Chapter 8
I woke up in a strange bedroom.
The ceiling above me was made of wooden planks. The fireplace across the room was built into the wall and framed in smooth river rocks. There was framed artwork hanging on the walls. I managed to turn my aching head to see I lay on a four-poster bed and?—
Mac was asleep beside me.
My breath caught, and tears immediately filled my eyes. He sat in a chair beside the bed, his body slumped sideways, and his raven black hair spilled over my pillow. His arm was extended down the bed, his fingertips resting close to mine.
The memory of him getting shot crashed over me.
I twisted, grabbing his hand, and he jolted upright, his wide eyes meeting mine. He blinked.
“Bones—” he breathed my name with so much relief, but I was barely listening.
“Are you ok?” I gasped in a hoarse voice, my eyes running over his body, looking for a bandage or blood or?—
“I’m ok,” he squeezed my hand hard. “Bones, I’m ok. You healed all of us.”
“All of you?” I demanded, my body still thrumming with panic.
“All of us. Everyone is ok,” he confirmed, and I realized he was scanning me just as closely. He met my gaze again, and I was struck dumb at the depth of emotion there. “Gods, you scared me.”
I stared at him, my heart still racing.
“You’ve been out for twelve fuckin’ days.” His voice roughened. “I was startin’ to think you weren’t ever gonna wake.”
I must have heard wrong. Twelve days? I shakily sat up, and Mac helped me adjust to lean against the headboard; he didn’t let go of my hand even after I was settled.
“You healed all ten of us at once,” he continued, and anger filled his face like storm clouds. “Even your brother, who had a fuckin’ gun to your head.”
Oh fuck.
He leaned forward, a familiar fury igniting in his eyes. “He says you asked him to kill you.”
My mouth went bone dry.
“Is that true?”
He looked so angry.
“Bones,” his voice had dropped to a terrifying, quiet tone, “is that true?”
“Yes,” I whispered, realizing I didn’t want to lie to him.
Sparks flashed in his eyes, and his jaw flexed. “Did you think we wouldn’t come for you?” he demanded.
“I didn’t…I don’t…” My voice trailed off, leaving a heavy kind of quiet.
“Bones,” Mac murmured, his voice pained, “I’ll always come for you.” His gaze was locked on me, and my throat tightened. “Always,” he repeated.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered because I had no idea what else to say.
“Don’t give up,” his voice didn’t waver, but it had an edge.
“I tried, Mac, I promise.” My voice wobbled. “I tried to escape first.”
He squeezed my hand and then took a deep breath like he was trying to calm himself. His exhale sounded shaky. “Sorry, gods. You want some broth? Neena sent me in with this today. I think it’s still hot.”
He held up a large metal thermos, and I took it gratefully. I rested my head against the headboard and shakily unscrewed the top. The logs shifted in the fire, popping loudly, and as I looked at them, I realized I still didn’t know where I was.
“Where are we?”
“Nemo’s house.”
“Why?” Of all the places I thought we might be, that would not have been one of my guesses.
“Well, your brother and his crew are in the clinic, and we sure as hell weren’t gonna leave you there with them. And he pitched a fit about you staying in our bunkhouse, so Nemo offered his spare room as a neutral third party.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to think about my brother and his crew staying in my clinic. I took a drink of broth, my hand trembling. I felt shaky and weak, but I vividly remembered the feeling of power running through me. I felt unstoppable. I’d never felt anything close to that before. I wondered?—
Wolf knew about my powers.
Vaguely, I was aware Mac was calling my name, but panic held me in a tight fist. I didn’t know what to do.
I’d just handed Wolf even more ammo against me.
Now, he had multiple reasons to drag me back to Carth.
The Ministry would probably reward him for bringing them not just a murderer but a murdering witch.
The memory sucked me in before I could even try to fight it.
“You can’t ever tell anyone,” Dune’s face was grave.
“Why?” I was still beaming, watching the dog that had been almost dead a few minutes ago run in circles around us.
“Emmy,” Dune grabbed my hand and squeezed hard.
“Ow, Dune, that hurts!” I cried, trying to pull away.
“Listen to me,” Dune hissed, his sandy blond hair blowing across his face. “You can’t ever tell anyone. Not Wolf, and especially not Pa.”
