand as I cried. For a while, none of us could judge Millie.

"Thanks for not letting them kill me," Stephanie tearfully said, humble maybe for the first time in her life.

"It would have eventually been all of us," Abigail said.

Amanda looked to Morgan and me. "How did you know?"

"Morgan knew," I said. "I was clueless."

"My grandfather had many books, books outlawed by Pastor Rowe, about places far from here and things that beings could do. I read every single one and believed amazing things were possible."

"Did I hurt that baby?" Stephanie asked, not sounding terribly perturbed about either possible answer.

Morgan considered for a moment. "I'm not sure, but I don't think so. There are just too many powerful forces in the world to instantly blame you. And even if you did, you or one of us—Cecily most likely—could probably have helped her."

"I could have helped her. I know it," I said. "But now she'll scream and never see because they wouldn't let me try."

"We could kidnap her," Amanda suggested.

Millie squealed with fear. Abigail snorted. Stephanie harrumphed. Charity looked willing.

"Maybe someday," I said. "But we have other things to worry about just now."

As though awakening a nightmare, we all glanced around at the trees and listened to the sounds of the woods.

"Let's not think about the woods tonight," I said. "Let's just sleep and deal with whatever comes tomorrow."

"Should we all just _sleep_? I mean, what if something comes?" Stephanie asked.

I slumped down, too exhausted to think about anything else, barely caring if something did come.

"Let's take turns," Morgan suggested. "I'll take first watch and wake Abigail when I can't stay awake anymore. Then she'll wake Amanda."

We agreed at once and attempted to snuggle into non-snuggly places. Millie rested her head on Charity's lap. Stephanie used part of her dress to give herself a pillow as she lay down on the moss. Abigail and Amanda rested their heads against each other's. Morgan sheepishly set her head on my shoulder, and I wrapped my arm around her. She might not have lost as much as the rest of us this day, but she'd lost so much more all through her life. Would her parents—the only parents who'd fought against Pastor Rowe by running—have been as quick to hate her as our parents had? We'd never know, or maybe she did.

"Don't worry. I'll stay awake," Morgan whispered.

The scratching, I could ignore. Even some occasional grunting I resolved to overlook, but the gnashing of teeth brought my eyes open. Unfortunately, the moon's rays must have moved on, because the darkness was now total.

"What is it?" one of the sevens whispered.

Someone screamed, which excited scurrying near us and, worse, some splashing in the water. Whatever beasts hunted us, they seemed to be everywhere. Who knew I could miss pitchforks and torches so quickly?

" _Morgan, we need light_."

Her hand caught mine and the area around us lit; I didn't know the source, nor did I care because I now saw the greasy, furry creatures—about the size of goats, come to think of it—each slobbering from their teeth-filled snouts. More than a hundred surrounded us, and the snarling worsened. Millie screamed twice and passed out, caught at the last second by Charity. Stephanie, Abigail, and Amanda ran toward me, though I wasn't really sure what I could do for them, but as their hands touched me, everything rumbled around us.

Unfortunately, the rumbling didn't seem to phase the creatures, who moved on their hairless legs toward us as we backed into a tree.

Abigail glanced above us. "What's that?"

I looked up. Morgan's hand flinched from mine to cover her face, as a snake-like creature leapt and struck her hard enough to send her glasses flying. More snakes skittered out of the water toward us, while Morgan struggled with the one twining around her. I reached for the snake, but its skin, covered in slime, slipped from my grasp.

"Do something!" Stephanie demanded.

Do something? Okay, what? With the snarling and slithering so close, I couldn't control my thoughts and consequently couldn't make anything happen—not without Morgan to steady me and give my power direction. But I could panic. The ground below us shimmied and then shook so violently we fell to the ground. Not helpful.

"Fine then. Fire!" I shouted, imagining the creatures burning, but the trees moaned angrily before I could focus on igniting the beasts.

The sloshing in the water grew and more of the snake-like creatures appeared, moving closer. One launched itself at Millie, still unconscious in Charity's arms, and tugged her back toward the water. The few hands still on me released, as Abigail, Stephanie, and Amanda grabbed sticks and went after the snake.

As I watched, hopelessness washed over me. We'd had no choice but to come, and now it looked like we had no other option than to die. That just infuriated me. My rage brought flames to the nearest evil goats and seemed to also boil the river, causing the snakes to scream. The trees screamed. The goats screamed. And the ground broke beneath us and we jerked away from the hole forming around us, a crevasse between us and most of the creatures, except the ones latched onto Millie and Morgan. And until the roots were affected, I really believed we were winning, but the screaming of the trees choked out that hope. They didn't really appear to be threatening to us, and I was clearly hurting them.

"Make it stop!" Amanda cried.

Stop? I didn't know how to make it stop, since I didn't exactly plan to start it in the first place. I shuddered watching Morgan's body flop as the snake strangled her, and in the instant I realized if I didn't do something fast we sevens would be down to six, I grabbed hold of the snake, picturing tearing it to pieces, and that was just what I did. Guts in chunks squashed in my hands as the snake shivered and died.

I scurried to Morgan, holding her, searching for life. "Morgan?!"

"I'm here."

"Help me," I pleaded.

Morgan's eyes fluttered open and then closed, and I felt her drawing in all the frenetic power inside me and unleashing it on the creatures, targeting them so specifically that the trees weren't harmed. Then in her last act before passing out, she lit the area around the fissure, leaving us safely inside.

My breath came in heaves as I sat behind Morgan, cradling her. When I looked at the others, all filthy, bloody, and exhausted, I felt only shame. "I'm sorry."

They stared back with incredulous expressions.

"Excuse me?" Stephanie demanded.

"I'm sorry I didn't do better."

Stephanie let out a strange chuckle. "You weren't out there with monster goat snacks, inviting them in. You didn't make the snakes. You didn't make us sevens. You didn't force the town to come after us. And without your light, we all would've died anyway."

"My light?" I asked.

Even more incredulous looks blared at me from their faces.

"You're kinda glowing," Amanda said with a quirky, but tired, smile.

I finally noticed what had given us light; it was me.

I shook my head. "That was Morgan."

"No, Cecily, it's you," Morgan murmured in my arms.

I searched the ground and managed to find Morgan's glasses, wiped the snake gook off them as best I could, and returned them to her, while she sighed gratefully.

"What do we do now?" Charity asked timidly, holding Millie.

They all looked to me, still. "Sleep until that fire dies and then we have to learn to fight."

"Will you stay lit up?" Millie asked. "I'm afraid of the dark."

I wouldn't mock her this time and figured it would be a long time before we weren't afraid of the dark... and evil goats.

"I'll try."

"Cecily," Morgan said, her voice apprehensive.

My eyes opened instantly and a petite, doll-like face—slightly more refined than a human's—stared at me from just an inch away. Her nose sniffed at me, and then she made a scrunchy face, her large violet eyes crinkling.

"Yes, this is she," she whispered. "She has smelled better though."

Morgan raised her hand to me, as she moved into a seated position.

The white-haired woman tilted her head, her gaze piercing. "I'd prefer if you didn't exercise your considerable powers just now, as you haven't the foggiest idea what you're doing."

"Are you going to eat our brains?" Millie whimpered.

"Brains... yum, but souls are far tastier," she said, smiling all the while in a less-than-comforting way.

I reached for Morgan, but didn't touch her, waiting to get some sense about this creature.

" _Lille_ ," the voice chided, his deep, soothing resonance instantly recognizable. " _You were supposed to put them at ease_. _They've been through a lot._ " He sounded regretful. Not as regretful as I was for thinking he cared.

I turned, searching for him, but all around us were only trees, beyond the holes in the earth I'd made, and this pixie-like creature smiling at us.

The creature called Lille tilted her head, locking eyes with me. "You can't see him yet... you aren't ready."

"Who?" Morgan asked, as the other sevens searched my face.

"Can't we not be ready to see you, either," Stephanie huffed.

Lille laughed at her. "You never were one for manners, my dear, but I guess, I wasn't either. My name is Lilliespia, but you can call me Lille. We have breakfast waiting for you."

"Are _we_ the breakfast?" Millie asked.

"Let's go already... maybe they'll explain about the lightning and the bones, and the missing people..." Amanda gushed, seeming to believe that because Lille was beautiful, she couldn't be just as evil as the goats.

Abigail rested a hand on Amanda's shoulder, holding her back. "... and the dead children... and the sounds... the death... all that we were taught to fear."

Charity's eyes wandered as she studied the faces of the sevens. "We were taught to fear ourselves. Maybe we should give them the benefit of the doubt."

"Cecily?" Morgan pressed, looking to me.

I stared at Lille's wide eyes, searching for answers. My instant impulse was to zap this creature with lightning and run.

" _Please, don't do that_ ," the voice pleaded.

" _Why shouldn't I?_ "

He didn't answer right away, but I still felt connected to him.

"Cecily," Morgan nudged.

"Give me a second." Soon, I would have to confess to the sevens about the voice, but not yet. " _Are you going to say anything else?_ "

" _Please, go with Lille. No harm will come to you. Allow us to attempt to make up for our failings last night._ "

I didn't know what to do. Who to believe. I didn't want to lead the sevens and yet they all looked to me. How was I supposed to know if the voice was evil and this creature deadly? And did we have a choice anyway? We were hungry, exhausted, weak, and I didn't have a clue what I was doing. None of that seemed very promising in the Wild Wood.

"Well, I'm hungry, and I don't plan to eat moaning trees." The trees moaned at me. "And we can fry anyone who tries to hurt us. I think we're good."

Lille moved back and gave me room to stand. Morgan quickly stood next to me, facing Lille, who was not much shorter than we were but her features were much more delicate.

Lille appraised me. "You are brave."

"I really don't think I am," I said. Foolish. Stupid. And a chicken. Yeah, I believed all that.

Lille's eyes squinted, her face still closer than I liked. "Come along, apricots." She turned and moved quickly away from us.

Stephanie turned haughty, or make that haughtier. "Apricots?"

"Also tasty," Lille called back, giggling.

"Nice," Abigail muttered, while Millie leaned into Charity's protective embrace as they walked.

Amanda sprinted to catch up with Lille, and I heard her babbling questions while Lille took turns snickering and making _tsking_ sounds. Morgan and I walked behind Lille and Amanda, while the others trailed behind us. I scanned the woods around us looking for other dangers, but only saw trees covered in moss and about three times the size of trees outside the wood. Amanda blathered about the lightning storms, clearly hoping at some point Lille would tire of laughing at her questions. As I was about to ask Amanda to take a breath, I saw large red eyes—many sets of them—surrounding us.

" _You lied_ ," I said to the voice. " _Morgan!_ " Her hand thrust in mine.

Crackling broke forth from us as the trees seemed to shy away and loud moaning erupted.

In only a second, Lille stood before us. "Now, now, calm down."

I didn't so much care for orders just now and held tightly to Morgan as the volume grew. Abigail and Stephanie reached to touch my shoulders, and the sounds blasted so loud I feared my eardrums would break. Something in Lille's stare triggered a dark thought, a way to get this creature out of my face.

"Now, now," Lille said, her voice less imperious this time, but not really afraid.

" _Cecily, no!_ " the voice begged.

I tried to stop, to rein in the darkness, but I couldn't. Thankfully, Morgan could, and without a word pulled me back from the evil I felt myself becoming. Morgan's kind eyes flashed to mine. I hoped she wouldn't tell the others.

" _I won't_."

Abigail grabbed Amanda, stopping her from moving toward the red eyes. "We are not breakfast for them!"

"You are not breakfast for them, and they would never hurt you," Lille said. "They are here to protect you."

"Well, they did a great job last night," Stephanie sniped.

Lille's face paled as she looked at us. "I am so sorry about that. We were detained." She paused, her violet eyes radiating strength. "But we're here now... to protect you."

Stephanie huffed. "We can take care of ourselves."

"Lightning, thunder, fire, water, and earthquakes aren't exactly going to impress every creature in the wood," Lille countered.

"We're making you nervous," Abigail said.

"Of course, I'm worried about what you'll do, as are the trees, and the moaning of the trees is something to mind. Now, let's see if we can make this right. The Commanders will never hurt you—in fact, this one you have met before. He assured you that you would find your ways home and you did. If he had wanted a tasty snack, children's bones are scrumptious."

Amanda stepped toward the large man-like creature with pitch-black skin and large red eyes. "Is it really you?"

"Yes." His voice tickled the edges of my fuzzy memories. "I won't hurt you," he said, and then looked directly at me. "Could you release each other and stop scaring the trees?"

I didn't move a muscle for a minute but, after noticing the quivering trees, did release Morgan, while the others released me.

"Strong, isn't she?" the creature asked Lille.

"Quite. Now about breakfast, could you just not touch each other and stop freaking out for a bit? I assure you that if we wanted to eat you, it would've already been accomplished, or at the very least, you would be finished roasting on a spit and would have a nice apricot in your mouths." Lille's snotty tone reminded me of Stephanie.

"Perhaps you should convince us why we should trust you," Abigail said.

Lille tilted her head and appeared confused. "Everyone you love has turned on you. Why, in all that exists, would I waste time trying to make you believe in me? Just don't panic for a bit, and we should manage to have breakfast without violating the terms of the truce and re-starting the war in the Wild Wood."

Oh good, a war in the Wild Wood. Yesterday escaping a pitchfork-waving mob, today starting a war. Things just kept getting better and better.

## 10

# Drastic Ends

My mind swirled as I attempted to grasp all the days and months that made up my life, as we continued to walk, following Lille and surrounded by the terrifying Commanders. We were all hurt and aching—and disgustingly filthy—but we managed to keep up with our guides.

" _Where are we going?_ " Morgan asked in my mind. " _I've been trying to pay attention to how we get out of the wood, but I feel like we're going in circles or more like a serpentine maybe. I think I'm lost_."

Morgan proved once again just how much smarter she was. In my thoughts and distractions about my life, I didn't have a clue where we were. Without thinking, I reached for Morgan.

Lille turned around to face me. "Please, don't."

Her glare grew more hostile, but I didn't care, though I kept my thoughts under better control. "As you said before, we've been betrayed by everyone and attacked by snakes and evil goats. Why don't you tell me where you're taking us?"

"Genovan," Lille said. "Please, give her the map. She's afraid of being lost amongst our kind."

The Commander we'd met as children, the one whom Amanda had been chatting with, turned toward me. "May I approach?"

I nodded and he cautiously—for my benefit or his, I wasn't sure—moved forward, extending his hand and holding it in front of my head.

"Rest your forehead against my hand if you can believe I mean you no harm."

I took a deep breath and rested my head against his black palm. At once and in a maze of lights in my mind, I saw the entire Wild Wood, saw where we were, and where we had been. I would always know where I was and never be lost.

"The clump of purple is where we're going," Lille said.

"I want whatever she got," Stephanie sniped.

Lille turned her gaze on Stephanie and, with great authority, said, "And Genovan would be happy to share it, if you don't mind that blonde head of yours exploding like a geyser. Some gifts can be deadly, if given to the wrong being. And you, my dear, are very, very wrong."

Stephanie winced but still managed to look affronted.

Lille moved quickly away and led us faster than before until Millie began to whine about the pace, her shoes, the trees, the Commanders, and how much she missed her cat.

" _If she doesn't shut up soon, I'm worried they'll eat our brains and I might just let them_ ," I thought to Morgan, who chuckled out loud.

The others seemed not to be able to hear and I wondered why, but not enough to bring it up just now. Lille led us down a steep hill that took us next to a spectacular waterfall and the river that flowed from it. We followed the river for a while and then veered away from it and into an enchanted looking area with different trees; these were like weeping willows, but different somehow, older and thicker and with purple blossoms cascading down from more than a hundred feet up, all the way to the ground.

Lille held the blossoms aside for us. "Go ahead."

I stepped forward, followed by Morgan and Amanda, who shoved a little with excitement. As soon as I stepped out from under the hanging blossom-filled branches, I stood face to face with beasts and monsters frightening enough to make me think that avoiding being stoned to death had been a bad call. Even evil goats seemed preferable to this crew. Morgan was silent, and Amanda's jaw dropped—she wasn't rushing ahead now. Stephanie and Abigail froze. Millie took one look and passed out again, caught by Charity, who seemed to have decided it was best not to look.

I shifted my position to ensure that, if the beasts attacked, they took me first, but my hand went back toward Morgan.

"Now, now," Lille repeated, with exasperation. "Look, we forget that we, some of us anyway, are frightening to you... we just forget, that's all."

"How could you forget? No mirrors here or something?" Stephanie sputtered after she resumed breathing.

Lille took a deep and frustrated breath.

" _You are an impatient sprite_ ," the voice said to Lille, but I heard the love surrounding his words and didn't know why that bothered me so much. " _Be gentle with them, please. The costs for failure are worse than you know_."

My eyes sought the ground to keep from seeing the way Lille's eyes appraised me, searching for the meaning behind the voice's words.

"I see," she said.

Did she? I hoped she didn't. Finally, to break the awkward silence, I said, "Where is he?"

"Who?" Morgan asked.

I studied her face. "You can't hear him?"

"Who?" Morgan repeated.

Lille settled a steely gaze on us and declared in a voice too bubbly to be believed, "An obnoxious, judgy sort of being whom you are better off away from. Meet your new friends first and then we might talk about _him_."

New friends. Wow. Beasts with giant teeth were such an improvement over our previous friends. A more important question came to mind: could they really be worse? Other than possibly eating us, I really doubted they could be less loyal, and conveniently, I didn't have to worry about falling in love with any of them—horns and spiky teeth weren't so attractive—not that I ever intended to love again. My head once again became clogged with the sound of Nate calling my name, his voice filled with sorrow and loss. Why hadn't I gone to him? Maybe I could have saved his sister, if I'd only walked out of the woods and toward the one I loved.

That one thought sparked a brushfire of others, voices almost, driving me back toward Dunlowe and out of this madness.

"I have to go," I said aloud, already moving away from the others, feeling trapped, like I couldn't breathe surrounded by the purple-blossomed trees.

Morgan grabbed my arm. "Go?"

"Go?!" Stephanie demanded.

I shook Morgan off. "Morgan'll keep you safe... and I'll tell them you all died... and you can get away, and I will finish..."

"No," Abigail said.

"I have to... Nate..." I moved toward the trees that surrounded us. I had the map in my head and knew the way back.

"Nate will _kill_ you," Stephanie said.

"It doesn't matter... I love him. What's love if I'm not willing to give up my life? Maybe they'll let me help the baby. I could, I know it... I would... even if..."

"Even if they light you on _fire_?" Abigail demanded. "Are you crazy?"

I pulled up the purple-blossomed branches. "I have to go. I know the way."

"Breakfast?" Lille said, panic in her voice.

I looked back at her. "Last meals don't really matter. Take care of them."

"Uh, oh, um," Lille stammered. "No, you shouldn't go that way."

Morgan pulled back a handful of branches. "Cecily, if you go, I'm coming with you."

"We're all getting out of here if you do," Abigail said.

"No, you can't... I have to do this." I started under the branches, feeling my power pushing them back.

I could hear the six voices pleading with me, but they seemed far away now. I knew what I had to do, and I would do it. Millie sobbed loudly again, and Morgan begged within my mind, but I silenced her. Nate. I could make him not hate me, and one day he would come to remember me with love.

" _Love means never lighting your woman on fire_ ," the voice said inside my head, his tone hostile.

I reached the end of the branches and turned abruptly to the path that would lead me back, but as I turned, the air around me sizzled. A sudden and isolated wind shoved me back, and a being stood before me. My eyes began at his chest, and I looked up into the face of an angel. The purity in his crystal blue eyes was too clear not to feel all the way through me, but as I stared into his eyes, I suddenly couldn't control my body and only knew I was falling.

His strong arms caught me before I hit the ground, but that did nothing to shrink the enormous level of my embarrassment for fainting at the sight of a gorgeous man.

He adjusted my body into his arms and stood up. "You didn't faint."

" _Then what happened?_ " I thought to him, after discovering my mouth wouldn't move.

" _Something I dared not hope for_." His voice— _the_ voice—belonged to the stranger who carried me.

" _What does that mean?_ "

" _I promise to tell you later, when my answer will make sense_."

I wanted to argue, but figured I had more important problems right now, like the fact that no matter how much I tried, I couldn't move anything. No fingers wiggling, toes scrunching, or eyes opening.

"Lille, get the branches," he said.

I felt the flowers brushing against my head as we went back into the camp.

"What did you do to her?" Morgan asked.

"Let her go," Stephanie ordered and then blurted, "You are _gorgeous_."

He chuckled softly, and I felt his chest move against my body in his arms.

" _How long will this last?_ " I asked, while fighting the panic building inside my paralyzed body.

"I'm not sure," he said aloud, "but I think we better let it fade on its own if we can. _I promise, you are safe with me_."

"What's going on?" Abigail demanded.

Lille _tsked_. "Let's eat."

"Not until you tell us what's wrong with her," Abigail said.

The voice took a deep breath. "Cecily has come into her powers and that is leading to some unexpected consequences. This one is not dire. She'll be fine."

" _Cecily_ ," Morgan said.

" _I'm here. I'm okay_."

"Should I try touching her?" Morgan asked.

"No," Lille answered. "She needs to spend some time like this after almost rushing back to die for nothing and throwing a lot of beings' work into the garbage without so much as a discussion or a thank you."

"Lille," the angel chided.

"If you hadn't been here and available, Finn, we would have lost her. Didn't you feel her resolve? Something's driving her to do bad—and may I add, highly questionable—things. And trying to stop her could have started the war or destroyed the world. She can remain trapped and decorate the camp for a while," Lille said, her voice overflowing with worry, anger, and desperation. "You also realize that if we had eaten her puny, ridiculous brain, we would have starved to death."

She called me stupid... edgy, little fairy woman... evil fairy woman—I wasn't sure. Uneasiness festered inside me and terror. I was frightened like this, unmoving, unseeing, and feeling only echoes of what went on around me. I thought of the townsfolk, my parents and brother, grasping around wearing the same fear I now wore. I didn't want to be evil and bring that pain ever again.

" _I'm frightened_."

" _I know_ ," the voice, Finn, answered. " _That's exactly how I felt, how Lille felt, your sisters, and even these monsters you haven't officially met, when you were going to leave. I know it isn't easy, but try to trust._ "

Finn's voice held so much connection for me, as though he spoke directly to my heart and bypassed my brain, which I wasn't sure was such a good thing. I felt him sit down, propping me up and supporting me against his chest. His arms encircled me to keep me from falling, and I was suddenly very self-conscious about the way I looked—covered in slime and snake guts—and my certainly foul smell.

" _You're alive. You think all that will trouble me?_ " Finn said. " _I'm Finn, by the way_."

" _Hi, Finn_."

Even though I couldn't see—not even on the map—I felt that my sisters were sitting nearby, all of them talking as food was passed around.

" _Can you wait awhile to eat?_ " Finn asked.

" _Yes_."

Feelings like the ones that had driven me to run back to Nate swirled around and I tried to get control, feeling fidgety inside my body. And unsure. Even though his voice was the same, how could I know for sure that Finn was the one I'd talked to all those times, who'd sent me the images that had helped me recover from the whipping?

Pictures, faded at first but filling with color, entered my mind. The same sights. The same places. The same blue. It was really him. I wasn't sure why that made me feel like crying, but I wasn't surprised by the tears I felt running down my face.

" _Please, don't let my sisters see_." He gently wiped my tears away.

I listened to my sisters chattering away with Lille and the beasts, and tried to settle my insides, but in the end, this helplessness felt too familiar to fight. I inwardly shuddered. This was the old Cecily, powerless in a town with rules and traditions, who clung to safety above all else. I realized that in the moment I'd claimed my life and resolved to save Stephanie's, I'd believed—foolishly—that I'd overcome my weakness and the cages that bound me. But now, powerless again, I knew I'd never get free. My emotions grew increasingly unsteady. The few moments of strength, in comparison to years of weakness, faded, and I didn't care what these strangers did to me. Someone else could lead, and I would remain just like this.

" _Cecily, no_ ," Finn said.

I accepted my fate, to be weak, to embrace whatever end, whether it was in the fire, the water, the wind, or the storm... whether the end should come in a wild wood, the downs, the tall grass, or the clouds—nothing mattered. Nothing could be worth the effort of living. I accepted the end.

I felt my body jerked up and my arms held tightly, as Finn said, "Cecily, fight this. Right now."

"What's the matter?" Morgan asked, as my sisters moved closer.

"She's shutting down. It's all been too much. The power is making her mind seek the drastic ends, like returning to Dunlowe."

"What should we do?" Morgan asked. "Should I touch her—I don't want to make anything worse."

"Yes, touch her, all of you," Finn said.

Someone held my hand, but the warmth didn't matter—it couldn't touch my heart, which closed like a cell door. I could feel my arms again and move them. I felt more hands on me, but they couldn't matter. I remained motionless, as though still trapped.

Strong arms turned me around. " _I know what you feel. I can feel everything you have ever felt. Now feel me_." Finn's voice reached deeply enough to attract my attention.

