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) (7 page)

BOOK: Chaos (Kardia Chronicles) (Entangled Teen)
2.39Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“Fine. Tomorrow, then. Around three?”

I knew I was pushing it, but I shook my head again. “I have a standing date every Saturday afternoon. It’s going to have to be another time.” My last class had me splitting off at the next intersection of hallways ten yards away. I stared at it like a drowning woman stared at a lifeboat, willing it closer.

“Sunday, then. Noon, the park near our houses,” he said in a clipped tone. “Don’t be late.”

He’d had it with me and this time, it wasn’t a request. His meaning was clear. I had to be there or else I’d suffer the consequences, whatever they might be. A part of me almost touched him then, just to see if I could get even a hint of something from him. One small memory that might clue me in to what he was after and why he’d picked me to mess with. Then I remembered that I was totally incapable of doing that without a shitstorm of regret slamming down on me, and that I had vowed to never try again. Once the beast in me latched on, I didn’t have the ability or control to stop it. That much had been confirmed after the incident with Eric.

Guilt jabbed at me hard, and I widened the gap between Mac and me, desperate to get away. “Fine.” We reached the intersection, and I veered off, barely able to keep myself from breaking into a sprint. He didn’t follow me, thank God.

Shaken, I scrubbed a hand over my face and tried to think. Mac Finnegan had already decided he had a major hate-on for me, and I’d gone and given him enough ammunition to make my life an absolute nightmare, all because I couldn’t keep my sticky fingers to themselves. Not fucking smart. I lurched to a stop in front of my locker and leaned into it, banging my head softly once, twice.

Jesus, what was I going to do now?

Chapter Four

When I got home that afternoon, in spite of my stress, I couldn’t wait to escape to my room and get a better look at my treasure. It was like, with all the drama going on, more than ever I needed the fix.

That’s how it felt, too. Like I imagined a meth head might feel when they finally scored after a long stretch of forced rehab. Shaky, unsettled, like I had bugs crawling on my skin. But when I walked into the house after tossing a quick wave over my shoulder to Bink in his car, I knew it was going to have to wait. Mom sat at the kitchen table with a bunch of papers spread out in front of her, reading glasses perched on her nose.

“Come and sit. I need to talk to you.”

No apology in her voice this time. She was very matter-of-fact and looked like she was bracing herself for a fight. Whatever she’d decided on, it wasn’t good, and all I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to know. I backed my way out of the kitchen, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl as I passed it.

“Sorry, I’ve got something to do for school, and then me and Bink and Libby are going to the movies later. We can talk tomo—”

“Sit down, Maggie.” Her voice snapped like a whip.

I stopped in my tracks and shook my head. “I can’t do this right now, Mom. Please. My head is a mess.”

Her face was a mask of determination. Jaw set, lips pursed. “It’s not going to be easy no matter when we do it, but it needs to be done. I’m looking at these three nursing homes for Gram. If you want to be part of the process and help me decide which would be best, then sit down.”

The feelings swelled for the umpteenth time in two days and I closed my eyes and pictured my happy place. A beach with white sand…tart drinks with umbrellas.

“Sit,” Mom bit out.

The image faded as I stepped back into the kitchen and sat, furiously rubbing the ring in my pocket for strength. “Look, I know you feel strongly about this, but I seriously think we need to give it more thought. She’s fine a lot of days…”

“It happened again this morning.” Her expression was grave, the words stark like sleet on blacktop. “It’s been getting worse and worse over the past six months, and I try to protect you from it, but you need to know the truth. We haven’t had a really good day in weeks, and the bad days are stacking up, one after another. The time is now, before it’s too late and they can’t help her at all.”

I bit my lip to keep it from shaking as my heart sank.

She tapped her finger against the walnut tabletop, motioning for me to look, and I stared down at the flyers spread out there. S
HADY
M
APLE
P
OND
, one brochure advertised in dark purple letters. The home itself was a nice, sprawling building that looked more like it belonged in Georgia than in New Hampshire. A long porch snaked around the front, wrapping the butter yellow building on all visible sides. I read the statistics about cleanliness and patient’s family satisfaction, which it passed with flying colors. Apparently, they had different wings for different levels of care. There was the Hibiscus Wing, and the Daffodil and Geranium Wings. Each brightly painted, cheery. All in all, seemed like a nice enough place, as far as places where people stuck broken loved ones no one wanted anymore went.

