Chosen Ones (The Lost Souls, #1)

by Tiffany Truitt

  “Be quiet,” I muttered, unable to take another minute of her damn superiority. She was nothing. Just some sad, pathetic natural who was stuck here, same as me.

  “What did you say?”

  “Let’s get this over with.”

  Today’s assignment?

  We were to get rid of the bodies.

  They had been transported to deep in the woods behind Templeton, where a huge hole had been dug. My supervisor and I, along with the newly bruised and battered creator, were to pull the bodies from the transport and place them into the mass grave. There would be no words spoken over the dead. No pretense of religious ceremony.

  It took hours to move all thirty bodies into their new home, their eternal resting place. While my supervisor had given me a mask to cover my nose and mouth, the stench of decay was overwhelming. The bodies were heavy. I tried to convince myself the children were simply sleeping, but they weren’t. They were death personified. I felt the softness of their skin, the vulnerability of it. They never had a shot at life, never felt a thing. They never knew what it was like to be touched. They had no mothers or fathers to weep over them.

  And I had helped kill them.

  I had told Henry where they were kept.

  I destroyed these unlived lives.

  When we finally finished, I was covered in sweat and dirt. There was a noticeable chill in the air and the sky had become cloudy and dark.

  “Am I done?” I asked dully.

  “Yes.”

  “May I stay here for a while?” I didn’t see why it would matter if I did. My shift was over but I couldn’t really leave. Templeton was my new home.

  My supervisor nodded. I could almost detect a look of understanding on her face, but it was too brief to be sure.

  I waited. Staring at the bodies, waiting for the sky to open up and cry.

  Then, it was pouring. Every inch of me was covered with it. I sat on the ground, my knees clutched to my chest, shivering. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the rain and cold or the guilt over what I had done. I’d stood up for a murderer. I’d helped a murderer.

  I had allowed myself to feel and hope.

  And this was my punishment.

  For a few crazed moments, I contemplated laying myself down within the hole. Needing them to bury me with the rest of the rejects.

  I heard a twig snap. I wasn’t the only one here. Who dared to enter this space?

  It was James.

  His face showed apprehension. Did he really think he could fool me into thinking what we once had still remained? He must hate me. I had chosen Henry over him. I had chosen to align myself with the naturals. Before, I had begun to think neither the terms natural nor chosen could describe James and me; we were outside the council’s definition. Not anymore. We couldn’t run from who the council needed us to be.

  It was ridiculous of me to think I could be anyone else.

  Don’t feel.

  Don’t feel.

  Feel.

  Feel.

  It would always be chosen versus natural. The council set it up that way.

  He would destroy me.

  “What are you doing here?” I snarled.

  “Tess.”

  “Don’t you dare,” I warned. “Don’t you dare say my name. You have no right. You have no right to any of me.” Some small part of me knew he wasn’t the enemy, but I couldn’t yell at the council. And God, I needed to yell. My hands were shaking. I was losing it. I was on the verge of an attack and didn’t care if I could fight it off.

  James stepped forward.

  I would not back down, regardless of the consequences. I held my ground. This seemed to scare him, and he paused. I took two quick steps closer to him. We were inches apart.

  “We need to talk about this. I did what I had to. She was a killer.”

  I slapped him as hard as I could. I did it without thinking—it was pure instinct. It stung my hand. It thrilled me.

  I saw him flinch. Shock crossed his face, but he said nothing, did nothing.

  This made me even angrier. “Don’t you feel anything?” I screamed. I knew in the back of my mind I was no longer talking to him. It was as if the panic, the fear had finally found its voice.

  “I wish it had been you. I wish it had been you they took! You deserve it! You’re the villain, the monster. You made Julia and Henry do those horrible things. He was such a sweet child. You took everything from him; you left him with nothing to want. And when you are left feeling like that, you fear no consequences.”

  “What are you saying, Tess? Let’s talk about this.”

  “Don’t stand there staring at me as if you can understand my pain. You’re not even human. You feel nothing. You are nothing. You think it means something, you reading that book?”

  His hand twitched.

  It was too much; I was suffocating. I felt my eyes begin to water. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I would explode.

  I was sobbing hysterically. I was being ripped open, and I wasn’t sure when or if the flood could stop. Everything flashed before my eyes—my father being taken, my mother holding the bottle of discount liquor to her chest, the way Robert looked at the funeral, how Emma held out her hand for me to take, the loneliness I felt when Henry had abandoned me, the day with the piano and James, Jane Eyre, the evil way George had grinned, the laughter of the Templeton boys, the excruciating pain of receiving my second slash mark.

  I sank ungraciously onto the dirt. I wanted to crawl inside of it. In the quickest of moments, James was on his knees, reaching for me.

  “No!” I shrilly screamed, blindly lashing my arms against him. “Don’t you touch me!”

  I could faintly see a devastating look of pain on James’s face, but I didn’t care. I curled myself into a ball, letting the emotions take me where they willed. I could sense that James was still there and I had no idea why.

  Suddenly, I felt extremely tired.