My eyes, still blind, seemed to warm with a blue light as emotions flowed through my heart. These weren't mine; they were Finn's. He was much stronger than I to not run from all he felt: so much love, faith, ecstasy, anguish, loneliness, and desperation. I didn't see his memories or what inspired all these feelings, but I felt every single one of the feelings he'd experienced over more years than I could imagine. I'd thought he was beautiful before, like an angel, but now I knew he was exactly an angel because of how purely he held his emotions and how his heart expanded effortlessly around each one.

My vision cleared, as though something in my knowledge of him brought back my sight, and I stared at his perfect face, filled with both concern and relief. His deep tan skin caused his blue eyes to look more like they sparkled; his wide, strong jaw; his long, dark brown hair—he had to be an angel.

"Still not an angel," Finn said with a relieved laugh.

"But definitely gorgeous," Stephanie added.

Morgan looked worried. "Are you back?"

I nodded. "I think so."

"Sheesh... she would have to have an overwhelming need for drama, wouldn't she?" Lille said.

"Don't worry, Cecily," Finn said. "Lille's just used to bringing all the drama wherever she goes and doesn't want the competition."

"Keep talking, Finn, and I'll tell darling Cecily about..." Lille's voice trailed off.

I looked up at Finn's eyes gone cold and hard.

"Perhaps not," Lille said and added, "Well, breakfast time is over, and now I think it's time our new guests work a little harder on not smelling up the place."

For the first time, I thought Lille had the right idea.

## 11

# Unexpected Consequences

We bathed in a snake-free crystal stream, were given clothes to wear, and settled into soft cushions inside a vibrant purple tent covered with intricate golden designs. My sister sevens slept soundly and I wished I could join them, but my thoughts destroyed every possibility of sleeping. After a few minutes, the treachery of being awake amongst the sleepers drove me up and out of the tent.

As I pulled back the fabric flap and stepped out, I wondered what I would find. The camp appeared to be less crowded; the fewer the monsters the better, I figured. But what monsters there were didn't seem as frightening now. The sparring ones I kept my distance from, but the ones lounging and reading or playing cards, who merely glanced at me as I passed, didn't scare me at all. The Commanders shadowed me as I walked through the camp, like they were my personal guards, or possibly my jailers.

"Is there something you need?" the Commander I'd met as a child—Genovan—asked.

"Finn."

"He's away just now. Is there something I can do for you?"

I wondered if he understood how frightening he looked with those red eyes, but I shoved my fears aside, not wanting to be like the townsfolk, randomly fearing anyone who was different and said, "Lille..."

"You want to see Lille?"

"No. Not at all," I blurted, and he nodded understandingly. "Lille," I began again, "said she was sorry that you all didn't protect us last night."

"We are all sorry."

"Why didn't you?"

Genovan glanced down, shaking his head, before his eyes found mine. "We've been waiting for you such a long time, but at the moment you needed us most, we failed you. We had no idea the ripples your entrance into the Wild Wood would cause. Things that were ordered became chaos, and we almost lost you because of it. You did well, by the way."

"Morgan did. I panicked."

He smiled, revealing that his teeth were as pure black as his skin. "Maybe, but the snakes are still telling stories of the one who can tear them to pieces with her fingers."

Crashing sounds reverberated through the camp and every beast took to its—his or her, I had no idea—feet, many moving around the tent where the sevens slept.

"You should get back into the tent. We'll protect you."

"What's going on?" I demanded.

"Chaos."

"Where's Finn?"

"Fighting it."

The sounds of steel clashing brought the truth home to me. Finn and the other beasts fought just outside the purple blossoms... because of me. Something buried deep inside me, like a memory, pulsed, taking me toward the nearest blossoms.

"No," Genovan said, his hand on my shoulder.

"I have to know what we caused. We never meant to hurt anyone by coming here. We just didn't have anywhere else to go."

I broke away from Genovan and lunged around the other Commanders. I hurled myself through the purple blossoms but, once on the other side, came to an abrupt stop, allowing the Commanders to surround me, while I gaped at the war raging just a few yards away. Finn, a sword in hand, sliced at his beast enemy. I froze, watching. His movements, graceful even as his sword tore through beasts, kept me enrapt. I barely noticed anyone or anything else. A strange warmth burst in my chest and I wondered what could have caused it. I forced my eyes away from him to see everything else.

Monsters fought with weapons, some with their teeth, while evil goats and a score of creatures ravaged any creature who fell. Tiny Lille spun and attacked with amazing courage, though the creature she fought towered over her.

Chaos.

" _Finn_ ," I thought.

His eyes sought and found mine, and he roared, "GET HER OUT OF HERE!"

Genovan wasted no time, seizing me into his arms and dashing back under the blossoms, with the other Commanders around us.

"You should be resting," he said. I wondered if that comment sounded as ridiculous in his ears as it did in mine.

"Genovan, put me down. I won't go back through the trees, but I can't sleep and don't want to scare the other sevens."

He set me down, and together we waited—sitting on a large flat rock—as night fell around us, all while the sounds of battle continued. My weariness finally brought my head to lean against his shoulder, which brought his arm around me.

"Sleep while you can, Cecily. So much is coming."

"Pain. Unimaginable pain is coming, isn't it?"

"Yes."

His answer settled over me, inspiring flickers of fear. "Don't take me back to the tent. Okay? I want to stay here... to make sure they're safe."

"Very well."

I slept and dreamed of home.

An anguished cry woke me and I looked around, searching for the source, only to realize when it happened again that it came from Finn, inside my mind. Only moments later, through the strange light emitted from rocks placed at the ends of stakes, I watched Finn emerge from the purple blossoms carrying Lille's lavender-smeared body. The shade of purple matched the trees almost perfectly and was so lovely that I didn't realize the truth, what had brought such sorrow from Finn. Lille was hurt. The purple was her blood.

Her white hair, streaked with lavender, hung down and her head rested against Finn's chest. Finally, I tore my eyes from her to look at Finn, wearing much of her blood as well as his own, which appeared to be blue. He looked down at her face with so much loss, which could only mean there was also that much love. Finn loved Lille.

Finn looked to me. "Can you help her?"

"Me?" I asked, as Genovan helped me off the rock.

Finn nodded.

"I don't know how. I don't know anything."

"Will you try?" Finn begged.

I nodded, hating how useless I felt. If she died, it would be my fault—either from the chaos I'd caused or my stupidity in not knowing how to help her—and I hated myself even more for wondering what all of these strangers would do to us then.

I took small steps toward where Finn carefully placed Lille on the ground, and knelt down. Something in Genovan's and Finn's faces looked hopeful. For my part, I only felt an odd sense of _déjà vu_ , minus any sense of hope. I reached and gently touched her head with my hands, because that made the most sense. A jolt of awareness caused my head to sag. I felt her wounds, not the pain from them exactly, just an awareness of the brokenness inside her. The strength of the feeling grew the longer I held her head between my hands, and with each second, her body changed, mending, while my body grew weary. Finally, unable to hold my head up, I set it against Lille's, forehead to forehead. The moment we touched, I gasped, and so did she.

I tried to move away but found I couldn't, until Finn knelt beside me, pulling and cradling me against him. I stared at Lille, whose violet eyes fluttered open, as a look of wonder crossed her face.

"Well, didn't my little apricot do well," she said in a bright tone, but a shadow lined her words. She rolled to her feet, glancing at her tunic. "Oh, my. The nerve of that beast to ruin my clothes. I have to change. What will everyone think of me?" She stomped away, without another word.

I expected Finn to set me down, but he seemed to understand I couldn't move.

" _I do understand_ ," he whispered in my mind. "Genovan, thank you for looking after her. I'll see that she is safe and back in her tent."

"Very well." Genovan smiled at me and then walked away with the other Commanders.

Finn lifted me up and carried me to the large flat rock and gently set me down, before climbing up and lying next to me, positioning me so that my head rested on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around me. The light rocks in the camp dimmed as one and the stars above seemed to pop out in turn.

I took a deep breath, attempting to settle within me all that had been unsettled by Lille's injuries, struggling with the feeling I'd given something away that I might never get back. For his part, Finn just held me and said nothing, but I sensed a well of feelings near the surface that he sought to control. I didn't know him. Or the others here. And yet, this moment soothed me, and maybe that made sense because when family abandons, strangers seem safe.

"Are you sure you don't want to be with Lille?" I asked. "I mean, it's clear that you love her very much... and she was really hurt."

"I do love her," he said, making my insides ache more—not that knowing what I already guessed should affect me at all. They were beautiful together and everyone should be loved... for real. "But I'm fine right here."

I tilted my head, searching the left side of his face, brushing my cheek against his shoulder in the process. Suddenly, I felt his wounds and gave way to my need to fix them.

"No, Cecily. You don't have to do that."

Before I could say anything, he was healed and I couldn't even raise my face away from his body. I hated to be powerless again, but felt good to have had the chance to repay him for taking away my pain all those months ago.

His hand stroked my back; maybe he was remembering those days too.

"I could never forget that day or the ones that followed. I'm a soldier and I've killed in battle, but I've never wanted to kill anyone as much as I wanted to kill that man for enjoying the destruction of your body."

"He can't hurt me anymore," I whispered. "It's hard to believe."

"I'm sure it is."

"But I hate that he won."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he got my parents and Dusty to turn on me. Even though the sevens and I survived, it's hard to think of this being a win when we had to lose so much." Needing to be distracted, I said, "Finn, tell me what's going on here. Who am I? Why do I have these powers? Why do you know me? Why did I cause chaos in the Wild Wood? And why would you fight it... for me?"

" _Cecily, you mustn't feel guilty for any of this. None of this was your doing. But I will tell you what I can._ "

He paused and then began, "There's so much to explain, but I think the only way to begin is with Darienne."

"Darienne?"

"My home," he said softly. "The country south of the Wild Wood."

"There's land beyond the Wild Wood?" I asked. "We're taught there's nothing but ocean."

"You were taught wrong, but I doubt that will surprise you, considering the source of your learning."

"You know about Mrs. Dumphry?"

Finn nodded, his face briefly brushing mine. "Of course, I do. You did mention her quite a bit, when you used to talk to me every day."

"You really heard me?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you talk to me? I was so alone."

"I wanted to and I hated that I couldn't, but I had my reasons." He waited for a response, and maybe I should have been hurt, but those feelings felt hollow just now, this close to him. "Do you still want to hear about my home?"

"Please."

"The land below is three times larger than Stoughton, but since the Wild Wood blocks the path, there is no reason to know. Mrs. Dumphry didn't lie; she, and people like her, don't know. Explorers have found Darienne, but they've learned to keep quiet. You see, the monsters in this camp are normal in Darienne, a place filled with the kinds of oddities that in Stoughton would be hunted. Many who have found my home have never wanted to leave. Truly, there is no land like Darienne. The rolling hills, plains filled with gold and green grasses, and mountain peaks that reach up into the clouds."

When he paused, I said, "I'm surprised you'd leave such a place... to be _here_."

"I had my reasons."

"And you won't share?"

"Not that, not yet."

"Go on then," I said.

"I've lived long enough to remember when Darienne was as peaceful as it was beautiful, but that also means I've lived to see terrible changes come and remain in my home. It started simply, with a disagreement. Such things have been resolved easily throughout our history, but it was not so with this one. This dispute had a life of its own and inspired a brutal war that has raged for thousands of years, turning the country into someplace almost unrecognizable. In truth, sometimes it's easier to be here."

Then he showed me, in my mind, visions of his home as it used to be. Sights more stunning than any I'd seen, sights to embarrass Dunlowe with its plainness. As more and more images entered my thoughts, I realized I'd seen them before. Finn had shared them with me when I'd been recovering from my wounds.

But then, the visions changed, and I saw scorched earth, razed villages, castles broken, and so much grey and brown where all other colors had once danced. No wonder the Wild Wood seemed like a retreat.

"Why did they fight? What could be worth losing so much?"

"Stoughton."

Stoughton? Like _my_ Stoughton? "What?"

"All of this is over the country of Stoughton."

"I don't understand."

He shook his head slightly. "No, you wouldn't." His hand brushed against my face. "You, who only ever wanted to live in peace in the home of your birth, could never understand the desire for conquest. Without intending to malign your people..."

"Oh, go ahead, malign away. They deserve it."

Finn laughed. "Well, the beings of Darienne are immortal and much more evolved than the people of Stoughton, who look to us as barely ready to leave their caves. That they can speak and make fire greatly surprises us. It is from that sense of superiority that one faction decided we had the right to seize Stoughton, which would be so easily accomplished—they with their pitchforks. Their pitchforks that were raised against you." His arm encircling me tightened. "I wish I could have protected you from that."

A shiver crawled around inside me, while I thought about how close we'd come to not surviving. So close to being bashed with rocks and dying in the dirt outside the worship hall.

"We never would have let that happen," Finn said, but then continued. "So, the disagreement about the future of your country created a divide in mine. Everyone chose sides: either the Conquerors, who sought to overrun Stoughton, or the Protectors, who fought against them, believing the people of Stoughton had a right to their own self-rule. That fight continues, has continued all the way through Darienne, now to the Wild Wood, just south of Stoughton."

"They're out there right now?" I asked.

"Yes."

"What stops them from invading?"

His warm hand softly touched my cheek, as his eyes held mine. "You."

My brain picked that moment to shut down, and I cursed it.

"Okay, you mostly—lately anyway—but that's a story for another day," he said, gingerly settling my flightiness. "The Conquerors and Protectors agreed to terms for this conflict, and one of them, the one that assures me they aren't attacking Dunlowe right now, is the promise that no one will attack Stoughton until after the Conquerors defeat the Protectors or convince us to give up the fight."

"But they attacked tonight. They hurt Lille."

"No. That wasn't them. Tonight, they fought _with_ us."

Huh?

Finn chuckled in my mind. "Today's fight is separate, just another unexpected consequence of a very lovely occurrence."

"It's about me. Genovan told me."

"Yes, it is about you. The minute you stepped into the Wild Wood, everything changed. But you're tired, and that story can keep."

"Wait, I still don't understand how you could fight _with_ your enemy."

Finn didn't speak for a few minutes and I didn't bother him, but I hoped he knew, even completely paralyzed, I wasn't letting him out of answering this one.

He smiled. "I'm just searching for a frame of reference for you, but I don't know if you have one."

"Then use words, Finn."

"I like that."

"What?"

"The way you used my name, like you would a friend."

I blushed, glad the lights were so low.

"The beings of Darienne have lived thousands upon thousands of years together, and even though this war has caused wounds not even you could heal, we are still a kind of family. Some of my friends fight on the other side, and though I would kill them in battle if I had to..."

"Immortals can die? Doesn't that make them _not_ immortal?"

"Immortals can be killed, but will never die of natural causes. Taking lives that would exist forever is..." His voice faded away, and I didn't know if I should say something or give him time. "I kill because I have to, but that doesn't mean I want to—with one significant exception. I know the beings on the other side feel the same. But the changes in the Wild Wood must be controlled, and for that, and for a little while, a truce exists between the Conquerors and Protectors. So, we fight together. It isn't easy... war never is. Now, you need to get some sleep."

"No, wait," I said as my mind caught up. "You're telling me the beasts in this camp risk their lives for people of Stoughton—the people of Dunlowe—who would slaughter them if they got the chance?"

"Yes," he said.

"Then let Stoughton fall."

" _Careful..._ "

"Why?" I asked. "I don't understand."

"Cecily, I can't explain why right now, but your words have power, and I, and all the others here, have no choice but to obey—not about everything, of course. I won't be allowing you to get yourself burned at the stake for anything, but about the war... this choice is yours to make."

"What choice?"

"Whether the Protectors continue to risk their lives to protect Stoughton, or whether Stoughton is abandoned to the Conquerors."

"Why me?"

"That's a long story and not for tonight. Rest, Cecily. You are safe and what you did for Lille and me, drained you."

"One question, please... a little one," I begged.

" _What?_ "

"Why did I fall down and lose my sight when I first saw you?"

Finn shook his head. "That is anything but a little question, so no deal."

I smiled, realizing I didn't really expect him to answer and knowing I was too tired to deal with anything else just now. But I would get at the truth—all of it.

" _Cecily, may I do something to thank you for what you did for Lille? I mean, it's the least I can do after you saved the life of our princess._ "

"Lille's a princess?"

"Doesn't she act a bit like one?"

I laughed. "A bit. What do you want to do?"

" _Help you to sleep._ "

"Yes, please," I said with a sigh.

" _Goodnight. We're all glad you're here, though we are sorry for the reasons that brought you. Lille was too embarrassed to thank you for saving her life, but know that we are all more grateful than you could ever know. Sleep well_."

Finn brushed his hand lightly against my cheek, and I was once again in his emotions and feelings; instead of running through all of them, I lived in the warmth and love inside him, and in his feelings of love, I fell asleep.

## 12

# Control

"Cook? I don't cook."

Stephanie's voice nudged me out of pleasant dreams, and I sat up, glancing around at the empty tent. I rolled off the cushions and headed toward the sounds of the sevens.

"Well, _finally_ ," Lille said as soon as I emerged from the tent.

I glanced at her, studying her face, grateful she looked so much better than just hours before. That same dark shadow passed across her face, but she seemed to stow it away with great force.

"Cecily, your sister seven here refuses to help cook. You should talk to her—force her to do her part."

When had I become Mrs. Dumphry? As if I'd hit Stephanie with a ruler after going to the trouble to step in front of the rocks aiming at her.

"I didn't say I wouldn't help with _anything_. I just said I wouldn't help with _cooking_. I don't cook."

Lille crossed her arms. "I told her to cook."

"Where's Finn?" I asked.

"He's away."

"Away?"

Pursing her lips, Lille said, "Yes, away."

"Away like yesterday?" I asked, hoping to throw the hint without sharing the truth about the battle in front of the sevens.

She refused to hold my gaze. "Not _exactly_."

My temper flared, fighting me for control. " _Exactly_ what is going on?"

"Cecily," Lille said, her voice wary.

"WHAT!" The ground rumbled beneath me.

"Cecily, please." Lille was frightened... of me. Had Finn told her I might hurt her, that I almost had when we first met?

" _Cecily_ ," Morgan said.

I couldn't rage against Morgan's earnest voice, but I couldn't control all the dark emotion within me. I didn't feel like I'd brought it forth, but rather, a single irritation traveled through me, igniting my fury.

Morgan lightly touched my shoulder. " _Share with me_."

I exhaled deeply and felt Morgan taking the power; she laughed as she hurled it up. A rainbow formed above us and other rainbows burst from the first one, casting light in all directions like a giant prism in the sky. The colors lightened my mood.

Staring at the ground, I said, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Isn't it, Lille?" Morgan said, but Lille just stared at me, muttering, "We need Finn to come back."

I decided to try again, but first took a calming breath. "Where is he?"

"He went to check on our troops and the position of the enemy, but I'm sure, after that outburst, he'll be on his way back."

"I should go, shouldn't I? I'm too much of a burden—I know..."

Lille stuck her finger in my face. "Oh, by all that sways the tall grass, don't start that again. Don't give in to where your tiny thoughts are taking you."

A flicker of irritation hit me. If they would just tell me what I was supposed to do, I wouldn't feel like this.

"Food, Cecily. Think about food," Morgan said and encouraged me to move away from Lille and her pointy finger.

"You made rainbows!" Amanda gushed.

"I made rage. Morgan turned it into rainbows."

"What's happening to you, Cecily?" Stephanie asked.

I studied her face. "What do you mean?"

Charity handed me a bowl of fruit as I sat down.

Stephanie continued, "All my life, I've been moody and bossy, and like to have tantrums. Abigail turned pensive into a way of life. Morgan's the smart one. Amanda's the daring one, with that red hair flying. Charity's the patient one. And Millie is, well, Millie." She glared at our faces for a second and then blurted, "What? So, I broke the traditions every chance I got, because you all were interesting to me and Pastor Rowe... _wasn't_."

I considered scraping my jaw off the ground where it had landed.

"What?" Stephanie demanded.

"What are you saying?" I finally managed to ask.

"Well, you were never like this—with the rage and stuff. You kept everything under control no matter what happened, and even when everything we counted on fell apart, you still kept yourself in control, even when Nate said all those things... and when Pastor Rowe... _hurt_ you..." She became silent, her eyes haunted, but then regrouped. "But since we came here, you're changing—you're acting crazy. What is happening and will it last?"

"I don't know." I focused on the bowl of fruit I was too upset to eat.

"You will get this under control, Cecily," Lille said.

I wasn't used to the sound of kindness in her voice and stared at her. "You think so?"

"Yes, I do. You've never failed at anything you've ever set out to do," Lille answered. "Now, eat your fruit."

I focused on eating while the six shared the events of the morning. They'd met many of the monsters, beasts, and other beings in the camp—Amanda declared the best one to be a giant beast named Mortimer. Amanda also explained that the majority of the fighters were the scarier sorts of creatures we'd seen, including many females—I was still a bit concerned I wouldn't be able to tell the he-beasts from the she-beasts. Beings like Finn and Lille made up the rest, and according to Stephanie, at least seventy of the men were luscious. Dusty's chances of marrying Stephanie Trench dwindled rapidly.

Dusty. A pain seized within me. I missed my formerly fantastic brother so badly I could barely breathe.

"It's okay," Charity said. "We're all going through it. We miss home too. I woke up crying this morning. I miss all my brothers and sisters. My parents."

Charity's comment opened the floodgates and all of my sisters shared their hurts and losses; even Morgan spoke for the first time about the deaths of her parents and grandfather.

"What about you?" Abigail asked, after sharing her anger about being away from her brothers.

I hadn't revealed anything, though all the other sevens had spoken. If teeny thoughts spiraled into the need for rainbows, where would sharing the greatest betrayals of my life lead?

Lille's face tightened, and I knew I wasn't the only one with that concern.

"Maybe I shouldn't think about my losses just now. I'm scaring Lille." I ate another berry.

"Just until Finn gets back."

"What is it I could do that scares you so much?" I asked.

"Split the Wild Wood in half. Raise the sea. Obliterate Stoughton. Wipe out every living thing in the Wild Wood and the entire population of our homeland... for instance," Lille said matter-of-factly.

"If I'm such a danger, why didn't you let me go back and give myself up to Nate and the townsfolk?"

"Are you stupid?" Lille demanded, and then her words flew. "You were something special even in a place where powers are commonplace. You were loved and trusted so much that you were given the choice over the future of our world. I wouldn't let you go ever, especially not after waiting so long for you to come home." She flinched and covered her mouth.

I clenched my teeth. "I don't understand."

My mind burned as I attempted to keep control, and I reached for Morgan knowing she would channel my energy into something positive. Flowers burst from the ground all around the camp, blossoms opened, and a sweet fragrance spilled forth, which was certainly better than wiping out the population of friends and foes.

" _Finn, I'm frightened of myself_ ," I thought and pushed it out into the space around the camp.

At first, I heard only the quiet conversation of the sevens and then something more, a recognizable silence. Finn had heard me but wasn't answering.

" _Are you ashamed of me?_ " I thought. " _Are you sorry I came?_ "

Again the knowing silence. The more I thought of him, the more connected I felt to him, and the more the map in my head, that had faded to the background, overtook my mind. For a few minutes, I studied the lights and at once recognized Lille's violet light—more than just recognized, I felt her, like I had when our foreheads touched. I opened my eyes and looked at the sevens and then closed my eyes to find them on the map, just as they were in real life. Then I found myself, which felt a little odd, like seeing outside myself and inside myself at the same time. The sevens all appeared on the map as the same shiny blue-grey, which was a little disappointing.

I reached out on the map, searching first for colors, and then as I became more familiar, landmarks. The more I wandered through the map, the more I came to understand just how many beings occupied the Wild Wood. I worked to push my view in and then pull it back out. Like a toddler learning to walk, my movements were often jumpy and made me a little queasy. When I pulled out too far, I saw the land below the Wild Wood and was about to tighten back in when three lights attracted my attention. Pure white and moving fast. I focused harder on them, but I couldn't see more detail and just felt a vague sense of dread seeping through me. Knowing that bad feelings usually led to losing control, I turned my focus on someplace predictable and reached for Dunlowe on the map and, with a gasp, found it.

"Cecily," Lille warned.

I ignored her, because a crowd of souls stood near the border to the Wild Wood. Their lights were different, too similar to distinguish. But one light—a lovely sea blue—just inside the Wild Wood was unmistakable: Finn. And surrounding him, a dozen red lights: the Commanders.

" _Finn._ "

The silent treatment. Did he really think that was going to work?

" _I feel you._ "

Still nothing.

" _You know, beings who marvel at my powers really shouldn't doubt them, or make me angry._ "

The rumble beneath me reached all the way to Finn miles away. I knew because I watched his light flicker and almost fall.

"Cecily!" Lille ordered.

" _Cecily, stop_ ," Finn said in a soothing voice, but I was beyond being soothed.

As I fixated on the lights, I felt their tug.

"No, Cecily," Lille pleaded.

" _Cecily, please stop. You don't know what you're doing. I'm taking care of this. Trust me_."