“But—”
“Promise me.”
“Dune, I don’t ? —”
“Emmy, they will kill you!”
My smile fell away. He had to be joking, but this wasn’t very funny.
“You know those special meeting nights that the council has on the full moon? The ones Pa goes to and comes back smellin’ like ash? Those nights, they take girls and women who they think might be witches, and they burn them alive.”
I stared at him. No, he had to be wrong.
“You remember how Mrs. Ammon left to go take care of her sister?”
I nodded, fear and horror churning in my stomach.
“That was a lie. Wolf told me the truth. They burned her.”
“Wolf wouldn’t—” My voice trembled.
“He doesn’t like it, but he said he can’t do anythin’ to stop it. Not without puttin’ himself and us at risk.”
“Why’d he tell you, then?” I demanded, hurt.
“When I turned ten, he said I was old enough to know.”
I stared at him for a moment longer, trying to believe he was kidding, but he looked scared, which terrified me more than anything.
My eyes welled up. “I don’t want to be burned.”
Dune pulled me into a tight hug. “You won’t,” he promised. “Cause it’s gonna be our secret—you and me. Nobody else is ever gonna know. Promise?”
“I promise.”
I jolted back to the present when someone shook me slightly, focusing on Mac’s face hovering close to mine. Concern drew his eyebrows together as I tried to remember how to fucking breathe normally. He was sitting on the bed next to me, his warm hands gripping my shoulders.
“You back with me?” he asked softly.
My hands came up on their own accord and gripped his wrists like I was drowning.
“I’m here. Can you breathe with me?” he murmured, his eyes fixed on mine.
He took deep, exaggerated breaths, and I did my best to copy him, and after what felt like forever, I managed to calm myself a little.
“Better?” he asked, and I managed to nod. He took a breath like he was about to say more, but the terrified words burst out of me.
“What’s gonna happen?”
He frowned. “Whaddya mean?”
“Is Wolf gonna take me away?”
His jaw tightened, and his voice came out like quiet steel. “No.”
“Are you sure?” I pushed, my stomach roiling. I reluctantly released his wrists, he let go of my shoulders, and both of us dropped our hands into our own laps.
“Nemo is workin’ on some sort of deal, but I made it real clear I’m not lettin’ anybody take you away against your will.”
I wasn’t sure if that made me feel relieved or more anxious. “I don’t want you to fight with my brother.”
“And I won’t, so long as he doesn’t give me any reason to.” He lowered his head, his eyes sharpening into blades that cut through me.
“Will you promise me somethin’?” I pleaded.
“Anything,” he said immediately, startling me, then paused. “So long as it doesn’t jeopardize your safety.”
I grimaced, and the sparks in his eyes started flashing.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“If Wolf gets his way and Nemo lets him take me away—” Mac sucked in a breath, and I held up a trembling hand. “No, just listen. If he gets his way and is gonna take me back to Carth… will you please… please shoot me?”
He recoiled backward as though I’d slapped him. “What the fuck, Bones?”
“Mac, if he takes me back to Carth, they’ll burn me alive.” My voice broke.
He went still, his eyes locked on mine. “What?”
“They b-burn women they think are w-witches.”
The horror on his face hardened into rage, and his nostrils flared. “No, Bones, I am not gonna shoot you.”
“Mac—”
He leaned forward and grabbed my face, but despite the anger in his eyes, his hands were gentle.
“Listen to me,” he commanded. “Your brother is not gonna take you back there. Nemo would never let that happen, and unless Wolf wants a firefight, he has to defer to Nemo. And even if your brother somehow managed to get you out of here, I’d be comin’ after him to get you back.
So you are gonna stop askin’ people to kill you, you hear me? ”
“There’s things worse than death, Mac,” I whispered brokenly. The calluses on Mac’s palms against my skin reminded me painfully of Trey.
“No.” His jaw flexed. “Death is the worst because it’s final .”
A bitter laugh that sounded more like a sob escaped my mouth. I wanted to tell him there was some shit you never fully came back from, but I couldn’t get the words out.
He ducked his head a little to catch my eyes again. “I’m fightin’ for you, Bones.”
My heart lurched, making me lightheaded for a moment. He studied me, determination in every tensed muscle on his face. I had no idea what expression I had.
