Read Chaos (Kardia Chronicles) (Entangled Teen) Online

Authors: Christine O'Neil

Tags: #teen, #ember, #goddess, #young adult, #god, #Christine O'Neil, #romance series, #Chaos, #romance, #entangled, #mythology, #Entangled DigiTeen, #succubus

Chaos (Kardia Chronicles) (Entangled Teen) (35 page)

BOOK: Chaos (Kardia Chronicles) (Entangled Teen)
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Chapter Twenty

Hanging.

She dropped that bomb with the same emotion one would put behind ordering the turkey club at a diner. For a second, I thought I’d heard her wrong, but she shut that thought down by continuing on with the details.

“We will endeavor to make it as painless as possible, as is true for your stay here with us. You will be held in the Sacred Grove until you come of age three months hence and your sentence can be imposed.”

In my weakened state, I barely flinched. I was so detached, so overwhelmed and mentally scrambled, it was like I was listening to a television set in another room. I couldn’t even muster the strength to argue.

Not that it mattered. They hadn’t even asked to hear my side and even if they had, it didn’t change the fact that I had no way to prove my claims about Rafe. And frankly, if I was the Council and dead-girl-walking started pointing fingers and throwing out wild accusations after hearing her sentence, I wouldn’t believe her either.

Mac had been right. I should’ve run.

Mac.

He would never know about Rafe killing Eric. He would never know that I wasn’t a murderer, and that hurt most of all. I flexed my fingers and reached into my back pocket, hoping with everything I had in me that it was still there. The ring.
Mac.

As soon as I touched it, my fingertips traced the smooth, braided silver and a low hum of power coursed through me. I felt his essence all around me and although the energy it gave off wasn’t enough to offset the full effect of the lithium and my exhaustion, it was enough that I was able to think straight.

How in the world had things gotten so fucked up? I was just sentenced to die for the crimes of some asshole who had murdered my ex in cold blood. It didn’t matter whether they believed me. I was sure as shit going to say my piece.

I swallowed hard, trying to work up enough moisture in my mouth to project more than a croak when Bryony scooped up her book. The Council rose as one without sparing me another glace and started to file out, but my voice had them stopping in their tracks.

“I didn’t—” I broke off and cleared my throat of the rasp and tried again. “I didn’t kill him.”

Rafe whirled around to look down at me and frowned, his dark eyes going a little wild. “Shut up. You aren’t allowed to speak. Sentencing is over. It’s done.” He lifted a boot and kicked at me, connecting with my hip bone. A sharp bark from above stopped his second blow from landing.

“Enough! We’re not barbarians.” This from Bryony, who scowled at him. She turned her cool gaze on me. “Child, we have already made our determination,” she said, her jowls trembling as she spoke. “We are well aware of the motor vehicle accident, but it was your powers that caused him to veer off the road in the first place. That directly resulted in his death. There is no point in denying it.”

I squeezed the braided band of silver and attempted to stand, but it was no use. My legs were still like two limp dishrags folded beneath me. “Rafe is a liar.”

Rafe’s escalating growl made me cringe. With my hands behind my back, my middle was wide open and I was totally exposed, like a turtle without a shell. I fully expected a boot to the gut, but nothing was going to stop me from spitting out the rest. “He’s the one who killed Eric. I admit the accident was my fault. And I admit to grabbing Rafe on the way to meet with you last night, but he’s the murderer, not me.”

The blow I’d been prepping for finally came, and he must have really put his back into it because it was a doozy. Light exploded behind my eyelids as a size twelve shit-kicker nailed me in the kidney and I pitched sideways. Without a free hand to break my fall, I landed on the side of my face, my wounded temple taking the brunt of the impact along with the punishment that adorable grass meted out. On a scale of one to just-fucking-kill-me-now, it was balls to the wall the latter. If little animated birds had started fluttering around my head in a circle, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

Through the buzzing in my ears I could hear shouts, but I couldn’t say from where. Operating from the better-safe-than-sorry school of thought, I curled my knees into my chest in anticipation of another blow, but it never came.

I forced my eyes open and looked around, trying to breathe through the tearing agony in my side. Rafe was on the ground facedown and Mac was standing over him, pale-faced and trembling with fury. My heart leapt and the joy in my heart eclipsed the pain in my body.

