Chapter 22

I prymy eyes open and find myself camped out on the floor, tucked in a thick nest of blankets. My body aches all over and my throat is as dry as caked mud. On the other side of the room, Liam kneels beside Aurora. Noticing I'm awake, he glances over and smiles.

"Her breathing is much better," he says, dabbing her brow with a damp cloth.

Achy and stiff, I pull myself to my feet and pad over to him. Aurora's bruises have faded, the swelling of her face almost gone.

Liam looks up from his crouched position, his expression an odd blend of confusion and awe. "When we were all holding hands…I felt your energy surge. What did you do?"

"I-I don't know. One minute, we were chanting and the next, I was inside her…in her mind." I glance at Aurora. Her eyes are still closed, the black lashes damp and clumped together, but her chest rises and falls steadily. The sight of her looking more like a human being and less like a slab of raw meat makes me giddy with relief.

I startle when she lets out a low moan then mutters, her eyes moving rapidly behind her fluttering eyelids. "Rosalie...come back. Where did you go? Stay with me."

"She's right here," Liam says, frowning up at me.

"Noooo," Aurora cries. "I was trapped, but…she—she let me out."

Stroking his sister's shoulder, Liam gapes at me like I'm an apparition. When he finally speaks, his tone is cautious, almost reverent. "Our salttain healers were skilled at repairing bodily harm, but to my knowledge, no one has ever reversed a coma, even within a place of power."

My gaze flickers between Liam and Aurora, whose agitation has settled, my mouth open in speechless shock. At this moment, the role of Head Shaman of Salttain feels too ridiculous a mantle to bear.

I have no idea what I did, but with Evan still sick and suffering, maybe I can use these weird new powers to help him. "I should get home," I say, searching for my sneakers. "My father will worry. And I need to return the boat."

"No! Wait." Liam jumps to his feet as Lila emerges from one of the back rooms, a shawl draped over her shoulders. The weariness has left her and her eyes sparkle with fire.

"You need to rest, dear," she says. "You slept the entire afternoon and through the night. I went to your father and told him you were visiting with us. "

"And he was okay with that?"

Lila gazes at me, her black stare implacable. "He knows you're safe here. Perhaps safer than you are with him. Please stay for breakfast and allow us to show our gratitude for what you've done. We owe you that, at least."

"After breakfast I can take you back to the boat," Liam says. "It's not a good idea for me to show my face in the lowlands right now."

I wonder if Wade will accuse Liam of attacking him. Or if, like Liam insists, he'll be too ashamed.

"Come with me for a moment, love," Lila says. "Liam, don't leave your sister's side."

My heart pinches with a strange longing. As troubled as they seem to be, I envy the warmth of this small family and their obvious bond with each other.

Outside the cottage, sunlight bathes the open field in brilliant warmth. I follow Lila down a narrow stone path to a terraced garden, the sliver of the ocean shining beyond. Vines climb lattice fences under towering fruit trees. The vibrations are quieter here, yet my head pulses with energy. "It's beautiful."

"Liam's handiwork," Lila says with a wistful smile. "His gift for all things growing keeps us well fed."

I nod, not knowing what else to say. Or ask. The overwhelming sense that I'm still only seeing parts of this puzzle overtakes me.

"Do you mind showing me your hands again, dear?" she asks.

I turn them over, palms up. Faint circular symbols discolor the flesh, bizarrely similar to the wards carved on rocks all over the island. I gape at my hands. "Did someone put these here?"

"The marks have appeared on their own," Lila says.

My cheeks go hot, frustration rising. "Please," I blurt. "Your son swims the seas like a fish. I can summon miraculous plants that people won't hesitate to kill for. Tell me what's going on. I've asked Liam again and again, but he brushes me off."

"Come," she says. "You'll understand soon. But first, there's something you need to see."

My head fills with half-formed questions, accompanied by a foreboding sense of familiarity, as if I'm reliving a long-forgotten dream. I follow Lila down a steep stone path to the back of the deceptively large cottage, the front of its lower level tucked into the side of the hill. We walk the maze-like halls until Lila stops in front of a padlocked door. She extracts a key from under a loose floorboard: a larger version of the keys that have been turning up all over the island.

We enter a bright and humid room, three of the four walls whitewashed stone, the third wall formed of leaded glass, like a greenhouse. But this room is barren of plants, empty except for a central curtained-off area.

"We built this for her," Lila says in hushed tones. "Because she requires so much sunlight."

An electric charge builds in me and thrums in my ears, blocking out all other sound. Lila pulls back the curtain.

At first glance, I'm looking at a tree whose spreading roots and branches have enveloped a bed. Looking closer, I can discern the vague form of a woman. Her torso is gnarled wood, her limbs twisted twigs.

The tree creature's hair is a tangle of branches that climb to the ceiling in a massive crown of vines, her legs ending in roots that sink into the dirt floor. Her mouth, more like a knot on a tree trunk, is open as if startled, the unblinking eyes clouded white marbles.