“And I’m not gonna stop until you realize you’re worth it and start fightin’ for yourself,” he added in a low voice.
My eyes welled up. This was going in a dangerous direction. I needed to change the subject. My gaze dropped to his shoulder, where I remembered the bullet hitting him.
“You promise you’re ok?” My voice wobbled.
When I glanced back up at his face, his expression had softened. He released me and began to unbutton his shirt. My cheeks felt strangely cold now, and I resisted the urge to reach up and touch my face where his hand had been.
He showed me the scar on his shoulder and patiently waited as I examined it.
“I’m sorry I shot your brother.”
I looked back up at him, startled.
“To be fair, I didn’t know he was your brother when I shot him. Though I still woulda done it even if I did know.” His face grew stormy. “I’m not gonna hesitate when someone has a gun to your head.”
A confusing mix of guilt and fear and something unbearably soft overwhelmed me.
“Wolf told us about your brother Dune.”
I lifted the thermos and took another sip of broth, avoiding his eyes.
“When you feel better, we’d like to hear your side of the story.”
“What makes you think it’s different from his?” I muttered.
He was quiet for a long time, and I wanted to see his expression but wasn’t brave enough to look. The fire crackled and popped, tiny sparks dancing in the darkness.
“Bones,” he finally said in that soft voice that made my eyes burn, “’cause we know you.”
Did they? I didn’t understand how other people could feel so confident they knew who I was when I didn’t even know.
Mac rested his hand on the bed and leaned forward again, coming close enough I could smell the peppermint soap he preferred, same as Clarity. “When he told us you murdered your brother, we thought he was fuckin’ joking. None of us believe that’s what happened.”
Oh fuck, Clarity. I started to raise my eyes to his, intending to ask how his sister was doing, but my gaze caught on his chest. He hadn’t buttoned his shirt back up, and it was gaping on the opposite side, revealing a scar.
I could only see part of it, but it looked like a word.
I tried to tell myself it was just a tattoo, but I’d seen enough injuries to immediately know it wasn’t.
“What’s on your chest?” I tried to keep my voice calm, but it shook slightly.
He glanced down at his shirt and muttered a curse, yanking his shirt closed in a move that was painfully familiar. I slowly reached out and curled my hand around his wrist.
“Mac, please. Can I see?” I asked steadily.
He closed his eyes, and I watched his throat work as he swallowed. To my surprise, when he met my gaze again, he only paused briefly before pulling his shirt open. Horror dropped into my stomach like a stone.
Silvery pink scars on the skin above his heart formed the word “TRAITOR.”
I instinctively reached out and touched the scars but jerked back when he sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m so sorry,” I said, horrified at my intrusiveness. “I should’ve?—”
He caught my hand and lifted it, pressing my fingers against the bare skin of his chest again. I had to resist the urge to shiver—an odd reaction since his skin was so warm beneath my cold fingers.
“It’s ok,” he said, the words gruff as he released my hand. “Just startled me.”
I hesitated but then ran my fingers over the raised scar tissue. It was healed, but it was new. This hadn’t been there when I healed him from the fever.
“Did Madame do this ’cause Trey and I left?” I whispered, looking up at his face.
His expression was carefully blank, but pain flashed through his eyes. “It’s not your fault, Bones.”
“Mac—” My voice broke. I looked back at the silvery lines, my heart aching.
“This is nothin’ new.”
“You’re not a traitor.” I gently smoothed my thumb over the word, wishing I could erase it with my powers.
“I was to her, and that’s a badge I’ll wear with honor.”
“What else did she do to you?” I doubted Madame stopped there.
“I’m ok, Bones,” he murmured, but he wasn’t quite meeting my eyes.
I dropped my hand to my lap, forcing myself to be patient. “Mac, what else?”
He stared at the wall for a few breaths before relenting. “She put it on my back, too.”
“Can I see? Please?”
His throat bobbed as he met my eyes. We stared at each other for another long moment, but then he unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way and shrugged it off, twisting to show me his back.
My breath caught. The word “TRAITOR” was all over his back, but that wasn’t even the worst part.
Most of them were old, with layers and layers of scars.
This is nothin’ new.
He’d meant that literally. Madame had been carving this word into him for years.