Chosen

by Kiersten White

  “Fine, whatever.” He sulks, full lips in a pout.

  In all the drama, no one even got introduced. “Cillian, Slayers and also Oz. Slayers and also Oz, Cillian. We’re going to Cillian’s place first,” I say to the remaining group. “Gotta get something from his shed. Maricruz and Taylor, do you want to ride with Oz now? I’ll tell you how to find the castle; that way you can get settled in.”

  “Fine by us.” Maricruz and Taylor climb out. Cillian takes the kitten from them. It looks more like a tense hostage negotiation than a friendly feline transfer. I’m going to have to get another cat or two for the castle at this rate. I give Oz directions.

  Chao-Ahn gets in the van last. “Is it safe?” she asks. “The castle? Or more weapons?”

  “Oh, loads of weapons. But they won’t be directed at you. I promise. That was a misunderstanding. Ish. I mean, they shouldn’t have done that. But they had a reason to. It’s complicated?”

  “Yes.” Her tone is flat.

  I lean close to Doug. He didn’t bring Artemis up, but I need to make sure he knows not to going forward. “What happens at demon conventions stays at demon conventions, okay? I have my reasons.”

  He nods and relief floods me. I’ll deal with Artemis on my own. We get into our car so they can follow us to Shancoom and the turnoff to the castle.

  Cillian takes the passenger seat. “What do we need from my shed?”

  Doug looks quizzical, catching my eye in the rearview mirror. Realization dawns on his face. “They’re not bad,” he says, his voice gentle. “Really. I’ve even thought of getting a pair of handcuffs to wear decoratively.”

  Cillian passes me Trouble, unbuckles, and climbs back in a jumble of elbows and knees and exclamations of dismay from Doug. “We have doors!” Doug says.

  Cillian puts his arm around me. “Rough day.”

  I can feel the tears threatening, but I refuse to cry over Leo Silvera. Not again. And I won’t cry over Artemis. I’m still too hurt and confused to even be sad. I lean my head on my friend’s shoulder. “A little, yeah.”

  “It’ll come out right.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because it’s you. You’ll figure it out.” He kisses the top of my head.

  Tsip pops into existence in the passenger seat. I put a hand over my racing heart. “Sweet hellmouths, Tsip, you have got to stop doing that. One of these days I’m going to hit you, and I’ll be sorry, but it’ll be your fault. I thought you left with the other car.”

  “Did you bring me a souvenir?” Her voice drops into a conspiratorial whisper. It whistles around her tusklike fangs. “If you took the eyes, can I have them?”

  I rub my forehead against the exhaustion pressing there. I’m not looking forward to this drive or what we have to do at the end of it. Miles to go before we sleep. “I didn’t take the eyes, Tsip. And I didn’t exactly go shopping. All we brought is betrayal, a broken half-demon boy, and a kitten.”

  She frowns at me, clicking her teeth together in disappointment as Doug puts the car in drive. “Next time,” she says, “bring candy. Or eyeballs.”

  “Deal,” I mutter. Either would be easier to deal with than the return of Leo Silvera.

  17

  “FECKING HELL!” CILLIAN SLAMS ON the brakes in front of his cottage. Doug is thrown against Cillian’s seat as Tsip pops out of existence. I’m out of the car before anyone else has recovered, fists up, ready for a fight. Oz’s van has already turned off toward the castle, so it’s just us.

  Cillian’s charming cottage is on the end of a narrow lane abutting the forestland. All I see that’s changed is an unfamiliar car parked in front. And inside, several lights on.

  “Who is it?” I ask as Cillian climbs out. There’s a stake in my hand. I don’t remember pulling it out of my jacket. “Have you invited anyone in you shouldn’t?”

  “It’s my mum.”

  “Your mom?” She’s been away since magic died. I’ve gotten so used to it I kind of assumed it was permanent. She used to go on trips a lot, but the last few months she was just … gone.

  “Are you going to stake her? Because that might be a wee overreaction to bad parenting.” He scuffs his shoe against the street, hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders turned protectively inward.

  I put the weapon away. “If we staked people for being bad parents, none of us would have any.”

