Chosen - Kiersten White Page 0,110
touch me.”
I have to stop her. I promised everyone I would. I promised her I would. If she tried to murder Ruth to get this power, what will she do to keep it? Girls of fire, I think, watching as my sister burns brighter and brighter.
A phone is ringing insistently in the background. It feels absurd that someone would be calling us at this moment. “Nina!” Imogen shouts. “You have to stop her! Before it takes over! She’ll become just like him, and we’ll all die!”
I look at my sister, wielding all the power of a hellgod. And I know—I know what she did, what she’s done. What she could do now. When she tested to be a Watcher, she was given a choice: save me, or save the world. She chose me. And she made me promise that if I was ever faced with the same decision, I’d choose neither. I’d choose myself. I know that’s not the promise Imogen is referring to, but it’s the only one I can think of.
How can I save myself if it means hurting Artemis?
“Nina!” Rhys shouts.
I pick up my sword from the catwalk. We have to weigh lives. Can my sister’s life really outbalance the whole world? If this is it—what I’m supposed to do—where are my instincts roaring to life? The coiling, seething darkness that demands I fight and rage against everything around me? I reach for it, wanting to cloak myself in it so I can lose the parts of me that would never let me do what I need to do right now.
I’m desperate for anything to shield me from this pain. To keep me from feeling everything. The pain of what I need to do. The pain of knowing what Artemis chose. The pain of everything in this whole bleeding and broken world. Even if it means surrendering myself to absolute darkness. Anything is better than feeling powerless to avoid what has to be done.
The darkness is waiting. It rises to meet me, ready to wash over me and drag me from the shores of myself, just like it pulled me from Buffy again and again in my dream. I lift the sword.
And I pause. Anything is better than feeling powerless. But to be powerless is to be human. To be vulnerable is to be human. Being more than human doesn’t have to make me less human.
Artemis ran from us; she even ran from herself. She wrapped herself in as much power as she could find. If I do the same, how am I helping anyone?
Artemis raises her arms, and Leo shouts a warning. But she’s holding them toward me as though asking for a hug. She never asks for hugs. She never asks for anything. Gods, she must have spent so much of her life being terrified. My mom was right. Because while we went through all the same things—our father’s death, our mother’s emotional abandonment, the fire, our life of training and then hiding—I did it all with her protection. No one did that for her.
How broken must she have been to decide leaving was her best option? To betray and hurt and try to kill people who had cared about her? To chase down a god in order to feel like she had a purpose again?
I drop my sword. I care about all the wrong and evil she did. Of course I care. But it doesn’t change the fact that she’s my sister, and I’ll always love her, and I’ll always be there for her. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you felt like you had no other choices.”
“You don’t have to worry anymore. Not about anything.” She takes another step toward me but freezes. She’s trembling. No, not trembling. Vibrating. A low hum accompanies it, and the light begins to build again. I turn and shield my eyes as another pulse hits us, threatening to throw me off the catwalk. I bear the brunt of it. It’s worse than being electrocuted. I feel fuzzy and numb and in pain everywhere.
“Artemis, stop!”
“I can’t,” she gasps. “It burns. I can feel it all—so much. Too much. I can’t hold it.”
I stumble toward her. “You had the book! Tell me how to make it stop! Tell me how to help you!”
The catwalk shakes as someone lands on it. Cillian’s father stands up from his long jump. “She cannot hold the power of a god. It will burn her alive.” He pauses, frowning. “Without a container, it will