by Mary Martel
Chucky’s back hit the wooden railing, there was a loud crack and his arms wheeled out at his sides, seeking something to hold on to. The wood gave out and Chucky tumbled backwards.
I ran forward and watched in horror as he dropped down to the cement sidewalk below.
His head made a sickening sound when it connected with the ground and a scream ripped out of my throat, loud and shrill.
Blood immediately started pooling out around his head and I stood frozen, looking down at his crumpled body that was eerily still.
Tyson grabbed my hand and gave a vicious yank.
“We have to go,” he hissed at me. “Now.”
I tore my eyes off of Chucky’s unmoving form and starting running with Tyson. The stairs blurred past as we ran down them, the sounds of our footsteps thundering around us.
We were going to get caught here red handed because quiet was a long-lost memory.
We cleared the stairs and Tyson dragged me to the driver’s side door of his Audi. He ripped the door open and shoved me inside. I climbed over his seat and into my own.
Tyson slammed his door and jammed his key in the ignition. I didn’t bitch at him when he didn’t put his seat belt on either, but I did yank mine over my shoulder and across my body and plug it in.
“Ty,” I whispered urgently. “I think he’s-”
“Dead,” Tyson said in a cold voice as he interrupted me. “Most likely he’s dead. And, now we need to get the fuck out of here.”
It was weird, but the Council didn’t come out of their rooms to investigate the noise. I would know because I watched out the back window as Tyson flew down the road. A sob caught in my throat as Chucky’s unmoving body got smaller and smaller.
When I couldn’t see him anymore I turned around in my seat and continued crying. I didn’t even know why I was crying, it’s not like he was a good person, or we were friends or anything, because none of that was true. He was a horrible person and he’d tried to kill Dash.
“Why am I crying?” I asked Tyson in a shaky voice.
“Because you just watched someone die.” Tyson immediately replied.
“We don’t know that he’s dead,” I whispered even though I knew he was. He wasn’t moving, all that blood was leaking out of him and his eyes were wide open and staring up at nothing.
He was dead.
Jesus, Chucky was dead.
When Tyson didn’t say anything, I felt the need to fill the silence. “We should call someone, like, for an ambulance or something. He needs help.”
“Girl,” he muttered irately, “he’s dead. Fucking dead. And, we’re not calling anyone. We’re going home and going to bed.”
I wiped at my tears, swiping them off my cheeks and turned in my seat to glare at him.
“We can’t just go home and go to bed like it’s any old night,” I snapped at him.
“Yeah, we can,” he shot back. “And that’s exactly what we’re going to do. We’re going back to Dash’s and we are going to sleep. What we aren’t going to do is call the police and ask for an ambulance and send them out to where the Council is currently living. That would be the absolute biggest mistake we could ever make. And, I’m telling you, someone probably heard you screaming and went out to check. If he was still alive and there was anything they could do for him, I’m sure they are doing it. If he is dead, well, then they are probably going to bury his body somewhere and that will be the end to that. They won’t care because he doesn’t have any magic and he tried to kill two of our coven members and they won’t give a shit about him dying.”
“So we just go home?” I asked incredulously. “Just like that?”
He gripped the steering wheel in a death grip and sighed. “Yeah. But tomorrow we will have to call Uncle Quint and the other guys over and fill them in on what happened and that is not going to be fun at all.”
I watched the dark trees fly by as he speeded down the street. We had a long ride home and we did it in silence.
I digested his words the entire way home. He didn’t care one bit that we’d both just witnessed someone’s death. In fact, he was rather callous about the whole thing and it didn’t sit well with me.
Did he not care because Chucky was a normal, mundane human with no magic? Would he have cared if it had been a fellow witch who’d fallen to their death?
I wasn’t sure but thought maybe, yes, he would have.
I didn’t sleep a wink that night.
Tyson slept just fine.
