45. Relic

Chapter forty-five

Relic

A storm cloud blurred my vision as everything within me went quiet and deadly. "How do they know?"

"Everything okay out here?" Macie's mom asked from the hallway leading to the kitchen.

Macie spun out of my arms. "Yes." But the real reply should have been no.

"Hi, Relic," Mrs. Hutchins said with a kind smile. "It's good to see you."

"Thank you for having me."

"Let's get to it." Mrs. Hutchins waved for us to go into the kitchen, and the severe look Macie sent me told me she wasn't ready to share the Gianna and Brayden turn of events with her parents. I internally debated whether I should tell them before I left. Because if Macie didn't want them to know about Gianna and Brayden, did that mean her parents had no idea that her attackers had threatened to find her and her family if she talked? Damn it if she hadn't, because Macie needed to be protected, especially with me gone.

"Relic," Mrs. Hutchins said, "this is Abby and Logan. They're like family to us, and Abby's going to try to help Macie describe the tattoo."

"She's a consultant with the FBI," Macie added, beaming with pride.

A raise of an eyebrow as that was terrifying and interesting. Survival said I should keep my mouth shut, but I'd never been that good at denying my curiosity. "You work for the FBI, and you can't find who did this?"

Abby's lips turned up, but that grin wasn't kind or welcoming. It was an evil lift that told me she knew how to play. "You're right. He is cocky."

"No different from any of you when you were his age," Mrs. Hutchins said.

"No different from any of us now," Logan mumbled, and shock rippled through me when Macie's dad snorted like he thought that was true and funny.

"Seriously," I pushed. "You have nothing? At least I got a yearbook with names and I'm the cocky seventeen-year-old you're giving shit to."

Abby's dangerous smile edged up further. "I haven't decided if I like you yet. What's your favorite band?"

"Don't answer anything she asks you," Macie said. "She's trying to establish a baseline to see if you're lying."

"Never divulge the tricks of the trade," Abby said. "It's the same as showing your hand before the dealer's done dishing out cards. And to answer your question, I was able to use security cameras at nearby intersections and businesses to narrow down what I believed was the assailants' car. I believe they were driving a 2020 black Escalade that had been stolen earlier that day. We found it abandoned in a lot off Malimar near the gas station. Someone took a lot of time and effort to put that car up in flames."

Beside me, Macie wavered, and I snaked an arm around her waist to keep her steady.

"You didn't tell me any of that," Macie said in a small voice.

For the first time, Abby appeared unsure of herself. "Because we weren't sure if you were ready to hear it. Am I right, Macie?" she asked, her tone no longer arrogant and harsh but filled with love and concern. "Was it a black Escalade?"

Macie's delicate throat moved as she swallowed hard then nodded. She then blew out a long breath as if dizzy. "I need to sit."

Mrs. Hutchins and I moved swiftly—her pulling out a chair at the table, me practically carrying Macie there to sit. Mrs. Hutchins then motioned for me to take the seat next to Macie. I accepted then took Macie's hand in mine. Her skin was cold, clammy and I hated the red hives forming on her arms. I ducked my head so I could catch her eyes that were focused on the ground. "Hey, you okay?"

"Can we do this? Can we go ahead and try to do this?"

"You don't have to," I started, but Macie cut me off.

"I do."

"You want me to leave, Macie?" Logan asked.

She shook her head and looked at Logan, Abby, her mom and then her dad. She shared a long look with him, and he watched with a protectiveness I respected. "I want you here."

"Okay then." Mrs. Hutchins sat at the table, a sketch pad and drawing pencil in hand. "Let's do this."

"Is there any easier way?" I asked. "Hypnosis?"

"We tried," Echo answered. "Hypnosis doesn't work on Macie."

Abby reached behind her to a bag and produced a computer and books. "We're going to take this slow, Macie," she said in a gentle voice. "I know it's tough for you to talk about what happened directly or until recently, even indirectly. To help, instead of forcing you to try to describe it outright or asking you questions, I'm going to show you photos of tattoos. If you see something familiar, point to it and your mom will piece the elements together to try to create the tattoo you saw. Okay?"

Macie breathed in deeply, nodded, and I had never been so damn proud of anyone in my life. She was courageous, strong, and the bravest person I knew. Abby slid the first book over to Macie. She stared at it for one minute, two. Her dad leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "You don't have to do this, Macie. There is no pressure from any of us."

"I have to," she said, and her hand shook as she opened the first book. She then scratched the family of hives forming on her forearm.

I wanted to throw the book, swing her up in my arms, and carry her from this torment. But I understood why she was pushing herself. Yes, part of her was doing it for me, but the other part, the main part, was doing this to protect her family. There were so many things that were different between us, but at the core, we loved our families more than anything, including ourselves.

Macie flipped through page after page of close-ups of tattoos. After the tenth page, she scratched harshly at her arm then pointed at a single rose. Abby slid the book away from Macie and gave it to Macie's mom who went to work sketching. Abby then gave Macie a different book.

Macie reached over to me. Knowing what she needed, I took her hand, squeezed it tight, and then Macie opened the new book. She scanned the photos of tattoos and searched for the right combination to unlock the safe in her brain.

***

Hours went by. One to two, two to three, three to four. Macie combed through the books, picking out pieces of the tattoos, and we all slowly understood what was happening. She first picked out a rose, but that wasn't the exact rose of the tattoo. She'd see something more in line with the actual rose tattoo, and she'd point that one out. She selected other things; a vine, a pink ribbon, letters—A, Y, L, N and F, tribal bands, generic unoriginal shit that most everyone I knew who had a tattoo put on their body.