My hand flies to my own mouth. I want to look away, but a magnetic force draws me forward.

This monstrosity is not a sculpture.

It'sa person.

"She's alive in there," Lila says.

Piecing the clues together, I know at once. Who else could it be? It hardly seems possible, but, "Aunt Millicent?" I blurt.

Electric energy blazes to life within me. I feel the blind eyes—calcified to quartz orbs—struggle to see, the mouth labor to speak with a tongue that has turned to wood.

My heart pounds, and my mind veers sharply to Evan and the gray-green growths that encrust his hands and feet. Is this what's happening to him? Is the island turning him into a tree, like Millicent? If so, why?

I touch the cold, smooth wood of what used to be a human arm, tears streaming down my face. "Millicent," I say, "it's me. Rosalie."

Lila looks at me, her expression knowing. "She's been waiting a long time. For you."

The room spins and I'm falling down a dark vortex, lost memories sparking like embers in the night. Pieces of conversation. Chunks of time wiped from my mind. I blink away the headache that throbs behind my eyes. It's coming to me in bits and pieces, the impossible knitting together in a sudden realization.

I've been made to forget things I used to know. About my parents. About my family's past. About Millicent.

Who did this to me? Was it Randy, somehow? Or was it my own mother?

With an effort, I push these questions away in favor of more pressing ones. "What happened to her? Why is she here with you and your family?"

Lila's eyes are misty. "She needed caring for after the war."

"War?"

I press my palms to the cool walls to steady myself. Wisps of color overlay my sight in smoky layers. The walls are moving closer, boxing me in. My legs twitch with the urge to run. To get out of this house. To buy that plane ticket before it's too late.

The vibrations amplify. Someone speaks inside my skull until the voice booms loudly enough to shatter my eardrums. I can't understand the words. I can't?—

"Stop," I scream. "Make her stop!"

I stagger, my surroundings liquifying. My legs buckle and I sink to my knees, then finally onto my side, curling into a fetal ball.

"Water," I say through dry lips, once the world is solid again.

Lila offers a hand to help me up from the floor. "I'm sorry," she says. "It must be a terrible shock for you. As it was for us. We never expected—we never thought anyone from the Bouchard family would return."

I shudder. "Bouchard. That's my mother's name."

"Millicent's full name is Millicent Alice Bouchard."

"I don't understand. What do you mean by ‘return'? What brought Millicent to Salttain to begin with? Are you saying that Millicent really is related to me?" My eyes narrow. "Do you know my mother? Did she send me that package? Or did you?" Because one thing is clear: in her current condition, Aunt Millie isn't capable of mailing me a thing.

Neither Mom nor Dad ever admitted knowing a relative named Millicent. I'd never heard of her either, until that strange package came. Could Millicent be Mother's sister? My actual aunt?

Lila's face clouds. "She arrived one day when I was a young girl. She was beautiful and lovely. We became instant friends. And no—I did not send you a package, my dear. Why would I do that?"

"Oh, God. Why is she like this?"

"She sacrificed herself to save us all."

The room seems to shift. "Save you all from what?"

But just like her son, she doesn't say a word.

* * *

I'm still dizzy,so Lila helps me outside, up the path, and back through the front entrance. Liam sits beside his sister. He looks up as we enter.

I want to press them both about the marks on my hands, my missing family history, my supposed aunt who's a goddamn tree, but my head is still spinning, my stomach queasy. "How's Aurora?" I manage instead.

"Gaining back her strength slowly," Liam says.

Lila guides me to a seat. "Drink this," she says, putting a mug to my lips. "It's salttain broth. It will help."

The broth is tasteless but warms my throat on its way down. I drain the mug as Lila busies herself preparing breakfast. Instantly, my tension ebbs.

Liam rises to gather the rest of our salttain harvest, chops it up, and stuffs it into a leather pack. "This should be enough for Evan," he says. "I don't dare leave too much with Lila in case word gets out. Also, if you serve your da some of this in his tea, maybe he'll be okay for now."

"What do you mean by ‘for now'?"

Liam fidgets. "If he hasn't told you, it's not my place to do so."

For a moment, after I healed Aurora, I felt close to Liam, as if the distance that's existed between us since we met had been erased. Now, the awkward silence grows palpable, my questions and fears kicking up in an endless merry-go-round. "He made it clear that he's been depressed. And he's aged a lot, that's for sure."

"I won't break his confidence. But to restore him to health, and to truly help Evan, we need to get them to a place of power."

Again, with the double-speak. I grit my teeth, irritation rising. "Please," I say. "I feel as if you're all trying to drive me insane. Tell me everything. Every. Single. Thing."

"I wish I could," he says, biting his lip. "But there are some questions I just can't answer."

"But—"

He shakes his head. "If you want to help Evan and your da, we can't waste another minute arguing. We'll leave after breakfast, but then I need to lay low."

He's shutting me out. Again. But I'm going to pry the truth out of these people if it kills me.