Chapter Twenty-Two
"You need to fake it for them," Rain said in his deep voice and I turned to face him, confused.
"Fake what and for who?" I asked.
"The Council," he told me, and he sounded like it should have been obvious to me, but it wasn't.
"Okkaayyy," I drawled out. "What exactly is it that you want me to fake for them?"
"Everything," he said, and I sighed.
Rain was going to drive me crazy if he kept going like this. I didn't want to drag things out of him when he could just as easily tell me what the heck he meant the first time around. This was not fun for me.
"Rain," Quinton growled. "Get to the fucking point."
Apparently, I wasn't the only one Rain was going to drive crazy. And why were those two together? They'd showed up here together and I hadn't thought to question it until now. That was weird. Quinton, like everyone else had been called here by Tyson so they could all hear together what had happened last night with Chucky. We were still waiting on the others to get here and Tyson was in the kitchen making himself something to eat.
But no one had invited Rain because no one knew how to get ahold of him and I had no idea why they’d shown up together.
"Where've you been?" I asked suspiciously. "And did you both come here together?" They did, I knew they did. I hadn't seen them get out of the same car together or anything, but I knew they'd arrived together. I turned to Rain, "Were you at the Alexander house?"
If he said yes, then Quinton and I were going to have words and they weren't going to be pretty or fun. He knew, they all knew, that I was worried when Rain took off because I didn't think he'd come back. I had abandonment issues among other things that I needed to work out in therapy some time but that was not the issue for today. The issue for today was now becoming all about Quinton hanging out with Rain and not telling me.
Quinton’s entire body braced, and he sighed, loudly, before saying, "Rain here had Marcus tied up in his basement and he asked me to help set him free. He thought it would go better for him with me there because he was worried Marcus would lash out and try to fuck him up for tying him up and tossing his ass down there in the first place. And he was right to worry. Shit would have gone down way worse if I hadn't been there to calm Marcus down and keep him from killing your dad, which is exactly what he wanted to do."
"What?" I shrieked in horror, not sure if I even believed what he'd said because it was pretty freaking unbelievable. I looked from Quinton to Rain, then back again. They both looked dead serious.
"Is this a sick joke?" I demanded to know, and I hoped like hell that it was because there was no reason for Rain to have abducted Marcus Cole and lock him up somewhere. That was plain crazy.
"I wish," Quinton muttered and my mouth dropped open. He was dead serious.
"Oh my god," I whispered frantically.
"Really," Rain said conversationally, "it's his own damn fault. If he hadn't stopped practicing his craft, then he wouldn't have been caught so easily and I wouldn't have been able to subdue him and lock him away. He would have been able to fight back. Instead, he went down like a weakling and it was almost too easy. He has no one to blame besides himself, really."
I looked to Quinton in time to see him shake his head at Rain with a small smirk on his face.
"This isn't funny," I hissed at him.
He turned that smirk on me. "I told him you weren't going to like any of this," he said smugly. "And I was not wrong."
"Marcus is fine
now, baby girl." Rain tried to assure me.
I wasn't having any of it. My feet moved me without thought and I started pacing around the dining room. Back and forth. Back and forth. I was trying to walk off the angry energy that had balled up in me upon hearing this news. I didn't think it was going to do my any good.
"Where is he now?" I demanded to know. He probably got the heck out of town as fast as he could go and who could blame him. "This is why he hasn't been texting me back or returning my calls. I was worried he didn't want anything to do with me anymore. I was hurt. I cannot believe this."
And it was true, I couldn't believe this was happening right then, that this was my life, that they were both being so casual about the fact that Rain had Marcus locked up in his basement and they acted like this was no big deal for either of them. It was a big deal to me and I refused to be casual about it. This was not normal behavior.
"What's wrong now?" Damien asked as he strolled into the dining room like he didn't have a care in the world and, yeah, he'd asked what was wrong, but he clearly didn't think whatever it was would have any effect on him whatsoever. He walked around to the side of the table I was pacing and pulled out a chair. He sat down and grabbed ahold of my wrist as I went to pace passed him.
