Lilly nun's Arc

Chapter 3 of 5

Three nights after the toy went gray, the floor turned cold again. Lilly knelt by the well and felt the old pull rise through the stone. The creature was hungry sooner than before. She needed Tavi. The ghost knew when the thing would lash out, and Lilly could not time the next feeding without her. "Tavi," she said. "It's waking early. How long do I have?" The ghost stepped from the corner, white hair wild, red eyes flat. She looked at the cold lid and said nothing. Her owl stirred on the shelf, glass eyes catching the candle. The bird did not fear the dead girl. It feared the well. "Tavi. Tell me when it strikes." "No." Tavi did not move. "I told you how. I won't tell you when. Not anymore." Lilly's hands pressed flat on the stone. "Without you I'm guessing. Guess wrong and it takes me." "Yes." Tavi said it plainly. "That's why I'm done. Every time I help, you feed it. Next it wants a child's laughing. Then a child. I won't count the hours for that." The lid grew colder under Lilly's palm. The pull sharpened. She looked at the covered tree against the wall, its green eyes dark beneath the cloth. She had nothing small left to give. Only the owl. Only herself. "Then I'll learn it myself," Lilly said. She uncovered the tree. The eyes glowed. Blue vines brightened along the bark. She did not know the hour, so she watched the stone instead. When the cold bit deepest, she would feed. She would read the creature's hunger without the ghost. Tavi watched her wait. "You'll read it wrong." "Then stop me." "I can't touch anything." Tavi's voice stayed level. "That's the whole shape of my death. I watched, I asked, and no one let me act. Now I watch you." The cold on the lid peaked. The pull yanked. Lilly moved fast. She held her reed bracelet up before the glowing eyes, the one she wore, the twin of every child's in the meadow. The mouth in the bark breathed in. The reeds dimmed. Something left her chest, a small warm thing she could not name. The pull dropped through the floor into the well. The cold faded. The hunger quieted. Lilly touched her chest. She felt nothing missing, and that scared her more than pain. She had learned the timing. She did not need Tavi now. "What did I give?" she asked. Tavi looked at the gray reeds on Lilly's wrist. "Your care for them." She nodded at the owl, at the empty desk where children sat each morning. "You just fed it the thing that made you make the bracelets." Lilly waited to feel grief. None came. She wound the dull reeds tight and looked at the thinning seal. She could feed it alone now. The next meal would be the children, and she found she did not mind.