For a second I thought I was imagining it. Was he really there or was he the product of a drug- and pain-induced hallucination? I squirmed, feeling the blades of grass cutting into my face, and finally made it to a sitting position just as Mac planted his foot into Rafe’s gut, kicking him onto his back.

“Get up, you piece of shit.” The cords of Mac’s neck stood out and his chest heaved. I might be sentenced to hang, but I wasn’t dead yet, and Jesus, he was a glorious sight. Tears puddled in my eyes and trailed down my cheek, the salt stinging the lacerations on my face. I didn’t give two shits, though, because Mac was here.

I tried to push myself to my feet…to go to him, but suddenly, I couldn’t move at all. Something intangible had me pinned in place. I shot a glance up toward the Council’s table and saw Marigold pointing a finger at me and shaking her head. “Be still, Maggie Raynard, or it will only get worse for you.”

“Cormac, son of Cormac, step away from him and explain yourself,” Floryn demanded coolly.

Mac waffled, his rage-filled gaze flicking between Rafe and the Council like he was debating whether or not he could get off another shot before he got zapped by some demi-god bolt of something bad.

“Mac,” I murmured. “Please. Do what they tell you.” If he got hurt after coming here to defend me, I’d just as soon they hung me.

He cracked his knuckles, sparing one last disgusted glance at Rafe before facing me. “Are you all right?” His eyes went from furious to full of concern and regret. “Please tell me you’re all right.”

“I won’t ask you again, Cormac.” Floryn raised a hand in Mac’s direction, and I gave him a pleading look. He sighed and turned to face the Council.

“I’ve come to vouch for this girl.”

He moved closer, to stand directly beside me. If I could just turn around, I might be able to touch him one more time.

“If she says Rafe murdered Eric, then it’s true.”

And then he was there. Kneeling next to me, slipping his hand in mine, and I wished I had control of my body so I could sink into him. The energy that always crackled between us was barely a sizzle but it was there, and that alone gave me a feeling of peace. Whatever happened now, it was all right. Mac was here, and he would know the truth about what happened to Eric.

I heard a shuffling and saw Rafe rising in my peripheral. He hadn’t even gotten all the way to his feet when he lunged at a kneeling Mac with a roar.

He was only a few inches away when he froze in midair.

“Enough of this insubordination!” Bryony’s splayed hand was aimed at Rafe and even though she was pissed off at the lot of us, I could’ve kissed her for stopping him. “We can hold you for an eternity if that’s what it takes.”

Mac shook his head grimly. “No. I apologize. All I ask is that you hear me out.”

Bryony stared at him, considering, for a long moment.

“Sister,” Floryn piped up. “We’ve already decided that this was—”

“The Finnegans are long-standing, honorable members of this order and young Cormac the Gilded will be heard,” Bryony said, a note of finality ringing in her voice.

The Gilded.
My feeble brain tried to make sense of that, but Mac’s voice derailed my thoughts.

Marigold frowned and looked like she wanted to speak but thought better of it.

“I’ve spent the past three months observing her at school and the past two weeks with Maggie almost daily. I can tell you this much: she’s a good person.” His tone was respectful but firm. “She’s been doing that all on her own, with no one to guide her. The boy was injured while attacking her. She responded in self-defense.”

“If you believe that, then you’re even stupider than you look,” Rafe growled, still frozen in place.

It was then that a strange sensation snaked up my left arm. Life. Energy. Power. Mac was opening himself to me, giving me his strength in a slow, steady stream. I fought to keep my eyes open through the rush and tried to focus on the words that were being said, but along with the power came memories.

Dogs barking, crippling fear. “Get under the boards, now. Go, child!” Papa shouts.

“No. Come with me!”

Thrust under the shiny floorboards. A woman’s scream…Mama’s? And then she’s shoved below with me into the darkness.

A voice snapped me back to the present.

“Do you have proof of this accusation, Maggie Raynard?” Bryony demanded, but even if I could have answered her, I wouldn’t have. She was nothing but a distraction from the trauma that played out in front of me. Mac as a child. Terrified and hiding. From whom?

Mac squeezed my hand tighter. “Answer them, Maggie. Tell them your story.” As he spoke, he sent more energy pouring into me, the stream becoming a river. His hand shook with the effort, and I knew it came at a price. Along with it, the memories flowed, stronger and faster.

