Chosen

by Ella James

  “This hurt is a headache. A really bad one, but just a headache. You really don’t think they would do that to get her back? If, like you keep saying, this is ‘a war.’”

  Nathan shook his head. “They don’t need that. They know I won’t fail.”

  In the old days, Meredith would have scoffed at his classic Hero Nathan-ness. Now she gently shook her head.

  “I don’t think you can get her to go back.”

  Nathan’s mouth pressed flat. “I haven’t even had a chance to try. Do you think you can get me that? Get me in to talk to her without anybody going to the people here and branding me as some kind of…some kind of outsider?”

  “I don’t know.” She slumped, feeling horribly torn. “Why don’t you believe me? Why do you think they’re so good?:

  But she already knew the answer. Nathan was practically born at the compound. He’d been one of The Three’s pets for as long as anyone could remember, a Shepherd from the moment he turned 15. Of course he trusted The Three. Like kids trusted their parents.

  Still, his answer was surprisingly logical. “Because they are good. I’ve never seen them do anything bad. Never heard of any orders given that would hurt anyone.”

  “And those reanimated corpses?”

  He rubbed his hand across his face, and rubbed his eyes. “They’re called reanimated Chosen, Mer,” he told her through his fingers. “They’re not violent. They have no will of their own. I dispatched them myself. They were completely obedient.”

  And what could Meredith say to that? She nodded. And felt tears fill her eyes. She breathed through them, but Nathan noticed.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked her, leaning closer. She looked at his hands, wanting them to touch her. Feeling like a traitor.

  “What are you going to do if you can’t get her to go back?” Meredith asked.

  Nathan shook his head. He leaned in, all brown eyes, and tentatively, so very tentatively, so very softly, his perfect lips brushed hers.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Julia’s back was pressed against Cayne’s rock-hard chest, and he had his arm around her shoulders, holding her gently to him. Which was a good thing, because as soon as she saw Monte standing in the doorway, Julia’s knees began to tremble.

  “What do we need help with?” Cayne asked coolly. Even without seeing him, Julia knew his eyes were shrewd. His jaw was locked. He was daring Monte to come out with it.

  Monte’s poker face was Vegas-worthy. He stepped into the laundry room, reaching behind himself to shut the door but never turning his back. Then he whipped out his phone and typed something into it while Julia shivered like a wet dog. Cayne turned her around, so her face was in the crevice of his arm and chest, and she was glad for it because she was weak and dizzy.

  Julia couldn’t see Monte’s face, but she heard the intensity in his voice. “We can help you. We can hide you. We’ve been waiting for The One, too. We consider it good fortune that you’re here with us, not with The Three.”

  There was a brief pause, as if Monte expected them to thank him. Or something. When neither she nor Cayne spoke, Monte said, “I thought it might be Julia. She has an energy that was hard to miss. Jacquie agreed—her gift is reading people through touch, and she got the same impression when she shook Julia’s hand.”

  “Why didn’t she say anything?” Cayne asked.

  “She wanted to wait until Julia told us.”

  “Well, she didn’t. And we’re not looking for help with strings attached.”

  “We’re not suggesting strings you wouldn’t want,” Monte countered quietly.

  “Don’t count on that.”

  Julia’s muscles were screaming, every single one of them. Her senses were so overwhelmed by the pain in her head—pain now mixed with flickering numbness that traveled almost to her waist—she could hardly follow the conversation, but she gritted her teeth and hugged Cayne a little harder, and she forced herself to stay present for this talk about her life, her future.

  She heard a creaking sound, like a door’s hinge. Then a woman’s voice.

  “Monte? Cayne?” Jacquie. “I think we should move this conversation elsewhere. Maybe back to Julia’s room? We can talk when we get there.”

  Suddenly Cayne swept Julia up, and he was carrying her like she didn’t weigh a thing. His eyes flicked down to hers, and she saw love in them. Then he looked back up, and he said, “We can talk on the roof.”

  “The roof?” Jacquie sounded surprised. “Have you been outside? We’ve just had to cancel the sporting events, something we very rarely do.”