But I didn't, couldn't, not when it came to Dunlowe, and I continued to pull on what felt like strings hanging from the lights—like the tail of a kite. I reached and clenched hold, all without moving my body. My eyes remained shut so I could focus and I ignored Lille gripping at me, trying to distract me, and Morgan, brushing her fingers through my hair, seeking to comfort. The voices of the others disappeared like breezes through the landscape of the map, and I kept hold of the shimmering rope, the one that dangled from the purest blue I'd ever seen.

" _Cecily, don't..._ "

And then I yanked.

Falling. Complete blackness. And then flashes of light, in marvelous colors, but none of them safe. Hints of fear trickled in with each moment I fell. Being lost in this darkness, and the idea that I might be trapped and never find my way back, broke a hole in my focus and destroyed my resolve. True terror gripped me, and then something else.

What I'd pulled at now pulled at me. The blue light seared my eyes and I coughed my way through the most painful moment of my life. And then I woke from the nightmare in Finn's arms, gasping and flailing, choking and crying. My body quivered beyond my control.

" _You're okay... it's okay. Just hold on. The worst is almost over._ "

The pain, the feeling that my body had been ripped apart and now was being stitched together, continued but lessened over the next few minutes, until finally I merely trembled.

I sagged against Finn and shut my eyes, exhaustion overpowering everything.

"You have to tell her, Finn," Genovan said, his voice tense.

"You know why I haven't. You _know_."

"I know you do her a disservice. She has the right to know who she is and what is to come. She has the right to know what she will lose. I know we've had this argument before, but she, Cecily Daye, has the right to choose to walk away from all of this."

"You don't mean that."

"I do."

"But..."

"We've got enough to fight right now _out there_ , not amongst ourselves. This will wait," Genovan said, and I felt a hand brush lightly across my face. "Cecily, come back to us. Open your eyes."

I squinted and struggled to peel my eyes open and finally saw Genovan's face, looking down on me with great care. I didn't fear him anymore and I actually felt hints of trust growing inside me.

Shouts of the townsfolk brought my attention toward the border, and I gathered the courage to look at Finn.

Finn glared at me. "We are going to deal with our little Dunlowe problem, and then we are going to have a long talk about what you should and shouldn't be doing. Genovan can remove that map, you know."

I looked to Genovan.

"It's true," he said and then his black smile beamed from his dark face. "But I won't and Finn can't make me."

I found a laugh I thought I'd lost and reached for Genovan, who lowered a hand and slowly lifted me onto my wobbly legs and wrapped an arm around to steady me. When I glanced back at Finn, he looked mad enough to snap me in two, so I leaned harder against Genovan, knowing somehow that Genovan would never let anyone hurt me.

" _Traitor_ ," Finn muttered.

Genovan led me to the border, carrying most of my weight. "Next time, may I suggest some safer forms of travel, like say, evil goat riding, quicksand, or perhaps a piggyback ride on a death serpent?"

My newfound smile faded as I heard the voices of the townsfolk.

Pastor Rowe's voice made me cringe. "As long as they live, they're a threat to our safety. You all heard what Stephanie Trench said!"

"This breaks the law!" Mr. Trench shouted.

"A government's laws have nothing to do with us." Pastor Rowe's voice grew louder. "We are protecting our homes from servants of the dark ones. We need to burn it down and then burn the bodies!"

"He's right." Nate's simple words brought tears to my eyes, but they sounded so hollow, like maybe, just maybe, he didn't believe the same as he had... but I was stupid to think it. To hope.

"Let's do this," Warden Samson shouted.

"No!" Dusty roared. "We ran them out—that's enough. I don't want them to be dead. Cecily never hurt anyone and neither did Stephanie, not even when we turned on them. Cecily still loves me... I know it and she would never hurt me."

"Son, she isn't our Cecily anymore," my father said.

"Fine, she's not _ours_ , but she's still _mine_. She's my sister, and this is stupid."

I took a step toward Dusty, and Genovan remained with me. Could this be? Could Dusty still...

Finn stood next to me, his eyes studying my face. "What do you want us to do?"

"Can they burn the Wild Wood?"

"No, these trees know how to protect themselves. But, by trying, they could get themselves killed, and possibly end the truce."

"I need to talk to Dusty." I needed for him not to hate me.

"Not alone," Genovan said. "You aren't strong enough just now."

He was right. I could barely stand without swaying. If I was so powerful, how could this be?

" _Because your reckless journey depleted you when you weren't strong to begin with—not after what you did for Lille. And worse, you almost got lost._ "

"The Commanders will accompany her," Genovan announced, an easy smile on his face.

Finn squinted at Genovan and muttered something like, "just like old times," but I didn't care about that just now, only getting to Dusty, and stepped away from them both, testing my legs.

"Cecily," Genovan said, "even weak, you could kill them all, so do take care, and if you have to kill them, start with that horrible pastor, okay?" I craned around to look at him, but I still couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

" _Not_ ," Finn added.

I moved toward the border, glad my legs, though shaky, held me. I didn't want the town to see me weak; they'd seen that more than enough.

As I took the first step out of the Wild Wood, gasps rang out.

"Cecily!" Dusty shouted and rushed toward me.

Men attempted to grab him, but he dodged away. As soon as he reached me, Dusty threw his arms around me, completely ignoring the Commanders surrounding me. "I'm so sorry. I was an idiot... and a stupid, worthless, pointless, no good, rotten, awful, terrible, moronic, disloyal... did I mention rotten... brother. I love you."

I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed, failing to keep my tears in check. "I love you too." My head dipped forward when I felt wounds in his body.

Finn's voice pushed into my mind. " _No, Cecily. Don't heal him—you aren't strong enough_."

I fought to pull back my power, hating to do it, but then pushed Dusty slightly away so that I could see the bruises on his face, a puffy cut on his lip, the way his side hurt him, his slightly stooped posture, while our dad was busy yelling, "Dusty, get away from her! And them!"

Dusty turned on Dad. "No. She's my sister, and if you can't see that she is exactly the same person who we loved all our lives, then you are more stupid than I am." Dusty finally took in the presence of the Commanders and nervously said, "Hi," to them and murmured, "Are they friends of yours?"

I nodded and gave him a small smile, but it didn't last as I looked at the fear on my father's face. He'd loved me so much... _once_ , but I couldn't see any sign of that now.

Nate moved forward a little bit, studying me. "Dusty, you just want to believe she's the same. It isn't true." His eyes held more uncertainty than hate, and I couldn't stop myself from searching for more, while my memories of our moments together flitted through my mind.

"I'll tell you what I know," Dusty said. "If I'd woken up one morning with my brain on the outside and my head suddenly blue... and on fire, Cecily still would've loved me. And the only thing she would've feared is what you people would've done to me. She'd never turn on me. She would've hidden me and risked herself to do it." He paused before blurting, "She even supported me when I fell in love with Stephanie Trench." Dusty blushed bright red, searching the woods behind us for Stephanie.

"She's not here," I whispered, expecting him to be relieved, but he looked anxious. "She's safe though." He smiled, his cut lip not seeming to bother him too much.

The crowd got more rowdy, the same chorus of wanting to burn me alive, but with Dusty by my side, their words didn't strike as deeply.

While they shouted, Nate's green eyes revealed the war being waged within him—to hate me, to love me, to kill me, to believe his father, or to turn away from all he'd believed. "Why did you come back?"

My words came out soft and I realized how much I still hoped he'd figure out that I was still the Cecily who'd loved him with all her heart. No amount of powers would change that. "To tell you that the woods won't burn, but if you enter or do anything to hurt the Wild Wood, the creatures in there—most of them way scarier than me—will be allowed to come out. They'll overrun Dunlowe and maybe even Stoughton. And it'll be all your fault, because you wouldn't listen. Can you live with that, Nate? Watching beasts tear up your family—everyone's families—because you wouldn't listen... to me? It's up to you. But I've survived a day and a half in there, and I'm telling you that all of you, who terrified me before, just don't look that scary anymore." I paused, questioning myself, but finally said, "How's your sister?"

Nate's desolate eyes answered me, and his voice turned vile. "Proud of yourself for torturing a baby?"

That stung, his hate depleting me more than healing Lille or getting lost in the darkness. "If you remember, I tried to help her... I still would."

"We've got to attack!" Pastor Rowe bellowed, but the townsfolk stared at the Commanders without moving a muscle.

I turned to Dusty. "I've got to go."

"That's good, 'cause I'm coming with you."

"Dusty, there's too much I don't know yet."

"Then we'll find out together."

Pure excitement stared at me through Dusty's eyes, looking odd on his battered face. I wanted him with me and the chance to heal him. I knew I could get through anything if he believed in me, even learning to control my power and dealing with whatever truth I was about to discover. But was it wrong to take him away from a normal life and into the Wild Wood?

" _Finn?_ " I begged.

" _Choice, Cecily. This one is yours to make_."

"Cecily, please."

"Are you sure?" I asked, and Dusty nodded before I'd even finished asking.

"Son," Dad said. "What about your mother?"

"Sorry, Dad, I'm with Cecily. Tell Mom I love her, and we'll be back when you stop joining up with every group of idiots you find."

With Dusty's hand in mine, and surrounded by the Commanders, we walked back into the Wild Wood. I made it four steps inside before my legs dropped out from beneath me. Dusty didn't let go, but it was Finn who caught me.

"Cecily, what's wrong?" Dusty said, kneeling beside where I lay.

"I did something stupid," I said, glancing at Finn, "according to some beings at least, but you're with me, so even stupid seems like the best idea ever."

Finn reached for a better hold and lifted me up. "Come along. Your sister needs to rest, and I believe you might be interested in seeing Miss Trench before she falls in love with all of my soldiers."

Dusty's face clouded over, but then filled with purpose. My brother had a mission.

## 13

# The Source

Finn's irritation with me radiated through him like the stench from a manure pile on a summer day. Since I couldn't escape, I looked to Dusty, pleading with him to talk to me.

"So, Mrs. Dumphry has this new part of class where she teaches graphs and charts. You'll never guess the subject: the evils of Cecily Daye."

I laughed and he yammered about everything I'd missed since escaping Dunlowe. His increased chore load that would now pass to Mom and Dad. His brawl with his old fishing buddies—Charity's brother, Heath Culver; Logan Trench; and Jem Payne, Amanda's brother—who'd said nasty things about me and blamed me for what happened to their sisters. And best of all, his torture of Zoe Crane, who'd woken this very morning to worms, frogs, maggots, and more. Delightful.

When we reached the camp, Genovan held the blossomed branches aside and Finn carried me through the hole, followed by Dusty.

"I cannot believe you, Cecily!" Stephanie shrieked, but then shut her mouth as soon as she saw Dusty.

Dusty shifted from leg to leg, turning red, before he said, "I'm really sorry I joined the wrong team. I should've been on your side all along." His eyes flickered toward Stephanie and then to the ground.

Stephanie lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him. "You stood with me until they hurt you. I thought they killed you... and part of me wanted to die too. I'm so glad you're here." She jerked back, her posture erect and eyes stormy. "But," she said, "if you want to be forgiven, you have to do all of my chores around here."

Lille's mouth blew out air and she turned to Dusty. "You certainly do _not_ have to do her chores. Who does she think she is anyway?"

"She's a princess," Dusty said softly, "and I don't mind at all."

Lille, Finn, and Genovan looked momentarily dumbfounded, but Lille recovered, squinting hostilely at Stephanie. Unfortunately, her gaze didn't remain there and ultimately found me. "We need to have a long talk."

"I couldn't agree more," Finn added and carried me toward the clearing used for sharing meals together.

While Finn gently placed me on the ground, I heard Morgan ask Dusty, "What happened to you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just a fight," he said and then turned his attention to Stephanie, who hadn't even asked about his injuries.

My sisters crowded around me launching into questions, but Finn's look silenced them. "There are things to discuss, things we didn't want to share yet, but Cecily's behavior gives us no choice."

Finn avoided looking at me and I slumped, only to feel my back come to rest against a solid surface that turned out to be Genovan. He moved so I could lean against him and whispered, "It's not your fault... it's his, that's why he's so grumpy."

Finn leveled a glare at Genovan that would've had me backing up, but Genovan just smiled.

The sevens took seats in the circle, Morgan and Dusty next to me. I studied Morgan's face, searching for anger, but only found concern. Amanda gestured toward a giant beast with fangs and large droopy eyes—Mortimer, she introduced—and patted the ground next to her, which he sheepishly moved toward and sat down. The Commanders, except for Genovan, remained standing, while other monsters and soldiers joined the group.

The sun, well past setting, vanished, and the rocks in the center of the circle warmed to life, as did the rocks on stakes around the camp. Lille stood away from the group, but watched, and Finn stared up into the night sky, his face shadowed.

When no one started speaking, Abigail blurted, "So, Cecily, where'd you head off to earlier, and how'd you do that?"

Before I could answer, Finn threw his fiery gaze at me and I closed my mouth thinking he was acting like a snotty child.

"We will explain everything," Finn said, "so if you don't mind waiting." Abigail clearly minded, but remained relatively quiet.

So, we waited... and waited for Finn to begin. The more time passed, the more uncomfortable I felt. I considered asking Dusty or Genovan to take me to the tent, but I wanted the truth. More than that, I deserved the truth, and whatever Finn was going through had nothing to do with me.

Lille walked to Finn and took his hand. She gazed up at him and he down at her, sharing a look, a connection, a history. They were beautiful together. I studied Finn's posture, seeing in him a series of broken pieces fused together by time. Lille was the same. Her face looked like a funeral, even paler than she normally was. The pulsing of their lights on the map hypnotized me and I found myself reaching for Morgan's hand without really thinking about what I was going to do. All I knew was that the emotions around them, tied to whatever story they were about to tell, were like living beings, scarred but still standing.

I reached toward the lights with my mind, not to travel, but to see what the emotions told me. Two names came into my head and before I thought about it, I blurted, "Who are Britton and Annisha?"

The looks on Finn's and Lille's faces caused me to flinch, but I quickly recovered. "Tell us."

"How did you do that?" Finn demanded.

Instead of answering, I closed my eyes, shutting out his tortured face, and pushed at the lavender and blue lights, near my shiny grey-blue one. Reaching into their emotions—maybe their memories—I found an image and then two. A beautiful, young man who looked like Lille. The same white hair. The same violet eyes. Even the same spunky light about him. The other image was a woman with sparkling black hair and large grey eyes. She held her head high while surrounded by shouting monsters and beings, all looking to her for something.

I pushed the images out to my sisters, Dusty, and everyone else in the circle. I heard gasps—Finn's amongst them—and Lille sobbing, but I kept my eyes closed so that I wouldn't lose the images.

Finn pleaded, " _Please, don't lose them_."

"Annisha and Britton?" I pressed.

"Yes," he breathed.

"I won't let them go." I kept my eyes closed, fearing distraction. "You talk. Tell us who they are."

Something inside Finn trembled, but I heard him take a breath. "I've told Cecily, and Lille has told the other sevens, about the war in the Wild Wood and Darienne. The Protectors and Conquerors have fought for thousands of years without end, neither side wavering even in light of so much death. But then one death changed everything."

Lille swallowed loudly and her light pulsed in time with the falling of her tears.

"Britton," Finn said. "The man you see before you was the crown prince of Darienne, who was slain in a treacherous battle by a once beloved friend."

I reached blindly in front of my brother and Stephanie, extending my hand to Abigail, who clasped it as I pushed harder and the sounds of swords crashing erupted in the circle and Britton's voice cried, "Finn, watch your back! Lille, it's not what you think... none of you know what's real!"

I waited for more, but nothing came.

After a few seconds, Finn continued, "After Britton died, the Protectors lost heart, the ruling family grieved, and we questioned whether strangers could ever be worth the loss of so many of our own. At that time, rumors reached the King and Queen, telling of the treachery of the peoples of Stoughton, their hate for any differences among their own people—which is disgusting to the great variety of creatures in Darienne. Just on the eve of a ruling to abandon Stoughton, Annisha stepped forward with a plan."

I focused on the woman's face, as exquisite as Lille's, only with less feistiness in her eyes. Where Lille carried youth in every expression, Annisha seemed mature, wise, and at peace.

"Annisha was one of the most revered members of our society. Both factions respected her, cared for her, because she was the judge, the person who listened to all sides and ruled fairly. It was her birthright, her gift, and her strongest commitment. Before the Great Council, she set forth a plan to discover the worth of the people of Stoughton... by sacrificing herself."

Finn's trembling subsided, replaced by fury. "She said, to really know the people, she must live as one of them, not as a visitor but as a member of their society. So Annisha gave up her immortal life, her family..." Finn's voice became even harder. "... her place as the judge—her home. Everything in a treasured life, she released for the unknown in order to be able to fairly judge the people of Stoughton."

The memory of my father's words about understanding Pastor Rowe, so similar to Annisha's, made me think and admire this Annisha for doing what I'd failed at completely. Finn seemed to be waiting for Annisha to say something, but her image seemed less real than Britton's, who still looked at us and appeared to be calling something we couldn't hear.

"Annisha didn't come alone," Finn explained. "Others, from a variety of families and experiences, agreed to go with her. Six of them so that they made the luckiest number of all: seven."

The images of Annisha and Britton vanished as my mind fought against the truth awakening all around me. I opened my eyes and watched my sister sevens as their faces told their inner journeys, as the tale became not a fairy tale or someone else's history, but the story of their lives. I thought I was going to be sick. I shoved against Genovan and found my feet, only to collapse after I took a few steps. My fingers gripped the dirt like claws and everything around us shook.

I felt Morgan touching me. "Give it to me. I know just what to do with it," she whispered and I released the desperation in my heart to her, knowing she felt as I did, robbed.

Still face down in the dirt, I didn't know what she did with the power, only that the ground stopped shaking. My tears and all my bottled up sorrow let go.

"Cecily," Finn pleaded, touching my shoulder.

"Get away from me."

When Dusty turned me over, I saw Finn, Lille, and Genovan standing before me, questioning. I brushed my tears away, not wanting to cry in front of these _strangers_ , and felt everything inside me growing cold. From one cage to another, but this time my own body betrayed and enslaved me. This weak, defective body.

"No, Cecily," Finn said. "Your body isn't defective, just mortal."

Dusty squinted, trying to understand the half conversation he'd heard. "So, what's wrong with her?"

Finn stepped forward, but retreated when I flinched from him. "In order to bring Annisha through to be born in Dunlowe, the mystics did something that had never been done and never would have been considered with any soul other than Annisha's. They sent her through the Source. No one knew what would come of it, but Cecily is the answer. She has more power than any other being in the world or on any of the planes of existence, but her body is still mortal and is struggling. That's why she could break the world right now, but not stand up."

Morgan kept a steady hand on me. "Will she always be like this?"

"We don't know, but it's clear that recovery time is necessary after she uses too much power."

"Like earlier?" Abigail asked.

"Yes, map traveling uses a tremendous amount of power and even more so because she almost got lost."

"The blackness?" I whispered.

"The Source. The place where all souls go after death, where all power stems from and returns to. The power pulls you back because you are part of it now."

"I've been there before... with Lille," I said absently.

Lille stepped around Finn. "Yes. I _died_. You brought me back... and I didn't even say _thank you_."

"Cecily," Dusty said. "Everything's going to be fine."

I choked out a laugh at his completely inappropriate cheerfulness.

"What about us?" Amanda asked. "If we came from Darienne and we were born in Dunlowe, why don't we have the power she does?"

"You do have power, just not like hers. She went into the heart of the Source, and the rest of you skirted around it, latched to her."

"That's why Morgan can guide my power," I said.

Finn nodded. "Yes, your sisters are the magnifying glass and you are the sun."

That struck them silent for a few minutes.

Stephanie let out an impatient grunt. "So, Cecily was this great judge. Who were we?"

"Oh, here we go," Lille muttered.

"I'm a princess. I'm _really_ a princess," Stephanie said for the forty-seventh time, inspiring Abigail to launch a pillow at her, while Dusty just laughed and added, "I knew it all along."

Dusty and I sat on my cushiony bed, surrounded only by sevens and none of the monsters in the camp, which now included Finn, Lille, and Genovan as far as I was concerned. While the sevens considered their pasts, I struggled with mulling my thoughts without wrecking the world. When things became too much, I thought of the others. Stephanie, the princess of Darienne. Morgan, the daughter of mystic astronomers. Abigail, a famous painter. Amanda, a traveling performer. Charity, a very old woman, ancient, even by immortal standards. And the most unbelievable one, Millie, one of the fiercest warriors in the history of Darienne.

Stephanie plopped down on her bed, rolling onto her stomach and staring at Dusty and me. "So, it could be worse."

"You could be a chamber maid instead of a princess?" I sniped.

"No, what I mean is, it's good, isn't it? To understand why this happened, why we were born, what our purpose is?"

Fighting the urge to try turning her into a toad, like a proper fairy tale princess, I said, "You want to know my purpose, Stephanie? To not freak out, to get strong, and to get out of here. That's my purpose. You can do your happy princess dance and stay with the monsters if you want. I really don't care."

"I don't understand you," Stephanie said.

"What's to understand? I've traded one pillory for another."

Stephanie's lips pursed. "That's not true."

"Really? You aren't the one who ever wore the pillory and you aren't the one who can't get up without falling, so why don't you just shut up?"

The sevens looked at me like I were the traitor in their midst, causing me to add, "Hey, I'd be happy to get up and leave, but I can't. So, feel free to go find another tent with the monsters, maybe they can save all of you the next time."

Stephanie's eyes filled with tears and she looked down. I glared at Dusty, waiting for him to defend her, but he seemed to have the good sense not to, or maybe he thought I was right—but I doubted it.

"That's not very nice," Millie piped up; she'd been doing that since she found out about her warrior past, and frankly, I missed the whimpering mass of fear she'd been.

"Don't you get it?" Abigail demanded. "Why Cecily's upset? Don't you have a clue what's going on here?"

Millie flinched, her head disappearing back into her shell, and my attention came back out as I looked at Abigail.

"They doomed us from the start. Sent us into Dunlowe all at once, something that marked us from the day we were born. Why? For some great mission? Don't you see why Cecily's not okay? Weren't you even listening to Finn? The reason we were born human in that town that hated us was so Cecily could decide if the people of Dunlowe and everyone else in Stoughton are worth saving. Her family. Nate. My _brothers_." She paused, collecting herself. "My mom and dad. All of our families. Cecily carries all of their lives in her power, the lives of the very same people who allowed her to be beaten and chased us out of town."

All of us were silent for a minute before Abigail continued. "And if she chooses to let the people of Stoughton live, then these families we came from could die. Her former self might have chosen this, but she didn't, none of us did. And _Miss Princess Stephanie_ , haven't you put it all together yet? Britton, the prince who died and started all this—he was your brother."

Stephanie shuddered and sat up, shocked and upset.

Pieces of information came together in my mind. "Which makes Lille your sister."

"What? No!" Stephanie blurted.

"None of this is a game," Abigail said. "But I still feel like we're being played."

"Me too," I said and looked to Morgan, who'd been quiet too long, considering she was the smartest. "What do we do?"

Morgan squinted slightly. "I don't think you're going to like my answer, so I should probably just sit here and be ignored."

That stung. "Say whatever you have to say. This isn't Dunlowe and I'm not Pastor Rowe."

"You're acting like him though."

Ouch.

Dusty squeezed my hand. "Easy there, no crazy stuff, just listen." The humor in his voice instantly defused my power.

I focused on Dusty's warm hand. "Go ahead, Morgan."

She took a deep breath and let it out. "I lost my mother and father when I was just seven, after seeing my mother latched to that pillory because of me. My parents didn't blame me. They wrapped me up and carried me away from a place too filled with hate to know love. And then, because of me, I watched men, hateful men, hang my parents. I watched them die. I saw how that destroyed my grandfather, and then later, I buried him too. All that time, I believed things happened for a reason. Now we know the reason, our purpose, and I'm grateful to be part of it. I'm not you, but I guess I wish I were if you're just going to sit there and whine about being powerful enough to make a difference in this world. You're important, we all are, otherwise we wouldn't be in this. It's not fair, but who can make it fair better than a judge? Annisha must have been amazing." Morgan leveled a cool gaze at me and added, "I wish I had the chance to know _her_."

Morgan stood to leave but froze when horns sounded.

Genovan's head appeared in the tent opening. "Stay inside. We're under attack."

The stomping of monster feet, hooves, _whatever_ , blotted out everything. Shouts to prepare filtered through the camp.

Amanda leapt to her feet. "I want to fight. I need a weapon."

Abigail stood, restraining Amanda. "I don't think so."

I agreed with Abigail, but I also understood Amanda. I might not be okay with everything, but that didn't mean I wanted to sit by and do nothing when lives were at stake. But stuck on a bed, I couldn't do anything for anyone... almost. "Morgan," I said and waited for her to look at me. "I'm sorry I let you down."

She looked distracted for a second and then her eyes turned knowing. "I have an idea."

"I said I was sorry."

"Yeah, whatever," she said with a quirky smile. "That's probably not the last time you'll annoy me... like a sibling would."

