Runner: Book II of The Chosen

by Roh Morgon

  SUNDAY

  CHAPTER 67

  Colin places a blank sticky note next to the word Rome on the European map, which is now mounted on the dining room wall.

  “As with Paris, there are several factions operating in and around Rome.” He prints their names on the note as precisely as he does everything else.

  “What are their Elder colors?” Shifting in my chair, I copy the names into my reference journal, leaving space beneath each for important details.

  “What?”

  “Their auras. What colors are they?”

  He turns around, looking as though I’d just asked why the sun and the moon exist.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Their colors. Alina’s is violet, Robert’s yellow, and last night I saw the others belonging to Nicolas’s lineage. His must be amber, because everyone carries that color.”

  Everyone except the independents. They seem to have only one color and, so far, none the same.

  But my thoughts die as Colin shakes his head and frowns.

  “Nicolas’s is dark burgundy. The amber belongs to Éva.”

  “Oh.”

  This concrete proof of her takeover, evident in every bound Chosen I’ve seen, crushes the last of my denial.

  Nicolas has truly lost the lineage.

  And I caused it.

  Sickened by my role in his downfall, I stare at my journal, the words blurring as bloodtears begin to fill my eyes.

  “Sunny.” Colin walks over to the table. “Don’t go there. It doesn’t do any good. It won’t bring him back.”

  I nod as he leans down, placing his hands on the table.

  “Now, center yourself and look at me,” he quietly demands.

  With a deep breath, I nod again and focus inward, leashing my emotions using the meditation techniques that he’s been hammering into me daily. When I reach that place of absolute stillness, I look up at him.

  “You said ‘last night.’” Colin peers at me. “Do you mean the section colors in the fight stadium?”

  “Well, yeah. Those too.”

  “But you used the word auras.”

  I lean back in my chair, at a bit of a loss.

  “I don’t know what else to call them. Do they have another name?”

  Colin slowly takes a seat in the chair across from me, his eyes narrowing.

  “Explain what you mean by ‘aura.’”

  A chill ripples up my back as a disturbing thought begins to take hold.

  Nicolas had said he’d sensed me the moment I entered Colorado Springs. And the power radiating from him nearly knocked me over the first few times we met—until I got used to it. Since then, I’ve always felt Chosen energy whenever they’re near me, and assumed that all Chosen could do the same. Even Taz had indicated he knew exactly when I arrived in San Francisco.

  It wasn’t until I fully Changed that I could see the energy.

  But maybe not all Chosen have the ability to sense one another.

  Colin’s palpable impatience spurs my explanation.

  “The Chosen I’ve met all seem to have an energy field surrounding their bodies that I can feel.”

  “Yes, as you should. That energy signature, combined with scent, is how we identify one another, along with our level of maturation and to which lineage and sublineage we belong. We call it véren, which is derived from the Hungarian word for blood.”

  “Say it again?”

  “Véren.” He pronounces it veeren, with a rolling R.

  I repeat it, trying not to sound like someone in a Dracula movie.

  Colin studies me a moment, his piercing blue gaze that of the interrogator who’d drilled me so closely in our earlier days.

  “Sunny… do you see the véren?”

  My temporary relief at finding some token of normalcy in my Chosen life dissipates with his emphasis on the word “see.”

  Apparently that’s not normal.

  Why do I always have to be the odd one?

  “Answer me.”

  Unable to extricate myself from Colin’s line of inquiry, I can only nod.

  “What do you see?”

  “It’s like a transparent veil of swirling colors that clings close to the body. It wasn’t until last night, when I saw Chosen who belong to the other Elders, that I really understood the patterns.”

  “Explain.”

  “The auras, or véren, belonging to Alina’s Chosen are amber and violet, just like hers. But her véren is brighter, more distinct, and she has multiple threads in different colors woven throughout. Her underlings only have a single thread, though their threads vary in color, shade, and thickness from Chosen to Chosen.

  “Robert’s véren was amber and yellow, and he also had threads of all colors rather than just one. I didn’t see any other Elders last night at the fight, but most of The Chosen sat in sections matching their secondary color—the one that wasn’t amber. Everyone has the amber, which I assume belongs to… Éva, along with a thread that seems to be unique to them. Except…” I glance away, suddenly uncomfortable, then peer back at Colin. “Except the Unbound. Their auras have only one color, and no thread.”

  His face has lost all expression, which tells me I just thoroughly rattled his cage. As pleasing as it feels to still be able to surprise him, I wish now I’d kept my mouth shut about colors. It would’ve been nice to have at least one thing he didn’t know about.

  “This… this is quite interesting. Normally, the only Chosen who can see véren are Makers, and Elders with sublineages.”

  Oh.

  Great. Another mystery to add to my weird collection.

  “So tell me, Sunny. What color is mine?”

  Though his tone is neutral, something tells me this is important to him. The question hangs in the air a moment before I answer.

  “It’s primarily midnight blue. It pulses lighter and darker, but always shifts back to midnight blue. There’s no other color with it.”

