Chosen (Slayer 2)

“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?”