  “Is it okay if I stay in the car?” Doug leans out the window. “I don’t have the best memories of the bondage shed, and I don’t fancy explaining myself to Cillian’s mother.” He gestures at his face.

  Cillian’s mom was a witch before magic went poof, but Cillian didn’t know about demons, so I assume she won’t either. “Yeah, probably easiest. Where did Tsip go?”

  Doug shrugs, then settles back into his seat with the music on, kitten curled up and purring in his lap. The faint sounds of Chris Martin drift toward me like a tinny echo. One of these days, I’m getting Doug Coldplay tickets if it kills me. It’s Doug’s fondest dream in life. Most of our dreams are messy and impossible; it’d be nice to fill one.

  I close my eyes with a pang of emotion. One of my dreams was Leo being not-dead. And it’s come true, for now. Which should have been more impossible than backstage passes to Coldplay, but is definitely not as simple. When he was dead, it was easy to think of only the good things. But my mom’s right. The others are totally justified in remembering everything else Leo did, and holding him accountable.

  The front door opens to reveal Esther, Cillian’s mother. “That you, Killy-my-love? Come inside! I’ve been waiting for you!”

  “Gee, you’ve been waiting for me,” Cillian mutters to himself. “What must that feel like.”

  I follow him to the porch, where Esther stands in the pool of warm light spilling from the house behind her. Her braids encircle her head like a crown, and her skin betrays no hint of aging. It’s easy to see where Cillian got his good looks.

  “Is that Nina? Goodness, you’ve grown!” She frowns, looking me up and down. “No. You haven’t. You seem taller, though. I can’t put my finger on it.” I used to be the one to go into town and pick up supplies from her shop back when it was a magic shop. I always liked her. I like her less now, though. She hurt my friend.

  “We’ve got things to do, Mum.” Cillian tries to angle past her, but she holds out an arm to block him.

  “Things that are more important than catching your mother up on the last few months?”

  “Yeah, actually.” Cillian pushes past her arm and stomps straight through the house to the backyard, where the shed is.

  “So.” I wish awkwardness were a demon I could punch, instead of an insurmountable, suffocating atmosphere. “How was, uh, Colorado?”

  “Monks are boring.” She moves to the side to let me by. Her flowing ruby-red dress looks elegant and comfortable at once. “I learned what I could, though. How is he?” She nods toward the backyard. “Besides angry.”

  “He’s good. Stays with us a lot now.” I’m pretty sure she knows about Cillian and Rhys, but if she doesn’t, I’m not going to tell her. Not my place.

  “I thought your compound was off-limits.”

  “A lot has changed. You were gone awhile.” I try to keep my voice neutral, but I can see her stiffen at the assumed accusation.

  “I’m doing this for him, you know. Ever since we lost his father, I’ve been trying to prepare. I don’t know what will happen with Cillian. If I can connect with something bigger—something greater—maybe I can find direction.” She looks at me as though I’ll understand.

  I don’t. I have a mother who did things in what she thought were my best interests, and it nearly broke us all. “Try connecting with him instead.”

  I hurry past Esther before she can ask me any more about her son. Outside, Cillian is throwing things around in the shed, nothing gentle or careful in his movements. “Where is that fecking box?”

  “Here.” I push aside a stack of traditional Irish fairy-tale collec
tions and tug the box free. But, forgetting my own strength in my haste, I tug too hard and it flies across the room. It hits the far wall and drops to the floor. The contents spill out.

  “Sorry.” I kneel and begin replacing things. Cillian grabs the handcuffs and shoves them into his pocket. My hand freezes on a weird metal puzzle I vaguely remember from the last time we went through his dead father’s things. It’s a series of interlocking triangles. The same design as the necklace I took from the woman in the alley and put on the kitten. And … I hold the triangles out, getting a different angle. It’s the exact image stamped on all of demon-drug dealer Sean’s tea. And the symbol from the book Artemis stole. What is it doing here?

  “Everything in this box was your father’s?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” Cillian’s distracted and on edge as he stares through the night at the house. I can’t tell whether he hopes his mother will come out here after him, or whether he hopes she won’t. I doubt he knows which he prefers either. But his mother is illuminated in the kitchen, dancing slowly as she makes tea.

