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“I’m guessing there’s a story here,” she said, smoothing Lily’s hair.
They went into the kitchen and sat down. Una and Breakfast took it in turns to explain what had happened. Lily tried to calm herself down, but the tears kept silently leaking from her eyes no matter how many times she brushed them away. A half dozen times she reached out for her sister’s hand and squeezed it to reassure herself.
Juliet handled the news of her death by deciding not to try to wrap her head around it just yet, and in turn brought the coven up to speed on what had been going on in this world since they had left.
“They’re calling it ‘The Black Magic Murders.’ It’s a media circus,” she said bitterly. Juliet remembered something and addressed Tristan. “No matter what you hear about your parents, don’t go home. They’ll turn you over.”
Tristan’s face went blank with confusion, and then pinched with an awkward apology. “Wrong Tristan,” he said.
“Where is he?” Juliet asked, looking at Lily. She pulled in a small gasp. “No. Not him, too?”
Lily nodded numbly. “He’s dead,” she said, just to make it real.
Juliet sat back in her chair as if she’d been slapped. She covered her mouth with a hand, her eyes far away. “I can’t—oh my God,” she mumbled. “I don’t believe it.”
“He’s dead,” Lily repeated, and for the first time she accepted it.
She put her head down on the table. It was the same table where she had sat down with Tristan a thousand times to eat, to play, to talk, and to argue. The memories swam up out of the wood—Tristan dealing cards, puffing on a bubble gum cigar. The two of them switching chairs to put together an impossible puzzle with a picture of a pile of red candy hearts on the front. Tristan eating a hot dog with grape jelly. Doing homework together. Doing nothing together. Lily let herself cry until she felt a hand on her back.
“It’s okay, Lillian,” Samantha said.
Lily raised her head and turned to bury it in her mother’s stomach. “It’s my fault,” she sobbed. “I’m the reason he’s dead. I’m the reason they’re all dead.”
“Oh no, sweetie,” her mother said. She tilted Lily’s head back and wiped away her tears. “You had no control over what happened to Tristan or your father.” She tittered anxiously, and Lily saw the mad light of a million other universes burn in her eyes. “That’s scarier, which is why most people choose to feel guilty rather than helpless when someone they love dies. But the truth is you had no control.”
Samantha smiled at Lily like what she had just said made it all better—and Lily had stopped crying, but it wasn’t because she was comforted. Far from it, actually.
Samantha pulled away and turned to Rowan. “You should tell her all of it,” she said. “What happened when she was unconscious in your tent? Tell her.”
“Tell me what?” Lily asked. Samantha wandered away, humming a few notes to herself. Lily turned to Rowan. “Tell me what?” she demanded.
Rowan’s face was blank. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.
“She’s worse,” Juliet interjected. She was watching Samantha tackle the stairs with a worried frown. “The cameras, the police, the pressure to keep the story straight when she can’t even remember which world she’s in more often than not. It’s too much.”
Lily really looked at Juliet. She’d lost weight and there were dark circles under her eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked. “How’s school?”
“What school? I dropped out to take care of Mom.” Juliet rubbed a hand over her face. “Not that I could have stayed anyway, with reporters ambushing me outside of every class.”
“I ruined your life,” Lily said, shaking her head.
Juliet mustered a smile. “Didn’t you hear Mom?”
“It’s not my fault?” Lily guessed.
“Exactly.” Juliet glanced around the table, noticing the state of everyone. “You all look like hell,” she said, earning a round of rueful laughs. She turned to Breakfast, who was cradling one arm in his other hand. “What happened to you, Breakfast?”
“I got shot,” he said, showing them a large red-purple-and-blue welt on his arm. “The bullet didn’t go through, though. It sort of bounced off. But, you know, hard.”
“Why didn’t you get out of the way?” Una asked angrily.
Breakfast rolled his eyes. “I’m fond of the color ouch.”
Tristan hiked up his shirt to show Breakfast a nasty welt on his ribs. “Mine’s better,” he said, and then grimaced at the pain and dropped his shirt.
“That’s incredible. You’re all bulletproof?” Juliet asked.
“Not usually,” Rowan replied. He looked at Lily, eyes narrowed. “What did you do to us?”