I stopped moving immediately and looked down at him in question. "Yes?" I said.
In answer, he tugged on my hand and pulled me down. I landed sideways on his lap with my back to the table and my legs dangling off the side of the chair. He wrapped both his arms around my middle and his hands slid down my sides, stopping when they grazed my hips.
"Damien," I muttered in reproach. We were just getting comfortable with the touching and now he was doing these things in front of other people and not just the guys but Rain to boot. First, I slept with Quinton in my bed with Rain in my bedroom and now Damien was pulling me down into his lap in front of him. I sincerely hoped his actions were not making Rain uncomfortable. That was the last thing I wanted.
Though... he could stand with a little discomfort at the moment because I wasn't very happy with him.
Damien grinned at me. "You were stomping around like an angry woman and it really wasn't attractive at all, so I put a stop to it. You're welcome."
Someone coughed, and I knew it was to cover up their humor.
"I am going to choose to ignore that," I told him in the prissiest voice I could muster. I wasn't really upset but I couldn't let him know that. Give an inch and they would always want to take the whole mile. "Did you know Rain had Marcus tied up in his basement?" I asked him.
Damien's brows shot up and he looked across the table at Rain. "Wow," he said, sounding impressed. "What'd he ever do to you?"
He didn't sound upset in the least bit.
This was getting downright ridiculous. How were they just taking it in stride?
I pushed against his chest to get his attention. When he looked down at me I told him, "You're nuts, you know that? Completely freaking nuts. This isn't normal behavior. You should be horrified by this, like I am."
His hands slid around to my back where his fingers splayed wide and he pulled me closer to him.
"I'm not horrified at all," he told me. "And, honestly, I don't understand why you are at all. He was barely in your life for any amount of time then he just left you with us after he thought your mother bailed on you. You shouldn't care about what happens to him at all. If he'd stayed here with you then I might feel differently but he didn't. He sold his house and bailed on you, leaving you with us who you barely knew at all and, seeing as you're a girl with magic, he should have taken special care with you on top of what he should have been doing because he was acting as your parental figure when your mother disappeared."
"Vivian wasn't her goddamn mother," Rain snarled and I swirled around in Damien's lap to look at him.
His fists were in tight balls at his sides and he looked ready to leap across the table so he could possibly strangle Damien to death. I didn't think this boded well for Damien's future and, evidence was suggesting, Rain didn't like Damien as much as he liked Quinton. Then again, neither were exactly likable people to start out with.
Damien waved his hand towards Rain and Quinton across the table, waving away Rain's words. I found it odd he'd chosen to include Quinton in the action but didn't point it out to anyone since I figured they hadn't missed it. Damien seemed unconcerned by Rain's anger and I found that interesting.
"I know that," Damien said calmly. Then he looked at Uncle Quint and asked, "Where's Marcus now?"
"That's what I want to know, too," I muttered. Too bad no one had answered me the first time I had asked. Damien didn't seem to have the same issues I did. Go figure.
"He's at my house," Quinton told him as he crossed his arms over his chest and stared darkly at me sitting in the circle of Damien's arms and in his lap. "You want to let her up now?"
Truthfully, I wasn't all fired up to actually get up no matter who it made uncomfortable for me to sit there in Damien's lap. I wasn't angrily pacing anymore, and I called that a win. In fact, the angry ball I had had building up inside of me had dissipated slightly and I no longer felt like I was going to explode at any given second. The room even cooled down several degrees since Damien had walked in here.
I was noticing that certain emotions, or sometimes just strong ones had a flavor, if you will, to them. And anger was most certainly a hot one. It burned bright and fast and didn't fade until your mood shifted to something else.
Damien turned to Quinton and grinned before saying, "Nope. I'm pretty sure she's good where she's at."