Shouts above, doors slamming, the meaty
thud
of fists on flesh. Over and over. I cover my ears and rock, biting my lip as hard as I can because Mama says I must be brave.

We huddle together until the noise stops. It feels like hours until Mama pushes the door open with a creak. Even the dim light of the lamp hurts my eyes. We climb out and Mama’s cheeks are wet with tears. Papa is…gone.

Mac’s grief was so sharp, it sliced my heart like it was my own, and I slumped back against him with a sob.

“Nothing else to say?” Floryn demanded. “You realize making a statement like that and refusing to corroborate is both a waste of our time and foolhardy?”

“Be done with it and let him take her back to her cell.” Marigold waved her hand and the invisible chain that had seemed to connect me to the ground released. Her face was like stone and whatever had convinced me that she was pretty at first glance was gone.

“You need to focus, Maggie. Please,” Mac muttered low enough for my ears only. “Stop peeping at my memories and focus on drawing the power.”

Easy for him to say. All I wanted to do was turn and throw my arms around his neck and bawl. Out of sadness for the boy he’d been; out of admiration for the man he was becoming.

Rafe chose then to throw his two cents in with Marigold. “They’re obviously stalling to give them a chance to figure how to save her neck. Please, let me take her back to her cell now so you can get on with more imp—”

“I can’t prove that Eric attacked me. But I can prove that Rafe killed him. I saw it myself.” Buoyed by Mac’s energy and every ounce of determination in my body, I forced myself onto one knee. Marigold lifted a warning finger my way again, but Bryony intervened with a swift talk-to-the-hand in her direction.

“Allowing the girl to speak causes us no harm. Considering the severity of the crime and her punishment, I wish to hear her out.” She faced me, her ancient blue eyes still sharp even though the skin surrounding them looked like parchment paper. “Speak, child.”

“They won’t give you another chance,” Mac whispered. “Spit it out.” He pressed the pedal to the floor and the ensuing dump of adrenaline sent my head spinning.

A dark night. The great room lit by a crackling fire. Mama’s cry as the door swings open and Papa stumbles through, clothes plastered to his body, crusted with blood. Wide gashes, still weeping, crisscross his thick arms, intersecting with ropey scars. They send me upstairs, but I listen from above to the hushed whispers and stories of torture as Mama tries to heal his broken body. They are the Gray Wolves. We are the hunted.

The Gilded.

The pressure of Mac’s hand on my wrist jerked me back to the present as the cuffs seemed to get looser. I opened my eyes, the images that young Mac had seen burned into my brain. Is that what had eventually killed his dad?
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Focus on the power.

“I saw it when I touched him.” My voice was stronger now, and it echoed in the wide field.

The trio exchanged unreadable glances and Marigold took point, stepping closer and eyeing me hard. “Saw it how?”

New, sharper memories lapped at my brain, and I tried to push them out. To focus on Marigold and the life-or-death task at hand, but they were strong. So strong…

A kiss that rocks my socks off with a girl who does the same. A slash to the belly. Sharp, brutal pain but worth it. So worth it. I glance in the mirror, and I’m Mac. But not Mac. A moving, fluid, silver statue with a chisel in one hand and a piece of myself in the other. Mac, standing in front of a pit of fire, forging a band…no, a braid of silver.

The very same braid of silver that dug into my palm at the moment.

The sob that had been building in my throat since he’d touched me couldn’t be contained and broke raggedly from my lips. Mac was one of the Gilded. I’d read about them in one of Gram’s books but hadn’t made the connection until that second. Since the dawn of alchemy, humans had hunted his kind for their transformative powers as much as for the precious metals their bodies could produce. They would trap them like animals, but they wouldn’t kill them. Once dead, Gilded turned to regular flesh and bone. So instead, they terrified and mentally tortured them until, on the brink of death, they changed to a metal form. Then the hunters hacked away, taking pieces of them while trying to find the root of the change so they could replicate it.

It went on and on, and they would be kept this way for hours…sometimes days, until they were either used up to the point there was nothing left to take, or they were dead.

It means a lot to me.

That’s what he’d said when he’d given me the ring. Not a gift
from
Mac. A gift
of
him.

BOOK: Chaos (Kardia Chronicles) (Entangled Teen)
7.8Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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