Dusty chuckled. "Nope, that's the best thing about being siblings, a lifetime of pestering them until they hate you, while knowing they'll always love you." He paused, his brow tightening. "But if all you sevens are going to act like Cecily's sisters, I want to be clear about the fact that I am _not_ your brother." His eyes flashed to Stephanie, who blushed and looked away.

"What's your idea?" I asked.

"Well, first, what would you do if you could get up?"

"Go help the others. I can bring them back from the dead... that's helpful, right?"

Morgan grinned and her smile told the best story I'd heard all night.

## 14

# The Golden Light

"Okay, yah ready?" Dusty asked, clearly wishing he had some part to play in Morgan's antidote for humanness, other than as a spectator.

"I'm ready." I leaned forward to stand up and felt my feet under me, my legs strong, my posture straight.

"It worked!" Amanda gushed, while the others justifiably congratulated Morgan, who'd figured out that the sevens could cure my mortal problems with touch, which was why I hadn't fallen over during our escape from Dunlowe.

Amanda's excitement caused her to bounce up and down. "So, can I get a sword now?"

"No," the rest of us answered. "After all this fighting is over, you can ask that huge beast to teach you," I added.

"Mortimer?"

"Whatever."

"So, what are we going to do?" Abigail asked.

"I was thinking we'd go herd some evil goats." I turned to Dusty. "You have to stay here."

"Like I'm a _girl_ or something? No way!"

My eyes were drawn to his wounds and the way he still hunched slightly. While keeping Morgan's hand in mine, I reached up with my free hand and lightly touched his face, instantly healing every hurt in him. "You really want to see what I'd do to the world if anyone tried to hurt you?"

"Oh." I waited for the realization to really hit him. "It's a good thing you didn't know about your powers when they bashed me on the head or when the boys beat me up, huh?"

I nodded. "I'd tear the world up for you."

"Hey, thanks, but I'm asking Mandy's buddy, Mortimer, for lessons too. You can't keep me out of the fight forever."

We'd just have to see about that.

We sevens emerged from the tent, overwhelmed the Commanders' uninspired protests, and headed under the purple blossoms. The Commanders followed. I glanced at Genovan, who looked proud, as he stood at the end of the line the sevens created, all holding hands. Beasts clashed, and I shied away from the sounds, but kept myself in place. The fighting filled every inch of space outside the purple trees. I didn't see Finn or Lille, but figured that was for the best.

I found the nearest goats, gnawing on a fallen beast, who appeared to be on our side—was I supposed to have a side? Oh, stuff that; I liked this team better than the one I didn't know, although that raised a troubling problem... that could be dealt with _after_ the goats. After all, this battle, like the last I'd seen, involved the creatures of the Wild Wood against the Protectors and Conquerors.

I focused my thoughts on the goats, with blood dripping from their muzzles, and imagined them dying. Nothing happened. Okay, maybe the power needed a little more direction. So I thought about exploding. And pop. _Gross_.

"Cecily, if you get goat gook on me, I'm joining Dusty," Stephanie sniped.

"Sorry... I'll try something else."

Morgan's voice sounded strangled as she said, "Cecily..."

I followed her eyes, and my mouth dropped open. Every creature—evil goats, snakes, large cats with spines outside their bodies, haggard looking donkey creatures—all of them had stopped snarling and frozen in place, staring at me. Just me. Not even the other sevens. The Protector and Conqueror soldiers used the opportunity and started hacking them to pieces, which inspired the creatures to move quickly... toward me.

The map in my head fluttered to life, pushing in on my mind, and I saw thousands of dull lights moving toward us, and as twenty were about to overwhelm us, and my sisters were crying out but thankfully remaining still, I imagined all of them, every single evil creature around us and every single evil goat anywhere, suffocating. The thump when they hit the ground caused the sevens to take a step back and we watched—with some horror—as they all gasped and quivered, taking minute after minute to die. Until finally, they all went still.

"Yuck," Abigail said.

"Gosh, there's just no good way to kill things," I said with some confusion, as Genovan and Mortimer looked at me, and I realized that every one of the soldiers, Protectors and Conquerors, stared at me, having nothing left to fight.

The Protectors looked on me with both pride and concern, while the Conquerors, even beasts twice my height and more than quadruple my width, watched me warily.

I felt Finn's energy in my head and heard, " _Cecily, please take the sevens and go back into the camp_." I looked around, wondering what was left for me to fear. " _Please, just do this for me. The creatures aren't the only enemies around._ "

I didn't move, thinking of Annisha and my father, thinking of Pastor Rowe, and the seventeen years I'd spent in the dark, unaware of who I was and the responsibilities I held. And I said, " _No_."

" _Cecily, this isn't the time..._ "

" _It never is_." I searched around us on the map and saw a flickering golden light, as powerful as Finn's blue one, moving closer, and off in the distance, the same three bright, white lights were still on a path that would reach us, maybe the next day or the one after. Without understanding why exactly, I shuddered.

I shook off the bad feeling and walked toward where Finn stood, glad my sisters, other than stepping over or around the dead creatures, went with me without a word. Genovan and the Commanders followed and did nothing to stop us, which made me wonder if the golden light was to be feared at all.

"Cecily, please," Finn said when we reached him. "There is danger here."

"No, Finn. I just killed thousands of creatures..."

"Millions," Genovan corrected.

"Millions?"

"You killed every goat in the Wild Wood."

"Oh, well... okay," I said, not inclined to regret that at all. "But my point is, what else is there to fear? By looking at the faces of the Conquerors who are fighting with you, they know I could do the same thing to them. Right?"

"Which might make them inclined to try to kill you," Finn said, his jaw clenched.

"Let them go ahead and try," Abigail spat. "I mean if they're that stupid."

Some growling and muttering commenced around us and one beast moved forward. Finn raised his sword, while the beast raised his hands non-threateningly.

"We understand your power," the beast said, looking at me and ignoring Finn. "Maybe better than you do, but please, don't hurt Bay."

"Bay?" I asked.

"The golden light. He nears and is hated by Finn, is in danger from Finn. And Finn isn't Annisha, isn't fair like Annisha was. If you let him, he'll convince you to kill Bay."

The worry in the beast's eyes struck me. I was a force that beasts feared. I could hurt every one of these beasts or the ones who fought with Finn. I could hurt this Bay person, who they cared about. A weight settled in my gut as I wondered whether a power like this should be allowed to exist.

"What is your name?" I asked the beast soldier.

"I am Keefe."

"Do you want to kill me, Keefe, because of my power?"

He shook his large head, his horns almost striking another beast who moved quickly out of the way. "No, we loved Annisha. Your power is terrifying, but if anyone had to have this power, we're glad it is Annisha's soul inside you."

" _So, why did you want me to go back to the camp?_ " I asked Finn.

Before he could answer, a man walked from behind some trees and my jaw dropped. His blond hair glowed, catching every sunlit beam reaching us through the branches. He stood a bit taller than Finn and was more broad and muscular. A light seemed to illuminate from his face as his brown eyes, filled with golden flecks, studied me as closely as I did him and then he moved forward, his hand extended to me. I released my sisters' hands and reached to shake his, feeling goose bumps breaking loose across my skin, feeling my breath dragging in differently being so close to him. My soul knew this man, craved him as I imagined starving people craved food. I was unprepared to fight him when he brought me closer. His face was just an inch from mine and his eyes burned through me, the gold in them sparkling, as he moved even closer to me—waiting. Such a small movement, but I knew it was mine, and our lips met. This kiss burned with more passion than I'd ever known, singeing my insides, scorching out all thought. I was only conscious of this man and the glimmers of memories that erupted of Annisha's time with him, in his arms, his heart belonging to her and hers to him.

Then an anguish, like a far away echo, entered my consciousness, and I knew it had come from Finn. I was kissing, publicly, Finn's enemy. I pushed against Bay as fiercely as I could, but he didn't hold onto me as I thought he would and only extended a hand to steady me as I stepped back.

"I am... I am... ah, sorry," I stuttered, glancing around at everyone, while noticing Keefe's blushing and lowered eyes. "I... I..."

Finn stepped next to me. "It's okay. I should have warned you."

"Warned me that I'm a _trollop_?" I asked.

"Warned you that you might have a strong reaction to the man Annisha spent a thousand years with," he muttered.

I glared at Finn. " _And this, not danger, is the reason you wanted me to go to the camp_."

The guilt that flashed across his face answered my question.

Bay still said nothing, just stared at me, seeing me in a way I had never been seen, or maybe not seeing _me_ at all, just searching for the woman he'd loved—the woman I tragically wasn't.

"Hi," I whispered.

"Hello," he said, his deep voice sounding strangely familiar. "I am Bayles, but you can call me Bay."

"Hello, Bay. I'm Cecily."

There was an earnestness about him as he said, "I didn't think I'd know you, not like this. I didn't know... I'm sorry too."

My blushing made me feel ridiculous, but I stood up straight and said, "Thank you for fighting with the Protectors since I arrived."

He surveyed the carnage of the creatures on the ground and said, "That seems hardly necessary now that you've come into your power, and a considerable power it is."

My legs grew weak and threatened to drop me, so I reached back for my sisters' hands and they stepped forward, taking hold of me.

Dusty moved next to me, having disobeyed my order to stay in the safe area—no great surprise there. He appraised Bay and said, "So, who are you?"

"I am one of the leaders of the Conquerors in this part of the Wild Wood."

"I don't like him," Stephanie declared.

All at once, Bay ripped his sword from its sheath and held it threateningly toward Stephanie, while Finn and other soldiers pulled at their weapons. For me, time seemed to still. The look of hate in Bay's eyes. The thought of Stephanie being run through with his blade. My power flashed and I watched in horror as Bay's body flew away from us, crashing into a tree that moaned and falling crumpled to the ground. Unmoving.

Keefe rushed toward Bay, who remained still, and then turned his accusing and sad eyes on me. "I asked you not to hurt him, and you've gone and killed him."

I hadn't meant to. "Abigail and Morgan, stay with me. Stephanie, get back in the camp. Dusty take her."

Stephanie puffed up. "You aren't the boss... I... you can't..."

I didn't look but I heard Dusty whispering something to her and then she _sheeshed_ and stormed away. I turned toward Finn, whose reaction to seeing Bay dead was the same as Lille's, quite satisfied.

" _Then you aren't going to like what I'm about to do_." I moved toward Bay's broken body and Keefe's weeping one.

" _Cecily, you shouldn't... to expose what you can do... isn't wise_."

I ignored Finn and continued toward Bay. The Conquerors surrounded me, looming over me, but I made my way to Bay's head and knelt down. When I released Morgan and Abigail, they put their hands on my shoulders to keep me strong.

I slowly reached my hands and placed them gently on Bay's face, my head sagging as I felt just how many bones inside him had broken because of me.

"You don't know what he did," Lille said, over the growling around us. "He deserves this." More growling.

"Lille, step back," I said. "No matter what he has ever done, he doesn't deserve to be killed because I can't control my power. That's not what a judge does, at least a judge that I want to be. This is like Dunlowe and Pastor Rowe. I didn't rule about Bay, I just reacted. I need to do better. The Conquerors need to see me do better."

Finn pulled her away and I refocused on Bay, though his bones had been mending while I'd answered Lille, and now I knew what I had to do, dreading the weakness it would show. I lowered my forehead to Bay's and touched mine to his. We both gasped and his eyes thankfully opened.

"No," he cried. "I saw him... I was about to... no. Send me back. Please, send me back."

I shook my head, my hands still touching his face. "No. You have to live."

Whatever had rattled him clearly left a mark and he searched all the faces around him, as though lost. His desperation caused tears to bloom in my eyes and finally he looked to me, his eyes latching hold of mine.

"You can bring life to the dead—no one can do that, not even the mystics. How?" He let go of my eyes and looked to Finn. "How?"

"The mystics are on their way," Finn answered. "We're hoping they will tell us how this happened and what's to be done."

"What's to be done?" Abigail demanded. "What does that mean?"

My words sounded hollow as I said, "It means they brought me here to rule and now they might be afraid of what they created in the process."

Bay sat up, still looking to Finn. "They won't seek to unmake her, they can't... not after what Annisha gave."

Finn didn't respond and the ground around me shifted just a little bit, but we all noticed.

" _And you want me to fear Bay and the Conquerors, but would keep me in your camp, feeling safe, while the mystics come to destroy me?_ "

Finn shook his head. "That's not why they're coming. They are coming to fulfill their promise to Annisha."

"How?" I asked.

"You remember what your father told you about Pastor Rowe, how he said you had to try to understand a person, not just what they..."

"I remember what he said, and I tried to understand why Pastor Rowe hated me, but I couldn't."

"Couldn't then, but the mystics can help."

"This is about Pastor Rowe?" I asked.

Finn looked frustrated. "No, it's about this war and what you have to know to be able to rule."

The ground shimmied under us. "Speak plainly, Finn, before I break the Wild Wood. What's going on?"

Finn was about to answer when Genovan stepped forward. "Annisha made a deal with the mystics after she came up with this plan and after it was approved. The mystics would come after you came out of that life and into the Wild Wood. They would come and open your mind to everything that has been lost in this war."

"Open my mind? How?"

"You will live every life destroyed by this war, feel every blow, every death, and the gaping holes left in the lives of the living."

"What?" both Bay and I said together, which I followed with, "No, I won't."

Genovan nodded. "This is your choice to make."

"And what of the other? My too-strong power? After they torture me, are they going to kill me because I'm stronger than they meant me to be?"

Genovan looked directly into my eyes. "It is possible that they will want to. There are laws in nature about power, ways that keep peace on the planet. To have a power beyond all others, infinitely greater than all others, may upset the balance."

" _That's just one possibility and it may not..._ " Finn said.

"Get out of my head, Finn."

A look passed between Bay and Finn, but I couldn't worry about that just now. "Bay, I know I kinda killed you, but I wonder if there is some safe passage or something—could Morgan, Abigail, and I come back to your camp with you, so I can understand your side of things... and avoid the mystics as long as possible?"

"No," Finn said, while Bay said, "Of course."

The heated arguing that commenced was silenced only by the earthquake I created. I turned to Finn, the chief of the shouting brigade. "This is my choice and if you paid any attention to what my father said and why Annisha went on this stupid mission, you'd know that this is what I have to do, what I would've done even if I hadn't found out the secrets you've been keeping from me. I was wrong to believe in you all this time. You are just the next Pastor Rowe in my life and I'm tired of being controlled."

" _Cecily, I'm sorry, so sorry._ "

I ignored him and looked to Bay. "Can you stand?"

He glanced at Morgan and Abigail and the way they were holding me up. "Can you?"

I smiled, embarrassed. "My too-strong scary power has some annoying limitations. But I warn you, even when I can't walk, I can still sink a continent. Just something to consider if you plan to kill me."

He grinned. "The last thing I want is you dead."

"And Stephanie?"

"I'd kill her with my bare hands."

I breathed through the tension his words created. "I won't ever let you, not that I haven't occasionally considered it myself but she's my sister."

"She's really not. She wasn't even a good sister to the sister she had," he said, and Lille looked daggers at him.

"You hate her because she was a lousy sister?" I asked. "I wasn't always the greatest sister either."

"No, I hate her because she's the most treacherous beast ever to be born in Darienne."

His look told me he wouldn't share another word about her, and I wasn't really sure I wanted to know anything else. I was not Annisha, and Stephanie wasn't her former self. Maybe the past should be left alone.

I looked to Genovan. "Please explain to Dusty where I've gone and tell him I'll be around soon. Tell him he's in charge of making sure Stephanie doesn't offend anyone—that should keep him busy."

Charity, wearing her usual concerned look, said, "Are you sure you should be going? I mean, do you want us to come?"

She clearly didn't want to go, but it was brave to offer. "I'll be okay and I think Morgan and Abigail are the right ones to join me." I turned to Bay. "You don't have any problems with them, do you?"

"Not one."

I nodded, while Bay stood up and lowered a hand to me. I took the offered hand and relied on it heavily to get to my feet, but I still wavered and Bay scooped me into his arms. He turned away from the violence shining from Finn's and Lille's faces, and walked toward his camp, chattering on about the trees and stepping over dead goats.

I barely paid attention to what he said. My mind was too struck with one question.

_Annisha, what did you get us into?_

## 15

# Watched

I'd pictured the camps miles and miles apart, but they really weren't. Not nearly far enough to make me feel safe from the mystics.

"Who are the mystics anyway?" I asked Bay, unintentionally interrupting whatever he'd been saying.

"Meddlers, mostly. Together, they form a council and pool their powers. Alone, they are powerful, more than me or anyone around here—except you—but together they are a force to be reckoned with. Mystics share blood, anyone who has a tiny bit of that blood can become a mystic or not. There is a choice. Some mystics serve with our side and some on the other."

"What did Annisha think of them?"

"She revered them and they her."

We walked into an entirely different sort of camp. There were no purple blossoms here, and the trees were much more narrow and swayed greatly in the powerful breezes that carried down the canyon that housed the camp. Every creature watched—not glared—as we walked through the camp.

Bay spoke every once in a while to point out something pretty in the geography, like a waterfall and an apple orchard his soldiers liked to nibble from as often as they could. We passed more than a thousand warriors and there were certainly many more beyond the camp. The thought of so many soldiers waiting to fight the Protectors for the right to overrun Dunlowe had me flinching from what my power could do.

Bay felt my body tense. "What is it?"

"I'm trying not to hurt anyone."

"Hmmm. Any reason you are vexed with us?" he asked gingerly, not appearing any more afraid of me since I'd murdered him.

"Just the thought of you and these soldiers killing everyone in Dunlowe."

"Killing? Who said anything about killing?"

"Isn't that what you want to do?" Morgan asked.

Bay looked ahead and kept his voice light, but I felt his irritation. "Finn's been telling stories, hasn't he?"

I wanted to defend Finn, but I felt too betrayed to bother.

Bay switched direction. "I want to show you something."

Bay set me down, making sure I could stand on my own, and led us amongst the tents of his soldiers, men and women... and families—beasts and humans living side by side, the children playing together regardless of the presence of antlers on some. I couldn't feel anything other than amazement, still trying to grasp why these people were Finn's enemies; they seemed so similar.

Every face showed only openness and courtesy when Bay introduced us to them. When I did glimpse some uncertainty, the soldiers quickly explained their fears that I might hurt Bay... again. Word of my actions had already reached them, which just made me feel more ashamed.

"Bay!" four human boys squealed and Bay hunched to allow himself to be leapt upon by flailing little bodies.

"Where've you been?" one of them demanded.

Bay's arms protected the boys from falling. "Important business."

"More important than us?" another asked.

"Never. I want you to meet some people, so hop off." The boys immediately obeyed. "Boys, I want you to meet Cecily Daye, Abigail Kent, and Morgan Black."

One of the boys took a step back. "They're _sevens_."

Oh good, little friends of Pastor Rowe.

"They are, but what have I taught you?" Bay asked.

One boy stepped forward, the brave one. "To never believe anything about anyone without knowing for sure it's the truth."

Bay smiled approvingly. "Exactly. Tell the sevens where you're from."

"Kilby," another boy said.

Kilby? The boys who disappeared into the Wild Wood, whose bones were found along the border. They certainly didn't look boneless.

"Tell them why you're here," Bay nudged the boys.

"To learn and then to go back and tell our families, so that they understand about the lies... that Bay's good and monsters make great friends."

Every step through the camp filled me with more uncertainty. Bay's troops watched for children who entered the Wild Wood to save them from being eaten by predators. Some had been lost, but the bones left outside the border weren't real. The children, of many ages, lived safely and happily in the camp. Older kids, Dusty's age, were ready to go into their towns as soon as the Conquerors either beat the Protectors or I made the decision for the Protectors to give up, in order to help people come to terms with the changes that were coming.

The Conquerors didn't plan to kill everyone, only those who fought against them. Knowing the people of Stoughton as well as I did, I knew that represented a majority of the people who would die rather than submit or even consider that beasts didn't have to be enemies.

I grew quieter as the day continued, and Abigail and Morgan took up the slack and asked many questions, while I mulled and listened.

"Cecily," Bay said as we slowly walked up a hill.

With a cloudy mind, I said, "Yes."

"May I ask what you're thinking?"

How odd it felt to be asked. Mostly, my thoughts were stolen lately. "So, what happens if I rule for the Protectors to give up or you beat them? After you overtake Stoughton, what then? Do you fight the ruling family of Darienne for power?"

"No!" he said. "Never. I want nothing more than to be a loyal citizen of Darienne again. We're tired of war, Cecily, and we want to go home." He paused and then added, "You better than anyone should understand how dangerous the people of Stoughton are."

"I do," I said, proud of how calm I sounded. "But don't think I don't know that you cheated too."

He looked downright edgy for a few seconds, but that look faded and I couldn't read the one that replaced it.

"I didn't put you in the position you were in." His eyes burned. "I didn't even know about Annisha and this asinine plan until it was too late for me to stop it, but, yes, I might have forced a confrontation to make you see the truth." His words held no doubt about the rightness of his actions, regardless of the consequences, and I sensed he was no more likely to bend than Pastor Rowe.

"Stephanie's birds?" I asked.

"Yes."

"The baby?"

"Initially, yes," he said and quickly added, "But you could have healed her with one touch."

I'd guessed the truth, but it still stung. I realized his answer to my next question might break the world, so I squeezed Abigail's and Morgan's hands in warning.

"Laura?"

The silence before he answered, I filled with gusts powerful enough to almost snap the trees.

Bay shook his head. "I didn't have anything to do with her illness or her father's actions after she was gone." He reached out, gently touching the scar left by Mr. Hardy's rock. "I never would have brought you harm."

"But you did," Morgan said. "She got whipped because of those birds and we all almost got killed because of the baby. You did hurt her."

Bay ignored Morgan and stared at me. "I had to make you see. And if it hadn't been me, it would have been them."

I looked down as we continued walking up the hill, considering his words. Then I said, more to myself than to him, "I was never going to be allowed to live my life in Dunlowe—that's what you're saying. If I didn't get to the Wild Wood on my own, they were always going to force me out. Finn, Lille, the mystics... whoever."

Bay's look answered my question, and I felt sick. Morgan squeezed my hand in hers.

"I'm sorry," I said to Morgan and Abigail. "This happened to all of us." That made me think. "Bay, did you have anything to do with Morgan's parents?"

I felt the tension in Morgan's hand.

He turned and gave her a look of sympathy. "No, that was the fine people of Stoughton—as far as I know."

We reached a tent at the top of a hill surrounded by trees. The rock pit in front had mats on the ground around it.

Bay gestured toward the tent. "I thought you might want to rest. I'm guessing you've had some long days lately."

I nodded. "Thanks for letting us come here."

"I'm honored to have you here, to know that you care to understand why we fight. We aren't specifically bound to Annisha's ruling, but that doesn't mean we aren't affected by it."

"Could you give us a minute?" I asked my sisters, who nodded, released me, and went into the tent.

Once they were gone, I looked up at Bay's beautiful face that I'd been fighting the urge to touch since he'd set me down. "I'm really, really sorry I killed you."

He tentatively touched my cheek and very gently caressed it. "Apology accepted," he said, smiling. "It's really good to meet you."

"I'm not her," I blurted.

"I know." Sadness filled his eyes. "I lost her... forever, but I'd still like to get to know you. You are welcome here as long as you like."

"Thanks." I backed away and turned, heading through the flaps of the tent opening.

Once inside, I joined Morgan and Abigail on the cushy blankets.

Abigail's hair fell forward as she tilted her head to look at me. "What an absolutely stupid, stupid day."

"I second that," Morgan said as she rested her head in her hands.

I lounged back, my head resting on a pillow. "Is it just me, or is there no way to rule without messing up everyone and everything?"

"Is that before or after you get tortured and murdered?" Abigail asked.

"Both, I think," I said, and we all giggled from the sheer chaos of life in the Wild Wood. "Morgan, you're the smart one. What do I do?"

Morgan held her hands up. "Oh, no. I'm not your girl—I haven't got a clue. I haven't had a coherent thought since meeting the boys from Kilby. Thanks for asking about my folks, by the way."

"I should have done it earlier. Sorry."

"It was kind of a crazy morning," she said and I laughed again.

"How about we rest for a while and then I'd like to try something."

"Deal."

The blankets were just as soft as in the other camp and the only thing missing was the rest of my family, but even though I didn't particularly trust Finn anymore, at least I didn't fear at all for my brother and sisters. At least I hoped I hadn't been deceived about that.

"Are you awake?" Bay called and I jerked up, having forgotten where I was.

"Yes," I said, glancing at Morgan and Abigail, both struggling to open their eyes.

"The food's ready, if you're hungry."

My stomach's vocal vote had me standing and lowering hands to Morgan and Abigail. Together we left the tent and found the world outside dark, the rocks lit, and food on trays next to the mats.

After the three of us sat down, Bay asked, "Do you mind if I join you?"

"That's why we're here," I said.

"I was under the impression you might be hiding from the mystics—not that I blame you."

My stomach tightened and I was grateful that Morgan said, "Is there a reason she can't do both at once?"

"Sorry," Bay said. "Of course not. And for what it's worth, I don't think you should let them hurt you. No one can force you to do anything. Something like that—you'll never be the same."

"I'm with him," Abigail added, while Morgan bit her lip.

