The Chosen: A Resurrected Series Novel

by S. M. Schmitz

  And he had offered me both.

  Why did human men have to be so complicated?

  I groaned and sank lower in my seat. A maroon Mercedes approached the gate to the suburb and the tinted window rolled down. I recognized the driver. I couldn’t place him, but I recognized him from somewhere. He had to work for Schultz; where else would I know him?

  Some annoyingly sarcastic voice in my head joked, “Perhaps he’s a fragment left over from their experiments, too.”

  I told that voice to shut up.

  And then I groaned again because I realized I was arguing with myself in a van inside of an Atlanta suburb I’d never been to about whether or not I recognized a man from a real-life situation or one that my brain only thought it remembered.

  Fantastic.

  I was already going crazy.

  I watched the driver slide a card into the security box at the gate then enter the suburb as the tall, wrought iron structure swung open. I climbed into the driver’s seat of the van so I could watch him drive into the subdivision and that same annoying voice stopped whispering and began shouting, “Follow him! Don’t let this asshole get away!”

  I have no idea why I listened to it.

  I turned the key in the ignition and pulled onto the quiet street the maroon Mercedes had gone down. Johnson had parked the van a safe distance from the gate in a shaded cul-de-sac because one of those houses apparently contained this mysterious employee whose name Aiden still wouldn’t reveal. The only thing he’d told me the entire morning was to shoot anyone who threatened me.

  I had to bite my tongue – not literally this time – to keep myself from snapping that the only person I’d felt threatened by lately was him and he’d just given me a gun.

  And then I’d really wanted to punctuate that with: Dumbass.

  The Mercedes pulled onto a narrow street with even larger houses and I parked in a driveway that appeared empty and watched it until it slowed down and pulled into a garage – one of four attached to a house that had at least three floors. My kitchen in my apartment in Baton Rouge was so small, I couldn’t even open the door on my refrigerator unless the pantry door and all of the cabinets were firmly closed.

  That voice that apparently wanted me to die goaded, “Go see what this place looks like inside and how these sick bastards are profiting off of desperate souls.”

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered aloud.

  Yeah. I was talking to myself now.

  Hello, rock. How much farther till the bottom this time?

  “He owes you,” that voice hissed. “You won’t find rice noodles and tuna in his kitchen. Take what should belong to you for the Hell you’ve been through.”

  Ah. Apparently, not much farther at all.

  I shook my head and opened the door. I didn’t have any intention of stealing from the guy, but I had to know who he was and why he seemed so familiar. I tucked the Beretta Aiden had given me into my purse and closed the door softly, wincing at the clicking noise of the latch as it connected. The garage door had already closed, and a six-foot fence surrounded his backyard. There was only one way I was getting inside this house.

  I kept my eyes on the front door as I walked down the sidewalk. Only one light had been turned on inside, and the front lawn, immaculately manicured, didn’t seem threatening at all. I’m not exactly sure what I was expecting. Guardian Siths, maybe? I paused when I reached the walkway that led to his front door and admired the brown and blue marbled stones, carefully arranged in a flowing curvature to resemble the undulations of a river. I placed my foot on the first stone and held my breath as if I were stepping onto a landmine.

  Nothing happened.

  The door didn’t open. The stone didn’t explode. The voice in my head didn’t point out I was not only crazy but absolutely ridiculous.

  I hurried across the walkway until I reached the front door and didn’t pause this time. I didn’t give myself a chance to find reason and remember I was just a bookkeeper and waitress and had no business knocking on strangers’ doors; worse, knocking on strangers’ doors who were almost certainly dangerous. I wasn’t Aiden. I didn’t know how to beat up suspects and interrogate them or even scare them into talking to me. And I sure as hell didn’t know how to kill a man if he tried to kill me.

  I rang the doorbell.

  I shrank away from the door as footsteps approached followed by a brief silence as the man on the other side most likely peered through the window in his door. Locks slid out of place and I resisted the urge to reach into my purse and wrap my fingers around the Beretta. That seemed like a great way to ensure I’d die quickly.

