by Ella James
Thinking of herself as having any connection to angels made Julia feel light-headed. “Are we really? Descended from some kind of angel-man?” It sounded ridiculous.
Meredith seemed to agree. “But at least it kind of explains how we can do what we do.”
No more than the X gene or radiation. Julia was irrationally irritated at her new acquaintance. Then she remembered that Meredith could sense her emotions, and quickly asked, “What can other people do?”
“Well, Nathan has the ‘power of suggestion,’ as he calls it. What it really means is he’s effective at bossing people around.”
Like Cayne. And like with Cayne, it didn’t seem to have any effect on her.
Andrew of the English accent, fro, and placid golden aura could actually See Into the Future, Meredith said.
“He’s not very good at it. Or controlling it, I should say.”
But about two months before, he’d plopped down by Meredith in something called The Commons, handed her a mocha latté someone named Randy had smuggled in—they have to smuggle coffee?— and told her he’d seen her.
“With a girl named Julia… She wore these pink kicks. The two of you were…what’s the expression? B-F-F.”
When Meredith had overheard Nathan telling someone named Dizzy about “missing Candidate J.,” she had known.
“Nathan was almost as obsessed with finding you as I was,” she said as their tunnel-hall twisted. “It’s weird that you were left alone for so long.”
Left alone? “When did you get here?”
“A year and a half ago. I was the oldest they’d brought in before you.” She smiled warily. “Longest year and a half ever.”
“What about before then?”
“My family lives in Los Angeles. Well, my aunt and uncle do. My parents and my older brother died when I was little.”
“Really?” The word was strangled.
“Yep.” Meredith ran her fingers down the wall, the movement casual, as if they were talking about a pop quiz. “Plane crash. My dad bought a Cessna, and he thought he could fly it when he couldn’t. My brother Thomas was three, but I was only six months. They left me home with a babysitter.”
“I’m so sorry.” Julia knew what it must have been like for the girl. The wondering. What would things be like if they were here? Watching other people, envying.
“Mine, too,” she murmured. “My parents—they died too. I was a baby, too. Only I didn’t have any other relatives. So…I went through the foster system.”
Meredith nodded, unsurprised. “The other Candidates, they have the same thing. Except for Drew. He says his mother gave him up. Left him on the doorstep of an orphanage in Liverpool.”
“That’s…weird.” More than weird. “All of them?”
Meredith nodded grimly. “I know what you’re thinking. We’ve wondered it too. But lots of kids are orphans here. Kind of comes with the mark.”
The mark. “What is it? Just a birthmark we all have?”
“‘So we can identify each other,’” she said in a low, stilted Nathan-sounding voice. “Where’s yours?”
“On the bottom of my neck.”
“Can I see?”
“Um…” It felt kind of invasive, but Julia told herself she was being stupid. “Sure.”
She lifted her hair, and Meredith stepped back to investigate. “That’s not so bad.”
“It’s not?”
Meredith turned to her and lifted her shirt. Julia’s eyes widened. Meredith’s mark was larger than hers, covering much of her right side. “It used to drive me crazy. Until I got here.”
Is that supposed to make me feel better? Maybe the girl was just sharing. Normal girls did that, right? They talked.
“So what are we candidates for exactly?”
“Good question.” They were nearing the end of the tunnel-hall now. Light from some unseen cove illuminated specs of glitter in the smooth rock walls, giving Meredith’s creamy skin an otherworldly, Twilight vampire quality. “Candidates to be The One.”
“Isn’t that something from The Matrix?”
“Dunno. I watched The Matrix in like, fifth grade. Conspiracy movies, not really my thing.”
It wasn’t a conspiracy movie per se, but Julia let it slide.
“The One,” Meredith went on, “will save the Chosen in their time of need.” She said this in a breathless, mocking voice.
How many Chosen were there? Were there any actual angels walking around? She thought of Cayne spread-eagled on that billboard and felt sick. “What’s our time of need?”
Meredith swatted at invisible lint on her homemade skirt. “Here’s the thing about this place: information is on a need-to-know basis,” she said darkly. “And none of us need to know. Nathan might, but you won’t get anything from him.” She sighed. “But we guess it’s our war with the Nephilim.”
“So it’s a war?”
“That’s what all the Shepherds and Bishops call it.”
“And this is a new thing?”
“We’ve been fighting off and on for forever. But a few hundred years ago it became a real war.”
Julia opened her mouth to ask how. And how would The One help fight Nephilim? But then they were at the end of the hall, at the mouth of a massive room, and it wasn’t the domed area from before. This room was more than a room. It was like…a meeting hall for giants. The massive space was rectangular and looked longer than three football fields, with dozens of little nooks, the largest one an amphitheater carved into the pure white stone. The ceiling gleamed, reflecting the bustling space below, and Julia realized it was made of glass.
“That’s the bottom of the pyramid,” Meredith said.