"What?" I asked her.

"I don't want you to have to do it, but I guess, I get it."

I nodded, taking a tray from Bay. "I get it too. That's what ticks me off."

"Come again," Bay said, his brow tight.

I felt tears pushing at me. "I get it, it's what I always wanted. For Pastor Rowe and everyone in Dunlowe to feel what I felt, to know what it was like to stand there and be whipped until I passed out, to know what it was like to stand before them and be called foreign and beneath them. They should have had to feel what it was like for Morgan's parents and for her to watch. They should have to know what they've done.

"I didn't cause any of this—that's what is so hard about it—but if I'm going to rule, it's right that I should know what's been lost. I just don't know if I'm brave enough to let them. One whip was enough to give me nightmares, even now. What will thousands of swords stabbing thousands of chests do to me?"

Bay handed me a glass with cool water in it. "It's many more than thousands. You will see the worst of us, the moments we will never forgive ourselves for. I hate the idea of you hurting almost as much as I hate the idea of you seeing what I've done. Annisha knew, of course, but feeling it is something very different."

I drank from the cup and passed it to Morgan. "What if they show me everything and then kill me?"

Morgan took the cup. "Well, they can't, can they? They have to let you rule first."

I felt a little slow, but none of them looked judgmental. We ate for a while in silence, all mulling things in our own heads.

After finishing, Morgan looked at Bay. "Am I safe to walk around here?"

"Of course."

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I'd like to talk some more to the boys from Kilby, without Bay around."

I watched Bay's relaxed demeanor with some amusement. "Will you go with her?" I asked Abigail.

"Are you sure you're okay here?" Abigail asked. "That you won't need help... either to keep you from... or...?"

"I've killed him once today already. I think I've learned to be a little more careful. You'll know if I'm wrong. And let me know if you need anything. I'll be watching."

"Snooping," Abigail muttered as they both headed away.

Once alone with Bay, I felt a little nervous. Bay moved closer so that we shared a mat, as he piled up the now-empty trays on his other side. We sat quietly and I wondered if his belly felt like mine, filled with manic butterflies. My soul knew him and inspired many rebellious thoughts, but I intertwined my fingers, squeezing them until they hurt to keep them under control. None of these feelings were real. The woman who loved him had died. And I didn't want another fake love affair... mostly.

To distract myself and to keep all the pledges I was making to myself about how boys couldn't be trusted, replaying Nate's ranting for my death and Finn's secrets, I blurted, "Why does Finn hate you so much?"

"You start with the easy questions, don't you?"

"Does that mean you won't answer?"

"I'll answer any question you ask, as much as I can." He took a breath. "A long time ago, Finn, Britton, and I were best friends. This war eventually divided us, with the two of them on that side and me on this one. We fought against each other many, many times, and each time it ended without a dead body among us, I was grateful. But that luck ran out, and I have the tragic honor of being the man who killed the crown prince, thereby causing the ruling family to lose heart, and for Annisha to go on this reckless journey."

His voice grew rough. "I'm the reason you're here, why you lived this treacherous life, and why you are considering being tortured more than any other person who has ever lived. It's all my fault."

It took me more than a few minutes to respond, to give my mind a chance to work through this new information. Bay allowed the silence, his breathing steady, and nothing about him pressured me to absolve him or judge him.

I released the death grip on my fingers and took hold of his hand. "No one person can be responsible for an entire world or an entire war. Are you sorry that you killed him?"

"More than I can bear sometimes."

His words earlier began to make some sense. "Did you see him? Earlier, when you died? Did you see Britton?"

His entire body turned abruptly toward me. "How did you know?"

"I've seen him too."

"What?!"

"I accidentally do a lot of things," I explained. "Or Morgan helps by channeling my crazy in different directions."

Bay's jaw clenched, but his voice came out almost normal as he said, "Rainbows and stars are better than sinking continents."

"Stars?"

"You don't know?"

I shook my head.

"There are new constellations since you came to the Wild Wood. Seven girls plus one boy."

"Hmmm." I smiled. "I wonder if Morgan put Dusty in the stars."

"People do all sorts of things for the ones they love." He loosened up a little and said, "Ask me something else."

"Okay, why didn't you ever marry Annisha? I mean, a thousand years is a long time. That's nine hundred ninety-six years longer than I loved Nate."

"Ugh," Bay muttered. "I'm not really a fan of slugboy, going way back."

"Slugboy?"

"I might have had nicknames for some of the townsfolk."

"You were watching?"

"Everyone was watching."

I pulled my hand out of his and quickly stood. "I need to walk somewhere before I do something."

"Cecily, what is it?" he said, standing and clearly confused. "I didn't mean to offend. Maybe slugboy isn't the best name for him... but he did try to light you on fire."

"It's not that. Call him anything you want." I backed away, afraid of myself and what I might do. "I need my sisters."

He moved toward me, destroying my efforts to create distance. "Just tell me what I said."

"It's not what you said... it's what you did. What you and Finn and Genovan and Lille—it's what you all did and didn't do." Tears fell. "I was so alone. Hurt. Lost. And you all were watching like my life was your entertainment." The ground below us rumbled. "Did you watch when Pastor Rowe cut the back of my nightgown and made me bleed for his pleasure? Did you watch me driven from my home?" Lightning and thunder erupted near us, but Bay didn't flinch. "I see you, both of you, caring about Annisha, but torturing me. You're so big and strong, both of you. How could you just watch?"

Bay was about to answer when lightning struck the ground next to him. Morgan and Abigail, completely out of breath, raced toward us, both of their hands reaching for me, while Keefe ran toward Bay and pulled him behind his larger body. I closed my eyes and allowed Morgan to do whatever she wanted with my power, trusting her more than myself not to kill anyone. Once the power dissipated and without a word, my sisters led me into the tent and closed the flaps behind us.

## 16

# Limitless

My sisters sat with me, sharing my tears and understanding all too well how I felt. Everywhere I looked, I found betrayal. Would I one day rule about this war or decide I didn't care enough about any side to help them? That struck me as strange. Annisha gave up her life that I might know all sides, and I currently hated every one of them.

"I want to leave here," I said, my heart aching. "But I don't know where we can go."

Morgan held my hand. "I wish we had my grandfather's books. He had maps of places all around the world. Not even on this continent."

"How did he get them?" Abigail asked.

"He wasn't always old and a grandfather. He'd been an explorer."

"Pastor Rowe has probably burned them all," I said.

Morgan shook her head, a spark of defiance in her brown and green eyes. "I buried everything I cared about in a place they'll never find them."

"You've always been the smartest," I said, squeezing her hand.

An appreciative smile lit Morgan's face. "Since we can't go anywhere, at least for tonight, what did you want to try?"

"I'll tell you, but first you have to tell me one thing."

Morgan squinted at me from behind her glasses. "What?"

"Did you put Dusty in the stars?"

She blushed about twelve shades of red and that got the three of us laughing, while I was busy hoping and praying Morgan would be my future sister-in-law, not Stephanie Trench.

"Okay, here goes." I tried to relax, holding onto Morgan's and Abigail's hands, focusing on my sisters and Dusty. We'd waited for them to all be in the tent together. " _Hello?_ "

Dusty's voice began a chorus of " _Cecily?_ "

" _How are you?_ " I asked.

" _Feeling a little violated, actually_ ," Stephanie sniped, which made me consider excluding her from our experiment. " _And I've decided to pretend that Lille isn't actually my sister, because I think she's prettier than me_."

" _We're good_ ," Dusty said. " _What about you? We saw the lightning and thunder and just about headed over there, but Finn told us you were okay_."

I stiffened at hearing Finn's name, but was glad they hadn't had to worry about us. " _We're fine, and I didn't kill anyone else today_."

" _Good job, sis_."

I laughed and squeezed Morgan's hand, understanding why Dusty would be hard for any smart girl not to love.

" _What did you guys do tonight?_ " I asked.

" _Amanda and I sparred with Mortimer—it was so amazing_ ," Dusty gushed. " _And then we watched Finn pacing all night, and Lille is cranky. Stephanie made dinner... I kinda helped. And... we miss you guys._ "

" _We miss you too_ ," Morgan whispered.

" _You are coming back, aren't you?_ " Stephanie asked.

Abigail and Morgan left this one to me. " _I don't know. Maybe. And maybe not back, maybe a place of our own somewhere_."

No one responded to that and the silence stretched out.

" _We did learn some things_ ," Amanda said. " _Like why they had all of us born on the same day. Turns out, babies in Darienne are born in clusters like that. And they were in the woods, when we were, you know, running for our lives. To help us if we'd fallen down and were about to get killed. They weren't going to just let us die. I really like them... and I think you should come back because I really don't want to leave Mortimer._ "

" _Did you guys learn anything else?_ " Dusty asked.

I let Abigail and Morgan take care of telling them about the boys from Kilby and whatever else they'd learned, while I thought about what Amanda said. Did it make anything better that they'd finally come to help? I wasn't sure, but weariness attacked and I refused to think about anything any longer.

I felt the yawns seeming to echo through the group. " _Sleep well. We'll either see you or talk to you tomorrow_."

" _Seeing is better_ ," Dusty said just before I closed our connection to them.

Seeing is better, I agreed, but seeing Dusty meant seeing Finn, and that was something I wasn't ready for. But was I any more ready to see Bay?

Morgan and Abigail slept, and I watched the mystics' lights moving closer. They would arrive soon, and all I could think about was running. There had to be other places to live. Not Stoughton. Not Darienne. But other places where I could live... alone, because I couldn't imagine the others being willing to leave with me.

Watching the dreaded lights wasn't like counting sheep at all, and finally, I fled the tent and the thought of ever sleeping again. Once outside, I was surprised to find Bay sitting at the rock fire.

He looked up, seeming shocked to see me. "If you want to sit out here alone, I'll leave."

"Don't you have a tent?"

"You're in it."

Feeling stupid, I said, "Sorry. No one else likes you enough to let you share a tent with them?"

He smiled. "I didn't feel much like sleeping."

"I wish I could, but the mystics are ruining everything."

"They're close," he said.

"You have the map too?"

"Genovan gave it to me years ago."

I nodded. "He's nice like that."

"Nice?" Bay asked, his tone incredulous. "You don't know much about the Commanders, do you?"

I let out a sigh. "I don't know much about anyone or anything. Nobody seems willing to tell and eventually, I'm going to get tired of asking."

"Why ask then? You have the power to see... everything."

"I don't understand."

"Cecily, please," he said, extending his hand. "Sit with me."

I considered for just a second and took a seat near him, but not close enough to touch.

Bay ignored the slight. "You brought me back from the dead. You contacted Britton, who's been dead for years. There's nothing you can't see if you want—your powers are limitless. There's nothing that any of us could hide from you. And I volunteer to be your test subject." He extended his hand again, moving closer. "Take it, Cecily, take anything you want. Learn everything you can so no one can control you ever again."

I tentatively took his hand and a deep breath. He closed his eyes and I followed his lead. I pushed lightly against his mind, not sure how to do this without hurting him, but knowing this close, I would feel it instantly if I did. But he was relaxed as I pushed into his memories. He gave me the first one: Annisha.

Seeing her again, but her alive memory self, felt strange, just like it had the last time I'd seen her. Bay cycled through memories, lingering on favorite ones, some that caused a great deal of blushing on my part... and yet, having him share so openly their private moments gave me more of a sense of what they meant to each other than anything else I could have seen. I saw Britton before the war. Even Finn, when he and Bay had been as close as brothers. Other faces flickered in and out while Bay gave me a tour, seeming to be waiting for me to take the reins. Finally, I did.

I pushed and maneuvered myself to the memories of Bay and Annisha breaking up, the gut-wrenching sorrow of that moment. I felt what Bay felt, saw Annisha's grief, and then to my surprise saw what gave her solace in the years that followed: Finn. Finn and Annisha. I froze.

"No," Bay said. "Keep going. You need to know."

I did as he said, following Bay as he watched their lives blooming together, until he stood in the back of a large hall, feeling like he'd died, while he watched them marry—it wasn't a service like anything in Dunlowe, but I knew exactly what it was. The vows were different, the cost different.

"To know each feeling, each thought, is to be married," both Finn and Annisha said together, while shining creatures that I could only assume were mystics, created a swirling light that surrounded the two of them, snaking around them, until finally piercing them in an exploding flash. Both pain and contentment shone on their faces when the light faded.

"Finn married her and that's why he can hear inside me," I said, not needing an answer. "How could he keep that from me?"

"Ask him," Bay said. "He's hearing everything right now."

"Finn?"

" _I didn't want to burden you. I only wanted to help. Before Annisha gave her life, she begged me to divorce her so that I wouldn't risk being trapped inside the life of her next incarnation. But I couldn't. The risk was mine and the reality is mine to bear._ "

"But it's my mind you're climbing around in," I said.

" _Then force me out, Cecily. Bay was right. There is nothing you can't do._ "

"That's not completely true, is it?"

Both Bay and Finn wondered what I meant.

"All this power and I can't make myself trust either of you. I can't know what I should do. What Annisha would have done. I can't go home. I'm still caught in a trap, this one bigger with larger jaws than a pillory."

As if in answer to my words, the mystics' lights pulsed on the map, revealing their arrival just feet away from Finn. I flinched inwardly, attempting to seal my mind from him. I wasn't sure if it worked, but the strain proved heavy enough that I hunched down under the weight, while realizing I still held Bay's hand.

"Where do you go when you need to think and figure things out?" I asked.

"Lately, I've gone to the edge of the Wild Wood to watch you—I know you don't want to hear that, but you need to see the other side of this. We miss her and you are the closest we can come to seeing her again. Sometimes you'll get a look, an expression, and I'll see it: Annisha's soul alive in you. We didn't want this, Finn especially. The man lost his wife because of her convictions. We're immortals, Cecily—can you even imagine the weight of losing the person you were going to spend an eternity with?"

I let out a cruel laugh. "Well if it's been so hard, how come he's with Lille now?"

"Lille?" Bay sputtered. "Lille and Finn?" His laughter irritated me enough to consider violence.

"What's so funny?"

His smile faded. "Lille is Britton's little sister."

"I know. So?"

"Which makes her like Finn's little sister. He isn't with Lille and he never will be. He'll honor his vow to Annisha for the rest of his life. Serve you if he can, for her."

I said nothing, honestly not sure if I could find a single word to say.

Bay continued. "Finn's not my favorite guy these days, but I feel for him. Sure, he messed up, trying to protect you and control what you know, but he didn't do it because he's evil. He did it because he's flawed. We're all flawed. I think you expect too much from everyone. You expect perfection."

My spine straightened. "That's not fair. Expecting not to have your family try to kill you isn't expecting too much. To ask for the truth when you need it, is not too much. To ask your boyfriend to honor his promises to believe you and to be there for you isn't too much."

"Maybe, but to expect that you can understand everyone's journey through your own very young and limited perspective _is_."

"So you want me to let the mystics torture me? That will prove I'm worthy of this power I never asked for?"

"That's not what I said."

"But it is what you meant." I stood up.

"Cecily, that's not..."

"Save it, Bay. I'm not going to do it. I shouldn't have to. If my sisters wake, tell them I'll be back."

"Where are you going?"

"Anywhere but here," I lied, knowing exactly where I was going.

The second I was out of the camp, I hurried toward the border to the Wild Wood. My body wasn't strong enough to keep up the pace for long, but I managed to cover enough distance to push the mystics' lights to the background of my mind, though I was all too aware of Finn's and Bay's lights following me, and Genovan's light wasn't far behind. By focusing on them a bit too intently, I tripped on the corpse of an evil goat, falling on my face in the mud. I scrambled back up, brushing off my face and dress and kept moving, watching more carefully for the bodies still littering the ground. Maybe I should have cleaned them up, but without my sisters, I was too nervous to try something that could deplete me.

Glad for the darkness, I stood at the last row of trees, looking out, searching for wardens or anyone guarding the town from my scary, horrible self. If someone was there, I couldn't see them, so after checking the map for dull human lights, I stepped out from beyond the trees' protection and walked the familiar path toward my home.

The house was dark, not a single candle lit, and looked exactly as it had before, which meant my parents really hadn't needed Dusty or me doing our chores. The grass I walked on was trimmed, the goats tended—they kept from looking at me, maybe sensing I was a goat destroyer these days—and after wandering into the shadowy barn, the horses proved happy and well fed. Bear moved to the half door that kept him in his stall and reached his neck toward me. I moved forward, resting my head against his and rubbing his blaze though it was too dark to see it shine.

Curiosity kept me moving. I tested the back door handle. Unlocked, as always. After slowly twisting the handle, I pushed the door open. I tiptoed on the wood floors of the downstairs and made my way to the stairs, skipping the sixth step as I ascended toward Dusty's and my room. The moonlight didn't reveal much, but our room looked the same. Everything. Except my mother had made both of our beds and fluffed the pillows—we certainly hadn't done that on the last day I'd stood in this room.

I peeked into the hallway, looking at the open doorway to my parents' room. I moved more slowly now, more cautious about my steps, until I was staring at them, both asleep on their bed. Peacefully asleep, as though life hadn't changed, like having no children was just the same as having children. My heart ached.

I almost turned away, but thought about what Bay had said. I leaned against the doorway, hoping I didn't weaken myself too much and very, very gently reached into my father's mind. He grunted and rolled over, and I froze. But in just a few seconds, he settled back into sleep.

I closed my eyes and concentrated. Images formed, faded and fuzzy at first but growing more detailed. The farm on a bright day, with butterflies and bees floating in the warm air. Dad stood, looking out at the fields he loved. He smiled and turned back to see me swinging on the tree swing. I was about five and smiling, looking more like a little angel than I ever deserved. Dusty was on the ground near me, eating mud. Dad looked toward the porch, where my mother stood, leaning against the railing, watching her family.

Everything was so peaceful and beautiful, but then the image grew suddenly dark. The sun vanished and clouds smeared the sky. He looked at the swing, but I had vanished. Dusty was gone too. And the look on my mother's face held only desolation.

He grunted and rolled, and the image turned beautiful once more. His family was around him and he was happy.

Bay was right; I didn't have a clue what people were thinking and their actions too often led me in the wrong directions.

A gentle touch on my face caused my eyes to open and my mouth to almost let loose a scream, but my mother gently covered it. In the dark light, she looked the same as she used to. Loving. Supportive. Like a mom. She took my hand and led me toward the stairs and then down them, both of us skipping the squeaky step. Mom led me into the kitchen and let me go, turning to light a candle and then to the pantry where she retrieved a container whose contents I didn't have to work hard to guess.

Mom removed the top and dished us both some cobbler, blackberry and peach. She gestured for me to sit at the table and took a seat next to me.

"I make some every day," she whispered. "It makes me think you will come home and life can go back to how it was. Only it can't, can it?"

I shook my head.

Mom didn't seem to know what to do with her hands and finally clasped them together and set them on her lap. "I'm so sorry, honey. I don't know what happened. That day and the next are hazy. I can't remember what caused me to turn on you... to almost..." Tears streamed down her face.

"It's in the past... please don't cry."

She kept her eyes on me, but her face contorted with confusion. "It was me, but it wasn't. I can't explain it, but please believe that I love you. I've always loved you."

She had, and I felt stupid for ever thinking she hadn't, and yet, she would have killed me if I hadn't run. But whatever drove her to that was clearly gone and I was too relieved to feel her love to question the times when it had failed.

"How are you? How's Dusty?" Her tone turned panicky, as though seeing me alone was cause to question Dusty's safety.

"Dusty's just fine." I reached with the map, ensuring he was where he was supposed to be and safe. "And I'm okay."

"Just okay?"

"Life's not easy."

"Never was and never will be," she answered. "Eat some cobbler."

I raised the fork to my mouth and sighed. There was nothing in this world like my mom's cobbler. I ate a few bites while she studied me.

"It's only been a few days, but you look older, sadder," she said.

"I am... both."

"Would it be better for you if I went back with you when you go—I mean, we know you can't stay here, but I could..."

I shook my head. "No, I need you here and safe. The world out there is in some ways scarier than it was here. But I have to be there. You don't."

"And Dusty?" she asked. "Does he have to be there?"

"Dusty can be wherever he wants, but I can't see him coming back here. All the rules here, they aren't for us anymore, but if he ever wants to come home, I won't stop him."

Mom nodded, clearly trying to understand. She fidgeted, raising her right hand to run her nail against the tablecloth.

"How's Dad?" I asked.

Mom looked down, focusing on her fingers. "We both survive. Do our chores. Live." Her eyes raised to mine. "But the life in us left with you both. Your father has decided not to attend worship anymore. I'll still go—I'm too afraid not to."

"Everything still about the evil sevens?"

"Still. But now we have daily warnings that you and the others will come back and kill us all in our sleep."

I reached toward her hand and placed mine over hers. "Were you afraid, when you saw me up there?"

Mom placed her other hand on top of mine, seeming relieved that I was really here. "No, honey, not at all. You've always been a good girl, and seeing you with all that power that you never used to hurt anyone, just proved to me that I was right about you all along."

Shame colored my face. "I blinded you, for a little while. That wasn't what a good girl does."

"You kept yourself safe without permanently hurting anyone. That _is_ what a good girl does."

"Don't you want to know what I was doing upstairs... and why?"

She shook her head. "I trust you."

I took a deep breath and tried to prepare myself. "Does Dad still hate me?"

"Oh, no," she said, leaning toward me. "He loves you... he has always loved you—best, I think. But I think seeing you again and knowing you can't stay... I think that would be too hard on him."

I nodded while flinching from the sound of his voice carrying from upstairs. "Sarah, are you okay?" he called.

"Fine, dear, I'll be back up in a minute," Mom called, while squeezing my hand. "Will you come back soon, if you can?" I nodded, and she released me and hurried to pack the rest of the cobbler, and another untouched one, into a small basket, wrapping it in a cloth. "Dusty and the other girls need this."

I stood up, hating that I had to go. "Dusty certainly needs that."

She set the basket on the table and tugged me to her, wrapping me in every good thing about having a mom.

"I love you, sweetie. I wish we could have had more time..."

"No, I should go, but thanks, Mom, for everything."

She released me and I turned without looking back, grabbing the basket off the table and hurrying out the backdoor, fighting tears and the abrupt darkness that met me.

## 17

# Becoming

After a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, I walked toward the Eastern Woods. Once inside, I searched for a particular tree stump that had been Dusty's and my favorite place to hide things, and set the cobbler on top, knowing I would pass this way on my way back to the Wild Wood. But not yet, not until I had done all I came to do.

I turned to the north and set out, not clinging to the trees this time, instead walking worn paths around Dunlowe. Each house I came to, I stopped and listened, gently searching the thoughts of everyone inside. I found some strange dreams, wistful thoughts, and some disturbing imaginings, but no true evil. Nothing to make it seem like these people deserved the vengeance I technically owed them.

What surprised me most was how few people thought anything about the sevens—they had lives of their own that had nothing to do with us whether we were still in town or in the Wild Wood. Moms worried about their kids and making sure they had enough food. Men thought about card games and the fall crops. Mrs. Dumphry, lying in her bed, cried over the husband she'd lost more than a decade before—I still hated her, but seeing inside her made it more of an effort. I kept out of the town proper, knowing I would be back, and headed toward Nate's house, wondering if the world would be better if I opened the earth to swallow the entire thing whole.

I stood very close to the spot where I'd once come to try to understand Pastor Rowe, but I wasn't afraid this time. Even with a weak body, I knew no one could really hurt me unless I let them, and the three men who trailed me by a mostly respectable distance would step in if I needed help.

I pushed thoughts of my bodyguards out of my mind and focused on the people sleeping inside the house, only Nate wasn't sleeping and wasn't inside the house. He sat outside on the wrap-around porch in a chair with his feet propped on the railing, staring into the darkness.

Getting into an awake person's mind was more difficult than a sleeping one—I'd figured that out already—but that didn't mean I wasn't going to try. I pushed lightly, feeling in that first connection a wave of exhaustion. Nate's nerves were frazzled, his mind cluttered. And then I knew why, as the sounds of both his mother and sister crying shattered the stillness of the night. I pushed my awareness into the house and watched Pastor Rowe leap out of his bed and head toward the nursery.

Pastor Rowe screamed for them to shut up, his tone more vile than any I'd heard him use, even on me. Nate was on his feet in an instant rushing into the house, placing himself between his raging father and his mother and sister, begging his father to settle down. Pastor Rowe shoved Nate, almost sending him down the stairs, and went back into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Give her to me," Nate said to his mother whose energy felt drained beyond the ability to survive. His mother handed Darla to Nate. "Go sleep in my room, Mom."

"But..."

"Just go. We'll be fine."

I watched Nate as he returned to his seat on the porch, his wailing sister in his arms. His energy, so drained just moments before, changed, holding his sister as he hummed to her. But still she screamed, and instead of pushing into Nate's mind, I pushed into hers.

Monsters lived inside her, clawing at her delicate spirit. Those white eyes held the demons inside. Poor girl. I pushed, not knowing exactly how to help her, but I built a wall for her, one that would keep the monsters at bay, at least for a little while. Freed from terrifying visions, her crying ceased immediately and she let out a hiccupy laugh.