  “Even this?” I hold it up.

  He barely glances at it. “Yeah, it’s a toy or something. A puzzle. I used to play with it, but it was his.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He finally focuses, frowning. “Why does it matter?”

  “Because I’ve seen it before. At Sean’s place, branding his demonic tea. And a woman who attacked me in an alley was wearing a necklace with it.” And it was on the book Artemis stole.

  “That exactly, or something like it? Kind of Celtic, innit? Could be a similar design.”

  I have enough room for doubt. I was sure, but maybe I’m seeing it everywhere because I have sisterly betrayal on the brain. “The necklace is on the kitten. We can go check.” I keep the puzzle in my hands. “Do you want to—I mean, are you going to stay here tonight?”

  “I want to be with Rhys.” He sounds miserable, and it hurts me to know I can’t fix it. But Cillian still hasn’t moved to leave. He’s standing in the doorway, staring through the window at his mother.

  “I could send Rhys back here.”

  Cillian takes a long time to answer. Then he shakes his head and abruptly moves as though being tugged by strings, his gait forced and unnatural. “No. Nothing here that needs doing.” He opens the back door.

  “I’ve got tea on!” His mother turns with a tray already set with three pretty pale-green cups. Her eyes shift from Cillian to me, then to what’s in my hand.

  She drops the tray on the floor with a clatter of metal and a shattering of ceramic. “Where did you get that?” She steps right through the shards to me.

  “Mum! Your feet!” Cillian tries to steer her away from the sharp pieces, and I can see smears of blood where she walks barefoot. But she doesn’t pay him any attention, instead grabbing the triangle thing out of my hands.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “In the shed. It’s a puzzle? Cillian wanted to, uh …” I look at him for support.

  “I wanted to show it to my boyfriend. He likes puzzles.” Cillian grabs a broom and dustpan and sweeps up his mother’s mess.

  Esther’s gripping the interlocking triangles so tightly her hands shake. “This isn’t a toy. You shouldn’t have it.”

  “Da used to let me play with it,” Cillian says.

  “No, he didn’t!”

  Both of their jaws are set in rigid, angry lines, but his mother also looks scared. She used to be a witch. Maybe not everything in the box belonged to Cillian’s dad, after all. My eyes flick to her neck to see if she’s wearing a necklace, but her dress neckline is too high to tell. Where has she really been going all this time?

  Cillian sets down the broom. “Yes, he did. I remember.”

  “You’re remembering wrong.”

  “I’ll show you. I can do it with my eyes closed.” Cillian grabs for the puzzle, but Esther jerks it away, holding it behind her back.

  “No! You stay out of your father’s things!” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Now go sit down. I’m making food.”

  “Give me the puzzle!”

  “No.”

  They’re standing close, both of them breathing hard, faces set in mirrored anger and determination and hurt.

  I could get the puzzle from her. Easy. And part of me is tempted to. I want to take this from her, because it obviously means something and taking it would hurt her. Like she hurt him by leaving so easily and for so long. People shouldn’t get to leave you behind and not hurt like you do because of it.

  I close my eyes, force my breathing to slow. She’s not Artemis or Leo. She didn’t do anything to me.

  I just want to figure out what in all the hells is going on here. And I hope—sincerely—that Esther isn’t involved in it. She’s a bad mom, but that doesn’t make her evil, and after Leo’s mother’s betrayal, I’ve had my fill of dealing with evil moms.

  I put a hand on Cillian’s arm. “Come on. There are other puzzles. We don’t need that one.”

  He stays where he is for a few more seconds, then turns sharply on his heel and storms out of the house. I don’t apologize to his mother. I didn’t take the puzzle from her, which was more than generous of me. I can feel her watching us, waiting in the light of the doorway. I pause in the yard. Cillian is already in the car.

  “I won’t let anyone hurt him,” I say, my voice low. “Including you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Whatever you’re involved in, get out of it. He needs you.”

  “You have no idea what you’re on about.”

  I ignore her and climb into the car. Cillian peels out. Neither of us looks back.

  Doug coughs and rolls down his window despite the frigid temperature. “Wow. What did I miss?”

  “Give me the kitten,” I say.

