Chosen - Kiersten White Page 0,108

She knitted you a scarf last Christmas. She’s Rhys’s grandma.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ruth! She was an old lady who never hurt … well, she probably hurt a lot of things, but she never hurt us.”

“You have a concussion.” Artemis sounds concerned but distracted. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”

“Artemis!” Rhys shouts as he, Leo, and Cillian race onto our catwalk. Leo is still mildly glowing—or it could be my spinning vision giving him a halo—and Rhys has his crossbow reloaded and pointed at my sister. Which also means pointed at me. Imogen is behind them, next to Doug.

“I need to know how to make it work.” Artemis jerks her head back toward the glowy doom triangle. “I know the basics, but the book didn’t have any diagrams.”

“You slit my grandmother’s throat,” Rhys says, his voice cold.

“What the hell, Rhys? Nina, is that what you were talking about? Ruth is dead?”

“Don’t play dumb!” Rhys’s hands are shaking.

“Point that elsewhere, please.” I eye the crossbow. My arms are still numb, but my fingers feel like they’re being stabbed by a million hot lava needles, so that’s probably a good sign I’m going to get movement back. Or a sign my fingers are about to fall off. I give it fifty-fifty odds. “Artemis, drop the knife. No one here wants to hurt you.”

“I do,” Rhys says.

“But we will if we have to,” I continue, glaring at Rhys.

“You all think—you actually think …” She takes a deep breath. “After everything. Figures. I don’t have time for this.” Artemis jabs the knife, poking me with it. “Cillian. I see the way you’re looking at it. You know how it works, don’t you?”

Cillian shakes his head, but then nods. He can’t quite look away. It’s exactly the same as the puzzle his dad let him play with when he was little. So whatever needs to happen to make it functional … I suspect Cillian can do it.

“Why are you helping a hellgod, Artemis?” I ask.

“I’m not helping anyone. Cillian. Do it.”

“No!” I shake my head.

There’s a shout and a scream. I can’t look to see, but it sounds like my mother and Cillian’s mother. Inside the caverns.

“Rhys?” Cillian sounds terrified.

For one second Rhys seems torn. Avenge his grandma’s attack, or protect my mother and Cillian’s after having lost his own without a chance to save her. I can’t nod at him because of the knife placement, but my eyes communicate enough.

He swings his crossbow toward the tunnels. “On it! Leo, with me! Imogen and Cillian, don’t let Artemis move.” They turn and run back into the tunnels.

“What now?” Cillian’s hands are trembling, his crossbow shaking. He keeps glancing to the side, trying to see what else is happening without taking his eyes off Artemis.

“Do what Artemis asks,” Imogen says, putting her hand on Cillian’s shoulder. Doug looks alarmed and unsure what to do. He can’t spit and hit Artemis without also hitting me, and we need me clearheaded.

“What?” Cillian turns to her.

“Jade blew up the stone and nothing changed. Nina tried to break this thing, and it didn’t work. We don’t have any plays left here. We can’t lose Nina. Artemis has already shown how far she’s willing to go. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. Besides, Mister Hellgod over there can’t reach it. He’s not even trying. He doesn’t expect us to be able to do anything. So we improvise.” She grins. She’s handling all of this really well. Or she’s lost touch with reality and is so far into panic mode that she’s actually calm.

Whichever it is, Cillian shouldn’t listen to her. I shake my head, but Artemis yanks me to the side, then drops me over the edge of the catwalk. I yelp, but my fall is broken as she grabs one of my useless arms and holds me there, dangling. The drop probably won’t kill me, but it’s far enough that even I’ll get hurt. And I don’t know how I’ll get back up here to help. Honora rolled off the side so she had things to grab on to. I’ll fall straight down.

“Save her!” Doug says, panic altering the desert landscape of his face.

“I’m doing it!” Cillian edges past Artemis, his hands up. He pauses in front of the doom triangle, studying it. Then he reaches out and takes hold of one of the corners. I don’t think it will move—I hope it won’t—but the way he slides it triggers a smooth progression of shifting sides. He manipulates