Witchy Sour(71)

He stopped walking completely. “We aren’t going to make it anyway. Look.”

I whirled around, the sight of his infected arm now grotesque. It lay useless against his side, thick as a club and purple as an eggplant. “I’m going to lose my arm.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean you have to lose your life.”

“I’m not afraid to die,” he said. “For the cause.”

“What cause? Your only chance of help is me. We are deep within these trees.” I raised my arms to show the thick woods surrounding us. “I don’t care how loudly you fall, there is no one around to hear it. Except me. If you think I’m going to spread the ‘word’ of your cause, you’re wrong.”

“How’ll you explain my body?”

“I won’t have to. I can’t possibly carry you out of here, and by the time I get back...” I let the sentence hang, and a cluster of hoots and calls from the animals walking over The Forest floor cemented my point. “There won’t be much to explain.”

“I prefer to die.”

“I’m not letting you,” I said. “I can’t do it.”

“Why?”

I chewed on the thought a moment, not quite sure myself. Thomas wanted us dead, and he wanted to die. So why was I fighting so hard to keep him alive? “Did you open The Magic of Mixology?”

“Of course I did.”

“Did you read anything beyond the page on how to brew your poison?”

His silence gave me the answer.

“Well, if you had, you would’ve seen an inscription.” I folded my arms over my chest. “On the first page of the spellbook there is one line. Two words only. It’s written in the hand of the first Mixologist. I imagine you can’t guess what it is?”

A subtle shake of his head prompted me to continue.

“Do Good.” I took a step closer, my eyes not leaving his face. “That’s it. Simple. I don’t like you, but I have my own cause I’m working for, and I won’t abandon it, even now. Contrary to what you may think, we do have something in common.”

Thomas gave a wry sort of laugh. It bordered on apologetic, though it was cut with a heavy layer of mirth. “No, we don’t.”

“Belief,” I said firmly. “Faith in a system. You believe in something that is beyond us all. Beyond the human touch. Beyond ordinary life. You believe in an idea and a way of life, just like I do. The only difference is that yours is a broken, vicious dream, and mine is simple.”

Thomas snorted. “Just wait until someone lets you down. It’s only a matter of time, Lily. You’ve been on The Isle for a few short weeks and your optimism is sickening. Sickeningly sweet, like a vial of Lilac Sugar.”

“Better sweet than sour.”

“That’s not how it works. Everyone has their breaking point. For me, that point has come and gone. You’ll see someday. Someone will hurt you badly enough that even you, Miss Lily, won’t be able to forgive.”

“There’s a difference between forgiving and forgetting,” I said. “To forgive is to take the high road. To forget is to be foolish. If you forgive someone just one more time than they betray you, the bitterness stays away.”

Thomas’s gaze turned softer, almost resigned, as he glanced down at his arm. “Maybe. I almost wish I could live just to watch you, to see if this life gets to you—if the terrors of this earth seep into your mind and disillusion your dreams. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to fight it. For how long?” He shrugged. “You’re resilient. Maybe you’ll make it to your death. Then again, maybe you’ll have an early death like me. We are similar, you know.”

His words shook me back to reality. “You’re not dying. I’m not letting you. Come on.”

Waving my hand for him to follow, I spotted the next bunch of Lilies of the Valley and swung a hard right. However, when I turned to see if Thomas was behind me, there was only an empty path. An empty path flanked by a familiar flower—a healing flower.

“Thomas! I found something!” I cried out as I sprinted toward huge, thick leaves of aloe.

The plants on this island were different, though some of them went by the same name as the human world. These leaves were large, filled with healing salve, and a quick spell murmured by an even the most inexperienced witch or wizard would invoke the soothing qualities of the plant.

“Come here!” I stood up, lugging the leaf in my arms like a stuffed animal. “I’ve found something.”

Whipping around the corner, I came to a screeching halt. Thomas still sat on the log. Cradling his arm over his legs like a child, he didn’t glance up at my shouts.