Raven wasn’t gone long. He slipped through the northern entrance of the school, and Belle, being the mischievous rogue that she was, raced toward the door to spy on him. She cracked it open just in time to see him slip into the wood shop, and when he returned a moment later, she was holding the door for him, not even trying to hide the fact that she’d been snooping.

“Well? Did you rig a machine to cut off Landon’s finger? Because I’d like to be there when it happens.” She grinned, but it fell away as he dug around in his backpack, then pulled out an eerily familiar object. A hammer. “What is this? What are you going to—”

“I’m not going to do anything. If you want to sneak over to my place and hang out in the orchard with me and Poppy…” He placed the hammer in her hand. “You’re going to have to rescue yourself.”

12 Every Tool Is a Weapon

When Lily left the detention center, she thought she was being followed. Her body tensed at every rustling of leaves. She’d spent the past hour whispering with Belladonna, trying to keep anyone from hearing their plans, so she told herself she was just being paranoid as she rode her bike out of the parking lot and onto the street. There was no rush of sound behind her, no blur of movement when she turned her head.

She was alone.

Still, she stopped on Main Street, beneath the white columns of the justice building, pretending she needed to tie her shoe. She stopped again beside the rose gardens in the center of town. There were a couple of stragglers in the garden, but spring hadn’t teased open most of the blossoms yet, so it was easy to see the emptiness between the bushes. No one was hiding there. No one was following her.

She couldn’t shake the feeling, though. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she pedaled through the east side of town, toward a little blue house with white shutters. She pulled her bike around the back of the house. Her purse was resting in the basket, and she slid the strap over her shoulder before heading for the kitchen. It wasn’t until she was safely inside the house that Lily began to relax.

“I’m home,” she called, because she knew he was waiting for her. He worked the night shift at a local plant nursery, unloading flowers from truck beds as the sun went down. This time of day, he’d be home. He’d be anxious to see her.

Lily strode past the kitchen table, where a pair of gardening shears sat beside a bouquet of freshly cut lilies. She could see her father sitting in the living room beyond. He was slumped over in his favorite beat-up chair, watching a game show on TV.