  “I want a room with windows,” Cayne amended.

  Julia strained her neck a little, trying get at an angle where she could read Jacquie’s face, although the straining was agony for her head.

  “A room with windows.” Jacquie’s smile was small and tense. “We can do that, can’t we, Monte? Why don’t you lead the way?”

  Monte nodded once, and Julia wondered if he’d always been kind of a tool. She couldn’t remember.

  “Start talking,” Cayne said.

  “She needs our help, and we have many resources,” Jacquie said, keeping her voice so low Julia had to strain to hear her. “If she’s suffering from a leash of will, we ease her suffering. Possibly even break it.”

  “How? Have you had experience with one of these…leashes before?”

  “There is an ex-Chosen with us that has the ability to create one. Not as strong as Methuselah, though.”

  “So you might not be able to help her.”

  “I feel confident we can take care of the pain, at least. Soon, when The Three have been extinguished, she’ll be well again and free to live her life.”

  “Soon?” Cayne asked.

  “Soon.”

  “Until then?”

  They were walking now, up stairs.

  “Until then, this is a war. Julia is free to choose her side, but I can’t imagine it would be theirs.”

  Monte held the door for them at the fifth floor. Cayne fell back, letting Monte and Jacquie get a few steps in front. He kissed Julia’s forehead, his green eyes wide and concerned. “Are you okay?” He sounded grave.

  “Yes.”

  His jaw worked, and his quiet voice was deep with feeling. “We’ll do whatever you want,” he murmured.

  “There doesn’t seem to be much of a choice.”

  Cayne shook his head. “Edan is…we could try to force him, but honestly I don’t know if that would work.”

  Julia nodded, closing her eyes, and Cayne’s lips came, once again, near her ear. “Everything will be fine.”

  And that’s when Julia passed out.

  *

  “How can you be sure it worked?” The disembodied voice sounded like Cayne’s.

  Julia felt someone tap her arm. She heard mumbling, followed by the closing of a door and a long sigh. She shut her eyes, too tired to follow.

  Sometime later she was aware of something warm near her feet. She opened her eyes and found Cayne sitting cross-legged beside her on the bed, wearing a black long-john shirt and looking beautiful and tired.

  “Where are we?” She glanced around, recognizing the girls’ bedroom. Instinctively, she pushed herself up, and immediately she realized she could feel both arms. “Omigod. Oh, wow.”

  Cayne was right there, sliding his arm around her back as tears welled in her eyes, and then she was crying, exhausted and worried and scarred. She leaned her head against his shoulder, realizing as she did that it felt better. Not perfect, but very close. Which made her start laughing.

  “Cayne?” She giggled. “I feel better. Is that weird?”

  He shook his head. “I’m glad to hear it, but no,” he told her gently, “it’s not weird.”

  “Well c’mon.” She sat up straighter, wiped her eyes. “What did I miss?”

  He inhaled slowly, and anxiety gripped her.

  “Is it bad?” Fear made her voice shake.

  “Not on its face. Maybe not at all.
” He flashed her a lopsided grin. “You should feel better for a while. They didn’t fix it permanently, but Jacquie said they can keep it from overwhelming you.”

  “What did they do?”

  “Henry has an older brother, name is Blake. He’s a healer.”

  “So we’re okay? We can stay here?”

  Cayne nodded. “That’s the biggest catch. You have to stay here if you want Blake to heal you. Jacquie said they can fend off any attack, but…” He pursed his lips. “Julia, it’s not a simple thing, this place. To them, it’s war, and you’re on their side. I don’t know what they might involve. I tried to ask, but Jacquie stuck to generalities. The things all ex-Chosen are required to do.”

  “That seems like a good thing.”

  Julia was looking around the room now; it was a wreck, with clothes, shoes, jewelry, and toiletries scattered everywhere. She glanced down at herself, at her long-sleeved white House of the Gods tee over her ski pants.

  “I can’t believe I passed out. How embarrassing.”

  Cayne laughed. “I can see you must be feeling better.”

  She punched him. Then she leaned over and kissed him.