She looked up, gaping, and felt an awful déjà vu.
“This is where we hang out. Waste time. It’s called The Commons.”
Meredith waved her hand, magician style, and Julia followed her along a path of dark gray stone.
The path led around the periphery of the massive space, taking them past clusters of middle-aged Chosen reading from leather-bound books in mod, egg-shaped stone chairs; packs of college-student-looking Chosen kicking a neon ball around; pairs of adult
Chosen eating soup at small wood tables—husbands and wives, hands clasped, heads bowed.
Meredith narrated in a bored tone, pointing out “old people,” “Law junkies,” “lightning chasers,” and “lovebirds.”
“What are lightning chasers?” Julia asked as they walked under a stone arch.
“They’re like soccer players, but the ball is current.”
Again, Julia’s jaw dropped.
“I’m surprised you’re surprised. You can do something, can’t you? Wait, what can you do? I don’t think you ever told me.”
“Auras,” Julia answered. “I see auras.” And have prophetic dreams. And possibly order old men to shoot people. She remembered the desperation she’d ‘pushed’ at the old man who’d come onto his lawn at night to find a Nephilim scuffle. How she’d wanted him to shoot one of the Nephilim fighting Cayne, and he had. Had that been his own reaction, conveniently at the exact moment she’d needed it, or had she somehow made him do it?
Meredith interrupted her racing thoughts.
“That’s cool. What color’s mine?”
“I haven’t been…looking at them here. I tried in the van and, Nathan— he got pissed.”
“Oh, I bet he did. What color was his? Probably gray!”
Julia nodded, but her mind had moved on to something else. “So Nathan tracked me down because I’m a Candidate to be The One, and I’m here because I’m, what? Needed to save mankind?”
“Well, maybe. Could be I am. Or Drew, or one of the others. And we’re not saving mankind. We’re only saving Chosen.”
At the far end of the room, around a blue-green pit fire that was clearly made of not-your-typical-fire, Julia saw some people her age. “It’s their day,” Meredith said.
“Their day?”
“Well, night,” she amended.
“It’s their night to hang out. The rest of us are stuck in our rooms, until our night. Or we’re supposed to be. Shh.” She rolled her eyes.
Julia scanned the all-gray crew, noting many different hair colors and skin tones; not surprising: There were Chosen all over the world, she figured. She cast her gaze away, looking for other tunnels, wondering where they kept their prisoners.
Again, she felt hopeless. She might never be able to find Cayne. Not in this massive place. And even if she did, how could she escape through hundreds or maybe thousands of people who thought they were at war with him?
Her chest ached with a horrible emptiness, and at the moment it grew sharp as a kitten’s claws, Meredith grabbed her hand.
“All right, tell me. Who is he?”
Before Julia could answer (or ask what she meant), she spied Nathan’s solemn face, his hard shoulders, his black-brown eyes locked on Meredith from across the room.
Meredith rubbed her cheek, hiding a big grin behind her hand.
“This is going to be fun.”
Chapter 5
“Meredith.” Nathan’s fists clenched against his stiff gray pants.
Meredith stood at mock attention. “Yeeeesss, Great Shepherd.”
“For the last time—” Nathan bit his tongue—literally, she saw, then turned his attention to Julia. “That isn’t a rank,” he told her, as if he was relieving her fears.
“It’s our special title for him, because he’s so good at shepherding,” Meredith said.
Nathan’s lips twitched. His face turned crimson, and for a moment, Julia thought he might snap. Then he inhaled deeply, and his entire body slackened. “You need to go back to your room and change out of that…skirt.” His mouth curved disdainfully around the word, and as he said it, Julia saw his eyes scan the room; they narrowed, then boomeranged to Meredith.
“Now. Go right now.”
“I can’t. No, really. I have kitchen duty.”
“Go change your clothes, and then go to the kitchen. You won’t be preparing tonight. You’ll be cleaning.”
“Cleaning. Ugh.” She turned to Julia. Flashed a smile. “Worth it,” she mouthed.
As Meredith sauntered off, Julia caught an involuntary glimpse of Nathan’s aura. It flared off him, red and yellow, like a flame.
As quickly as the colors bloomed, he snuffed them out. She blocked her Sight before she saw his “real” aura—the base colors below a temporary feeling.
He didn’t say anything until Meredith was out of sight. Then: “I apologize for the way I acted earlier. I didn’t consider how…disoriented you must have been.”
Julia stared at his extended hand, but didn’t take it. “Does that mean you believe me about Cayne?”
Nathan sighed and rubbed his face.
“You’re wrong about him,” she said.
“I know you think so.”
“I know so.”
Nathan seemed constantly at the edge of a frustrated fit, and Julia found herself agreeing, a little bit, with Meredith: It was fun to see him worked up.
He made an obvious effort to control himself, and after a deep breath, said: “Dinner. I’d like to show you the way to our dining hall.”