  “Just do what you want with me. Have your fun and get it over with. I can’t take any more. I won’t scream. There isn’t anyone now who would care. It’s what you want, isn’t it? I know what it means to be a Templeton girl,” I managed to gasp through the tears.

  I heard him inhale sharply, and I could feel him move away from me. But I knew he was still there, somewhere.

  I closed my eyes. They were burning, dry, unprepared for the exercise they had performed. But something was different; my heart, it purred. Fluttered. I slowly sat up, my body sore from my crumpled position. I felt the sheen of tears dried to my face. My hair was wild, untamed. I searched for my ribbon. I saw James holding it in his hand.

  I wanted desperately to hate him, but I knew that I never really could. He had a part of my soul. And as much as I wanted to claim it back, I believed I wouldn’t. How long could I survive through this, the slow destruction of my being?

  James walked over to me, stopping a short distance away. He crouched down so his face was on my level and gingerly held out the ribbon. His face was emotionless. The rain continued to whip me in the face as I took the ribbon, turning my back to him, trying to tie my hair into some sort of order.

  My knees seemed wobbly as I stood up, but I somehow managed it without falling. I walked past James without a second glance. Part of me wished he would just leave, but the other part didn’t, and that’s the part that hurt the most.

  “I know I betrayed you. Why are you out here pretending you care?” I said, my back still toward him.

  He laughed, slightly losing it himself. “It’s all I care about. You were wrong—I believe someone can have all of your soul. Don’t you see? You have all of mine.”

  I wanted to tell him that was impossible, that he had no soul. But I couldn’t. I turned to face him quickly. Too quickly. I felt dizzy and closed my eyes to try and stop the world from spinning out of control. I couldn’t put the words together.

  His eyes found solace on the ground. “I had to do what I did. Maybe they would have grown up to be these things you
detest, but they were just children. They knew nothing of what it means to be human. And if I refused to help bring in a natural, they would have guessed my secret.”

  “Secret?”

  “George. He suspects you. He suspects me. He can tell.”

  Did James somehow know of my run-in with George?

  “Tell what?”

  James hesitated. “He can tell it is…that we aren’t normal. This, us, it scares the other boys.”

  He was near me in an instant, his hand reaching for my face. I froze; he did, too. James dropped his hand slowly to his side. “They know that you have power over me.”

  “Power? I don’t even have that over myself.”

  The tears were coming back. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

  “I’ve already caused the other chosen ones to suspect me. If I made a big deal about the wrangling, they would realize you don’t mean to me what the other girls are to them. I don’t know what would happen to me then. Which I don’t care about, not really. This isn’t much of a life anyways. But I had you to think about…”

  “But—”

  “You have to believe me. I can’t go on knowing you think that I could willingly hurt you. This is who I’m supposed to be. What choice did I have?”

  I took a step closer to him. “How can I trust you? How can I trust anyone who belongs with them?”

  I knew the us-versus-them argument was illogical. I had seen too much to pretend it could be boiled down to these simple components. I just needed to hear that I was right about him.

  James shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t belong with the chosen ones. Sometimes I don’t feel like I belong anywhere. Except maybe with you.”

  I felt the honesty of the words as if they were my own.

  “You say you see me differently than the other boys? The other Templeton girls? I saw one of them, James. I think she may have been forced…”

  His jaw clenched. “Yes, I heard of it. George. It’s why he wasn’t chosen either. The council, Templeton, they don’t care if we…if one of us has…with a Templeton girl. It doesn’t matter because—”

  “We’re dying anyway. Because they think we’re worthless.”

  He nodded. “But George made a scene. He wasn’t even secretive about it. He stalked this girl and then took her. Secrecy is essential. It’s the only thing that keeps this horrid world together.”

  I was feeling dizzy again. I was falling. James’s hands were there to steady me, one on each of my arms, my support. My body heated up instantly despite the chill in the air. I could smell him, could feel his breath on me. He was so close, and for once I didn’t care. I wanted him to be closer. I don’t know how long we stood there—a minute, an eternity. It didn’t matter. Everything was so disjointed, I couldn’t see sense, could only barely control the surge of emotions running through me.

  “I am sorry,” he whispered.

  I didn’t know what I was doing. It was as if some force was alive in me, controlling me. Maybe I was finally losing my sanity. I slowly raised my hand to his face, hesitating before placing my palm against his cheek. He sighed and closed his eyes. I closed mine, too. The rain had slowed, but I could hear the wind picking up, hear it howling, moaning. Strangely, I didn’t feel it. All I knew was my palm against his skin. How strange that such a small gesture could cause such emotions.

  Such feelings.

  This wasn’t just about the need to touch anymore. It was so much more than that. The council called it weakness, but I didn’t feel weak.

  James leaned forward and gently kissed my forehead. “Tess,” he breathed against my skin.

  God, I loved how he said my name.

  I couldn’t answer. I was overwrought with the sensation of human contact.

  “Tess,” he repeated.

  “I’m sorry, too. There is no right side. But you’re not the enemy. The council is.”