Nate stopped humming and looked at her. "Look at you, Darla."

She grinned at him, while he cuddled her close. "You haven't been this quiet and happy since..." He paused and looked around, his eyes momentarily landing on me; the darkness shielded me, so I stood my ground. "Cecily..."

He continued to look until he shook his head. "I'm losing my mind, aren't I, Darla? Like she'd ever come back to a place like this. I wouldn't if I ever got away."

Darla grunted.

"Don't be like that," he chided. "I'd take you with me."

A giggle.

"Now, let's get some sleep before you start screaming again," he whispered, kissing her head, as he stood and went back into the house.

I watched him go, feeling all the hurt from his betrayal sinking below a giant pile of pity. His life wasn't easy—it never had been. I thought of how few times Nate had ever complained about his father or even revealed the kind of man he was when the town wasn't watching. I suddenly didn't want to push into his mind. I didn't know how many hours or days of peace I'd given Darla, but I hoped it was enough that she and those who loved her could get some rest.

And even though I'd come here to finally know why Pastor Rowe hated me, I just couldn't imagine looking inside such an ugly prison. So, even though I had the power, I chose not to use it and walked away from the Rowes. I'd waited long enough for my true goal, and was now anxious to get there before the sunrise caused a confrontation that would ruin everything.

I headed back toward town, leaving the safety of the trees. Once there, I walked behind the worship hall to the fenced area that held Dunlowe's cemetery. I didn't need to search at all, having glimpsed Laura's grave from the schoolhouse window every chance I got. I walked directly toward it and sat down beside the marble headstone. In the darkness, I couldn't make out anything other than her name, and since I'd never been able to get this close, I didn't know what they'd written on it. Beloved Daughter of the Hardys, maybe. Or Quirkiest Best Friend Ever. But whatever they put didn't matter right now. I wasn't here just to visit a grave or a headstone. Maybe I shouldn't do things just because I could, but that seemed a shallow reason when compared to a prize worth more to me than anything Dunlowe had to offer.

I laid down on her grave, touching the grass and thinking how many days it had been since she'd died and how long I'd waited to pay my respects. But instead of being the girl who could only cry over her dead best friend, I was now the girl who could try to reach her.

I pushed, thinking of Britton and the energy that had helped me to reach him, using him as the pathway to find her. His face fluttered into my mind, his expression surprised and much clearer than the last time I'd reached him.

"Cecily Daye," he said.

"You know me?"

"Everyone is coming to know you."

Not sure if that was really a good thing, I decided to ignore it. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for Laura Hardy, my best friend."

"Show me her energy."

Since I wasn't exactly certain how to do that, I pictured Laura in my mind, not just her last few days, but a series of images of us walking around Dunlowe, Laura always wearing the prettiest dresses with matching bows in her hair, showing Britton her spunky smile and often inappropriate humor. Finally, I thought of her on the last day of her life, and how she never stopped believing in me.

"Yes, I know her, but she is still resting and will be difficult to wake completely, and you really don't want to wake her completely. Go gently if you must do this."

He walked toward something and away from something else, but everything beyond him faded the second he passed it. He stopped next to a wall or a doorway.

"I can't go inside. Think of her energy and search. If she calls to you, talk to her. If she doesn't lead you to her, leave her in peace."

"Thank you."

"Will you tell my friends and my sister I miss them?" he asked, and gave me images of Finn, Bay, and Lille.

"Yes."

"Thank you... they are all in terrible danger, as are you..."

"What?" I blurted, but when I searched for him, he was gone. Frustrated, I focused on Laura, not wanting to lose this chance.

Everything was dark inside the room and I could only see hazy shadows every once in a while, nothing to make me feel that I would be able to find her by looking. So, I pushed my memories into that space and moved them around the cavernous room, where I sensed many people or spirits rested. Many could have been twenty or a million, I had no idea, but I kept reaching out for my Laura.

Glad I was already on the ground, I felt my energy draining fast.

"Laura," I called softly, not knowing exactly how much was enough or too much. "Laura, please."

My body shook under the strain, but I kept my mind locked on the task. "Laura Hardy."

"Cecily Daye," Laura's voice came, but I couldn't see her, not even in the shadows.

"Laura, it's me." I suddenly realized that I had no idea what she knew or what I should or shouldn't say.

Her voice came back to me, louder now. "I know everything, I think, and you should say that you forgive me for dying and leaving you alone."

"I do forgive you—it wasn't exactly your choice."

"No, it wasn't. I never would've chosen to leave you or my folks. Sorry about them. They're just hurting."

"I know."

"My dad threw a rock at you!" she said, like she'd just figured that out. "Time is funny here and memories. Nothing's in order."

"Are you okay?"

"I am," she said. "But that isn't what you wanted to ask. Your energy is almost gone. So, ask, quickly. You're already getting hazier."

"What do I do? Do I let them hurt me? Do I really rule about the future of two countries? Do I trust them? Do I forgive? Do I run away? Do I let the mystics kill me? Can I just come find you?"

Laura sighed. "Cecily, you know what to do. You've always known that this was coming, the time when you would have to become."

"Become? Become what?"

"Just become. The greatest power comes from surrendering to the path you were meant to take." She sounded too wise and staid to be herself. "Oh," she chuckled, "I thought you wanted a mature, wise, dead best friend. I should have known. Let me translate. Cecily, pull your head out of your behind and quit whining. You have a chance to make a difference in this world. You have a life I'd trade everything, except you, to live. You have power and new friends, and people who love you and who will follow you. And the price is: you have to surrender and experience some terrible things, but nothing is without a purpose. I know that now, more than ever."

"I miss you so much," I whispered and squinted from the dawn breaking over the town.

"I miss you too. Now be amazing. And I get extra points for knowing you would be all along."

"I won't be me anymore if I do this..."

"Cecily, I'm not the same Laura I was when I was alive. I can't ever be that girl again, but does that mean you don't love me anymore? Does it mean I don't love you anymore? Of course not. We grow up. Even if we had stayed and lived long lives in Dunlowe, it would have happened, just to a very different level. Besides, caterpillars are pretty funny looking, but butterflies, now they are beautiful."

"Are you calling me funny looking?"

"Every chance I get," she said with a giggle. "Whiny chicken, you have to go. Call your friends now. The wardens are close." Her voice became panicked. "Cecily, now!"

"Finn, please help me," I whispered as I saw the shadows of bodies moving toward the worship hall. "Laura?" I said, but I already knew she was gone. Tears ran, but these were different because she didn't feel gone at all. She felt like she was with me and would stay with me no matter what happened next.

"Finn," I said again.

"I'm here," he said, reaching to scoop me into his arms.

I looked over his shoulder and saw Bay and Genovan standing nearby, keeping a careful watch on the people walking around, but no one seemed to be looking at the cemetery. When Finn turned, I saw Laura's headstone in the morning light and gasped.

Laura Hardy. Damned Forever by Cecily Daye.

"Finn," I whispered.

"Yes."

"Please, I need to reach the stone."

He knelt down and I reached out my hand, wiping it across the stone and then smiled as the stone told the true story.

Laura Hardy. _Loved_ Forever by Cecily Daye.

The small effort left me slumping against Finn.

"Sleep, Cecily," Finn said, but I was already almost there.

Finn carried me to the open gate, walked through it, and without any chaos, carried me to the forest.

"Don't forget my mom's cobbler," I muttered without opening my eyes, and heard all three of them laughing at me. Clearly, they didn't know how good the cobbler was and weren't likely to once Dusty got his hands on it.

I woke with a start, for a moment thinking my trip into Dunlowe had been a dream. But it wasn't. It was real. My parents still loved me and Dusty had probably eaten all of the cobbler.

I opened my eyes and looked around the tent, seeing six sisters and one brother staring at me, none of them looking terribly pleased.

"Is the world ending?" I mumbled.

"You are a complete toad," Stephanie spat.

I rolled my eyes and allowed them to close. It was too early—or late, whatever time it was—for this. "What did I do now?"

"You went into Dunlowe, drained all your energy, and could have been killed," Morgan said. "You didn't tell us anything. We're supposed to be a family, but you didn't act like that last night."

I leaned up and looked at her. "Finn, Bay, and Genovan were there. I knew they wouldn't let anything happen to me."

"Since when do you trust them more than us?" Abigail asked, her lips in their perma-pursed position.

I scanned the other faces, searching for at least one of the six who might be on my side with no luck. Even Dusty looked at me through disappointed and irritated eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I had to go alone. I had to try to understand, to make a decision. I had to try to see more clearly who the people of Dunlowe are."

"What did you find?" Charity asked.

"They are just people, trying to do the best they can."

Dusty looked momentarily hopeful. "Did you really see Mom or did you steal the cobbler?"

I laughed. "I saw her. She loves us and wants you to come home—you could you know."

"And leave you?" he said, his temper flaring.

"The sevens can't go back, but you can. I just don't want you to forget that."

Stephanie fidgeted, about to say something, but Morgan blurted, "They still tried to kill us. How can that just go away? How can you think Dusty should go back to a place like that?"

As I was about to answer, Stephanie added, "You think Pastor Rowe won't use Dusty to get to you? I just don't understand why Dusty's safety is no longer important to you."

_Whoa_ , hostility. But I had to smile, because seeing the girls fighting for Dusty meant that even if something happened to me, he'd be cared for. "There's no one in this world I love more than Dusty," I said, looking not just at him, but at them. "I just wish you could have seen my mom. She barely seemed to remember that day. She couldn't remember why she turned and has regretted it every day since. My dad too, even though I didn't get to see him. Look, I don't have a home in this world—that's my life, our lives. Dusty can have a home; I just don't want that to be forgotten in all of this."

"Your home is with us," Millie said, her voice more fierce than I'd ever imagined it could be.

I reached for her hand and tugged her into a hug that clearly made her embarrassed to be singled out. "You are absolutely right."

Dusty squinted at all of us. "I want to say something. I'm not some stupid puppy you all have to take care of. I do have a home—it's wherever _I_ want to be. And where I want to be is with you, all of you. So, stop treating me like some kid who followed you home."

Sufficiently shamed, we all looked away from him.

Morgan frowned, her mind clearly busy. "Doesn't it make you wonder?"

"What?" Abigail asked.

Morgan bit her lip and thought for a second. "Cecily's parents don't remember, but they regret—almost like something else might have been controlling them. Someone. Your new friend, Bay, who you trust with your safety all of a sudden, might be the one who made your parents come after you with pitchforks. Just saying."

Ouch, but she wasn't wrong. "I can't deal with that right now," I whispered. "The mystics are out there waiting to torture me and I'm trying to deal with the fact that there might not be much of me left after they're finished. So whatever Bay did in the past..."

"You're going to do it?" Morgan asked.

I nodded. "I have to. I have to serve my purpose, Annisha's purpose. I've known that all along, but I had to be told by someone I couldn't snap at."

"Who? Your mom?" Amanda asked.

"No. Laura."

Morgan's eyes widened. "You reached Laura?"

"Yes, and she said almost the same thing you did..."

"Which was?" Stephanie asked.

"Quit whining and do what needs doing. I'm sorry for snapping at you for saying the same thing," I said as I looked at my sisters. "I'm still terrified. I still don't want to do this or to lose who I am. But there's no future for us unless I do." I looked to Dusty. "This affects Mom and Dad, all of our families. And everyone here." The dread grew stronger. "I need to do this now. If I have to think about it too much, I might run."

Morgan moved next to me. "We'll be with you. And we'll figure out a way to bring you back, even if it is too much for you. I know we have abilities too. We just haven't pushed ourselves to use them."

"Right, we'll heal you," Amanda said. "And this way, we might be able to stay with the Protectors... with Mortimer."

"Maybe, but I can't think about all that right now."

"Of course," she said, her freckled face flushing. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I know you love Mortimer and I know which side you would choose, but I don't have that luxury. I still need to be open to everything—to see everything." To Finn, I added, " _Are they ready?_ "

" _Yes_."

" _Could you get Bay? I'd like him here._ "

" _He's waiting outside the purple blossoms—he's been there since he escorted your sisters back here this morning._ "

That he would wait for me made my insides warm. " _Where do we go?_ "

" _I'll take you there, unless you'd like to follow the mystics' lights. They are heading there now. Do you want to eat first?_ "

My stomach made its emptiness known, but with my nerves, empty seemed a whole lot less disastrous than full. I turned my attention on my sisters and Dusty who had been talking amongst themselves.

I leaned to stand up. "All right, here we go."

"Are you sure you're strong enough?" Morgan asked.

"I'm standing—that's something," I said, looking down at my body, kind of proud of it.

"But..."

"It's not like I have to run a mile. I just have to sit there and get tortured, I think."

I felt their uneasiness about all of this and it only made my own worse. "Let's go."

## 18

# When the Sky Wept

I walked with my sisters through the purple-blossomed branches, my eyes scanning everything around me like I would never see it again. When I reached the other side, I found Finn, Bay, and Lille waiting for me—Lille looking decidedly uncomfortable next to Bay. Seeing Bay and Finn made my heart skip, feeling such tremendous pull toward both of them. I didn't know if it was Annisha's yearning or mine, but either way, my body led me toward them. But the image of the two men and Lille brought to mind my promise to Britton.

"I don't know if Finn heard what Britton said..."

Finn moved toward me. "No, did you see him? Is he okay?"

"He's fine," I said. "You really couldn't see or hear when I talked to him... and Laura?"

All three looked confused, and Finn said, "No. You weren't shielding from me?"

"Not on purpose. It takes a lot of effort."

Finn squinted. "Maybe when you're talking to the dead, I can't..."

Lille let out a grunt. "Can we worry about the _hows_ and _whys_ later? What did he say?"

"He said to tell all three of you that he misses you." Okay, well, he also might have mentioned some great danger, but I couldn't deal with that right now. Finn caught my thought, but let it lie.

Lille's face took on a purple hue. "What?! He misses Bay? Bay killed him."

Bay's jaw tightened and I wished he'd tell Lille how sorry he was and how much regret he lived with every single day, the regret that screamed at me from his eyes.

"Lille, your brother misses Bay," I said. "Deal with it. And if he can forgive, then you might consider..."

"Not a chance," she said and stormed away, leaving Bay and Finn looking at me.

"Did he say anything else?" Bay asked.

I shook my head. "Sorry, but I was pretty focused on getting to Laura."

"You reached her?" Finn asked.

I nodded. "She's why I'm here." Tentatively, I extended a hand toward each of them. They both looked a little confused but took my offered hands. "Thanks for looking after me yesterday. I know I wasn't fair to either of you... but I'll try to do better."

"Cecily," Bay said, his eyes filled with compassion, "nothing about any of this has been fair to you—least of all what you are about to do."

"He's right," Finn said.

"But that doesn't mean I shouldn't try to do better. Can we start again... without me killing you," I said to Bay and then glanced at Finn. "Or judging you."

Bay's warm hand in mine felt nice. "We can try, but I won't judge you if you can never look at me again after today."

"Me, either," Finn added.

A strange—not unpleasant—fluttering bloomed in my heart for both of these men, inspired by the bond we'd shared across at least two lifetimes. With their hands still in mine, I squeezed. "Even if I hate you after today, we are still connected. I don't think that will change... ever."

The mystics' light seared the map in my head as both Bay and Finn shied away from the same brightness.

"Patient, aren't they?" Bay muttered.

"They're ready," Finn explained to me. "They had to get connected to each other and seal their power. If you are going to do this, it's time."

I released Bay and Finn and, with my sisters and Dusty, walked a mile to the clearing where the mystics waited with Lille and the Commanders and a crowd of other soldiers from both sides who had gathered to watch. The three stunningly beautiful mystics I'd seen in Bay's memories of Finn and Annisha's wedding stood together. Bright light shone from their green-hued eyes as they watched me from in front of a large flat rock. One was female and the other two male. Their long silver gowns made them look even more regal, but it was their floating that revealed the weight of their power.

Dusty pulled me to a stop and I turned toward him. "Are you sure about this? I'm not sure about this. You don't have to do this. We'll find somewhere else to live." He leaned in and added, "They are scarier with that floating nonsense than Pastor Rowe—think about this."

I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tightly. "It's not easy being my brother, is it?"

He let out a sigh, but didn't say anything.

After letting Dusty go, I searched the mystics' faces. "How will I know—how can I trust—that you won't try to kill me? I'm not signing up to die here, just to do what's required to finish Annisha's mission."

Genovan's fierce eyes were terrifying, their hostility directed at the mystics. "The mystics understand the consequences for exceeding the parameters of their current task."

Consequences? Parameters? What?

He seemed to understand my silent confusion. "They won't try to kill you today. I guarantee it."

Seeing the apprehension in the powerful mystics' eyes when looking upon Genovan and the Commanders made me wonder about all I still didn't know about these beings. While still looking at Genovan, I heard mumbling and turned to see the mystics, hands joined, floating next to the rock with light now blazing out of them. When they became silent, I stared in horror at the greenish ropes that appeared on the rock—ropes to tie me down.

"What is the meaning of this!" Bay demanded. "She volunteered."

The female's voice drifted in, "We do not mean to worsen this trial, but in order to use the forces required to accomplish this, she must remain still. The bindings are the only way to ensure that."

Bindings. Pillories. Cages. All this power and still, I was going to be tied down like an animal. In that second, I faltered, not caring about my purpose—or anyone else's—anymore.

"I can't do this," I blurted, my head shaking and my body backing away as the mystics turned their cold, bright eyes on me.

Finn's voice was like a beacon. " _You don't have to_." I turned, seeing the pain in my heart mirrored on his face. " _Don't do it. You've given enough_."

" _Not more than her though,_ " I said _._ " _Annisha gave up her life... gave up her life with you, so that I could do this. It was a stupid plan, but how can I fail her and you... and everyone else affected by her choice?_ "

He reached forward, gently brushing the tears off my cheeks. " _For whatever it's worth, you are extraordinary. You think you are less than she, that she would know what to do, but she hadn't a clue. This plan, this desperate plan to stop a war from destroying not just Stoughton, but the soul of our country, was all she could come up with. The weight of the decision, she passed to you._ "

" _And I have to finish this, no matter what that means._ " I looked back at the shimmering ropes waiting to bind me, and then turned to Bay and Finn. "Will you do it?"

"Tie you down?" Finn asked, disgust in his voice and on Bay's face.

I nodded and whispered, "If they touch me, I might kill them."

I felt the crowd of soldiers grow hushed with that statement, as though saying those words was a crime. But I didn't care so much about the effects of my words; I was much more concerned with the effects of my power. The fear latching hold of my body inspired a growing rumbling beneath my feet and a thunder clap struck right above us. Wind pummeled us and threatened to snap the moaning trees.

I turned toward the rock and took a first step, pulling at my power to stop the storm but barely making a dent. Another step. Bay and Finn walked beside me, as we moved around the mystics. Lightning struck the ground, sending the crowd scattering. Bay reached a hand to help me onto the rock and I took a seat, searching my sisters' faces, seeing their sadness. Dusty shook, probably remembering what I was remembering as I felt the scars on my back seem to ignite. I reached my eyes up into the blue sky above us scattered with clumps of dark clouds awaiting my will and took a deep breath. Finn moved forward and, with a hand protecting my neck, lowered me into a reclining and all too vulnerable position.

I closed my eyes, expecting them to bind me, but they didn't. My eyes opened, seeing the revulsion on both of their faces. I didn't want the sobs waiting to break free to hurt Dusty, so I didn't say anything, but I thought, " _Please_ , _Finn, just do this._ "

Finn nodded and moved to place my left wrist into the binding, while Bay did the same with my right. Then my ankles. I expected them to move away, but they remained standing next to the rock, still touching my hands.

"Finn, Bayles, you must move back," the female said.

Bay and Finn held their ground for another few seconds before moving away from the rock and leaving me helpless. The ropes stretched so tightly, I couldn't move at all. It was worse even than the pillory, and what the mystics were going to do to me so much worse than one mourning father's rock or an angry pastor's whip.

A restlessness stirred inside me, igniting my fear, and the ground leapt and dropped, and I felt relief that I wasn't powerless, until I realized the rumbling faded as the light shining from the mystics grew. They were stealing my power to keep me from destroying the world while they wrecked my soul. I hated them even more.

As the truth of my vulnerability became undeniable, I struggled, thrashed, and then cried out, wondering if they'd free me if I begged long enough. Wouldn't Finn stop this? Wouldn't Bay? Didn't they know how I felt? Didn't they care?

If they answered, I didn't know because all at once, I existed in darkness, nothing to hold on to, alone. I knew this place: the Source.

In all the blackness, I felt smothered and reached out with the only hope I had.

" _Finn?_ "

" _Finn?_ "

" _Please, Finn, just tell me you're there_."

But he wasn't there. Wasn't with me, and I felt that loss so much I barely noticed the beginning of the journey. Lights flickered in the darkness, and I didn't know if I was in the Source anymore or somewhere else. I felt my consciousness ripped away from my body and I cried out, not knowing if anyone could hear me, and again when I was shoved into a body, a man approaching what I guessed to be the very first battle of the war. I felt his larger frame around me, listened to his thoughts, played through his memories, and then as he removed his sword from its sheath, I prepared to fight. The power of thrusting a sword at the enemy coursed through me; I felt so much passion and life, until a blade sank into his heart and he sputtered... I sputtered, cried, and crumpled to the ground with him, only to be yanked out to live another life.

And another and another. I screamed from the agonies so many times my voice seemed to tear, like it too might bleed as I had bled over and over. More lives. So many lives, and even amongst my hundreds and then thousands of deaths, I still couldn't imagine anything worth so much horror. That they fought so long for and against Stoughton, I couldn't reconcile. But eventually, I could barely think of anything other than the pain, the funerals, the loss, the children who'd never know their parents, lovers torn from each other forever after thousands of years together. Every kind of hurt I experienced as I lived these doomed lives.

I ran out of cries and felt myself shaking all over, well past the point where my human body could function. Still my torture continued. I swept through another life, and then another. The fighting became more brutal as the war raged on, decade after decade, with life after life buried in the tall grasses of the plains. Some were not gifted with quick deaths, left to slowly wither away and I with them.

The next onslaught hit, and I sobbed pitifully, wishing any of these deaths had been my own. But then I saw a face, as I looked out from the body I was in, that gave me some reason to continue. Finn, fighting alongside me in battle after battle. I experienced the dizzying realization that this sword I held had killed me—and the other bodies I'd died within—many times, but still I thrashed my enemies with it, deftly bringing them to bloody masses on the ground. Until the face of the man I fought, I recognized as well. Bay. Gloriously handsome Bay covered in muck and striking at his enemy: me. Suddenly, I knew the body I was in, Britton, and I felt how torn he was with each attempt to kill Bay, as though driving the blade through his friend would be worse than suffering his own death. Until finally, in a sudden lurch, Bay's blade sliced through him. Britton and I watched Bay's face, as we fell into the mud, clinging to our last few moments, glad to not have been the one to kill our friend. And then Britton and I saw Lille, sword still in hand, fighting her enemy, and we felt pride and hope for her to survive to know peace. I felt Britton's beautiful life extinguished while the sky wept above us. I saw Finn, who'd killed me many times as well, fall to his knees, next to Bay, weeping with the clouds for the cost of this war.

My body grew too weary to shake and the sobs didn't rack out anymore, but my tears still fell as I fought in more recent battles. These in the Wild Wood, but still as brutal. If I'd had any hope left, I would have used it to help me reach the ending, but no hope could live in a place with so much sorrow.

The truce raised the realization that this torment might end. But then I stood in a great hall, surrounded by beings, all watching, a rainbow of tears in their eyes. I saw Genovan, weeping as he approached. Mortimer. Lille. Finn. All with tears singeing down their faces as the body I occupied took a step toward a sword positioned on the ground, pointing up at an angle, held by Genovan's dark hands. I felt the flash of recognition that I was inside Annisha, that we were at last one, but I had so little time to learn anything because our footsteps continued and then paused before we fell onto the sword. I cried out, this pain connecting with me more deeply than any others.

My sisters lined up to follow me. Though their faces were entirely different, I knew them. I died with them, one after the other, until I existed inside a princess. Stephanie. Inside her, I felt her guilt and an ugly darkness. I felt her wavering, about to turn away from the last raised sword. She looked to Lille's tear-stained face and thought, _That she may never know_... and rushed to extinguish her life.

After the sevens' sacrifices, the war continued to bring nothing but death, mostly in the Wild Wood. I died at familiar hands so many times that I couldn't imagine seeing the butchers again, the butchers who'd allowed me to go through with this. Being inside Lille was terrible, feeling how much rage and blood thirst she held in that beautiful, little body, though it was amazing just how deadly she was. Unable to shut out anything, I continued to be dragged from one body to another, until finally I ended up inside Finn, as he clutched at a hole in his chest and fell to the ground. Lille, who fought beside him, shrieked and Genovan knelt, saying goodbye to his friend. Finn and I died, but my memories filled in the parts I couldn't see now.

