The Broken Puppet (The Elite King's Club 2)

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

“Trust no one.”

“Sir?”

I clutch my phone tightly, pressing it against my ear. Biting down on my fist, the metallic tinge of blood hits my taste buds, and I recoil. I’ve done bad things. Very bad things in my lifetime. Unspeakable things. But they’re all I know. I’ve swum in the blood of innocents and drank from their soul without flinching. But this is Madison. My sister. My twin. I care about her.

“You don’t care about her,” the voice laughs. “You care because you want to kill her. Imagine what it would be like slicing into that delicate skin.”

“Shut up!” I scream, slamming my eyes closed.

“Sir?”

“I need help,” I speak, though my English is not very good. “My sister. She’s hurt.”

“Okay, where are you?”

I look around. “I’m at the clearing on State Highway 50.”

“Okay, sir, I have someone on the way. Tell me what’s wrong with your sister.”

I look down at her and freeze. Her skin is pale, the blood still oozing.

“She’s hurt so very bad.”

“Okay, I get that, but is she breathing? How is she hurt?”

“She….” I lean down, pressing my two fingers to the side of her neck. A faint pulse taps against the pads of my fingers. Distant, but there—only just. “Her pulse is slow… so very slow.”

“Finish her,” one of the voices snarks.

“Tace!” I order. My shoulders square, the dark spell coats my flesh, and my lip curls. He’s here. It’s here. “Ego sum magister vester!”

The voices, all five of them, run, slithering in fear. “Yes, yes you are our master.”

Reality gets sucked back into view, and I’m standing there, clutching my phone while the paramedics are working on Madison. Everything goes in slow motion, and I drop my phone, falling to my knees and clutching my head. What happened?

What happened?

Why do I feel like this is my fault?

Stretching my arms wide, an earth-shattering scream erupts out of me as tears pour out of my eyes. I’ve never lost control. Never. I’m always in control. Nothing touches me. I don’t feel. I don’t feel anything. But seeing Madison motionless on the ground, it’s like I suddenly feel everything.

“Sir!” A paramedic comes rushing over, blood on his hands. “What happened?”

My chest heaves as I take in deep breaths, my head hanging between my shoulders in defeat. I slowly look up at him and snarl, “She shot in the head.”

BEEP.

Beep.

Beep.

Pain.

Beep.

Feels like a thousand bricks are weighing down on my head.

Beep.

I try to wiggle my toes, only they don’t move. I don’t think they move. Where am I?

Beep.

I strain to open my eyes, but not sure whether they’re opening.

“No.”

A voice! Whose voice is that?

Beep.

I’m so tired. Like sinking sand, I feel my consciousness slowly detach itself from wherever I am. The beeping sounds distant now.

Beep.

“Did you try to kill her?” is the last distant thing I hear before the depths of nothingness envelop me completely.

My throat throbs, like I’ve swallowed gallons of sand. Moving my head slightly, I groan. My head pounds like a bass line is vibrating directly through my brainwaves. It’s almost too painful to bear. Wiggling my fingers, this time I feel them respond and someone grabs my hand beside me.

“Madison?”

Who is that? Slowly, I open my eyes. Heavy and tired, like glue has set on my eyelashes, but I stubbornly fight it.

“Water,” I urge, still not knowing who that is. There’s a straw pressing against my lips, hitting the cracks. I open my mouth a little, enough to fit the tiny straw in and suck. The water is warm, but it slides down my parched throat perfectly. Moving my head back after drinking all of it, I wince.

“Hurts.”

“I know, babe.”

“Who is this? I can’t see.”

“Open your eyes, babe.”

I fight for it, God knows I do, and when my eyes finally open, my eyebrows pull in. “Tillie?” She looks the same from what I remember, only I’m seeing three of her, and her voice is echoing in and out.

“It’s me, but I can’t stay long.” Her words reverberate, and I can slowly feel the familiar sinking sand slide out from under me.

No!

“Tillie….” I want it to come out excitedly, happy that she’s here, but it comes out more like pain.

“I’m sorry, Madison.” She kisses me somewhere on my head. “I had to make sure you were okay, but I have to go now.”

“Go?” I mutter. “No! You just got here.” I peel my eyes open a little wider, but she’s still blurry. “Please don’t leave.”

“I have to. It’s not safe for me here.”

“Tell me, Tillie,” I croak out. “I can keep secrets. Please.”

“I know you can, Mads. But I can’t. I just can’t. I have to go. I love you.”

“Tillie!” I groan, and as she snatches up her hoodie and heads to the door, she turns over her shoulder to face me. “I’m sorry.” Then she leaves. I rest my head back, ignoring the excruciating pain.