  A ghost of an emotion, possibly sorrow, flickers across his face and disappears.

  “And yours?” he asks.

  I shake my head.

  “I can’t see it. Not even in a mirror.”

  Colin nods, and I can almost hear the gears grinding in his head, reminding me of Nicolas and his reaction each time he attempted to fit another piece into the puzzle of my existence.

  After a long silence, he settles back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest.

  “Alina said it’s strange, very pale, not like any she’s seen before.”

  “She can see it?”

  He nods again, his blue eyes bright with rekindled curiosity.

  “What color is it?”

  “A better question would be ‘what colors.’”

  “Colors? As in more than one?”

  “Yes. More than one.”

  “But all the Unbound I’ve met only bore a single color. I don’t understand.” I stare at the far wall, thinking of the two shadowy figures who Made me. “Well? What colors are they? Do they reveal anything about my Makers?”

  “That, they do not. As for what the colors are?” He shakes his head. “Your véren seems to carry all of them.”

  “All of them?”

  “All of them. As in all the colors of every lineage across the world.”

  MONDAY

  CHAPTER 68

  I stare into the small wooden jewelry box I’d picked up during my first couple weeks in San Francisco. It doesn’t hold much—just a few baubles I’d stumbled across in the odd boutiques scattered about the city. My clove oil necklace is coiled in one corner, its Celtic design traced in silver filigree.

  In the other corner sits Taz’s ring.

  I’d taken it off after Alina’s comment about it. Once I started working with Colin—and it seemed like humans were out of the equation, at least temporarily—I no longer really needed it.

  But what I really didn’t need was anything that reminded me of Taz.

  I grab the necklace a
nd shut the box.

  Colin wants to take me shopping tonight. He said I need to practice my newfound meditation skills in different settings and that a crowded shopping mall would provide a wide variety of stressful inputs.

  I suspect he just wants to see if I have an urge to eat people.

  With a last-minute check of my makeup and hair, I shut off the bathroom light and finish dressing for my shopping date with Colin.

  The one thing I’m not prepared for is my reaction when we walk into our first department store, a Penney’s. It’s not the people, or the bright lights, or the noise that triggers it.

  It’s the Christmas decorations.

  The air in my chest suddenly rushes out, as though I’m being crushed by a boa constrictor. Ringing in my ears drowns out the holiday music drifting down from hidden speakers, and the urge to take flight is so overwhelming I nearly knock Colin over as I spin around to head back out the door.

  He grabs me by the shoulders, frowning.

  “Breathe. Center yourself.”

  “I can’t… ”

  “Yes, you can. Cover your nose and mouth and take a breath.”

  “It’s not—”

  I can’t even finish my sentence. Can’t even tell him it’s not the people or their blood scent that set me off.

  It’s the memories.

  Memories of Christmases past, when my daughter was little and we had no money and made all of our decorations, and her bright smile when she gave me the sweet gifts she’d crafted in school. And later, when she saw her first bicycle parked next to our tiny tree, a bicycle I’d spent months saving for. Her proud expression when I untied the ribbon on the present she’d carefully wrapped and then held up the sweater she’d bought me with money she’d earned from babysitting.

  All my weeks of training evaporate as the pressure builds within my eyes and the hated bloodtears threaten to spill down my cheeks.

  Without another word, Colin turns and escorts me back outside to the car.

  He offers me a handkerchief, his tacit permission to give in to the emotions nearly exploding from my skin.

  I turn away and shake my head, and focus on that cold, still spot deep in my gut. Stuffing the images in my head back into the box from which they’d escaped, I visualize slamming its lid, wrapping steel chains around it, and clicking a padlock in place.

  No more.

  No more will I be ruled by that life, a life I cannot have. It’s over and done with, and there’s nothing I can do about it but bury it away in the darkest depths of my soul.

  A quiet calm settles over me as I mentally restore order to my body. Tension fades first from my muscles, and then veins. My blood begins to circulate at its normal, sedate pace and air once again fills my lungs. Finally, the tear glands relax, allowing their cargo to flow back into my system.

  Taking a deep breath, I look over at Colin.

  “Let’s do this.”

  THURSDAY

  CHAPTER 69

  Colin’s kept me busy the last several nights. Each evening’s been spent among crowds of people—shopping malls, movie theaters, and even a restaurant, which was absolutely disgusting. He said taking such trips on a regular basis are not only critical practice for maintaining control over the bloodlust, but necessary for learning how to better blend with the human population.

  After my initial shock that first night, I’ve had little problem moving among people. The meditation training is beginning to pay off, and the clove oil necklace, though I haven’t needed to use it, has been a reassuring backup.

  Of course, my late afternoon hunts before Colin arrives haven’t hurt, either.

  Our nights on the town have been followed by workouts and sparring in the barn. Colin believes the body needs to be rewarded for behaving itself in stressful situations, and instilling the promise of an eventual release reinforces its cooperation with the mind. However one wants to look at it, it certainly does feel good to blow off a little steam after a night spent walking on a tightrope.