Logan left and came back with catered food from a restaurant Macie mentioned was her favorite. I made her plate, and Abby snatched the books from her and refused to give them back until she ate. She picked at her food as she watched her mom create the newest rendition, then went swiftly back to work.

An hour later, after choosing more letters, Abby, Logan, and Noah sat at the table playing the worst game of Wordle. Macie turned the page, pointed at a skeleton key, and something unsettling formed in my stomach. I sat back in my seat and ran a frustrated hand through my hair. Fuck me if this was where things could be headed.

Abby stared at me as if she could sense the foundation of my world crumbling, and she took the book and slid it in Mrs. Hutchins' direction. Macie's mom sketched the skeleton key alongside the rose, and nausea slashed through me.

"Is the first word always , Macie?" My voice didn't even sound like my own.

Her head whipped in my direction, the answer of yes plain in her eyes.

"Always a lesson?" I forced out. "Always a lesson, never a failure?"

Macie shook with violent quakes, turned deathly white, and then she turned her head from me and dry heaved. Macie's mom moved into action to be by Macie's side. Her father jumped up to help, and I stood. Abruptly and with more force than I meant.

"You've seen this before?" Abby's underlying accusation felt like a knife tearing open my artery.

I had. I fucking had. "I need air."

Abby stood as if she had no intention of allowing me out of her sight, and Macie caught my hand as I moved to leave. "Are you okay?"

Was I okay? Macie was sitting here, bleeding out, forcing herself to point out parts of tattoos for hours, doing so even though her brain was protesting, putting her through hell, and she was the one asking me if I was okay. What could I say? What could I do?

Macie dry heaved again and then forced out, "I'm going to throw up."

Her father swept her up in his arms, telling her she was okay as he raced her down the hallway for the bathroom. Once inside, the sound of her throwing up pounded at my soul. Logan stood near the hallway, his cell at his ear and he spoke to whoever answered. "Beth, you wrapping up your shift? Yeah, she's getting sick. I'm going to call in some prescriptions for her at the hospital. Can you pick them up and bring them here? Yeah. Probably wouldn't be a bad idea to grab a saline bag and all the fixings. Echo said she's been sick a lot lately."

Fuck this. Fuck everything. Fuck me and my entire life. Not sure what to do, hating hearing Macie sob, I went out the door and stalked down the driveway. Anger. Confusion. Rage. All of it balled up fists pounding into me again and again and again.

"Relic," Abby called out behind me. I kept walking, but she ran, rounding to stand in front of me, and I stopped if only because I respected the hell out of her for helping Macie. I crossed my arms, closing myself off, expecting her to give me shit, to ask me two million questions, to hound me, but instead she met my eyes, and I saw something there I didn't expect—sympathy.

I hated sympathy, and it hurt more that it came from her.

"How much danger is she in?" Abby asked.

I should lie. Tell her I'm exhausted. Tell her that I'm only rattled by seeing Macie turning herself inside out. Tell her that I'd been playing Solve the Word Problem on my own and got lucky, but she wouldn't believe me. I wouldn't believe me. Plus, this was Macie. I loved her and she'd need this woman and the armies of the archangels in heaven to keep her safe. "A lot."

"It's Eric's crew, isn't it?" Abby pushed.

My eyes slammed shut, and all I wanted to do in that moment was die, but then rage rushed through like a tornado and I reopened them. I glared at the women in front of me as I realized I had been played out. "You all having me here had nothing to do with me supporting Macie. You've suspected from the start that it was Eric's crew who did this, and you had me here because of my connections with them. You needed me as your snitch."

"I didn't have real proof," she answered, not batting a single eyelash. "I only had a hunch, a theory, but nothing concrete."

"Did Noah and Isaiah know about this?" Was everyone taking advantage of me?

"They didn't believe me, at first."

Fuck all of them. "Do you know the danger you're putting me in?" I leaned into her not caring she worked with the FBI. "My sisters?"

"We can protect you."

"The fuck you can. The perverted part of this whole thing, you could have told me up front. Maybe then I could have found a way to protect Macie and my family because even with what I'm up against, I still would have helped her. That's how much I care about Macie."

"Did you hear what I said? This family will protect you."

I stared at her for a beat and saw her defiance, her belief in her own words, and while those words might be true for her and for Macie, they weren't true for me. "You need to leave me and my family alone."

"I mean it," she pushed. "This family can handle anything that comes our way. We will protect you."

Here was the thing; neither she nor the rest of the people in that house were my family. Lyra was. Camila was. And whether I wanted it or not, Dad belonged to my family. Just being his son meant I had been born to fail.

Abby's phone rang. She ignored the first two rings, but then glanced at the caller ID for the third. She cursed, answered it with a, "Hold on," then said to me, "Go back into the house and we'll figure this out."

"Unless you pull a gun and put it to my head, I'm not going anywhere you tell me."

"Then stand right here, but do not go anywhere. Do you hear me? I need to take this, and then you and I will figure this out. I will keep you and your family safe."

Abby took a step back and said, "Give me a sec as I have ears." It was clear in her tone she was pissed at having to take that call and walk from me because she knew full well that I wouldn't be here when she returned. She was devastatingly correct. Abby turned the corner for the backyard, and as I left, I sent a text to Lyra: I need a ride. Now.