  He tugged me toward Templeton. “Let’s go home.”

  I offered a short laugh in response.

  “James?”

  “Hmmm.”

  “What do we do now?”

  He wiped the remaining tears off my face with his thumb, his hand resting on my cheek. “I have no idea.”

  Chapter 23

  James held my hand all the way back to Templeton, but the minute we neared the entrance, he let go. The council would barely notice we were together, as long as it was physical, not some mutual exchange of true feelings. They had plenty of disdain for relationships between naturals; a real relationship between a natural and a chosen one was unheard of.

  Maybe if the Templeton girls would talk to one another, talk about something of substance, they could prevent it. But when our parents never taught us about sex, irrationally hoping by not talking about it we wouldn’t think about it, they set us up for failure. We didn’t know how to handle any of it. Maybe some of us didn’t even know we could say no.

  But if the council saw the way James and I looked at each other or the way we clutched so desperately onto each other’s hands, they would know we’d changed the rules. They already suspected us. They knew James questioned the whole thing. And I had aligned myself with a rebel, a terrorist.

  We had to be careful.

  “Meet me in the piano room?”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said, walking slightly ahead of me in the hallway. “Most everyone is asleep.”

  As I closed myself within the darkness of the room, I forced away the memory of George threatening me the last time I’d been there. He would not own this space.

  I sat down on the piano bench and pressed my forehead against the keys with as little pressure as possible. As much as I wanted to play, tonight might not be the best time. And it felt good to just touch the keys anyway.

  When the door opened, I couldn’t fight the wave of nervousness that hit me. I would never be able to forget what this place was. James offered me a small smile as he shut the door and set a lantern on the piano.

  This is where we met.

  How my life had changed since then.

  I suddenly felt shy, self-conscious. I was shivering, soaked, and embarrassed by my appearance. I knew the pale tint of my skin was showing through my wet top. I made an attempt to cover myself by crossing my arms over my chest.

  He seemed to sense my discomfort, pulling off his jacket and handing it to me. It was oversized, but it was a part of him, and I welcomed it.

  “You have questions? I know I would. I figure we’ve got a lot to discuss,” he said, sitting next to me on the bench.

  “Yes.” I nodded.

  He waited for me to continue, not an ounce of frustration on his face. Just patience.

  “I…well, maybe you could…” I had so many questions. I wanted to know more about how Templeton worked, as well as how James fit into the whole scheme of things. I knew he wasn’t like the others, but it was time I found out as much as I could about the life I was given. I just didn’t know where to start.

  He laughed gently, took my hands, and placed them on the keys. He didn’t press down, either. Maybe the illusion that we could was all we needed.

  “Maybe you can just tell me something I don’t know about you.”

  He took a deep breath. “Three nights ago, I discovered my gift,” he replied with a forced smile.

  “Gift?”

  “Yes. When I was born…made…when we are created, they enhance us.”

  So the rumors about the superpowers were true. What gifts did the others have? We really had no idea of the power the chosen ones held. I couldn’t help but cringe at the thought of George with even more power than he already had. The council had a plethora of weapons.

  How many lies had the council told us? If they were making the chosen ones with these abilities, how powerful would the council become? Did the naturals even have a chance of surviving?

  “You don’t have to tell me any more,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

&nbs
p; “You’d let me off that easy?” James asked, running his fingers up and down my hands as they rested against the keys where we had made music. Together.

  All I wanted was to touch him. Now that I had allowed the weakness to come through, I didn’t care what it meant. I was already damaged too much for it to matter.

  “It’s not who you are. It doesn’t really matter,” I replied. It did matter, but I didn’t want to think about it tonight.

  “No,” he said, grabbing my hands in his, staring at the way our fingers fit together. “I want to tell you. I want to tell you everything. Is that crazy?”

  “Completely.”

  He laughed, and it sounded genuine. I was amazed by the gamut of emotions we had both exhibited that night.

  “When we are made they give us a gift, an ability. To let us know we are—”

  “Special,” I interrupted.

  “Yes, special,” he said, rolling his eyes, “or freaks.”

  “You’re not a freak.” I gave his hand a squeeze.

  Because if he was, then I was, too.

  James took a deep breath before speaking again. “My creator has a weird sense of humor. A real humanitarian, if you can imagine that. He’s not very popular with the council. I only recently figured out what it was he’d given me. You made me realize what it was.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. I had a dream about you weeks ago. I saw you here with George, and he threatened you. I thought it was just a nightmare, but then I overheard him bragging about it the other day. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I looked down at the keys. “I didn’t want to cause any trouble. I didn’t know I had the right to tell,” I admitted.

  He lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You will tell me if it happens again. My gift isn’t perfect, and I can’t guarantee that I’ll see every threat to you before it happens.”

  I nodded.

  He cleared his throat. “I talked to my creator because I was curious. They say that around this age your ability starts to show itself. Not at full power of course, but in spurts. Puberty, I guess you could call it.”

  I let free a shaky laugh. “Lovely.”