  European geography lessons have wrapped up the last few hours before dawn. Colin’s apparently spent a lot of time in Europe, though he avoids telling me doing what, other than to claim he ran an import-export business. I suspect it was more than that, but have been unable to pin him down.

  Tonight, though, we’re taking a break from our current routine.

  Colin is bringing someone over to start teaching me French.

  The idea I might need it terrifies me, but he says knowing your enemy is the most important step to survival. And that includes understanding what they’re talking about, especially if you don’t let on that you do.

  One thing I can say about Colin. He’s one of the most intelligent and observant beings I’ve ever encountered, and I can’t help but wonder who his teacher was. However, as I’ve learned, inquiring about a Chosen’s origins is highly personal and can be considered a grievous insult. I haven’t found the nerve yet to ask him about his past.

  When a Chosen freely offers such information, as Alina did, it should be taken as a sign of trust and respect—though I think it was done to gain mine as well as demonstrate hers. Nonetheless, that she chose to tell me her story is something I still marvel at.

  Guess I’ll have to wait to see if Colin chooses to tell me his. In the five weeks we’ve been working together, he’s revealed little about himself, other than his extensive skills and knowledge on a wide variety of topics. I don’t even know where he lives. He truly is a puzzle.

  The doorbell rings, announcing their arrival. I brush back my hair and open the door.

  I don’t know what shocks me more.

  That the beautiful brunette standing with Colin is human, or that her arm is tightly clasped about his, or that their body language screams out that they are a couple.

  “Sunny, I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Jeanette.”

  Oh. That definitely shocks me the most.

  “Hello.” I bow my head and offer my hand. She tentatively smiles and takes it.

  “It is nice to meet you, Sunny,” she says in a strong French accent. “Colin speaks much of you.”

  “I can only imagine.” I return her smile and step back, opening the door wider. “Please, come in.”

  Colin ushers Jeanette in, offering a nod as he passes me. The bright gleam in his eyes tells me he’s enjoying my reaction.

  “We can sit in the living room if you like.” Gesturing across the entryway, I close the door and try to remember basic human etiquette. “Jeanette, can I, uh, get you some tea, or maybe a glass of water? I’m afraid that’s all I have.”

  “Water is good,” she says with a nervous giggle.

  Still reeling from Colin’s little surprise, I head into the kitchen.

  The analyst he’s been training in me swings into full gear. I realize Colin’s just offered me a greater sign of trust than a simple reveal of his origins.

  He introduced me to his wife. A human wife.

  And by his doting and protective expression, one he’s deeply in love with.

  He’d said that Chosen rarely engage in romantic liaisons with humans. That humans are too fragile both physically and psychologically to last long in a relationship with a Chosen. And the relationship almost never survives the transition to Chosen should the human partner wish it.

  Our nights among the crowds of people take on a new meaning. He needed to make sure I was sufficiently stable to be around Jeanette.

  I’m humbled that he trusts me enough to risk the safety of someone so precious to him.

  Determined not to give him the slightest cause for doubt, I do a quick internal system check and center myself, then calmly walk back to the living room with Jeanette’s water in hand.

  “Sunny, are you happy about your new job in Colin’s company? He says you do well in your training.” Jeanette, sitting on the couch beside Colin, takes a sip of her water.

  “Yes.” I glance at Colin. I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Yes, I am.”


  He only smiles, offering no help whatsoever.

  Don’t tell me this is another one of his tests.

  “Have you traveled much to Europe?” she asks.

  “No. I haven’t ever been there.”

  “Oh, you will love it. Especially Paris. That is where I met my Colin.” She smiles at him and pats his hand. “I should give you my sister’s—”

  “Jeanette, Sunny will only be in Paris a day or two, and will be too busy to do any visiting.”

  “Don’t be silly, Colin. I am sure—”

  “Actually, he’s right, Jeanette.” Following Colin’s lead, I enhance the excuse. “I’m only spending one evening in Paris and my schedule’s pretty filled with meetings. But I might have time in the future.”

  She nods. Not wanting to discuss a trip about which I know almost nothing, I change topics. The best defense in any game, or so I’ve been learning lately, is offense.

  “You mentioned meeting Colin in Paris. How long have you known each other?” I glance at Colin. The sharp warning in his blue-eyed gaze bears the hint of approval as well.

  “When did I come to work for you?” she asks Colin. “It was after Easter, oui?” Without waiting for his answer, she turns back to me. “About one-and-a-half years.”

  I smile.

  “You must not have been married very long, then.”

  “No. It will be three months next week.” She beams at Colin and squeezes his hand.

  He coughs and leans forward.

  “We should get started on Sunny’s lessons, Jeanette. Perhaps we should move to the dining room table?” He looks at me, his eyebrows raised.

  “Of course.”

  “May I use the toilette first?” Jeanette asks as we all stand.

  It takes me a second to realize she means bathroom.

  “Uh, yes. It’s down the hall, first door on the left.”

  When the door closes, Colin gives me a tight-lipped smile.

  “Nice redirect.”

  I assume he means my topic change.

  “Thanks.”