All the beasts and soldiers froze in place when a small child emerged from behind the trees—the small child who was me. I was so tiny and didn't know what I was doing, but I walked on confident legs to where Finn lay, kneeling down and placing my forehead against Finn's, drawing life into his body. He gasped breath, staring at me through shocked and amazed eyes. Finn reached for me, but Genovan swept me into his arms and carried me from the woods to where my seven-year-old sisters stood, afraid and confused in their little-girl pajamas.

I was ripped away to experience more deaths, but at least now I knew there would be an end, though I doubted there would be anything inside me when it finally came.

"There is one more thing you must feel and then you will be finished," the female mystic said, her wavering voice seeming far away.

With a sudden crash, emotions burned into me. Grief, the sorrow of every living friend or family member of the dead, filled my heart. Thousands upon thousands—maybe millions—grieved for their lost loved ones, and I felt everything, including the hollow tremor in my soul that felt like death.

When my eyes opened, everything was dark and for a second I wondered if I was still trapped in the Source, but the movements around me, the releasing of my wrists and ankles, convinced me I'd been tied in place so long night had fallen around me. Rock lights burned and I winced, though I couldn't move any part of my body. All around the rock that held me, silhouettes stood, waiting. Finn. Lille. Genovan. Bay. Each shadowed face like a door, closed to me forever by all I'd seen.

I kept my gaze away from them, reaching toward the night sky, and finally saw my sisters in the stars, the constellations of seven girls who'd grown up feared, but who had survived—and one excellent brother. Their faces were around me too, and as their hands reached for me, I knew they'd take care of me and keep me from the others, who certainly weren't strangers anymore... I knew enough now to despise them.

"Not back to their camps," I whispered over the protests of my butchered throat as Dusty carried me away from the clearing.

"Okay, sis, anything you want."

## 19

# Love and Hate

As I woke, I shuddered, feeling the darkness of the Source, but this time, my eyes opened and my family surrounded me, all touching me. I moved to sit, glad that I could do it by myself, and searched Dusty's and my sisters' faces, as they stirred and looked at me. I'd never seen so many blotchy, red, weepy faces in my actual life, and it shouldn't have made me feel better that they'd cried for me, but it did.

"Oh, Cecily," Stephanie sobbed as she lunged for me, sweeping me into her arms.

From her embrace, I noticed more than just tears on their faces, but red marks and dark bruises.

"What happened to you?" I croaked, my voice raw.

Dusty shook his head. "Nothing you need to worry about."

"What?" I demanded.

"We got a little mad... and tried to attack the mystics."

"It didn't work," Millie said, wearing the largest of the bruises. "But that didn't stop us from trying a bunch of times."

"Like all day," Amanda added.

"Who. Hit. You?" My power roiled, not blazing out of control, but rather focusing and ready to hit any target on this side of the world.

"That's just it," Abigail explained. "They didn't exactly hit us... we sort of hit our faces and bodies against some kind of wall we couldn't see. They're a bunch of cheaters."

Morgan moved closer, brushing my hair away from my face. "It was nothing compared to what you went through."

I quivered, not wanting to think of it. Instead, I reached up to touch her face, healing her wounds, before moving on to the others. In just a few seconds, my family had healed more than my heart ever would.

Abigail looked sheepish, something I'd never expected to see. "Cecily."

"Yes."

"I know you're mad or whatever at Bay and Finn, and the others, but could you heal them too?"

I stared at her. "Heal them? Do you have any idea how many lives they've taken, how much blood is on their hands?"

Abigail looked unsure, but shook her head. "I can't know what you saw, but I know it was bad. I know that, but they hit the wall much harder than we did... all of them—only the Commanders didn't. They're really hurt, Cecily. _Really_. We all fought so hard for you that when it finally ended, the mystics collapsed. Turns out they didn't plan to deal with all your power and all our outbursts too. They're still out."

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Our friends put up a tent outside of the camp since you didn't want to be in there," Amanda explained. "And both armies are protecting us."

The fact that the Protectors and the Conquerors could work together after so much spilled blood shocked me more now than ever.

"Will you help me up?" I asked and took Stephanie's offered hand.

"Thanks for fixing my face," she whispered. "I know we don't have mirrors, but it made me anxious anyway." She glanced at Dusty.

I smiled—maybe incredulously—finding strange comfort in her unending vanity. Each of my sisters studied my face, but I wasn't sure what they were looking for. I just wanted to find the others I needed to heal, so I wouldn't have to see any of them ever again.

The first step I took outside the tent brought every soldier's face to mine, and everyone, including Finn and Bay, took a knee before me. I gasped when I looked at the two of them, bloodied and bruised almost beyond recognition.

"Why are you kneeling?" I asked quietly, grateful volume wasn't necessary in this very silent space.

Bay's eyes remained fixed on the ground. "Because you've earned it."

I didn't understand, but his wounds made me wince, so I walked toward where he knelt—with Abigail trailing me, her hand on my shoulder—and touched his face, instantly healing every wound within him. I moved to Finn and Lille, and every other soldier who wore signs of a very different kind of battle than they were used to.

I looked to Finn. "Where are the mystics?"

Finn nodded to where they lay, three bodies on the ground—no beds, pillows, or shelter. I touched each and then watched as they stirred, their green eyes filled with wonder.

"If you ever try to do something like that to me again, I'll kill you and the continent you stand on. And if you ever decide to _try_ to take my power, I'll shred your souls, just like you did mine." I turned away from them, hopefully forever.

Finn stood in my way, bowing his head slightly to me.

"I don't understand all the bowing, Finn. What did I earn? I allowed myself to be tied down like an animal, like any chicken would do, and then I suffered. What's so brave about that?"

He reached a hand toward me, but lowered it when I shied away from him.

"You overwhelmed the mystics with your power near the end... well, we might have helped a bit with that, but at the moment when you could have lashed out at the world, you didn't. You didn't hurt anyone and absorbed all of your power into yourself as you experienced the greatest amount of pain ever suffered. But more than that, you had the courage to lie down on that rock to fulfill a promise you never made. That is why beings in Darienne will be bowing to you for the rest of your life."

Lille moved toward me. "My apricot did very well."

I smiled despite myself.

She studied my face, tilting her head. "I miss your eyes."

"What's to miss?"

"They wear an immortal's amount of anguish that wasn't there before, when you were just a girl."

Change. I'd been right to fear it, knowing I'd never be the Cecily I had been, but even now, after so much, I could see that without this experience, I could never have understood what was at stake and what had already been lost. Annisha, cruel wench that she was, knew what she was talking about when she came up with this plan and decided to torture me.

"Please, don't," Finn said. "Don't hate her."

"Too late," I said as I turned back toward the tent, but Bay's eyes caught mine and stalled my movement.

He moved slowly toward me. "Cecily, I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for killing so many thousands, or sorry I had to see it—feel what it was like to die at the edge of your sword?"

"Both."

"Bay, will you answer a question?"

"Anything."

"How is it possible for beings who kill so much to know anything about love? I know from their grief that the population of Darienne must love, but I don't understand how any person can do both at the same time."

Bay began to answer a few times, but eventually gave up. I sought my tent-shaped cage, too exhausted to leave this place and buried under too much sadness to do anything but cry or sleep.

"Cecily, it's all right. Everything is all right," Dusty cried, shaking me.

Someone was screaming too loud... and then I realized it was me the second I closed my mouth. I gasped for breath, my body aching, even my skin sore to the touch. I wanted to flinch from Dusty's hold on my arms, but decided to bear the pain rather than push him away.

"I'm okay," I whispered.

Dusty's hands tightened. "You're not okay. You haven't been okay for days. Cecily, please, tell me—tell us—what we can do to help."

"You're hurting her," Finn said from behind Dusty. "Her skin, it hurts. Her entire body."

Dusty's eyes widened and he released me, holding his hands away from me. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I said, my body trembling and freezing. My teeth chattering though five blankets were piled upon me.

Dusty looked ready to curse. "Nothing is okay and nothing will ever be okay... not until you are."

I couldn't come up with anything to say that would help him—not when I didn't believe I would ever be okay. His well-being couldn't be tied to mine anymore.

"Genovan," I said and he moved forward. "Please, take Dusty home."

"No! I won't go! No! You can't make me."

"Not forever, just please. I'll get stronger. I'll make the choice and then you can come back... but hurting you makes me too sad to get strong. Look at you, you're coming apart. I see it and I want you to be strong. I don't want to break you. It's killing me, having you here, seeing me struggle. Just let me get past this, and then we'll be together. Mom misses you so much. Maybe the Commanders could watch over you, just in case, the town... you know."

"We'll see that it is done," Genovan said. I didn't doubt that the Commanders' fierceness was more than capable of protecting my brother's life.

Tears streamed down Dusty's face. "I don't want to go..."

"I don't want him to go," Stephanie said and I wanted to slap her.

Finn heard the direction of my thoughts and said, "Lille, take the sevens to the falls to swim. Gen, take Dusty to the Daye farm, just until tomorrow morning. One day for Cecily to rest without worrying about everyone else isn't too much to ask."

"But we help her to get strong," Morgan said.

I stared at the dread in her eyes. "You've been touching me for days, and you know I'm not getting any better. I just need time to put the pieces back together. Please, I just need time when I don't have to see you hurting for me."

Dusty stood up. "Fine, but I will be back in the morning. And if you do something stupid like dying, I will jump off something and come find you." He stormed out of the tent, and my sisters, who looked equally upset, followed him out.

"I'll make sure the boy doesn't jump off anything more than a few feet high," Genovan said with a lopsided smile. "You feel better."

I nodded, grateful, but I didn't believe that getting better was an option.

"Cecily," Bay's voice came from outside the tent.

Finn, the only one left inside, looked to me and I nodded. "Come in, Bay," Finn said.

The tent flaps parted, and Bay ducked to enter. His face looked about as ragged as I felt and he seemed uncertain as his eyes appraised me and my level of health.

Finn lightly touched my face. "Do you want me to stay or go?"

"Please, stay. I don't know if it is Annisha or me, but with Dusty and the others here, I feel like I have to be strong, but with you two, I feel safe to be weak. It's so strange, you both killed me so many times and I see that as I look at you, but I still don't fear you and you still feel like a part of me that I'm not ready to lose."

"I'm grateful for that," Bay said. He took a seat on the floor next to the pile of blankets that I must have appeared to be hiding under.

"Me too," Finn added.

I shivered, my teeth chattering again no matter how much I tried to stop them.

Bay took a breath and let it out. "It's taken a while, but I finally have an answer to your question."

"I'd like to hear it."

He thought for a moment and said, "Just because we sometimes have to kill, doesn't mean we have to hate." He paused, looking at me like I was going to throw him out. When I didn't, he continued, "I never hated Britton. I loved him, like a brother—you know I still do. But we were on different sides, and we did what we had to do. Those of us who fight will continue to do what we have to do, but we still love. I love. I love Darienne. I love my family, and my sister who is on the other side. My friends. I loved Annisha all my life, even after she married Finn. When I killed Britton, I knew that I'd lost the part of Annisha that still remembered me fondly. I lost Finn, who'd been my brother. Killing is horrendous, and sometimes I think, other than the families of the dead, we who killed have the worst pain of all. Knowing what we robbed from this world, that can never be given back."

A tear fell from my eyes.

"Oh, please, don't..." he said, as his hand brushed away my tear. "Cecily, you're freezing." I sighed, enjoying the burning sensation his warm hand gave my icy cheek. "Let us help you."

"How?" I asked.

"Like we would if you were submerged in a frozen lake."

A look passed between Bay and Finn that I couldn't read.

"Say _yes_ , Cecily," Finn said, already moving toward me.

"Do whatever, if it will just get me to feel like something other than ice."

Bay moved around me, closer to the side of the tent, and Finn moved next to me on the inside. Both slid off their shoes and lifted up the blankets, sliding underneath so that I was suddenly cocooned between their two warm bodies. I wasn't sure what to feel, how to deal with their closeness, but this moment didn't feel romantic or odd. It felt sad and strangely familiar. Memories lit in my mind. Laura's cold body under blankets and me crawling under them to try to make her warm and keep her alive.

"Ohhh," I whispered. "Oh, no..."

Both Bay and Finn held me more tightly as tears leaked from my eyes, but still I didn't say it. I thought if I didn't, it wouldn't be real, because I couldn't imagine really leaving. Really dying. I couldn't say it, even though I needed it said.

"You're dying, Cecily," Finn said. "I'm so sorry. I would give anything to trade places with you, but I still can't. Again."

My sobs instantly let go and the two sets of arms around me kept me from breaking apart. I cried, but had so few tears left for my own life after expending so many for others, that I soon stilled and then slept.

Hours later, when I woke, I felt almost normal, still between Bay and Finn, still safe and alive. My thoughts filled with memories as I, without really trying, played through Bay and Finn's shared history, mostly including Britton. All three of our minds connected and though none of us said anything, we shared this journey. Annisha played a role; they'd loved her so much, but they'd been friends for hundreds of years before Annisha had been born. Finn and Bay remembered Britton when he was just a pesky kid who followed them around like an imprinted duckling. They laughed at the memories, and their enjoyment warmed me even more than their bodies did.

But abruptly, I changed the direction, pulling all three of us into my memories of running from Dunlowe. Hurt. Afraid. Desperate and clueless about how to survive. I focused on my parents, the murderous looks in their eyes as they threatened me and called for my death.

"Did either of you have anything to do with that?" I asked.

Every part of my body waited on the answer, finely attuned to any movement that might tell more than their words did.

Bay remained completely still as he said, "There was something at work in the crowd that day, something dark. The baby's cries were a conduit, but it wasn't from me."

"Or me," Finn said.

Relief allowed me to release the breath I held. "How long do I have?"

Silence. Three hearts beating. My breath shallow.

"I don't know—not long," Finn said.

I thought for a second. "Is this why the mystics didn't decide to kill me? Because I'm dead already?"

Finn nodded, his head still sharing my pillow. "After you brought them back from the dead—there was a reason they didn't have pillows or blankets or a tent—it would have been less than gracious to try to kill you. But yes, they knew immediately about your fate."

"I didn't touch my head to theirs. How?"

"I don't think you ever needed to," Finn said, "but I'm glad you saved them, even if you didn't realize what you were doing."

The wick in my candle might be short, but I knew I'd hate the mystics until the last shred of fire inside me burned out.

"How am I supposed to decide the fates of millions of people?" I asked Finn.

"I don't know."

I stared into Finn's blue eyes. "What do you know?"

"I am a better man for having known you, Cecily Daye."

Bay, who'd been quiet, added, "As am I."

The weight of this moment pushed at me, demanding my attention. The two enemies who'd loved the same woman were now here, together, helping me. The hatred between them seemed nonexistent. I wasn't sure if that meant there was hope for the world, but I decided to believe it anyway and reached for the gift that might seal their bond.

Seeking the Source, I found Britton almost instantly, and I opened Bay's and Finn's minds to not just his still image, but his smiling face.

"Bay! Finn! How are you?"

Bay swallowed roughly. "Britton, I'm so sorry. I would take it back, let you kill me—I've thought about doing that to myself since the day you died..."

"Blech. Come on now, it was war. Kill or be killed. I never judged you for that. Not ever. I just miss you guys, and wish... for another chance. But with Cecily in the world, maybe it will come."

"I don't think so," I said. "I think I'll be coming to see you very soon."

His eyes turned knowing. "Just don't be afraid, no matter what happens."

"Are you really okay?" Finn asked.

Britton nodded. "It's different not being in the world, but there's a lot of peace, or at least there would be if I didn't worry so much about all of you. I want to tell you so much about what is coming... coming for you all, but I get in trouble when I do, and I don't want to get shut off again."

"Is Laura okay? I didn't get her in trouble, did I?"

"She's fine. She's kind of funny, and back asleep, like she should be."

Britton vanished as I felt a jolt in my mind, the map pulsing as I tried to understand what I was seeing. Thousands of human souls were positioned just outside the border to the Wild Wood. My thoughts stupidly stammered over the truth blaring at me: Stoughton was about to invade the Wild Wood. What a bunch of fools.

"It's time to deal with this," Bay growled.

I almost flinched from him, but kept myself in place.

"Cecily," Bay said. "We didn't seek your ruling, and your decision doesn't affect us. But _you_ affect me, and in this one thing, I think I can ask your opinion, without disobeying my orders... too much."

I rolled over to see his face. "What are you saying?"

Bay's intense eyes held me. "We're allowed to kill them if they enter... that's not against the truce, but even the truce is winding down. I want to kill them—especially a choice few—but I care too much to do it without your _permission_."

"I see," I said in a clipped voice, while I bit my lip to keep from cursing at him.

"Do you?" Something in his confused tone made me wonder what I was missing.

Finn's voice surprised me. " _There is no greater respect than that which he is paying you. His leaders will be very unhappy, and they are_ very _dangerous._ "

" _Thanks_ ," I said to Finn. "I understand, Bay, and I appreciate it—more than I can say. If I can keep them out of the Wild Wood, will you honor the truce and not invade Stoughton until the war resolves everything?"

"Yes, I will honor that... and _you_."

I reached my arms around him and for a moment disappeared into his embrace, before pulling back. "Thank you. I have to get to the border. Will one of you help me?"

In Finn's arms, I traveled back to the border of the Wild Wood, flanked by two armies. But I couldn't think of them, all I could think about was the choice. And my family, my sisters, my brother. What all of this would mean to them. Genovan would know what was happening and I reached for the red lights on the map.

I pushed with the force of my power to where he stood in the woods near my house. " _Gen, is he safe? My parents?_ "

" _They are safe. The farm is overrun with humans from Southern Stoughton, but we got your family out before they came. Dusty would not have been safe._ "

To get free from my guilt, I'd sent my brother into danger. If anything would have happened to him...

Finn's arms tightened on my body. " _He's fine_."

" _What do you want us to do?_ " Genovan asked.

" _Keep my family away—this isn't going to go well_." I didn't wait for any answer before searching for Lille, who was with my sisters as they swam in a lake. Lille knew what was happening and was standing extremely still.

" _Lille, keep them safe and away from here_."

" _They'll never forgive you for excluding them when you need them most—trust me, I know_."

I didn't answer and didn't doubt that she was right, but if they lived long lives, I could live with them hating me for keeping them safe.

" _What are you going to do?_ " Finn asked.

" _Keep them out of the Wild Wood_."

" _How?_ "

" _I have no idea_."

We heard the shouts of the townsfolk, readying themselves for battle, before we'd reached the border, and the hate in their words struck me. They had more of it than the soldiers on either side of this war, even after thousands of years of slaughtering each other. Bay and Finn honored their truces in a way the people of Stoughton never would.

When we reached the border, Finn stopped and we stared out at more than a thousand people from many towns in Stoughton, standing together, Pastor Rowe in the front.

"The Great God Dunn demands action, demands that evil be rooted out of our midst. As long as the sevens exist, we will never be safe. Our babies will be stolen and fed to Cecily Daye's monsters. She's an abomination... she most of all. She was always the most evil, because only the truest of evil could call on the Great God Dunn and use his name so casually. The mildly evil wouldn't dare..."

On and on he went, spewing the familiar ugliness, while my heart pounded in my chest.

"Please, put me down."

Finn gently set me down, and he and Bay ensured my legs would hold me.

I looked up at both of their faces. "I'm sorry we didn't have more time, to get to know each other better." I quickly brushed away a rogue tear.

"What are you going to do?" Finn pressed.

"What I have to," I said. "Bay, how does a truce work? Or the rules for war?"

Bay searched my face. "What are you asking?"

"I want your side to agree that the sevens and Dusty are not targets. I want to know that after I'm..." I couldn't say it, but I didn't have to.

Bay gripped hold of me and pulled me to him. "They will never be targets, and we will shield them if ever they have a need. You have my word."

"Even Stephanie?" I pressed, moving back to look at his face.

Hatred flashed in his eyes, but he nodded. "Even Stephanie."

"You are a good man. If it means anything, I can't imagine how Annisha ever got over you."

"Don't do this," he said, glancing out of the wood. "They aren't worth it."

"Don't break the truce, no matter what they do to me," I whispered. "Swear it."

Bay let out a growl, but he nodded and I turned away, knowing if I stared at his anguished face for another second I would run and never give a ruling, because if Stoughton attacked the Wild Wood, I wouldn't have to.

I looked at Finn, flushing, struck once again by how beautiful he was. "Please, take care of my sisters and Dusty. _Please_."

" _You don't even have to ask, Cecily._ " His voice reached inside me, quieting the fearful parts and bolstering the weak parts. His voice that was my home.

" _It's no wonder she loved you_ ," I said, holding back the other words that would do no good now.

I wasn't Annisha, but the feelings Finn had about losing our shared soul again were clear on his face and broke my heart.

" _Thank you for my life, Cecily. I'll try to use it well._ "

Pastor Rowe shouted, his fervor ramping up, about to give the order to invade. I had to move now, though my feet seemed to be fighting against me.

I glanced around at all the faces, monsters, beasts, and soldiers, all looking to me, not one looking like a true stranger anymore. "I rule that the Protectors must continue to fight for the people of Stoughton. That even though so much has been lost, there is no worthier fight than this one, for people who live in fear and hate, who don't understand that monsters can be great friends," I said, glancing at Finn and Bay, "and that love and acceptance of each other, enemies and friends, is worth dying for."

With only the force of my will keeping me standing, I turned away and stepped beyond the protection of the trees.

## 20

# Consumed

The crowd instantly reacted to my presence, lurching forward as one. They stopped ten feet from me, nervously waiting for me to attack or whatever it was they feared most. Nate and Pastor Rowe stood in the front, but I knew all of the faces in the first few rows.

"Have you come to plead for your beloved Wild Wood?" Pastor Rowe demanded.

I shook my head. "No, I've come to plead for you."

"For us? What could we possibly need from evil like you?"

"Me... at least I thought that's what you wanted."

Nate studied me, exhaustion warring with hope in his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"Because of my evil, you're willing to risk your lives in the Wild Wood. So, I'm here to surrender to you, if you will stay out of the Wild Wood. The other sevens have no power. I'm the only one who could kill you, and I could do it right now. I could steal the air from your lungs and watch you twitch until you die."

The crowd moved forward, shouting for Dunn's protection and believing that would shield them, so I took the opportunity to explain in a way their feeble minds could understand and stole their air—all except the children and baby Darla, quietly looking at me from her mother's arms. Hands reached for throats as they gasped and ultimately fell to the ground before me. I felt the pull of the Source, the black home I would soon return to.

When I felt the lesson had been sufficiently learned, I released them. Okay, maybe I held on to Mrs. Dumphry's throat for just a few extra seconds and considered never letting go of Zoe's. But hey, nobody's perfect.

Still clutching their throats, they climbed to their feet, fear radiating through their eyes.

"I will give my life if you swear not to throw yours away in the Wild Wood."

Confusion knitted Pastor Rowe's forehead. "How do we know you won't kill us or drag our souls away with you?"

"I promise if I wanted you dead, you would be. I didn't have to give you air, did I? So, I guess, you're just going to have to trust me."

"Never."

My legs quivered. "Do we have a deal?"

"Build a pyre!!!" Pastor Rowe shouted as my body began to tremble. I'd used up everything it had left and I fell to the ground, but I didn't remain there for long. Hands reached out, roughly seizing me and dragging me toward where wood and weapons were being joined with rope to create a place to burn me atop a wagon, while wardens rushed to unhitch the horses. The image struck me of how I would end, positioned high enough for everyone to get their fills of the sight.

My coldness felt complete, for how could any warmth survive around so much hate?

As my body scraped the ground on the way to my end, I heard something I hadn't expected.

"You can't do this," a woman said. "This is wrong. All of this is so wrong!"

I struggled to raise my head and saw that Laura's mother had moved between Pastor Rowe, and his part of the mob holding me, and the pyre being built.

"We've allowed this for too long," Mrs. Hardy continued. "These girls never hurt anyone. Never. And now you know they could have and we deserved it, but still they showed kindness even when we let you hurt them, when we hurt them." Her words grew stronger, as her tears flowed faster. Her eyes met mine. "I'm so sorry." She turned toward the crowd. "All she ever did was love my dying child..."

"Get out of the way," Pastor Rowe snapped, and Mr. Hardy dragged his wife away, but little bodies took up the space she'd left.

Abigail's little brothers.

Little Darryl puffed up his chest to look bigger. "This is dumb."

"Yeah," his younger brother, Robbie, added.

"Boys," Pastor Rowe chided.

Darryl stepped toward Pastor Rowe. "We miss Abby and we want her back, and if you burn up Cecily, Abby won't ever want to come back."

Robbie stood shoulder to shoulder with his brother. "Yeah."

"Don't worry, boys," Pastor Rowe said. "We'll be going to find Abby real soon."

My mind fought against a stupidity that no amount of power could fight. "No," I pleaded. "You promised."

"You already said they had no power, so there'll be no one to protect them."

I shook my head, using what little strength I had. Everything I'd done, everything I'd given to save these fools, and Bay and Finn—and a million soldiers—were going to end up killing them anyway.

"Nate," I cried.

"Don't you talk to him," Zoe snapped, striking me across the face. "He's mine. We're getting married."

"Take him. He's all yours, I promise. I've learned what real love looks like."