  That was the moment someone knocked. Julia recoiled, startled and already anticipating the flare of pain an increased heart rate would cause. When nothing happened, she giggled.

  “Yeeeesssss?”

  “Jules! You’re up!” Wearing her own ski pants and a green t-shirt, Mer raced over. “Can I hug you? Are you okay?”

  She looked to Cayne. “You didn’t tell them?”

  “I wanted to be sure.”

  Julia threw her arms around her friend.

  On the surface, Mer seemed lighthearted, but Julia felt strongly that something was wrong. She leaned against the pillows behind her and, for the first time in a day or so, applied her whole attention to the moment.

  “So...we’re okay here? No problems?” she asked, glancing at Meredith.

  Her friend shrugged.

  “I told her they wanted her to stay,” Cayne told her.

  “Ah. Can we just kidnap Blake?” Mer asked.

  “He’s a little large for that,” Cayne said with the ghost of a smile.

  “But can you leave, like, even for a day?” Meredith asked.

  “Maybe for a day,” Cayne said. “They don’t want the Three to get their hands on you. If you leave for longer…no healing.”

  “But they’re letting you decide,” he quickly added. “There’s a better way. We’ll find it.”

  “I don’t mind seeing how things go,”

  Meredith cleared her throat, and Julia got that feeling again, that sense of her friend’s anxious feelings. “Um, Julia… I have something to say.”

  Julia’s stomach flipped. “Okay.”

  Meredith inhaled deeply, then she glanced over at the door. “Nathan is here. At the resort. And he wants to talk to you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Nathan was there. And he wanted to talk to her. Julia’s chest fluttered with shock, followed by a wild wave of excitement for Mer, followed directly by fear with a big, fat “F.”

  “Nathan is here?” she squeaked. “He’s here? Like…IN THIS RESORT?”

  Meredith nodded. “Don’t be scared, Julia. He won’t force you into anything. He says he only wants to talk.”

  Julia glanced at Cayne, but his face was carefully blank, so blank that even she couldn’t read it.

  But Julia was already shaking her own head. She remembered the Chosen zombie that had broken her arm. She remembered who had left her with Dizzy. Who had been absent the day of Dizzy’s rampage.

  “Mer—” she shook her head. “I’m glad you get to see him again. I’m like, so glad. But…I can’t. I know he cares about you, but I don’t know anything else. Or—wait, yeah I do. He works for The Three, and that’s not where I want to be. Not unless he has some seriously new information. They did this to me, remember?” She pointed to her head.

  Meredith’s emotion was reflected in her face, which went stark and red as Julia spoke. She nodded twice, fast, and then she pressed her lips together, covering her face with one hand and turning around, toward the door. Her shoulders slumped, and Julia crawled down to the edge of the bed, where she could reach out toward her friend.

  “Mer…”

  “It’s okay.” She tossed her long, black hair over her shoulders, the tips of it flying out toward Julia, and then she stepped toward the door. She turned back around toward Julia and Cayne.

  “I won’t let him in.” She wiped her eyes and put on a resilient smile. “I’ll try to get him to tell me what he’s here for. Exactly. What the plan is. If he’ll leave or just…decide to stay.” A tear dripped onto her t-shirt.

  “I’m so sorry,” Julia said, feeling horrible.

  “Don’t let him in,” Cayne warned.

  “Maybe later,” Julia said. “I just need a little time.”

  Cayne’s gaze jerked to hers, as if to say a lot of time, and Mer was out the door.

  *

  Several hours later, Julia was sitting between Cayne’s legs on the floor in front of the wing-backed chair, having her shoulders kneaded. Cayne’s long, strong fingers really did the job, which meant her eyelids were heavy and she was having trouble keeping up with the discussion, despite its life-altering importance.

  “It should be me who talks to him,” Drew was saying. “I’m a fellow Shepherd.”

  “Are you?” Carlin said, wrinkling her nose; she was perched on the lit fireplace, sipping an Irish coffee. “I don’t think anyone’s saying baaah anymore, at least not anyone with sense.”

