Chapter 37

Lila stridesacross the yard and helps me to my feet. "That's enough, now. We have a celebration to plan and you must let Rosalie get some rest!" She orders Liam, Aurora, and Evan to go down to the beach to gather clams and check the lobster traps, then takes me by the arm and marches me inside.

The air within the cottage is fragrant with the scents of cooking and dried herbs.

"The healer needs some tending herself," Lila says. "Let me see to those hands." She removes my shoddy bandages, lathers leftover salttain balm onto my palms, then covers them with clean wrappings. The pain eases.

I follow the mouth-watering aromas into the great room, where Lila clangs pots and chops herbs at the counter. Mrs. Bailey sips tea and nibbles fresh-baked pastries. My father is tucked into bed in a spare room, snoring away, and I leave him be.

I smile and proceed to stuff myself full of delicious pastries. But Lila's warm mood takes a sudden turn. "There's something I need to speak to you about, dear," she whispers in my ear. "We have an unexpected guest in dire need of your attention."

My heart thumps, the pastries hardening in my stomach. At some point I'm going to have to tell this woman the truth—that her lost son Fionn and my murdered friend Tyler are one and the same. "Who is it?"

Lila tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear and takes my bandaged hands in hers. "Getting thrust into our world can't be easy on you. The Council, if they have any wits about them at all, will note your heroism and acknowledge it. And…" Lila lowers her gaze. She looks up at me again, eyes moist. "Perhaps if you perform this kindness, they'll see fit to lessen the burden on my Liam. For assisting you."

I relive the explosion—Randy's corpse floating by. Wade's frantic paddle to the surface. "Wade's here, isn't he?"

"I won't ask you about the circumstances," she says. "Just know that I feel Randy's absence in my bones, like the poison that filled them has been drained away. I harbor no ill will toward this son of his."

But what will she say when she realizes I couldn't save her first son? "How bad is he?"

"Mrs. Bailey's men found him face-down on the beach by the mansion, badly burned and unconscious."

Two times Wade Lambert almost died. The island must want him to live—though hell if I know why. "I need to summon the salttain. But Randy and Wade were both able to track down where I was when I did it."

"You're quite safe here," Lila says. "This is the most heavily warded spot on the island, other than the Garden. No one can find you here."

The back of my neck pulls. With a new harvest of salttain, maybe I can convince Dad to let me work on him.

"We should get on with it," Lila says. "Before the others return. Liam doesn't approve, as you might expect."

"I guess that's why you had such an urgent need for seafood," I say with a half-grin. I follow her out to the yard, where the uneasiness rises in me. "If you don't mind, I'd like to—uh?—"

Lila nods. "As much as I'd love to watch you perform your miracle, I understand if you need to be alone. I'll see to Mrs. Bailey and your da."

She leaves me on the dewy grass, the sky a brilliant blue dome overhead. The ground purrs, serene. A pleasant buzzing nips at the edge of my awareness as the energy matrix shimmers into view, smooth and undistorted by Randy's disturbances. Pressing my bandaged palms flat to the soft grass, I call out to Tyler and his phantom companions. If only he could help me find the right way to let Lila know her long-lost son is here with us.

The matrix quivers and glows. Then, deep within dirt and rock, a network of roots answers and reaches for me—rising and rising until the stalks burst through the soil and bend their crowns of white blossoms downward, offering themselves.

I thank the majestic plants and peel off a sprig from each one. But beneath the joy of their arrival I sense a cold tightness—a pinched sense of warning. Someone is on the other side of my summoning…listening.

Beware, Rose, Tyler's voice warns.

Is it Randy? I ask.

Not him. A conduit for his power.

A shrill sound rends the air. The great stalks shrivel and blacken, their keening cries filling my ears as they withdraw into the soil and leave me writhing on the lawn. That's how Liam, Aurora, and Evan find me—surrounded by scattered salttain cuttings, rocking back and forth, my fingers stuffed in my ears.

"Rosalie," Liam says. "What happened?"

The screaming is gone. Liam surveys the remnants of the plants. "Did my mother put you up to this? I knew she'd ask you the minute I turned my back. Damn her."

He storms into the cottage, leaving me alone with Aurora and Evan.

"There's no cure for moody," Aurora says with a shrug. Evan laughs and they high-five.

I bend to gather the remains of the wilted plants. Liam isn't worried for himself. He's worried for all of us.

Beneath me, the ground murmurs with the strengthening sense of wrongness and corruption. If it isn't Randy, then who?

No voice replies.

Flush-faced after what was doubtless an argument with Liam, Lila hurries out to the yard. She shoos Aurora and Evan away, takes the healthy salttain stalks from me, and brings me inside to wait as she prepares the salve.

Lila guides me through the maze-like lower level of the cottage, finally stopping at a dim, candlelit room. Wade Lambert is there, strapped to a bed. He"s writhing, tugging against his bonds, and spouting a river of jumbled words. Half his face is a charred, unrecognizable mess, most of his body swathed in bandages. My stomach lurches, threatening to claw its way up my throat. It"s almost impossible to reconcile this broken figure with the Wade Lambert I knew.

"Poor lad. It was a horrific accident. A miracle he survived."

I stare at Wade, sickened. He isn't the villain I thought he was—especially now that I know how Randy bought him from his parents like a pound puppy and lied to him for years. It would be so much easier to walk away and pretend his injuries aren't my fault. But I can't.

Lila presses the mashed salttain into the clay pots and spreads them out at intervals around the bed. "I'll be right beside you," she says. "It's not wise to attempt this alone."

Wade continues to babble and grunt, squirming. I struggle to see past my loathing, to see the innocent victim of Randy's treachery.

"Hush," I say. Wade quiets and settles back on his pillows. Once, he would have torn my throat out—yet in the end, he did attempt to save us both from his father's wrath. My own father may be flawed, but at least he hasn't tried to murder me.

I light the pots of poultice and let their peaty odor pervade my senses. Sniffing the air, I wonder if my act of mercy will transform him into an ally. Or will he keep trying to kill me?

I sink into the salttain's acrid smoke and, separating from my own thoughts, drop into an echoing horror. Black sludge creeps along the edges of Wade's traumatized mind.

I set to work, marveling at how skilled, how surgically precise I've become in my healing practice. I don't know how long I'm at it when I'm suddenly expelled, landing in my own body again. When I crack my eyes open, Lila's blurred form bends over me.

"Drink," she says, placing a cup of broth to my lips. "A job well done, dear. My broth will restore you. I took the liberty to mix in a small bit of salttain."

"How long have I been out?"

"Only an hour. You've done well. Word has come that the Council's arrival is imminent. We will present Wade as evidence of your noble purpose and deeds."

I barely pay attention to her words. I can't stop staring at Wade. I watch his chest rise and fall. "Wade?"

His eyes flutter, then blink open. Instead of ruined milky white, they're crystal blue, brighter and more vivid than I recall.

"Rosalie," Wade says, his voice gravelly.

"How are you?"

"Fine." He closes his eyes and chuckles. "Thanks to you—but no thanks to you."

"I'm sorry," I say.

"No need to apologize. He's coming, you know."

Ice crawls up my spine. "What do you mean?"

"He's worse than Da," Wade murmurs, a faint smile curling his lips.

Alarm sizzles through me. "Who is, Wade?"

But Wade doesn't answer. His breathing slows; then he's sleeping. I stare at him and wonder if he's a Trojan horse, inviting chaos and violence into the sanctuary of the O'Donnell homestead.