Julia considered, and ultimately decided there was nothing lost in not being hungry. “After you,” she mock bowed, and Nathan turned on his heel, like an old English butler.
His cult uniform stretched over his shoulders as he moved, and his pants showed the mold of his butt, which was, astonishingly, kind of cute. Oh no no no. Julia squeezed her eyes shut, then scampered after him. “Cayne. I want to see him. Would that really be so hard to arrange?”
“Tomorrow.” Nathan said. “I’ll take you to see him tomorrow—if you’re cooperative.”
“What am I, your hostage?”
Nathan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re on our turf now.” When she didn’t say anything, he added, “Our rules.”
“I got it.” Julia wondered if he realized how toolish he sounded. “I bet you were class president.”
“Class what?”
“President.” Nathan didn’t say anything, but Julia got the impression that— “Did you not go to school?!”
Nathan’s expression hardened, and to her shock, Julia realized she was right. “It’s okay if—”
“I went to school.” There was a little pause, like maybe he would tell her more, but then he said, “Enough questions.” He hunched his shoulders ever so slightly and lengthened his stride. Julia sensed, more than saw, his aura flickering.
She followed behind him, surprised at how awkward she felt. Shepherd or not, Nathan was (apparently) not as unflappable as he had at first seemed, which was weird.
Silence hung between them like a big gray curtain. Their identical shoes made identical smooshing sounds against the stone floor.
The dining hall was only a few minutes’ walk down one of the hall-tunnels, and Julia thought it looked a heck of a lot like a regular ole cafeteria. Nathan led her to a small, round table filled with the kind of people Julia had sat near in the high school cafeteria. As Nathan introduced them, she felt a soothing rush of ease. At least she’d never sit alone here.
First to stick out his hand was Bobby Claymore, a round-faced boy a few years younger than Julia; he had stringy, cheek-length hair that was neither brown nor blond. There were two brown beaded necklaces peeking out the collar of his gray shirt. Thierry Dalon greeted her with a French accent and actually kissed her hand. He wore the same drab clothes as everyone else, but with his frizzy brown hair and easygoing manner, he somehow made them look a little cool. Randy Quillian—ooh, she’d heard of latté -smuggling Randy—had a silver nose ring and white-blond hair cut into a Mohawk-ish shape. He hunched over a thick book, cradling it in his thin hands. When he shook her hand, his eyes shone with an intensity that reminded her of…well, someone very intense.
Franklin Crist spoke with an accent Julia didn’t recognize and had a weak and clammy handshake. He hardly looked up from his notepad to say, “hello and welcome.” And then there was Monte Bellfast. He was the friendliest at the table—or maybe it was best described as most at ease. He gave Julia a nod rather than shaking her hand, and said, “Welcome.” With his smooth chocolate skin and his easy smile, he reminded her a lot of Dirk (and Dwight).
Franklin, who was short and round and had chipmunk cheeks, moved to pull up a chair, but before he could drag it over, Julia heard Meredith’s voice.
“Jules! Jules! Over here!”
And it was weird, Julia thought as she turned toward Meredith, that the people grinning and beckoning her over looked pretty and strong and happy—the kind of people who would never have talked to her in Memphis.
Chapter 6
Julia hesitated before leaving Nathan and his crew, but Meredith had jumped out of her seat and was hopping up and down, her long black hair swishing like a silk curtain, her slender arms reaching out like Julia was a long-lost friend she couldn’t stand to be without. It made Julia feel weird…and welcomed.
As her cheeks warmed, Julia glanced at Nathan, expecting him to glare at Meredith, but he was already seated with a plate in front of him and a napkin in his lap. He didn’t even glance up as she turned to go.
Julia noticed, as she walked past the two round tables separating Nathan and Meredith, that everyone in the octagonal dining hall was school-aged. Not just school-aged, but middle- or high-school aged. She saw a few Chosen who looked old enough to be in college, but everyone else was her age or younger.
The heads at Meredith’s table were blond, black, blond, brown, brown, and spiky red. She was scanning their faces—looking for…what exactly? Cayne?—when Meredith grabbed her, squeezing hard. She slung Julia around, and for a moment, as Julia stared at the people in front of her, she felt a surge of surreality. Like she wasn’t really here, alone among other “Chosen,” plotting to break Cayne out of prison.
“Julia—” Meredith’s hand raised, her finger pointing from person to person— “this is Ma
rilee, Charles, Carlin, Anise, and Herbert. They’re Candidates.”
“Except me,” the guy with spiky red hair said; his accent was Scottish. He smiled good-naturedly and took a swig of his soda.
“That’s right. Herbert isn’t a Candidate. He’s our groupie.”
“He’s my brother,” said a young blonde girl with short, curly hair. “I’m Marilee. Herbert is eighteen, I’m twelve. I can make things disappear, and Herbert can influence people.”
