Page 93 of River of Flames

"Luca!" Julian shouted. Something thumped to the ground. "Abigor! Don't—"

The searing whiteness began to fade. Blurred shapes began to resolve themselves into familiar figures: Julian, bent over a kneeling silhouette that I knew was Luca. But on the ground…

"Oh God," Theo whispered. "Is that her?"

I stood, shaking, with Theo's hand gripped tight under my elbow. The cold night air swept in, swirling around my bare legs, but I only had eyes for her.

"Lilin," I said.

I moved toward her, transfixed. She was so still. Had we killed her? What had we done?

I was dimly aware of Luca's voice, confused and tangled words that I couldn't understand. Not Latin, but something else, a language I'd never heard before, in a voice that wasn't his. And Julian, his Latin words overlapping Luca's foreign ones, his broad hands outstretched over Lilin's silent, motionless body.

"Get back," he hissed to me, as I approached. "River, don't."

But I didn't heed him—I couldn't. I had to see her face. I had to see if she still lived. I knelt beside Luca, his face a rictus of agony as he reached down and lifted Lilin's limp form.

"Is she—" I stretched out a shaking hand. "Is she dead?"

Julian shook his head helplessly. "I don't know."

"Can I touch her?"

He grimaced. "I don't know that, either."

I looked up at Theo, who hovered above me, his expression tense as he stared at Lilin, now cradled in Luca's arms. "She looks human," he said.

"This was—" Julian swallowed hard. "This was the last form she took on Earth."

Luca swayed, smoothing the curtain of dark hair away from her face, and I let out a gasp. No. Her form was human, but how anyone could mistake her for mortal I couldn't imagine. There was something unmistakably holy about her, something more. As if she were lit from the inside out.

She had delicate features and lips like rose petals, and twin crescents of long black lashes brushing her pale, pale cheeks. She was wearing a gown that looked as though it was made of mist and fog. She was impossibly, inhumanly lovely. An angel. Wake up, I wanted to shout. Can't you see the ritual worked?

But she didn't move. She lay in Luca's arms, one hand palm-up on the hard ground as he held her close, as his shoulders heaved.

"Luca," I whispered, reaching for his arm, but he flinched away. And when his eyes met mine, they were pure, bright red.

"No," Julian said, seeing, as I did, the way Luca's arms tightened on Lilin. "Abigor, no—"

Luca threw his head back. His mouth opened. His face shifted, changed, shimmering in the firelight, strange sharp features transcribed over his. He howled again, an echoing, wretched sound that made my stomach twist with nausea.

And his hands—

Clutched in Lilin's gown, Luca's hands began to glow. Sparks flickered to life between his fingers, quickly turning into flames. But Lilin's gown didn't catch fire, as I feared it might. Instead, it began to smoke, to curl and blacken beneath Luca's grasp. The shimmering, cloud-like fabric turned thick and dark, spreading like disease. Her pale skin took on the orange glow of the flames.

And her hand on the ground twitched.

I lurched backwards, hitting Theo's legs, but it was too late. Lilin's hand shot out, wrapped around my dress, and pulled, dragging me forward. The fire from Luca's hands licked at her hair, setting it aflame.

Her eyes opened.

Blood-red and gleaming, they stared directly into mine. This was no angel. Her delicate features, still so lovely, were set in a horrifying expression that was half grin, half anguished grimace.

"Dimitte me," she whispered hoarsely.

"Sile!" Julian roared from behind me. "River, get away from her!"

I couldn't move. Couldn't drag myself away, couldn't break the thrall of this thing—this woman—who had lived within me. Even as the flames engulfed her. Even as the last of her gown burned away. Even, finally, as she drew away from Luca, rising to her feet, bringing me with her. Theo pulled at me and I shook him off, still captivated by Lilin's gaze.

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