Chaos (Kardia Chronicles) (Entangled Teen) (20 page)

Mac pulled our replacement piece of paper out of his pocket, wadded it up, and made the switch.

“Excellent,” I whispered, a little giddy at the thought that we might actually pull this off after all.

He held his finger to his lips and motioned toward the clock. Time to go. The night janitor would be there any minute. We skulked back over to the window, and I glanced at Mac apprehensively.

From the outside, it had been easy. We were on a hill and I could touch the windowsill on my flat feet, but once we had gotten through, it had been a drop down into the library. In order to reach it now, I either needed a chair or a boost.

A door closed somewhere down the hallway and fear knotted my guts. Mac met my gaze urgently, the whites of his eyes bright in the dim light. We needed to get out, like, now.

I grabbed the windowsill and tried to hoist myself up but wasn’t getting far, damn my chicken arms. That’s what I got for lying to Libby instead of actually trying to get in shape.

“I got you.” His whisper was a warm puff of breath against my ear, and then he wrapped his fingers around my waist. My heart went into overdrive, and I almost lost my grip as he used his hands to lift me and his body to anchor me. His fingers dug into my hips as his chest branded my ass.

And then the hall lights blazed on and everything stopped.

“Shit,” Mac muttered. “Go! Once you get through the window, run.” He pushed me higher in an attempt to forcibly toss me out the window, but I grabbed onto the wall and pushed back. I was the one who got caught with the note in the first place. No way was I going to leave him to face the music alone.

“Forget about it,” I hissed back, wriggling until I dropped to the floor. Another hall light flashed on, this one too close for comfort.

Mac scowled at me and shut the window. Grabbing my hand, he dragged me toward the storage closet where Hortense kept her computer supplies. The rolling sound of a cart or a trash can echoed down the hall and my heart nearly called it a day.

“In here.” Mac inched the door opened soundlessly, and we both slipped into the dark closet, closing the door behind us. It was just in time, too, because ten seconds later the classroom door squeaked and the sound of wheels on linoleum followed shortly behind.

Mac’s front was only a few inches from my back, and I could feel the heat of his body. It was unsettling in more ways than one. Not only did I have the inane urge to lean into his warmth, but I was also in a space too tight for a hobbit and making an effort not to freak the fuck out.

His proximity only made me more aware the reason he was all up on me was because there was no place else to be. It was like an upright coffin in there, and my chest felt like an anaconda had gotten ahold of me.

I tried to control my breathing. Already, it sounded so loud in the small space, I was sure Banto was going to yank open the door and scream, “Aha!” I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to pretend I was in a meadow. A dark, fucking tiny little meadow that seemed to be closing in tighter on me with every passing second.

The sound of a vacuum cleaner humming to life made me flinch. Okay, that was good. Background noise. Mr. Banto must have put on headphones next, because he started belting out some maudlin country song in a shaky alto about a kid and some shoes.

I gave myself permission to mouth breathe for a few seconds in hopes of staving off what was clearly my imminent death by suffocation when Mac’s warm hand touched my lower back. I jumped.

“You all right?”

Not even a little. “Yeah. Peachy,” I whispered back, using precious oxygen to do so.

“Turn around, Maggie.” His warm, rich tone was soothing, but not soothing enough to get me to move. I shook my head briskly but didn’t say anything.

“I’m trying to help you, but you need to turn around.” His voice rose to almost conversational, and I gasped, elbowing him in the gut.

“Shh! Are you trying to get us busted?” I whisper-shouted.

“He can’t hear us over the vacuum and the sound of his own voice. Now turn around and face me before I’m forced to do something you won’t like.”

I had no clue what that could be, but considering he was a semi like me, the possibilities were endless. I opened my eyes and slowly turned to face him, careful not to brush his body with mine.

“What?” I demanded. It was bad enough that we were stuck there, and I was being such a wuss. It was way worse that he was there to witness my weakness.

The room was inky dark, with only a sliver of light coming in through the crack beneath the door, and I couldn’t make out his expression. Pity? Annoyance? Yuck on both fronts.

