The Chaos Accounts #2: Account of Unrest

By C. McDonnell

As Commander of Division 3, Gael knows more than the average MRC agent about the details of this organized war with ChaosBlaze. Some people think a little too much. Behind the mostly chipper, over-protective exterior, he suffers under the memories of his past, which are worse than anyone could ever imagine. He’s sacrificed so much, lost so much, to be where he currently stands. Now, with those memories coming back full-force, reminding him of his mistakes, Gael is losing sleep. It would take just the right impact to break him, and the one who does the hitting might be someone he didn’t even know was still alive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. McDonnell
• Release date: Feb 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370315970

C. McDonnell

Born in Schenectady, NY and raised in Richmond, VA, Christine has always had a love of reading and writing. She didn’t become aware of her gift for crafting stories until fifth grade, when she made it her dream to one day see her works on a bookstore shelf. Her love in the literary world has always been fantasy novels, because they allowed her to leave this world and venture into another. She devoured books growing up and still does in her free time.Christine lives in Virginia, balancing her day job (working with numbers and Excel) and her creative endeavors.You can find more about her and her works at:: http://terraravikos.comOr Like her on Facebook (link in profile) or Follow her on Twitter:: @discoverywritin

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The Chaos Accounts: Account of Unrest (#2)

Christine McDonnell

Copyright 2017 Christine McDonnell

Distributed by Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

Dedication #2

JV and I had a bond,

One that most are lucky to have

I would say part of a scene

And before I could finish,

She’d finish for me,

Without me ever mentioning it before

Her imagination had no bounds

She was the healthiest

Part in my life

Helping me through

TONS of rough patches

She truly was a

One-of-a-Kind

Heaven’s gained

A pretty amazing Angel.

Table of Contents

Account of Unrest

Sneak Peek at CHAOS ACCOUNTS #3

A Message from the Author…

Other Works

About the Author

Account of Unrest

Smoke flooded into his mouth as he pushed open the cracked front door. His young lungs rejected it, and he started coughing. Shielding his eyes, he ventured into the hazy air. Mama? he called out. The smoke suffocated him more, and a coughing fit started again. He debated using his abilities, but thought better. Those stupid powers had caused him enough pain and trouble.

Wandering slowly through the smoky space, he glanced around. At one point, he saw a body lying on the floor. The man’s white dress shirt was stained with blood, his hair slicked back from a day at work, a bouquet of black roses gripped in his hand…

Father! he cried out, running to the still figure while hacking up a lung. He got down on his tiny knees next to his father. When his fingers glided across his father’s face, the chill of his dad’s skin built up pressure behind his eyes. Father… he whimpered. His gaze, blurring and stinging while holding back tears, slid down to the hand holding the midnight roses. Tomorrow was his birthday, and he knew that the flowers had been meant for him. His gardening skills exceeded skills of kids twice his age. Plus, his favorite color was black, so his father had been getting him these specialty roses for his birthday for years, adding a flower every year he grew older. This time, there were nine.

He pried open his father’s ice cold fist to retrieve the flowers and stood up, staring at them as the tears finally broke free. As they streamed down his cheeks, his eyes stung even more, with the salty water only aiding the smoke in the annoying prickles. A loud scream echoed from upstairs, instantly recognizable. His head snapped up from staring at his flowers in the direction of the cry. Mama! he shouted, dropping the roses and dashing for the stairs. As he ran, he came across other bodies, some recognizable as distant family who’d come to celebrate with him, others completely unrecognizable. Blood spatter plastered the walls. Loose bullets scattered the floor, and the metallic smell of blood intermingled with the smoke, not only making his cough, but leaving a horrible taste in his mouth, two feelings he’d never forget.

When he finally reached the master bedroom, he peeked inside. Luckily, the open door gave him a front row seat. He saw his mother, on the ground and against the far wall, overshadowed by the figure of a large man. His mother’s eyes landed on him, wide with fear. Shaking her head, she mouthed, Run.

He shook his head and mouthed back, No.

The man standing over his mother started turning toward him. In a flash, he ducked back around the wall, slowing his breathing and holding back the tickling coughs in his throat.

Mrs. Ryser, I’d hate to ask again, because that would mean I’d have to do something awful.

He felt his fists clenching, fingers digging into the palms of his tiny hand.

"Do what you must. I am not outing him. No matter what happens to me, I know my son will never be contained. He is a free soul, and I know for a fact that if you do get