Mom thumbed through the pile and stuck another sheet on top. W
ILLOW
G
LENN
.
What the fuck with these names? Did they think they were fooling anyone? When I got old, I’d find a place that didn’t pull any punches. A place called “I Just Shit Myself Manor” and I’d stay in the “Eating Through a Straw” wing. Truth in advertising.

“This is the facility I liked the best. It’s the closest to home, about ten miles away, and it’s also got the best intensive care division.”

My stomach cramped as I stared at the stone gray building and tried to imagine going there, visiting Gram, and leaving again without her. Would she get her jacket and try to come with us? What if we had to tell her every time that she couldn’t? And what if, when we weren’t around, the nurses were rough with her? Her skin was so fragile, she bruised if she even rolled over onto the remote. My eyes filled, and a fat tear plopped onto the paper in front of me.

“Please don’t cry, Mags. I can’t take it,” Mom whispered, the last of the color draining from her cheeks.

I snuffled loudly, trying to contain it all, but it wouldn’t be contained. A second later, the dam broke and I was sobbing uncontrollably—ugly, wrenching sobs that hurt my throat.

“W-What if she can’t sleep at night and needs some warm milk, but nobody knows? Or what if she’s cold, and she can’t remember to tell them? What if she wakes up from a bad dream scared and alone and doesn’t know where she is? What if no one cares if she lives or dies?”

It was all a broken mess of mumbled fears and whimpered pleas, and it wasn’t long before Mom joined in. She stood and pulled me close enough that I could bury my face against her stomach. My tears soaked her shirt and we wept like that for a long time. I was still mad at her, but it was hard to be mean to someone who was at rock bottom, even for me. When I finally got it together enough to pull away, I looked up at her.

“Promise me one thing.”

She gave her head a barely perceptible shake. She couldn’t make a promise she had no hope of keeping. I knew that, but I was like a rabid dog with a bone. I’d make her give it anyway and deal with the fallout of having to break it. Then at least we’d both feel like shit. They could start polishing up my Daughter of the Year award any day now.

“What is it?”

“We give it a month. That’s long enough for her to settle in and work out the kinks, get used to the people and stuff.” I took her hand and squeezed, feeling like a five-year-old trapped in a sixteen-year-old body. “If she’s too sad, if she’s getting worse, we bring her home.”

Mom stiffened and tried to pull her hand away, but I held on tight.

“I’ll leave Crestwood and you can homeschool me. We’ll take turns and do it together. She’ll never be alone.” I needed this one thing so bad. I couldn’t give my blessing without it. She must have sensed that and finally nodded, her eyes filled with apprehension.

My whole body went weak with relief, and I squeezed my eyes closed.

“But that’s not the way it’s supposed to go, you know. You’re the child; we’re the grown-ups. We’re supposed to sacrifice for you, not the other way around. Your senior year is coming up. I don’t want you to miss a single minute of it.”

“I don’t care. If I think she’s hurt or sad or alone I won’t be able to enjoy it anyway. Say you promise.”

She paused for a long moment and then murmured, “Okay. I promise.”

I resisted the urge to dig up a dagger and a scroll to make it all legit with a blood oath or something because for all I knew, she was blowing smoke up my ass again. But to tell the truth, I didn’t care. I was going to grab onto the reassurance with both hands because it was the life preserver I needed to get through the day. This horrible, seriously messed-up day.

There’d been a lot of them recently. I thought back to the night it all started, and I remembered thinking,
Well, at least it can’t get any worse.
How cute I was. How cute, and delusional, and fucking arrogant to think that. It could
always
get worse, and I’d finally realized that this path I was on was a downward spiral. I just had to figure out how to survive until I reached the end, if that was even possible.

So I took my mother’s promise and tucked it into my heart like another little stolen treasure, despite knowing it wasn’t worth the breath it took her to say it.
Lie to me
, I’d all but begged her.

And what did that make me?

I shoved myself to my feet and tossed the banana back into the bowl. “Whatever one you like will be fine, then. How soon are we talking?”

She shook her head and shrugged. “It will take at least a month to get all the paperwork and insurance issues taken care of. Maybe longer.”

A month. That was good. A lot could change in a month.