Nate's face appeared before mine, contorted by some undefinable emotion. "What do you want to say to me?" he asked softly, his voice not sounding much different from when he'd loved me.

"If you let them go into the Wild Wood, you'll all die. It's time to be a leader and stop your father from destroying this part of the world. I've done all I could, given everything I have. Now, it's up to you."

Before he could say anything, a score of men seized my body and lifted me onto the wagon bed and to the pyre, and using rope—hateful, terrifying rope—tied me to the wood. The rope kept my weak body standing, as it lashed me in place. My small consolation was that I faced the Wild Wood, the frightful place that held almost all the beings I loved.

" _I'm not afraid, Finn. Tell Bay I'm not afraid—tell my sisters and my brother_ ," I said as the wardens approached, carrying lit torches, and was glad I'd said the words before my fear spiked and made me a liar.

" _I'll tell them_." Finn's voice was a graveyard and his memories were too powerful for me not to see and feel. I saw Annisha walking toward the blade and from inside her, I heard her thoughts: _Finn, forgive me. Please forgive me. You are the love of my life, my husband forever._ Then her body met the blade.

And he was watching it all happen again.

But before I could say anything, the torch in Pastor Rowe's hand, just a foot from the pyre, stole my thoughts.

"For our town, for our country, for the Great God Dunn, we stand against evil!"

"Wait," Nate said, reaching to jerk his father to a stop. "This is wrong. Even if she is evil... we can't do this. She'll be the beginning, but she won't be the end. If this is how we deal with people we don't understand, at what point will we be burning each other every time we disagree?"

Pastor Rowe's eyes flashed. "You're under her spell, son."

"NO!" Nathaniel shouted. "I'm just not under yours anymore." He searched the crowd. "Really, all of you are okay with this?! She's one of us, no matter how different she is, and if we hadn't chased her out, she'd be using her power to heal my sister." He abruptly glanced up at me. "Would you?"

I nodded.

"Just wait..." he begged the crowd. "Let her help Darla. She will even if we do this, don't you see? Let Darla show you who Cecily really is."

"No!" Pastor Rowe shouted, but Mrs. Rowe ignored her husband and brought Darla to Nate, who took his blind, but silent, sister gently into his arms and looked up at me.

"You'll have to bring her to me. I need to touch her," I explained as non-threateningly as I could.

Nate didn't pause before carefully climbing onto the wagon bed. When he reached me, he looked nervous. "What do I do?"

"Touch her forehead to mine," I whispered, my head sagging slightly, my weakness growing. "Hurry, Nate, I don't have long."

His face contorted. "You promise you won't hurt her?"

"Have I ever, even once, hurt you or anyone else?" I demanded, tears filling my eyes and spilling over.

Nate grasped a breath and then slowly raised his smiling sister to me. He saw her face and it gave him the faith to continue until her little forehead nudged against mine and her laughter rang out. He pulled her back, staring into her now green eyes, just the same shade as his, as she looked adoringly up at him.

He held Darla so that the crowd could see. "Cecily saved her. She could help others, if we could just see her, look past what we've been taught to fear."

"She fixed what she'd broken, Nathaniel. She's only doing it now to save her own life. Get him off of there," Pastor Rowe ordered, and a mob of wardens came and forcefully, but carefully, dragged him down, while protecting Darla. Mrs. Rowe lunged for her baby and wept over Darla's continued happy squeals, while Pastor Rowe brought the flames closer.

"Pastor Rowe, stop," Mr. Trench said, stepping forward. "See reason. This is wrong, your son and daughter proved that."

Pastor Rowe's face reddened as more of the crowd turned on him, defying him and what he'd taught them. Abigail's parents. Stephanie's brothers. So many others joined in trying to save my life. For all the ugliness I'd seen, here was the beauty.

But then Pastor Rowe abruptly turned and threw the torch onto the wagon, over the shouts and cries of the crowd.

When the flames fluttered, snaking toward me, I tried not to scream. I tried, but when the heat seared my feet—and I felt stupid for ever complaining about the cold—I lost control of myself and screamed and tore at the bindings that held me, all while holding my power in, keeping it from hurting everyone or this land I'd always loved.

This would end—and much faster than when I'd been tied to that rock. As I shook my head, flinching from the flames tearing at my skin and hair, my eyes attached to a sight. Six beautiful girls, hand in hand, walking across the field. My sisters.

The townsfolk flinched from them and the army that followed them. I wanted to cry out to them, to get them away from all this hate, but I had no power, no choice other than to burn and not to break the world. My sisters didn't stop, never slowed, and approached the pyre, one by one reaching to climb on it with me.

"NO!" I screeched over my own pain, terrified for theirs.

" _We came into this world together... and that's how we'll go out_ ," Morgan said, as she willingly climbed into the fire and wrapped her arms around me, followed by the rest of the sevens. My bright sisters. My brave sisters. My glamorous princess sisters. My home.

Their cries of agony met mine and something fierce in me awoke. And a memory.

"Your sisters are the magnifying glass and you are the sun," Finn had told me.

The sun. I could burn. I could bring the fire to me and away from my sisters. At that moment of awareness, my powers flashed to life, instead of protecting the world from me, they protected me and my sisters from the world. It was about time. In pieces, I felt the flames drawing more to me and away from my sisters, who'd been instantly engulfed by the brutal blaze. I felt their wounds, their damaged flesh, their beloved faces, healing, as the flames burned me alone. I was on fire, but there was no more pain... only power. The fire didn't consume me—I consumed it.

The flames danced on my flesh like a caress until they shimmered and faded within me. I stared at my arm as the last flicker vanished, leaving a golden sheen to my skin. I glanced at my sisters, and they, too, were no longer the pale girls they had once been. They'd never looked more lovely, but that had nothing at all to do with their outsides and everything to do with all that lived inside them.

The silence around us attracted my attention, but we sevens took our moment to hold each other, knowing there was nothing they could do to us ever again.

When I turned to the crowd, made up of three armies, I realized I had no idea what to do.

Stephanie turned regal. "Maybe we should climb off this stupid wagon."

"Good idea," I said. Together, we stepped off the seared wood beneath us onto solid ground. I looked to the crowd. "What will you do now?"

At that, the men in the Trench family leapt upon Pastor Rowe, using rope to bind him and shoving him into a wagon. A brawl broke out when the wardens tried to defend Pastor Rowe, but it ended quickly enough now that the town was united.

"I'd say our work here is done," Amanda said, laughing and hurrying to hug Mortimer and then to introduce the giant soldier to the clump of redheads that made up her family.

Abigail hugged her brothers and her parents. Stephanie very haughtily demanded apologies from her family, but it was Lille she rushed to hug. Charity and Millie found their families, and the Hardys and other families approached Morgan with the compassion they should have always shown for the girl who'd lost her family.

And I just stood watching it all.

"Cecily," Nate called.

I turned, fastening a slightly—or maybe incredibly—rude smile to my face. "Congratulations on your coming marriage."

He looked like I'd struck him and I hated the sympathy that blossomed inside me.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Thank you for my sister. You don't know how hard it's been for her, and my family, and knowing that you risked your life that day trying to help her. I should have believed in you."

"Cecily!!!" Dusty shouted as he raced through the crowd, shoving people out of the way until he reached me.

I expected a hug, but Dusty's irate face showed his true intention. "You are a moron! A stupid, no good, rotten excuse for a sister. If there weren't a bunch of immortal beings around here who would bury me alive if I smacked you, I would smack you so hard that you would look more like an evil goat than a girl by the time I was finished... I can't even believe you. You are so stupid!!!"

A laugh blurted out of my body, which only enraged him more until he was spitting and cursing so loudly that parents began dragging small children away from him. My chuckles hiccuped out until my laughter was louder than his words, and he finally shut his mouth and lunged to hug me.

"Don't do that ever again," he pleaded.

"I hope I never have to, and I'm sorry for sending you aw..." My words shut down as soon as I saw my parents standing just a few feet from me, tears in their eyes.

Dusty pulled back and looked at what had caught my attention. "Go ahead," he said, freeing me to run into my father's embrace, while my mother wrapped her arms around us both.

Hearing Dad's voice inspired more tears. "I'm so sorry, honey."

"It's okay now," I said over and over, believing it every time.

The others waiting to see me gave my family time to talk, but I noticed Genovan lurking nearby, his patience waning.

Dusty leaned over to me. "I kind of need you to smooth things over with Gen and the Commanders because I got a little angry and might have kicked them."

My neck craned to look at him. "You're braver than me."

Dusty stepped directly behind me, muttering, "Maybe it wasn't so smart."

"Dusty's really sorry," I said, looking up at Gen, who studied my face very intently.

His hand raised and touched my cheek. "You are amazing, Cecily Daye. And you are immortal."

"What?" I asked, as my sisters moved closer.

Lille moved in, her chin high. "Immortal apricots, I'd say."

"What?" Stephanie demanded.

Genovan's red eyes glowed brighter. "You might be killed someday, but your body will never die naturally, nor will your sisters."

"How?" I sputtered. "How did we become immortals?"

Lille grinned. "You kinda stole it."

"Nice going, sis," Dusty said.

"I don't understand," I said and looked to Genovan, not Lille, for answers.

"You used the power of the Source to steal from the flames, and all flames are tied to the sun. So, basically, you burned your way into immortality, in a way no being ever has—which isn't really that surprising since there has never been a being like you. You even look different on the map."

We did, no longer that shiny blue-grey, we were gold, even more dazzling than Bay.

Hope lit inside me and I smiled at Genovan, Mortimer, and the other soldiers I'd live to know better in both the Protectors' and Conquerers' armies. But two people were missing from this celebration and I searched for them, first around me and then on the map.

Both Bay and Finn were together, but they were moving quickly away.

"I have to go," I said, already moving. "Watch over everyone, Gen."

## 21

# The Downs

I ran, full out, delighting in my strength, in the powerful feeling that touched every inch of my body. The uneven path didn't slow me down at all. I leapt over branches and narrow streams. I hurried next to waterfalls and down the path that snaked next to a cliff. But still Bay and Finn continued to move away from me, even though they both had to know I was racing to reach them.

For a flicker of a second, I considered using my power to force them to stop, but ruled it out almost as quickly. That was no way to treat friends. Instead, I hurried faster. I was out of breath when I began to close the distance but found that through pushing past my old human limitations, my strength and endurance doubled.

Just hours before, I'd been carried to the place where I'd tried to give up my life and now I felt more alive than I ever had, but the two people I wanted most didn't seem to want me. I came to an abrupt stop.

"Is that it, Finn?" I said aloud to the quiet trees. "You're done with me?"

His blue light stopped and a second later Bay's gold one did the same. Finn said nothing, but I resumed my course, walking now. They didn't start moving away from me, but that hardly seemed promising.

I walked under thick branches, heavy with leaves and fruit, and once past them, I found Bay and Finn staring in the other direction, standing beside a crystal lake. I stopped, unsure. Bay leaned toward Finn and whispered something I couldn't hear and then walked away, toward the northern bank of the lake.

Finn still didn't turn, didn't acknowledge me at all.

"If you don't want me here, just say so."

Finn looked up at the sky and then turned toward me, the look on his face had me taking a step back, but he moved quickly, covering the distance in only a second. He grabbed me, his eyes tortured and the broken pieces I'd seen in him before seemed shattered.

"Feel," he commanded, and then he opened his mind and soul to me, the way he had before. Only this wasn't the soft memories that had helped me when my back was wrecked or that helped me to sleep—this was anguish.

I saw through his eyes and through his heart what he had just gone through watching me walk away, watching me fall in front of my enemies. I saw myself dragged and bound. I saw myself burned, heard my screams, but more than that, I felt what he had felt seeing me hurt, hurting with me, as his vows to Annisha had ensured. He opened his memories further, taking me back to the day Annisha first told him of the plan that would make him a widower.

The fights they'd had until he finally surrendered and gave her the support she needed. Then he'd survived the dark time between her death and my birth, but he'd been there, outside my house the day I was born. He'd been near, watching when Pastor Rowe had inspected me. I watched my entire life unfold, all from Finn's perspective. I felt how he embraced my rambling thoughts, how he cared for me, how well he knew me. All my life. I felt the twinge of jealousy that inspired him to first speak to me when I was busy giving my heart to Nate. I felt his guilt after and his joy when I blathered on and on to him about my life, sharing all the things he already knew.

All the way up through his watching me tortured on the rock, which made me shudder. It would take an immortal's lifespan for me to get over that—for him to get over everything he'd been through because of his love _for me_.

"Can you see why I need to walk away from you? I can't feel this much anymore. I can't... I can't do this, Cecily. I can't..."

I leaned up on my tiptoes, stopping his words with a kiss, a kiss that flashed through me. His feelings were still open to me and mine had never been closed to him. I felt what he felt. Part of me feared that he'd pull away, but he didn't. His heart beat in his chest, his breathing came in gasps as he held me to him, his need for me overwhelming every thought I'd ever had about what love was. People were supposed to be distinct, separate, but we weren't and we never really had been.

" _I knew there was a chance_ ," he said in my mind while our kiss lingered, " _that you might still be connected to me, the first day we saw each other._ "

" _When I collapsed?_ "

" _You collapsed from the power of our bond... but that doesn't mean that we have to act on..._ "

I kissed him even harder, drowning out his clearly unnecessary words. When we finally separated, it was only so that I could snuggle against his chest and feel the oneness of his arms encompassing me.

And then I remembered Bay and searched for him on the map. He stood alone about a mile from us, staring at the water.

I looked up at Finn. "I have to tell him."

Without a word, Finn took hold of my hand and we walked to where Bay stood. He didn't acknowledge me, even when I stood beside him.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Bay's eyes remained on the water's rippling glow. "I loved Annisha, Cecily, and I lost her. I had no illusions that it would go a different way this time—not that my feelings about her... or you have changed. And I'd certainly rather you be with Finn than slugboy back in Dunlowe."

I grinned. Nate's charms certainly weren't valued by everyone.

" _He's lucky to be alive_ ," Finn added.

Bay let out a sigh and shook his head.

I stared up at him, wishing he'd look at me. "I know why Finn walked away from me, but I still don't know why you did."

Bay turned away from the water and gave me the sight of his lovely eyes. "I remained friends with Annisha, because we were good friends. Now, thanks to you and Britton, I have Finn's friendship again, after thinking it was as lost to me as Annisha. Tomorrow, I lose you both all over again."

"Lose?"

"The war, Cecily. You made your ruling. Tomorrow we are enemies again and to even talk to you without permission will be treason. We're all moving to the Downs, having had quite enough of the Wild Wood. The freedom I've had—we've all had—being away from our leaders is over. Annisha's mission is over, though yours is only beginning."

I thought about that. _My_ mission. I wasn't sure what it was and I had much to learn, but I liked that from here forward, it would be my journey. I owed nothing else to the woman who'd died to become me. But that didn't stop Bay's other words from hitting me.

With my free hand, I took hold of Bay's and together, the three of us stood, watching the stars come out and seeing their reflections dance along the water. If I could make this night last forever, I would, but I didn't think even I had the power to do that. Tomorrow would come and we would do all we could with what we had.

But that was tomorrow, and there were still many hours to fill with new memories that would get us through the hardships until there were no more enemies, no more wars, and only love and friendship. Annisha had given everything to make that happen. And now, so would I.

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The End

### Do you want to read the next book for free?

Cecily and the sevens are just getting warmed up (and, hey, they've already been on fire). If you enjoyed _The Wild Wood_ and would like to read the second book, _The Downs_ , then I highly suggest taking advantage of this limited time offer.

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Join my mailing list and receive a free copy of _The Downs_. I usually send just a couple emails a month that will include special offers, background details about the books, and news about upcoming releases. To receive your free book, visit my website at:

www.julieannenelson.com

Also, please post a review for _The Wild Wood_. Reviews help authors more than anything.

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Thanks for reading!

# Discussion Questions

1. After reading _The Wild Wood_ , do you think Pastor Rowe and the townsfolk were right to fear the sevens? If not, how should people who are different be treated? How do you treat people who are different from you?

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2. The townsfolk went along with what Pastor Rowe dictated. Are they as guilty as Pastor Rowe? Should they be judged? Would you have gone along with persecuting Cecily, or would you have stood against the crowd and risked the consequences? Why or why not?

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3. Cecily takes the blame for things she didn't do and suffers the consequences. Were her actions brave or stupid? Under what circumstances would you do as she did? Why or why not?

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4. Cecily kills all the "evil" goats in the Wild Wood. Was she right to do this? Were they really "evil" or were they just another species trying to survive? She doesn't feel bad—should she? Would you?

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5. If you were given a choice, like Annisha, to live a life somewhere else on the planet in order to understand another culture, where would you go and why?

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6. Cecily chooses for the Protectors to continue to fight for the freedom of the people of Stoughton. Is her choice wise? What do you think will happen to the people of Stoughton now? What about the beings of Darienne?

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7. Should Lille, knowing what she knows about Britton's forgiveness, forgive Bay? Could you ever forgive someone who hurt you or someone you cared about? Should Lille have taken her own vengeance? Why or why not?

# History/Geography Questions

1. Define imperialism, xenophobia, bigotry, nationalism, conquest, ethnocentrism, mores, conformity, peer pressure, discrimination, prejudice, and caste system.

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2. How can each of the terms in question 1 be applied to _The Wild Wood_?

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3. Consider the repercussions of conquest on the North American continent from as many perspectives as possible. What did one group of people lose for another group of people to gain? Discuss right and wrong in this context, ensuring a full discussion of what people were leaving behind (the hardships that inspired people to risk the unknown for a new life).

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4. Investigate the legacy of hardships left behind from 19th and 20th century imperialism. Study international news and discuss how many of the problems in the 21st century have legacies rooted in imperialism.

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5. Define civil war. Is a civil war occurring in Darienne? Why or why not? Do you think the people of Darienne could ever go back to how they had been before the war started?

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6. Divide in groups and study three different civil wars of the 20th century and the lasting effects on a nation. Discuss the American Civil War and its legacy in American life and politics.

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7. Just like the townsfolk went along with what Pastor Rowe said, brainstorm other times in history where people stood by and did nothing while persecution happened in front of them. Come up with examples from history or current international news from a wide variety of areas (for example, North America, Europe, Africa, and Asia). What has happened to people who refused to go along? How are the people who did nothing remembered by history? How are the people who stood against persecution remembered?

# The Wild Wood Playlist

Writing is a solitary activity and without music to accompany me, I could never go _all in_ to my story worlds. Music keeps me company and helps me reach the emotional depths of my characters. The following is a list of songs that helped to inspire and shape this story world. Thanks to all of the artists who share their tremendous gifts with the world.

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_Dark Was the Night_ — Blind Willie Johnson

_Make You Feel My Love_ — Adele

_Into the Fire_ — Thirteen Senses

_Bubbly_ — Colbie Caillat

3 Versions of _Bad Day_ — Fuel, Daniel Powter, and R.E.M.

_Thnks Fr Th Mmrs_ — Fall Out Boy

_Uncovered_ — Granian

_The Guy that Says Goodbye to You is Out of His Mind_ — Griffin House

_This is Goodbye_ — Honestly

_The Resolution_ — Jack's Mannequin

_Please Don't Stop the Rain_ — James Morrison

_I'm Yours, Lucky (feat. Colbie Caillat)_ — Jason Mraz

_Chase This Light_ — Jimmy Eat World

_One of Those Days, I'd Rather Be With You, Brand New Day_ — Joshua Radin

_Ooh Oh_ — Keri Noble

_Daniel's Song_ — Lauren Lee

_A Light On a Hill_ — Margot & The Nuclear So and So's

_Sing Me Sweet_ — Matt Nathanson

_Powerless (Say What You Want)_ — Nelly Furtado

_Gravity_ — Sara Bareilles

_Save Yourself_ — Sensefield

_The Beginning is the End is the Beginning_ — Smashing Pumpkins

_Flower in Rain; See You Later, See You Soon; Keep Me In Your Thoughts_ — Stephen Kellogg & The Sixers

_Until the Day I Die, Anthem of Our Dying Day_ — Story of the Year

_Monoplain_ — Susan Enan

_This is Your Life_ — Switchfoot

_Can't Go Back Now_ — The Weepies

# Acknowledgements

As we all know, it takes a village to raise a book—wait, that _was_ the proverb, right? Really, it would be more accurate to say, it takes a village to raise a writer. Without the unfailing support of a village worth of people, this dream would never have come true. So, huge thanks to:

Mom, for sharing so willingly of your creativity throughout my childhood, and Dad, for teaching me what dedication to goals really means.

Chelsea, Jodi, Angela, and Pirate Frank: thanks for listening to my tales of publishing dreams for more than twenty years without ever doubting that I'd get here. And Lauren, I've loved you for eighteen years and am so amazed by the woman you are becoming—thanks for letting me be your Auntie Dewie.

Debra Lynn Lazar, Head AC, and the best writer friend a person could have, please don't ever stop pushing me to be more than I ever thought I could be.

Kasie West, _The Wild Wood_ would be a hollow place without your guidance. Thanks for helping me discover the true tale waiting to be caught in amongst the dark branches and moaning trees.

Tawny, for being my person. McG forever.

Allison Leonard of Studio127Photography for five years of daily support, and for sharing your considerable talents and generous friendship to help my hard work in writing come to life with amazing covers, awesome graphic design, and stellar photography (and for taking the best picture of my Darby dog I could have ever imagined... I will treasure it forever).

Brian and Margaret, for encouraging me to dive off this cliff and for all your help in getting me here. Brenna, Ellie, Connor, and Ari, for accepting me and making me feel special every time I visited and for not holding it against me that my aunting skills are questionable at best.

To the Sambas clan: Michelle, Patrick, Katie, and Ryan for support (technical and otherwise), playing in the woods for my book trailer, and being excellent dinner buddies and great friends.

Angela Lewis, for brilliant music and for inspiring me. I'm still proud to say I was your teacher once upon a time.

Karla, you are awesome and I'm so glad to have you as a friend. Thanks for being my wingman when I put on my big girl heels and am looking for adventure.

Leslie, for always supporting me when I was afraid to dream beyond my barriers. And Hooch, Dude, you rock my world. :)

Beth and Beth, thanks for including me in your world and listening to me when I needed it most.

Kat, I will never forget how grateful I was for your support when I first moved across the country (thanks for coming home from work when I got bit by that bee and for watching over Darby when I was so worried). And, most importantly, for siding with me about Manuel (I really needed that support). I think Katie is winking at us over the horizon, getting ready for her eventual debut to the world.

Scott Shea, for being my favorite person on the planet—it's quite a title, but you deserve it every single day. You are very special in this world and I don't mind reminding you often.

Belinda, for introducing me to _The Mountain is Young_ and sending me the article that convinced me to do this. I'm pretty sure there is a tall, distinguished man smiling in heaven (and he has a border collie sidekick who goes by the name of Dolby, Dirky, Dingy, and only occasionally, Darby).

Judy Barton, for the beautiful painting of a tree that presided over several versions of this book, protecting and inspiring me.

Joann and Freda, for being the kinds of friends every daughter wishes for her mother.

To all my cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents, who believed in me all my life.

To my friends at work, who've shown such support for me and my goals, and to all the friends I've made in my new city.

To my algae-loving quarry swimmers, thanks for giving me nights away from writing that were filled with laughter, weddings, games, mathematical equations determining the price per inch for pizza, and thanks for trying vegan chow. :)

Susan Enan, you are brilliant and thanks for giving the world the music that kept me company through literally thousands of hours of solo writing time. And thanks for fulfilling a dream and performing in my living room. To all the musicians who have provided the soundtrack for my years of writing, I honestly couldn't have done it without you.

The students, teachers, and staff of the Old Fremont Middle School, I treasure my memories at Fremont and all the amazing things I was able to do (what school allows a teacher to move all the desks into the hallway so that students can ride boats across the English Channel to attack Utah Beach?). Thanks for encouraging me to learn videography—it is really coming in handy. And teachers, for still supporting me by helping to get the word out about my book. I am so very grateful.

To my core team of readers for every phase of my writing, thanks for sharing your time to help my books to grow until they are ready to meet the world. Please, get ready for _The Downs_... coming very soon.

# About the Author

I am Julie Anne Nelson and I write books. I also play with dogs, roam in my RV, and take pictures in beautiful places. But my favorite thing is disappearing into fictional worlds (mine or others) and experiencing the adventures that don't require leaving my trusty comfy chair.

I hope you will join me in the world of the Sevens series, and also my two upcoming series, The Blood Bearer Series and The Last Bastion Series, both releasing in 2019.

_For More Information_

www.julieannenelson.com

julie@julieannenelson.com

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# Also by Julie Anne Nelson

The Sevens Series

The Wild Wood (book 1)

The Downs (book 2)

The Barren Way (book 3)

The Deep East (book 4)

The Silent Sea (book 5)

The Frozen Mountains (book 6)

The Universal Sun (book 7)

Complete Sevens Series Box Set

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Coming Late 2019

The Last Bastion

(Book 1 of the Last Bastion Series)

and

The Blood Bearer

(Book 1 of the Blood Bearer Series)