“Wriggle past me. There is a pile of books behind me you can sit on, and we can talk while we wait. We might as well use the time we have to go over some things.” He sounded authoritative, and I didn’t know if he was making that up on the fly or just trying to distract me. Either way, it worked for me. Anything to get my mind off the fact that I couldn’t stretch my arms out without hitting a wall.

I skirted past him and this time there was no avoiding the contact. We bumped every ugly known to man and the urge to run my hand over his muscled abdomen as I inched past was almost irresistible.

Annnd then I remembered I was in a closet.

I sat down on the stack of books, and he crouched in front of me.

“Is the claustrophobia an inherited trait?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” I knew he was just trying to be nice and get my mind off things, but it wasn’t working as well as I’d hoped. I was anxious and stressed and if I started talking, I might forget what I was anxious and stressed about and then I would worry about that until I remembered. It was a vicious cycle.

And I was a psycho.

Mr. Banto chose that moment to rock out a jamming guitar solo by mouth, and Mac chuckled. It was kind of nice to hear him laugh without his humor being aimed at me, and it broke the tension.

I mulled over his earlier question. “I guess my mom doesn’t like tight spaces either,” I said, worrying the edge of a leather-bound book with my thumbnail. “Then again, she’s afraid of a lot of things.”

Mac was quiet for a bit and then shifted into a seated position on the floor. “Like what?”

“Everything. The Council, her powers, anything to do with semis. I don’t get her deal at all sometimes,” I admitted, surprising myself with the admission. I’d thought it a bunch, but I’d never said the words out loud.

“She seems pretty strong to me, dealing with your grandmother and all.” He paused and shifted on the floor some before continuing. “It’s better sometimes, you know. To turn it off like that. Have a normal life.” He sounded older. Tired. But the words sent a spike of fear into my heart.

“Believe me, I’m fully aware of your opinion on the matter. But we had a deal and—”

“And I’m going to honor it.” He sounded offended at the suggestions that he wouldn’t. “I’m not judging you. I’m just saying maybe you shouldn’t judge her for her choice either. You don’t know what she may have been through. Our history is riddled with pain and ignorance and power struggles. Stuff happened, especially back in the day, that would make your blood go cold.” He said it lightly, like he was reading from the back of a cereal box, but I wasn’t buying it. That knowledge was first hand, and the urge to make contact, stroke his hair or touch his arm, was almost overwhelming. “I know she’s made mistakes, there are a million things she should have told you, but when it comes to this, I think it’s safe to say you really have no clue what she’s been through.”

Okay, maybe he was right. I was flying blind when it came to her past and who knew? Maybe she had a most excellent reason for getting out. I vowed to go a little easier on her. And then I revised my vow to add that I would also badger her about what had happened to make her decide on binding, until she broke down and told me. But I would badger her gently.

Baby steps.

Still. “I don’t think I’m ready to give up yet, even if I could. If I wasn’t able control my powers, believe me, I’d be the first one on the binding train once I come of age. But I don’t even know what I can really do yet. What if something amazing happens, something special, that could change the world?” I shrugged, the words to explain how strongly I felt about it eluding me. “I have to at least try. It’s part of me. Of who I am.”

“The Council is watching you,” he reminded me gently. “If you can’t get a hold on this, you won’t have a chance to bind your powers.”

Because they would strip them.
A chill swept over me, and I wrapped my arms around myself. “Yeah, well, I’m not going down like that.”

He was quiet for a long time and when he finally spoke, his voice was filled with genuine confusion but barely a hint of judgment. “Explain it to me. If you’re still a danger, but can’t even start the binding process for months until your birthday, then why are you okay with risking people? Is keeping your power more important than human lives? I don’t get it.”

Of course he didn’t. He was Mr. Black-and-white. Mr. Honor. Mr. Play-by-the rules. I considered ending the conversation right there, but something inside me was desperate for his understanding. Maybe even his acceptance.

It took a minute to spit the words out. The words I hated saying more than any other words in the world. “My dad died when I was six.”

The hum of the vacuum cleaner was the only sound as he waited for me to continue.