  Drew rolled his eyes and tugged on the collar of his purple Polo shirt. “Julia,” he said, looking at her. “Meredith shouldn’t have to handle this alone. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  As Julia opened her mouth, Carlin jumped up. “I do, too, Drew. I just don’t think we should give the rat a chance! Why not report him to the Swosen? I’m sure Jacquie would be only too glad to throw him out on his stinking ass. Meredith would be upset, yes, but Nathan is bad for her. He’s worked for The Three since he was a small boy! You know it, too,” she said, sinking back down to the stone. She folded her arms over her crossed legs and glared down at the carpet.

  “Carlin has a point—” Cayne started.

  “That is damn straight,” she said, grinning at him and sounding very Spanish. “When you were a threat, you were a threat, and I called threat. I have Julia’s best interest in my heart.”

  “But what about Meredith?” Julia countered. “We can’t do that to her. She cares about Nathan. Drew’s right. Someone needs to talk to him and see why he’s here.”

  “What do you think you’ll learn?” Cayne asked. “Can you imagine him saying anything that would help?”

  “It would help because I wouldn’t be blind,” she said, looking over her shoulder and pulling away from his hands, which had started kneading too hard anyway. “I think he’s still working for the Three. We all know he is. I think he came here to deliver a message, which I want to hear. Then if we don’t like it or we have a problem, we can send him packing.”

  Cayne stood up and stepped in front of her, staring down at her until Julia lifted herself up into the wing-backed chair. “What’s that stare for, Mr. Mysterio?”

  Cayne’s green eyes bored into hers and finally he said, “You really want to know what Nathan says?”

  She nodded.

  “Then I’ll go talk to him,” he said. “What’s the room number, Drew?”

  “I won’t tell. He won’t talk to you. He loathes all Nephilim.”

  “I won’t be…disrespectful,” Cayne said, looking Julia in the eye. And, oddly, she believed him.

  “Please don’t be,” she said. “Let him say what he wants to say, and remember Meredith cares about him. I’d like to come, too,” she tried, but it was a halfhearted try; she was horrified of being sneak attacked and spirited away.

  “I’ll give him your regards,” Cayne said.
r />   He walked over to Drew and crossed his arms. Drew crossed his.

  “Please, Drew?” Julia said.

  Carlin jumped up, pulled out a walkie talkie, and pressed the button. “Roger, what room number?”

  “Five thirty-three.” Mer’s voice crackled. “Is she coming?!”

  “No, he is. You should come back. Come back now. Roger.”

  “Uh-oh…”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Cayne remembered the Stained called Nathan. From the museum yard. And farther back, a potent memory recovered one night when Nathan stood outside his cell at the Stained prison.

  It was his final assignment, though he didn’t know it at the time. Samyaza had called them assignments with a snarling laugh, and Cayuzul would roll his eyes or look down at the ground below their feet. He knew there was something wrong with his mentor, had known for quite a while, but there was nothing to be done. He had nowhere else to go. He was schooled only in death, and to hear others tell it, the Stained would find him if he broke off on his own. They hunted Nephilim with their minds. They blinded them. Clipped their wings. Tortured them.

  Cayuzul knew torture, and he did not wish to be on the receiving end again.

  The targets on this cloudy day lived in a peach and white San Francisco row house.

  “This one is important,” Samyaza told Cayuzul, as they descended from the dark cloud where they’d been hovering, watching the early morning traffic trickle toward downtown.

  “They have children,” he said, in his booming voice. “All must die this day.”

  Samyaza would take those. Cayuzul had tried, once, to kill a Stained child, and when he’d hesitated, the boy’s father had nearly killed him. Samyaza had dispatched both, then ridiculed Cayuzul for decades. It was the one weakness Cayne didn’t try to rid himself of.

  He would terminate the parents, efficiently. They always fought back, but they were never strong enough.

  Cayuzul thought about the why behind it, as they tilted their wings and glided slowly toward the house’s large chimney. He remembered stories of the Christ child, the way infant boys were killed by a jealous, ancient king, and he had made the mental comparison before. Obviously, the Stained children were a threat. They would become adult Stained, so it made tactical sense to snuff them out early.