Chaos (Kardia Chronicles) (Entangled Teen) (32 page)

I nodded, surprised that the answer didn’t give me even an ounce of relief. It just didn’t add to the agony.

“I appreciate you telling me.” I said, straightening as I smeared the tears from my cheeks. “I’d better go.”

She patted me once more and held my gaze. “It’s going to be okay. Time heals all wounds, and your friend is in a better place now.”

“I know,” I lied. “I’ll be okay. It was just a shock, you know?”

She left the room, and I slumped.

I took a minute to get through the worst of it, then I pushed my way out the door, gaze locked on the waxy oatmeal-colored floor in front of me. The power trembled inside me, and I shook with the effort of keeping it contained. Having someone stop me now, even to ask what was wrong, might be the difference between walking out of there and being led out in cuffs or worse.

I swallowed hard, plowing through the door to the stairwell before I let myself breathe again, the less cloying air outside the hospital halls a welcome if small relief. Taking the stairs two by two, it was less than a minute before I was on the sidewalk again.

My breath came in white puffs of air, fast, like a racehorse after a hard-fought win, and I tried to keep my heart on ice. Out of commission as I struggled to come up with a new plan.

I knew what I had to do. There was no question in my mind on that part of the equation. What I needed to consider now was how I was going to make it happen ASAP. I looked left and then right and despite my every attempt to turn off the valves, a stabbing pain in the middle of my chest had me bent over, desperate to catch my breath.

Eric was dead.

And it was my fault.

My vision went hazy, and my ears buzzed with a far off
whomp
ing sound, like moving propellers coming at me from all directions. I ignored the snow on the ground and sank to my knees, incapable of standing. I’d seen a
Dr. Phil
episode on panic attacks and it had seemed a little melodramatic to me at the time, but if that’s what this thing was, I’d been so wrong.

The breath whooshed in and out of my lungs so fast, it would seem like I’d have plenty of oxygen, but I had no doubt that I was suffocating. A pinprick of light against the blackness in my head drew me, and I chased it like a moth.

Mac.

Mac would help me. But then, why should he?

I was a murderer.

…

By the time I was able to get my shit together and stumble the mile to his house, the panic had subsided and left a dead weight in the center of my chest where my heart used to be.

I approached the glossy red door, a beacon against the black night, and stood on the porch, teeth chattering. Raising a numb fist, I rapped on the wood.

Only a second passed before a voice—Mac’s voice—called out, “Yeah, be right there.”

When it swung open, my stomach bottomed out, landing somewhere in the vicinity of my soaking wet kicks. “I-I need you.”

The icy frown on his face slid away as he eyed me up and down. Anger turned to concern and concern morphed into flat-out fear. I must have looked even worse than I thought.

“Get inside. Jeez, you’re so fucking pale.” In my whacked-out condition, which had transitioned from shock to borderline hysteria, I barked out a little-girl laugh at the way he said fucking. More like fooking. How cute was that?

I tried to tell him what was so funny, since my laughter only made him look more concerned, but what came out of me then was a keening wail, and I stumbled forward, pitching into his open arms.

I wondered if it would have been better—less painful—if he’d shoved me away. But he didn’t. He folded one arm around me, led me to a big chair in his living room, and sat, lifting me onto his lap. I tried to pull away. I didn’t deserve his kindness, and when I said what I had to say he would drop me to the floor like I’d been rolled in anthrax. But at that moment, he didn’t let go.

“What happened? You’re scaring me, Mags.”

“I n-nee—” I snuffled and tried again, pulling my face away to meet his gaze. “I need to tell you about Eric.”

He stiffened but didn’t let go, and I started from the beginning, knowing it wouldn’t change my fate but needing him to hear it.

“We dated for a while before everything started happening with me. Nothing too serious. But once I started my change, I was terrified and confused. We stuck it out for a short while longer, but he started getting really possessive and I broke it off. He seemed okay when I told him, and we agreed to be friends.” I tugged at a loose thread on the hem of my shirt, the memories rushing in all at once. “So when I saw him at the Quick-E-Mart over summer break a couple months later, I didn’t think it was strange when he asked me to go to a bonfire with him later that night.”