I think I was too but if it was going to upset Quinton then maybe I should get up and sit somewhere else. We were going to have enough emotions flying around when they found out why they were here that I didn't want to add to the pile.
Tyson strolled out of the kitchen with a giant sandwich in his hands and raised half way to his mouth. He paused when he read the vibe in the room and asked, "What happened now?"
What indeed.
I glared at Rain but said to Ty, "Did you know about Marcus being tied up in Rain's basement?"
Tyson didn't even bat an eyelash, which I found troubling. Instead, he shook his head and shot back, "Did you tell them about Chuck?"
I swallowed painfully and widened my eyes at him, silently telling him to shut up.
"What about that piece of shit football player?" Quinton growled at his nephew.
"We think he might be dead," I muttered and Damien's arms around me squeezed almost painfully.
"What the fuck?" Damien muttered darkly. "How do you know this?"
How indeed.
"This is the one who cut up your face?" Rain rumbled, and I heard the anger in his voice.
A warm wind blew through the room and the overhead lights flickered.
Crap.
This was not good having all of those witches in here and getting angry.
"Yes," Quinton snarled back.
Tyson, not seeming to care a bit about the vibe in the room or what had happened to Chucky, moved the sandwich back to his mouth and took a big bite out of it. He chewed, then spoke through a mouth full of food, "I don't think we're going to have to worry about him anymore."
I found this disconcerting; how emotionless he was about what had gone down.
"Because he's dead?" Quinton asked incredulously, and I couldn't blame him there.
"Maybe," I muttered.
I really did not want to have this conversation. I wanted to go to the Alexander house and make sure that Marcus was okay, and I needed to see him with my own eyes to be sure. I wasn't going to take their words for it.
Damien stuck his face in my neck and whispered, "How do you even know any of this?" His lips brushed against my skin with each word spoken and, for whatever reason, I found myself relaxing against him.
"Because we were there," Tyson said and, thankfully, this time he didn't have a mouth full of food.
"Where exactly were you, Nephew?" Quinton a
sked in a low, deadly voice.
I pushed back on Damien's arms and he was smart enough to let me go. I stood from his lap and quickly rounded the table. Things were going to come out that Tyson didn't want to come out and things were going to get ugly, I just knew it.
Tyson stepped forward and placed his sandwich down on the table. He held his arms loosely at his sides and faced his uncle. I didn't think it boded well that he'd freed up his hands.
I had to do something to stop the potential damage he was going to cause when he opened his mouth. I knew Quinton loved his nephew and I knew they were all family even if they weren't a big, happy one all the time. You didn't always have to get along with each other in order to love someone. But there were certain lines you didn't cross because when you did there was no coming back from them. Despite what I'd said to Tyson about how there was nothing he could ever do to make his uncle no longer love him, I was worried. All things involving Annabell worried me and I was scared for my best friend.
"We went to the Motel," I blurted in a rush and every eye in the place turned on me. And none of them were happy, and Tyson was one of them. I had started this so I would finish it. "Chucky wasn't the only one staying there with the Council. Annabell has been staying with them too."
This had everyone but Tyson and Rain sucking in angry breaths. If I didn't hurry they were going to blow and poor Tyson would be the one to take that hit.
"She's been harassing Tyson for a while now," I rushed out and this time their angry eyes moved from me to Tyson. All except for Rain who stayed watching me. "He didn't tell anyone except for me because he wanted to take care of it, of her on his own because he felt responsible for what she did the last time she came around. He told me about it and I made him promise we would work together to take care of her. Last night we went out to the motel and handled that. Th-"
Quinton cut me off. His voice was low, angry and bordered on hostile. "You handled it? What the fuck does that even mean?"
Oh boy. This was not promising.
"No," I said and watched his head jerk to the side. "I actually handled nothing. I mostly watched as Tyson handled it. I'm fairly confident though that the problem has been solved and she'll no longer be bothering any of us."