“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through, and that includes this past year.” I tried to keep my voice neutral, but the tremor came through anyway and I wanted to kick myself. I was halfway there though, so I opted to woman up and finish it. “If I let the Council strip my powers, it will be like he never existed. Like a deleted scene in a movie, just lying on the cutting room floor.” My throat ached with unshed tears and when I swallowed, the sound filled the room. “He’s my
dad.
I can’t do that, Mac. I won’t do that.”

He stayed quiet for so long, I thought maybe he’d fallen asleep somehow. Then he murmured, “I lost my dad, too. When I was nine.”

His words were sad enough because I knew that pain well, but his tone was so bleak I flinched. He’d clearly been devastated by it, and I wished I knew what to say to comfort him. Not the things people had said to me, that was for sure.

“Your dad is in a better place, sweetheart.”

What better place was there than with me?

“He wouldn’t want you to be so sad, Maggie.”

How would you know? I’d wanted to ask. Most of the people that showed up for the funeral were ones I’d never seen before and I never saw again. They dropped off casseroles, did their duty, and went back to their own houses with their alive daddies and thanked God it wasn’t them.

“Sucks,” I murmured softly.

“Fuck yeah it does.” He shifted again, and his knee brushed up against my ankle. I didn’t move away and neither did he. “He, ah…used to take me fishing in the Sacred Grove. There were these cool fish, like largemouth bass, only colorful. We’d catch three of four and when it came time to killing them, I’d always get sad. He’d say, ‘Your ma is waiting for dinner, lad.’”

I could hear the smile in his voice, and it cracked my heart in two.

“And then he’d kneel down so we’d be face to face, and he’d say, ‘But I won’t tell if you won’t.’” The tenderness in his tone left me undone, and all I wanted to do was hug him. Tell him I understood. That I’d been there.

“Then we’d set them all free and go to the fish market in town and buy up half the case.” He paused for a long time, and I pressed my ankle harder against his knee. “She knew, you know?” He laughed a bittersweet laugh. “Like how could she not know? The fish were all wrapped in fucking paper. But she never said a word. She’d just pat us on the back for catching so many big ones.”

Tears burned my eyes, and I bit down on my lip to keep from sobbing, wishing I knew what to say to take a little of the pain away. Knowing exactly how he felt and knowing just as surely that there was nothing I could say that mattered. So I didn’t say anything at all. I just leaned down and ran my fingers through his hair. The space was as silent as a church and then it dawned on me.

The space was as silent as a church.

We’d both gotten quiet, but so had Mr. Banto. Shit.

“Somebody in there?”

The blood rushed to my ears and adrenalin dumped into my bloodstream, leaving a metallic taste coating my tongue. I swiped the tears from my face as Mac rose silently to his feet and grabbed my hand.

“Mrs. Verbiglio, that you?” The janitor’s voice was closer than it had been even a second before, and I strained toward the door to hear better.

Mac pulled me closer until his mouth was a breath from mine. “He’s walking toward us right now. I can hear his shoes on the carpet,” he whispered, the words coming fast and furious. “You need to crouch down behind that stack of boxes and stay quiet. I’m going to open the door and run. He’ll follow me. As soon as you hear him leave the room, go. Get out the window.”

His fingers touched mine, and he pressed his keys into my palm. I started to protest—even if I wanted to go, I couldn’t drive—but he beat me to the punch. “Start it, put the heat on, and call Libby or Bink to come get you.”

“Hello?” Mr. Banto called again, this time from what felt like less than ten feet away.

The ringing of a phone that sounded like a harpsichord had Mac freezing in place with a hand on the knob.

“Yeah?” The janitor went quiet for a second then blew out a sigh. “Laundry detergent and what else?” More silence, and I kept my hand on Mac’s arm, urging him to see how this played out. “Babe, I can’t hear you. I got shit reception on the second floor.” Another sigh. “Okay.”

Footsteps shuffled off in the direction of the exit, and my body started shaking uncontrollably. Neither of us spoke for a good thirty seconds until finally he tapped my arm.

“He’s gone. Let’s move.”

My feet felt glued to the floor as Mac turned the knob and peered out both ways before waving me on. I wasn’t about to be the downfall of this whole operation, and I forced myself to move. We walked quickly but quietly to the window, and he yanked it open.