Once I started, I’d expected it to flow a little easier, but every word was like a chore and I had to choke them out, one by one.

“It seemed like a casual type of thing, and he mentioned his cousin Sarah would be there, so when he showed up at my doorstep alone, I was a little surprised. I thought it would be a group of us going.” I took a second and willed myself to not think about the words at all. To just let them pour from my mouth like a river.
Separate yourself and tell the story.
“Still, we’d ended on decent terms, and he had been really nice to me since then. So I went.”

I went.

A two-word sentence, one subject, one verb, that had changed everything. Sometimes, I played a game with myself I liked to call “What Would I Give to Change That Day?” Early on, I’d spend hours running through every magical thinking scenario. Like what if the gods somehow came to me and demanded that I give up my tongue, would I do it? What if they offered to give me a rewind button, but it would cost me a loved one? How far would I go to change what had happened if I had the chance? But there was no deal to be made, no way to undo it.

I stayed quiet for a long time, and Mac didn’t push or rush me.

Rip it off. Like a Band-Aid
. “When we got to the lake, there was no bonfire. Just Eric and me. I felt funny about it the second we pulled up but didn’t want to come off like a loser, so I didn’t say anything.” The memories flooded in now, and the whole “just tell it like a story” thing shit the bed. It played like the reels of an old-time movie, fast and choppy and real.

Finish it.
“He, ah, tried to kiss me, and I let him. It was awkward, because I didn’t like him like that anymore, but whatever. And then something happened. It was like he became a different person. His voice got real low and mean and then he stopped asking.” That was a bad part for sure. I still remembered exactly how I felt in that moment. Like prey. Like a sitting duck with a fucking bull’s-eye on my forehead. But the worst part was coming.

“He…grabbed me, and I slapped his hand away, but he was stronger and wouldn’t let me go. Then…” My hands shook and I gripped Mac’s shirt tightly. “I heard voices coming our way, so I screamed really loud. He snarled at me, threw me against the seat, and started the car. Before I could get out, he peeled away, driving like a lunatic. We were tearing down the road going fifty in a twenty-five, and I didn’t know where he was taking me. I grabbed his arm and begged him to stop but he wouldn’t. And I did it.” I paused to wet my lips and muscled through the pain. “I didn’t even think about it, I just let it rip. It happened so fast. One minute we were on the road, the next he was twitching in his seat and we were headed straight for a telephone pole. His head hit the windshield and the glass shattered.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and shook my head slowly. “I’m so sorry, Mac. Every day, I am sorry for what I did. But does that mean it was an accident?” I met his gaze then, searching for something. Absolution? Understanding? I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. A tornado couldn’t stop me from finally saying the words. From finally getting it off my chest. “I’d like to say yes, but I don’t think it was. Maybe I could have used my powers to stop him. Instead, I blasted him so hard, he couldn’t control his bladder never mind the car. And I
meant
to do it.”

“Maggie, that’s not your fault,” Mac said urgently, shifting beneath me and cradling me closer.

“It is.” My voice broke, and I dropped my head to his chest, unable to watch the concern in his eyes turn to disgust. “See, I did that to him. I turned him into the guy he’d become. Early on, before I even realized I’d started to change or knew what I was, I’d stolen from him. I’d thought it was teen hormones, the wild sort of excitement I felt around him. But it wasn’t that at all. Like an evil little leech, I’d sucked bits of love from him until he became someone else. It
was
my fault. It was
all
my fault.”

The words lay between us like a bag full of grenades. An obnoxious commercial on the TV about carpet steamers seemed to blare louder with every silent second that passed.

His breath came out in a hiss and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against my temple. “I wish you’d told me sooner,” he murmured, his lips brushing my skin in a way that made me want to stay there forever. “It’s still not your—”

“He’s dead, Mac. Eric is dead.”

He stiffened when my words registered.

“When? When did that happen?” he demanded.

“Last night, I think.” I pulled back and met his stormy gaze. He was furious now. Why wouldn’t he be? He was supposed to keep an eye on me and had gone through all this trouble to protect me and take care of me, and I was a killer. Surely the charitable warm fuzzies stopped there. I pushed up and stood, trying to swallow, but my throat wouldn’t cooperate. The look in his eyes hurt almost as much as finding out about Eric.