  The door swung open and the middle aged man with brown and gray hair and a slightly protruding belly that the buttons on his shirt could barely contain looked me over, surprise and apprehension in his dark brown eyes.

  “You know who I am?” I asked him.

  He nodded.

  “Why do I recognize you?” I asked.

  He blinked at me, but didn’t make any other movements, so I tried again.

  “Did you work in Schultz’s office with me?”

  “No,” he said. His voice grated on my nerves even though there was nothing particularly irritating about it.

  “But I know you,” I insisted. “You must have come by there often?”

  He shook his head slowly. “What for? It’s a freight shipping company. I have no business there. I’m the CFO for the Bank of Fulton.”

  “No,” I breathed. “That can’t be right.”

  Percy. His name is Percy. Percy Jacobs.

  “Look, Miss,” he said hastily, his eyes roving the street behind me, “I don’t know what you’re doing here, or what kind of game you’re playing, but you leave me out of whatever is going on with you and Schultz.”

  He tried to close the door but I slammed my hand against it and pushed it open again. His surprise quickly transformed into anger.

  Careful, Bella. Don’t let him fool you. This was never just Schultz’s game.

  “Get off my doorstep,” he hissed.

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” I spit out. “You started to suspect something was different about Mason and he found out you reported him. That’s why he left me!”

  Percy lowered his face toward mine so that I could feel the hot breath flaring from his nostrils. “You are almost as much of a pain in the ass as your husband. And just as stupid.”

  He grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside his house and I heard myself screaming but it seemed like someone else’s voice. The pain from the impact of his hand as he quickly slapped me and told me to shut up was all mine though. I tripped over his feet or mine or the rug by the door or God knows what, and he finished the job by pushing me to the floor. My elbow hit the hard wood and I whimpered as the sharp crack sent waves of pain through my arm and chest and into my head.

  His large body hovered over me and he leered, “You’re an awfully pretty little bitch, aren’t you?”

  Goddamn it, Bella, kill him! Kill him now!

  That voice. I knew that voice.

  It wasn’t my voice after all.

  Percy bent down to grab me again and I rolled over and reached into my purse, wrapping my fingers around the 9mm pistol Aiden had given me less than an hour ago. Percy’s hands yanked on my arm as I pulled my other hand out of the purse and pulled the trigger.

  Percy’s eyes widened as he let go of my arm and fell back onto the floor. I pulled the trigger again, this time aiming at his chest since the first bullet had entered his round stomach. His body reverberated from the impact and I watched blankly as the blood and flesh and muscle splattered on the cream and grey rug beneath him.

  Let the others fight their insurrection, Bella. We have our own to wage.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, Mason, we do.”

  Chapter 10

  I had just parked the van on the same cul-de-sac where I was supposed to be waiting for Aiden and Johnson when I saw them emerge from one of the hous
es across the street. They must have come out looking for me, ready to leave, and found that not only was I gone, but so was their van.

  Shit.

  I hurriedly crawled into the backseat as my mind raced with excuses as to why I would have driven off and left them, potentially endangering their lives. I didn’t think playing the “I didn’t know any better. I’m not a spy,” card would work now.

  The sliding door on the van careened back on its tracks, and I didn’t have to look at Aiden to see the anger in his eyes. I could feel it radiating from his body. He climbed into the van and waited until Johnson drove away before even acknowledging me.

  “Where the fuck did you go?” he yelled.

  I flinched but kept my eyes on the floor mat. I opted for the truth because at this point, I was almost certainly crazy and I didn’t want to endanger them again anyway.

  Besides, Mason and I could lead our own insurrection without them.

  No, Bella. We need their help to gain access to these men. You have to somehow convince Aiden to let you keep working with them.

  Fantastic.

  I wanted to ask him how he expected me to do that, but talking to myself probably wasn’t the best way to convince Aiden not to ship me off to Cuba.

