Arrabelle didn't have a ready answer for this.
"But we're in the transition phase," he continued. "We have to bear the suffering so others who come later . . . they don't. It's a beautiful gift we give . . . and as awful as all this is"-he indicated that he meant their situation by stretching out his arms-"we do it because it's the right thing. We do it selflessly, and for others, because we can."
She loved Evan so much in that moment she could hardly bear it. A wave of pure, unadulterated, unconditional love so powerful it left her empty after it had surged through her.
"I love you." She murmured the words quietly, letting their weight speak for them.
Evan seemed embarrassed by this show of affection, but he swallowed and nodded.
"I know you do . . . I love you, too."
But there was a sense of futility beneath his words, and Arrabelle wondered what he'd been thinking about when he'd said them.
• • •
Arrabelle found Lyse in the bathroom. She felt intrusive cornering her coven master there, but she wanted to speak to Lyse in private.
"Can we talk?"
Lyse was leaning against the counter, her back to the door, but her reflection caught Arrabelle's eye and beckoned her inside the room.
"Come on into my office," Lyse said, raising an eyebrow at her surroundings.
"I'm just trying to understand what we're doing," Arrabelle said, moving farther into the space. "What the game plan is."
"We need Daniela. We wait for her to wake up," Lyse said, still facing the mirror-and Arrabelle felt like she was having a conversation with Lyse's reflection instead of the woman herself.
"And then?" Arrabelle asked, joining Lyse in front of the row of sinks.
"And then we go to Devandra," Lyse replied.
"I'm with you so far . . ."
"But what after that? That's what you want to know," Lyse said, her shoulders slumping as she deflected Arrabelle's question.
"Yes, that's the crux of it," Arrabelle agreed, her eyes wandering across the face of the mirror, seeing the row of closed toilet stall doors. Her mind decided there were monsters hidden behind the beige metal doors, all of them just waiting for her to leave so they could gobble Lyse up.
It was an eerie feeling.
"To be honest," Lyse said as she pushed off the counter and turned to face Arrabelle, "I'm waiting for a sign."
It was the exact same phrase the old woman on the television screen had uttered. Lyse seemed to sense Arrabelle's confusion-or maybe it showed on her face. Arrabelle had never been great at hiding her feelings.
"That's crazy."
"What's crazy?" Lyse asked.
"Evan and I were watching the news and then something weird happened . . . this old woman-a blood sister from the U.K. the police were 'collecting'-started speaking to me," Arrabelle began. "She looked right at us, like we were on Skype, and then she said my name."
"She was using magic?" Lyse asked.
Arrabelle nodded.
"Yeah, pretty sure she was. But the weird part was after that. When she said, 'We will wait for the sign.'"
Lyse frowned, then lowered her gaze, thinking.
"What the hell does it mean," Arrabelle asked, "that you just said the exact same thing?"
Lyse shook her head. She had no more insight into things than Arrabelle did.
"I don't know why we both said the same thing. I can only tell you that every time I've been confused or uncertain, I take a leap of faith and some sign appears, directing my course," Lyse said, and then she shrugged, looking embarrassed. "It's a lame answer. I know."
Arrabelle laughed.
"At least, like you just said, you're honest about your lameness."
"Well, I've got that going for me," Lyse said, and rolled her eyes. "God, I'm not good at all this, Arrabelle-"
"You're doing it, though," Arrabelle said.
"That I am. It scares the shit outta me, but I just keep moving forward. It's all I know how to do right now. Run toward the thing that scares me?"
The last idea came out as a question, and Arrabelle wondered if there was a part of Lyse that was asking her for reassurance. That she felt alone in all this and wanted Arrabelle's support.
"I don't think it's a terrible plan," Arrabelle said, finally. "We should be more proactive. We should go to The Flood ourselves, cut the head off-and by that I mean take care of Desmond Delay-and then we'll see if they can function with him gone."
"I like it, in theory," Lyse said, "if we only knew where to start . . ."