“What have you done?” Juliet breathed. She looked at Lily, her jaw slack with fear as her eyes skipped over every aspect of Lily’s face and body.
“You’re not going to believe it, Juliet,” answered the girl. She picked up a silken robe and pulled it around her naked body. There was a sickly smell in the air, like flowers that had been left in old water for too long, their stems starting to rot. “I brought another version of me into this world,” she said, and then suddenly swooned.
“Lillian,” Juliet gasped. She crossed the room quickly to catch the girl and half carried her to the wide bed in the giant suite. Lily noticed that under the robe, the girl was covered in soot, as if she had been lying in the dirty fireplace. “This is insane. You are far too weak to go to the pyre. It could kill you.”
“As if I have a choice about that now. Which is why I brought her here.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Juliet asked in a strangled voice.
A tense moment passed between the sisters. The girl in the bed looked at Lily and waved for her to approach.
“Come in, Lily. That’s what you prefer to be called, isn’t it? I prefer Lillian.”
Lily entered the room as if drawn there by invisible hands. A creeping chill raised all the hairs on the back of her neck. Lillian had Lily’s voice, her hair, her body, even her way of moving. The clothes were different, and Lily desperately hoped that the cynical gleam she saw in Lillian’s eye was different as well, but apart from those small variations, there was no mistaking it. Lily was looking at herself. Not her mirror opposite, but her absolute double—right down to the swirl in her left eyebrow that made all the little hairs spike wildly in the wrong direction.
Lillian’s eyes darted down to Lily’s NO NUKES T-shirt, and she gave a wan smile. “I’ve watched you long enough to know that the important th
ings inside of us are exactly the same.”
“You can’t be me,” Lily said, shaking her head as if that would change what her eyes were telling her. “I’m me.”
“You are me and I am you—we are versions of each other,” Lillian said. She raised a hand and held her thumb and forefinger apart by the most miniscule of distances. “In worlds that lie this close together, and yet never touch.”
It was the word “versions” that rang inside Lily’s head. She thought of her mother. “No. I’m crazy. That last seizure did it. I’ve finally gone crazy like my mother.”
“Your Samantha isn’t crazy,” Lillian said sadly. “She’s cursed. She sees and hears an infinite number of universes that she can’t block out. It’s a terrible thing. Our version of mother couldn’t take it. Not even with guidance from what you would call an expert.”
“So it’s true?” Juliet interrupted hoarsely “The shaman wasn’t talking nonsense?”
Lillian looked at her sister, and for a moment, a tender emotion crossed her forbidding face. “Mom wasn’t crazy. Other universes exist, Juliet.” She gestured to Lily. “There’s the proof.”
“Then why did she…?”
“It was too late for Mom,” Lillian said abruptly. “Even with the shaman’s help.”
There weren’t many things that Lily was sure of at the moment, but even in a different universe, she could read her sister’s face. This version of Samantha was dead, and Lily was pretty sure that she had killed herself. Fear shot through Lily as she considered whether or not her version of Samantha would do the same someday. If she were distressed enough, she might. Say, if one of her daughters disappeared into thin air, for instance.
“I have to go back,” Lily whispered. “Please. I don’t belong here.”
“But you do, Lily. You do. And you will stay,” Lillian answered calmly.
“We can’t keep her here,” Juliet hissed at her sister disbelievingly. “Enough, Lillian. I don’t know what the shaman taught you in those secret meetings—yes, I know about them,” she said when Lillian shot her a surprised look. “Don’t worry, I’m the only one who does. I assumed you were sneaking around for a reason, so I never mentioned it to anyone. Not even Rowan. But we brought the shaman here to help Mom, not so you could do whatever it is you’re doing.” Juliet threw her hands up, staring at Lily. “This is wrong. You have to send her back to her world.” A half-hysterical laugh escaped Juliet’s lips. “I can’t even believe I just said that.”
“Juliet. I know this is a shock for you,” Lillian said slowly. “But I brought her here for a reason. And when she gets past her fear, she’ll realize that she wants to stay.” Lillian’s tone was icy and final.
“But I don’t!” Lily exclaimed. She felt like she was choking. “I want to go home!”
“To what?” Lillian asked derisively, her sweaty cheeks flushing red with anger. “A world that makes you sick? Armies of reckless doctors and scientists who don’t have a clue what to do with you because they only know how to cut and destroy?” Lillian said the words “doctors” and “scientists” with sneering hatred, but her brief, passionate tirade was curtailed by bone-rattling coughs.
Juliet tried to soothe her sister, but Lillian pushed her hands away. Lily watched, silent and still, as Lillian fought the paroxysm, and after several painful moments of gasping, she could speak again.
“Or maybe you want to go back to your Tristan? That fickle prettyboy who doesn’t want you? Or back to the family that would be better off without you?”
“My mother,” Lily said, her voice catching. “She’ll—”
“She’ll suffer more with a sickly daughter like you in her life than out of it. Believe me.” Lillian’s eyes drilled into Lily’s, cold and unrelenting. “You’re useless in your world. Worse. You’re a burden. But here, where you belong, you could be the most powerful woman in the world.”
Lily didn’t have much experience with hate. She didn’t even hate her dad for abandoning her, even though no one would have blamed her if she did. But as she watched Lillian finish her bitter speech and fall back against the pillows, she realized that she hated her. Lillian looked so pathetic, but Lily couldn’t help hating her. In fact, she’d never hated anyone or anything as much as she hated this evil other self in the big white bed.