  “I recognized someone who entered the neighborhood,” I finally said. “His name is Percy Jacobs. He was the CFO at the bank where Mason worked.”

  “So?” Aiden demanded.

  I glanced over at him then studied the floor mat again. That was a good question. A very good question. So what?

  “That dream, Aiden… I can’t explain it, but it’s like Mason is in my head now, and he told me to follow this guy. I’d never met Percy Jacobs before. I didn’t know who he was until I was standing in front of him, and…”

  “Wait,” Aiden interrupted. “You talked to him? Bella, what the hell has gotten into you?”

  I looked up and met his eyes, still filled with so much anger but mixed with confusion and perhaps a little concern. Or maybe I only wanted to see concern there to indicate he cared about me.

  Mason’s voice had gotten suspiciously quiet.

  Coward.

  “Yes,” I said quietly. “I was trying to piece together why I recognized him, and when he revealed he worked for the bank, I figured out he reported Mason and that’s why Mason left me. Percy didn’t deny it. He got mad and pulled me inside the house and was going to…” I bit my lip and cringed but the only thing I was certain of was that he was going to kill me so I decided to skip the part about the thinly veiled threat of sexual assault. “He was going to kill me, Aiden.” I held up my throbbing, swollen elbow as some sort of proof that I wasn’t making this up.

  Aiden never looked away from me. “Stop the van.”

  Johnson pulled over into a gas station parking lot and put it in park.

  “I could tell something happened,” Aiden said. “You have a huge red welt on your cheek.”

  I’d forgotten he’d hit me. I touched my cheek gently and flinched as my fingers grazed the tender skin. Great. That was going to be a lovely bruise.

  “How did you get away from him?” Aiden asked.

  “I shot him,” I whispered.

  Aiden groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “Goddamn it. Johnson, tell our guys they’ve got another mess to clean up.”

  Johnson nodded and grabbed his cellphone. Aiden didn’t talk to me while his partner was on the phone; he just kept watching me. I wanted to disappear. I was so embarrassed by my own incompetence and insanity.

  As soon as Johnson ended his call, Aiden took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his eyes. “We shouldn’t have left her alone in the van,” he muttered.

  Johnson just nodded again.

  “Aiden,” I said. “I still want to help you. I want to help Dietrich and Lottie. But this is personal. This is for Mason and me, too. This is about the life we wanted that was ripped away from us and holding the people who robbed us of everything accountable. I’m fighting my own war.”

  “Bella,” Aiden sighed, “just be patient. When we bring down the leaders…”

  “No,” I interjected. “Dietrich and Lottie’s goal is to shut down this company. They’re going after high profile targets. The men who ruined Mason’s life, the men who ruined mine, can easily get away because they’re not necessarily on Dietrich’s radar.”

  Aiden shook his head at me and protested, “Just yesterday, you were ready to throw me in the same league as Hitler and today, you’re wanting to lead some vigilante war against guys we haven’t even verified are guilty of anything. Seriously, what has gotten into you?”

  “I told you!” I exclaimed.

  Aiden scoffed and leaned back against the seat. “Right. Your dead husband who haunted your dream has now invaded your body. Should we call a priest?” He sat forward again and tapped Johnson’s shoulder. “Do they even do exorcisms anymore?”

  “Guess so. I’m not Catholic. How should I know?”

  I crossed my arms and scowled at Aiden. “I don’t need a priest. A psychiatrist maybe, but not a priest. Like I said, Mason’s voice told me to follow that man and Mason told me his name. He warned me he could be dangerous but at the same time, seemed to be provoking me into challenging him. And Mason told me to kill him when Percy pushed me to the floor and told me I was an awfully pretty little bitch.”

  Aiden sucked in a quick, hissing breath and glanced at Johnson in the driver’s seat again. “Would you go inside and get me a bottle of water?”

  Johnson grunted in response but opened the door, closing it loudly behind him. Apparently, he didn’t want to miss any of my “So, this is what it sounds like when a person goes crazy,” story.