He jumped to his feet and got up in my face. “We don’t have time for arguments, so you need to listen to me. We have to get out of here, Maggie, because they are coming for you. I’m going to go pack a few things, and then we take off.” He dragged me into his kitchen and shoved me toward the cabinets. “Start throwing stuff in bags. Granola bars, water bottles, whatever you can carry. Leave your phone here; we’ll get you a disposable once we’re on the road.”

I stared blankly at him and shook my head. “What are you talking about? Where do you think we’re going?”

“Away, anywhere but here. Christ, once they find out… What do you think they’re going to do? Slap your wrist and call it good? They are going to kill you.” His stony eyes went silver and fire replaced the ice.

My shoulders tensed, and I jerked away. Maybe that should have scared me, but at that point, it almost felt like a gift.

“I deserve it,” I whispered. A vision of my mother flashed through my head then, and the tears I’d thought were all used up flowed down my cheeks, leaving hot trails against my still freezing skin. I was leaving and odds were, I wasn’t coming back. She would be worried sick, but she didn’t deserve what my weakness had brought on our family.

“Stop it. You don’t understand. If Eric was good at the core, you couldn’t make him bad. You could have made him apathetic. Malleable. Empty inside, but not evil. Some part of that had to have been there from the start. We can talk more about it later. Right now we need to get your shit together and go.” He was all but shouting now, but I shook my head.

“There’s more. I hurt Bink, too. He was in love with Libby, and I took it last night, Mac. Rafe spiked my punch…”

He drew back, stunned. “Rafe got you drunk?”

If I’d thought I’d seen him really angry before this, I’d been sadly mistaken. His chest heaved, his eyes blazed, and his hands shook.

“I’m an idiot for not noticing.” I shook my head in total despair. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. I’m done for. I didn’t come here for you to help me escape. I came for you to take me to the Sacred Grove. To the Council.”

“Shut up,” he snapped. “Don’t say another word to me. Just do what I said and pack some fucking food. Now.”

I shook my head slowly and looked up at him, amazed at how calm, cool Mac Finnegan had completely blown a gasket. I opened my mouth to argue when a knock at the door sounded through the room like a shot.

His face went white as bone, and we both froze.

“It’s too late.”

After all my brave talk, I was surprised at how terrified I was. Well, at least they’d saved me some time. Now I didn’t have to go to the Sacred Grove, and we could get on with it. No long, drawn-out dreading and waiting. They’d decide what to do with me and do it. But the fight or flight instinct kicked in and my power rose up high, making my body tense in an effort to control it.

Mac stood stock-still, and footsteps sounded out the back door now. He leaned against me. “Keep quiet, do what I tell you to do, and don’t answer any questions. You got it?”

I nodded silently, my cheek rubbing against the soft cotton of his T-shirt as I inhaled his scent. I didn’t want to upset him any more than I already had, but we both knew the time for Q&A had long passed.

This time, there was no knock. The doorknob turned, and the door swung open.

“Aw, look at you two. All made up, huh?” Rafe stood in the frame with a smile on his face that I’d always thought of as sly but now looked downright menacing.

Mac moved, pushing me behind him, and Rafe nodded, assessing the situation with shrewd, cold eyes.

“That’s real cute, but it’s time to go, Maggie.”

He stepped forward, and Mac’s whole body flexed.

“She’s not going with you, you piece of shit.”

Rafe looked at Mac, face filled with disgust. “I’m a piece of shit? Does she even know what you are? Why you came here to Crestwood?”

I nodded, finally finding my voice. He could down me all he wanted. I deserved it, but Mac didn’t. He’d done his job and then some. “I do know. He’s my Protector. It’s not his fault I screwed everything up.”

Rafe’s short laugh made my skin prickle and Mac’s jaw clenched, fists balling tight at his sides.

“
Your
Protector? Is that what he told you?”

I shifted my gaze between them, knowing I was missing something but not sure what.

“He’s a Protector, all right. He protects
the race
. Against semis like you who can’t handle their shit and put us all at risk.”