  Doug reflexively holds it against his chest. “Why are you so angry?”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not angry at Trouble! I need the necklace.”

  He unfastens it and hands it to me, keeping the kitten to himself. I hold it up, trying to catch enough light. Cillian pulls over halfway to the castle. It’s pitch-dark out here in the forest. He turns on the overhead light and takes the necklace from me.

  “The same.” His voice is flat. “What does it mean?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe nothing?” It doesn’t mean nothing. I know it doesn’t. But my instinct to protect my friend makes me want to shield him from the looming bad I can feel building on the horizon. The looming bad that now somehow involves his mother.

  “Right. I’m sure it’s a big whopping coincidence that we happen to have the same triangley thing in my shed that was on Sean’s tea and a madwoman’s necklace. Maybe they all visited the same souvenir shop.”

  “Wait, you had one of these?” Doug leans forward. He narrows his eyes at the necklace. “Sean had a tattoo of it. Most of his people did. What was in the shed? A necklace?”

  “A bigger version of this. Not a necklace. More like a puzzle thing.”

  Doug frowns, his cracked skin shifting so the black lines between the yellow pieces almost disappear.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing.”

  “I can’t smell emotion, but I can see it. What are you thinking?”

  “Just—there was a reason I picked Cillian’s shed, yeah? Out of every place I could hide. I was half dazed with hunger and exhaustion and pain, but something … something called me there. I chalked it up to fate. Like I was supposed to meet you, Nina.” He ducks his head, and I swear if he weren’t neon yellow, he’d be blushing. “So you’d care about me. So it wouldn’t only be your mom on my side. But maybe it was something else. I can’t smell power, exactly, but most demons are sensitive to it.”

  Cillian’s staring at the necklace as though hypnotized by it. I turn toward him. “Your mom was really weird about the puzzle.”

  “You two want me to believe that my dead da—a fisherman and local police volunteer—was dealing in, what, demonic art
ifacts?” His voice is cold and so unlike him that I shrink closer to my window.

  “No! No. Could it have been your mom’s instead? From when she practiced witchcraft? And that’s why she was so upset?”

  Cillian finally looks away from the necklace, holding it out and dropping it into my waiting palm. He shrugs. “Could be.” His tone becomes deliberately lighter, but there’s a forced edge to it. “Good thing we know an incredibly sexy Watcher who excels at research. He’ll be even happier to have a new project than to see me again.”

  “Never,” I say, trying to match his tone and almost succeeding. I already know Rhys won’t find the research material he needs.

  Cillian slows down as we catch up to Oz’s barely limping van. It’ll take us forever to get to the castle at this rate. Doug yawns, stretching out in the backseat. “So we’ve got a symbol that may or may not be demonic and/or powerful, and that is linked to Sean, but we don’t know how. Goodie. Just what we needed. Another mystery.”

  I don’t correct him that this isn’t another mystery. It’s all the same mystery. And my sister has the answers. I know what I need to do. I’ll make a deal with her. My silence on her activities in exchange for getting the book back. I’ll get the information we need and protect everyone from themselves in the process.

  18

  THE VAN PULLS TO A stop in front of the castle, more garble than roar to the engine. I’m waiting in front of it. I can’t help the flutter of nerves and the fear that inviting three more Slayers into the castle is a bad idea when I can’t even control my own Slayer impulses. What if they attack my demons? I know the demons—I like them—and I’ve still found myself fighting a kill instinct that seems to be growing stronger by the day.

  Chao-Ahn, Maricruz, and Taylor climb out, eyeing the castle dubiously. Only a few windows have lights in them, and we don’t have any outdoor lighting. I try to see it through their eyes. It looks menacing. Blocky and black, and somehow unbalanced. The eyes naturally want a tower where there used to be one, but now that whole wing is ruined and we don’t go there.

  “It’s safe,” I say. But … it hasn’t always been. Just a few months ago, Leo Silvera’s mother was stalking us all during the night, feeding off us, and killing poor Bradford Smythe. And now Leo’s back. Knowing he’s somewhere inside the castle feels like the moment before a blow lands, when I can see what will happen but can’t dodge it. Everything is on high alert, and it doesn’t hurt—yet—but I know it will.