Acropolis by R.K. Ryals Page A

staring at a photo of m-m-me. There
was a crushed fist . . . Will's maybe? And a girl . . . a r-red
headed girl. And anger. You were angry." I shake my head. I hadn't
meant to do anything!
    Conor sits back on his heels, his breathing
deep as he stares up at his mother.
    "She has her mother's powers," he says
softly. Bea nods. My mother?
    "She tried to kill them!" Roach says again,
loudly.
    "Would you just shut up!" Conor insists. He
starts to put his hand on my shoulder again, but stops, his eyes
taking in his splayed palm before looking at me.
    "Anger. You said you felt anger," Conor
says. He keeps his eyes on me, but I know his next statement is
meant for the room at large. "She fed off my anger."
    I am shaking now.
    "She should be put down!" Roach exclaims.
Conor stands up.
    "Now would be a good time to close that
mouth," Conor growls.
    "You know I'm right. She's deadly! She should
be extermin . . ."
    Conor's fist connects with Roach's jaw. I
don't see Roach go down, but I hear it. Roach groans.
    "Just be glad I wasn't touching her shoulder
then. You'd be dead if I was."
    "Conor!" Bea exclaims.
    Will leans over Roach, scoping out the damage
as the cross gargoyle rubs his jaw.
    "The Council is so going to have your head for this one," Will
says. Conor shakes his fist.
    "It was damn well worth it."
    Conor turns to his mother. I can tell he
isn't the type to talk back. The respect he has for his mother is
obvious, but the quick glance he throws at Rachel promises a
fight.
    "Demoted or not, you know I'm more qualified.
They can travel with me, but I guard the girl."
    Bea is staring at me, her eyes digging into
my skin. I look down at the floor, letting my hair fall in front of
my face. I am shaking, and I hate it. I hate that I am afraid, hate
that I don't know who I am. I have lived in this body for seventeen
years, and I don't know a dang thing about it.
    "You'll need to speak to Gibson. Get his
permission and you have mine," Bea says softly.
    I don't look up, but I can feel the tension
in the room ease.
    "Thank you," Conor says.
    I am pretty sure his mother nods.
    "You and Rachel can sit with her tonight.
Take turns staying up," Bea orders.
    I look up to find Conor and Rachel regarding
each other warily, but they don't argue. Apparently this is
something they can both live with.
    "Will, take Roach and get some ice on that
jaw," Bea adds.
    Conor's hand suddenly wraps around my upper
arm, and I jerk against his hold.
    "Take it easy, darlin'. We need to get you
upstairs."
    I relax as much as I can, letting him help me
up before following him toward the kitchen's entrance.
    "And Conor . . ." Bea says suddenly. Conor
pauses. "It's not going to help your cause any if you keep breaking
the rules. Collaterals have their job for a reason."
    I know immediately she's aware of the phone
call to my mother. Conor flinches.
    "Dammit! How do you do that?" he asks hotly.
Bea "tsks."
    "One of these days you'll realize your mother
knows everything."
     
     
     

Chapter 9
     
    Conor
     
    The moment Gibson answers the phone I know
I'm in trouble.
    "You better have some pretty damn good
excuses for the list of transgressions I have for you, Mr.
Reinhardt."
    I didn't, but I have always been a pro at
BSing my way out of a bad situation.
    "Depends on the transgressions," I say
carefully.
    There is a moment of swearing on the other
end of the line. I grimace as I steal a glance into my bedroom. The
door is cracked, and I can just make out Emma's bent form on my
bed. Thankfully, Rachel isn't in view.
    "Where would you like to start? You bypassing
Roach's authority in Atlanta? Letting your mark make a personal
phone call? Or, better yet, punching a superior."
    I try finding a nice, respectful way of
responding to the "punching a superior" comment, but I fail
miserably.
    "Roach is about as superior as his nickname,"
I mutter instead.
    Gibson is quiet a moment.
    "I should probably reprimand you for that
statement, Reinhardt, but most of the time, I