I nodded, the tension that had my temples pounding finally starting to dissolve. “Okay, once I do this thing, I’ll come down and feed her dinner before I go so you can take a nap if you want or run to the store.”

She caressed my cheek and gave me a shaky smile before shoving her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. “You’re so strong, Mags. Just like your dad.”

I hated when she said that. My dad was sweet and kind and normal. He was the rock that had held the rest of my crazy-ass family together. AKA, nothing like me, but I let it pass.

When I left the room, I slipped my hand in my pocket, letting the warm circle of gold there comfort me with its power. By the time I got to my bedroom, I was back in full-on Sméagol mode, the need to sit and soak in the energy stronger than my sadness, stronger than my worry, and far stronger than my guilt.

I pulled out the ring and set it on my dresser, dragging over the little red vanity chair so I could sit close to it. The stone at the center was a dark blue, probably Alex’s birthstone. Maybe his favorite color. I reached out and traced the engraved year around the gemstone with my fingertip, closing my eyes at the rush that blasted through me. I stayed like that for a long time. Long enough that my ass cheeks got numb. Long enough that my foot fell asleep. And by the time the light outside started to fade and my stomach growled, I felt better. Sane. Centered.

Picking up the ring, I made for my closet door to pull out the box where I planned to keep it, but something stopped me. Maybe I’d carry it for just a little longer. That would be okay. I stuffed it back into my jeans’ pocket and peered around the darkening room. Bink and Libby would be there by seven, and I still needed to get ready and feed Gram.

I flipped on my desk lamp and groaned when I got a load of the towering mountain of laundry in the corner that had spread to take over a quarter of the room. I’d totally forgotten to throw something into the wash and now I was going to have to go out in the clothes I’d worn to school. I refused to think about why the idea bothered me now. I hadn’t even given it a second thought that morning when I’d thrown the outfit on. Whatever. Tons of girls dressed like me, and what I wore was none of Mac Finnegan’s beeswax. I ran a quick brush through my unruly hair, brushed my teeth, and then jogged down the stairs.

“I’m here,” I called to Mom, who I could hear clattering around in her office down the hall.

“Okay, I’m going to run to Carlino’s and get some groceries. Be back in less than an hour.”

I went into the kitchen and put together Gram’s dinner, then made my way into the living room where she sat on the recliner, cocooned in a swath of blankets with a black and white movie blaring in the background. I grabbed the remote and turned it down. “Hey, Gram,” I whispered softly, not sure if she was awake or sleeping. She looked up and gave me a toothy grin.

“I’m watching Bogie and Bacall. What’s shakin’, bacon?”

I set down the bowl of chicken soup and the piece of buttered white bread and smiled, feeling lighter than I had all day.
What’s shakin’, bacon.
That was really good. Far better than I’d expected after Mom’s doom-and-gloom report of the day. Maybe she’d turned a corner and—

“I’m not sure why they sent you. The lady told me they weren’t allowing any more visitors once the cuckoo chimed.”

Her green eyes had taken on an olive cast these past few years, and she stared at me, searching my face for answers.

Working up a smile I didn’t feel, I gave her a wink. “Yeah, well, they gave me special permission, since I brought this awesome soup for you.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to think positively. At least she wasn’t upset or afraid. Plain old confusion was manageable.

She gave me a stealthy wink in return and leaned forward, the blankets falling away to reveal knobby collarbones. “In that case, come on in.”

I made a mental note to pressure her into eating dessert, too. She needed to keep her weight up.

For the next half hour, I made small talk as I spooned soup into her mouth. A few times she pushed my hand away and proclaimed that she was full, but I’d just wait a minute or so until she forgot and start shoveling again. We got three quarters of the way through before she put her foot down.

“That’s enough, child. I’m spitting the next one out.” She’d busted out her fancy lady voice that she only used when she was dead serious, so I set the bowl aside.

BOOK: Chaos (Kardia Chronicles) (Entangled Teen)
2.39Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Cress by Marissa Meyer
Living with Strangers by Elizabeth Ellis
TORN by HILL, CASEY
The Conqueror by Louis Shalako
Second Chances: A PAVAD Duet by Calle J. Brookes
Drip Dry by Ilsa Evans
Scotsman Wore Spurs by Potter, Patricia;
Soul Circus by George P. Pelecanos