  “Bella,” Aiden said, watching Johnson’s back as he sauntered toward the convenience store, “I don’t doubt that in your shock, you thought you heard the voice of the person you…”

  I grabbed his arm and he jumped a little but didn’t yank it away from me. “I wasn’t in shock when that maroon Mercedes approached the gate and I recognized a man I’d never even met before. I wasn’t in shock last night when I had a dream about a dead man who almost certainly had a role in Mason’s murder, too. Aiden, you’re talking to a woman who’s only alive because hundreds of years ago, some pretty brilliant guys on my planet figured out how to isolate these wormholes and create portals so we could travel through them. I’m willing to bet that two years ago, you would have denied aliens traveled to this planet at all, let alone lived here.”

  “Yeah, but Bella…”

  “I know. It’s fairly easy to prove what we’re doing because there are people walking around who shouldn’t be. You can look up death certificates and yet, we’re sitting right in front of you. This is different. I can’t prove any of it. But something is happening, and Dietrich won’t believe me either. Actually, he’s far less likely to believe me than you are.”

  Aiden sighed and mumbled, “It might be a tie.”

  The door to the convenience store opened and Johnson emerged with a white plastic bag dangling from one hand. He gave the van a quick, questioning glance as if to ask, “You gonna let me back in yet?”

  Since I didn’t know if Aiden considered this conversation over or not, I figured I was running out of time to convince him. “Please, Aiden. I need your help but I have to do this.”

  Aiden shook his head slowly. “You’ll get me fired.”

  Damn it. I couldn’t ask him to risk his career over my retribution.

  Aiden groaned and ran his fingers through his hair in that anxious habit of his. I had the overwhelming urge again to smooth those messy spikes down. “I can’t do anything without Dietrich’s permission. If he agrees… we’ll see where this leads us.”

  Johnson pulled the door open and tossed the plastic bag with bottles of water at Aiden. He gave him a pointed look and asked, “Anything else, Your Highness?”

  “Just for that, go back inside and get me a bag of Doritos. Want anything, Bella?”

 
“Um…” If he were serious, then yeah, actually. I’d skipped breakfast and I was starving.

  Johnson narrowed his eyes at Aiden but addressed me. “You might be nuts, but I like you, Bella. If this asshole dies in his sleep and I’m missing in the morning, do me a favor and give me a few hours head start before calling the boss.”

  Aiden snorted and pulled a bottle of water out of the bag. “You couldn’t get to me in my sleep. You’d be dead before you made it into my room.”

  “I’m… not taking sides,” I said. “But if you’re really going back inside, I’d love some Kit Kats.”

  Aiden snickered in response and made a shooing motion for Johnson to close the door and go back to the store, so Johnson flipped him off before slamming the door.

  Nothing changed between them when Johnson came back to the van with my Kit Kats but without a bag of Doritos.

  Aiden refused to let us leave the gas station parking lot until Johnson went back inside for his damn chips.

  It was a long morning.

  That afternoon, I sat in Aiden’s hotel room again as he called Dietrich to update him on the interrogation of the guy they’d gone into the posh neighborhood to question in the first place. Dietrich listened quietly until Aiden finished his report then immediately asked, “Bella didn’t have any questions for him?”

  Aiden’s eyes quickly shot over to me on the other bed and gave me a “Don’t get me killed” look. I kept my mouth shut.

  “Uh… you said we had to bring her with us. You never said we had to bring her inside the room where he was being interrogated.”

  I bit my tongue, literally again, so I wouldn’t add, “You didn’t even bring me in the house!”

  Dietrich didn’t curse or yell. His silence was admittedly scarier than if he had just chewed out Aiden for being a smartass and knowing damn well he’d basically disobeyed him. He wasn’t getting out of this on a technicality.

  “Aiden,” his voice was low and so chilling, goose bumps broke out on my arms and legs. I hugged my knees and stared wide-eyed at Aiden. “Get back to Houston this evening.”