Chosen (The Last Guardians Book 1)

by C. V. Gregorchuk

Mia was fit to burst by the time her turn finally came. She rushed past the other woman, slammed the stall door shut and slid the latch into the lock position. A sigh blew through her teeth as she relieved herself, cradling her head in her hands because it had become too heavy for her to hold up. Finished, Mia sat there for a bit, staring blankly at the floor through her fingers, willing it to stop its slow spinning.

  The strangest thing happened. It was like the air had suddenly become charged with electricity, crackling and buzzing with energy. A sound like rattling change filled the bathroom, and the lights started to flicker and flash like a strobe. Mia sat up, her heart firmly lodged in her throat, every nerve in her body on high alert. The buzzing grew louder while the lights flickered more and more frantically. She hurried to compose herself. Then it stopped. Mia froze with her hands on the door. The silence that followed was intense; the only sound was her heart beating at an alarming pace within her chest.

  A power surge, Mia told herself. But unease settled in the pit of her stomach regardless. There was no cause for alarm. Her hands trembled uncontrollably as she let herself out of the stall. Her skin prickled and jumped. Mia eyed the incandescent bulbs burning merrily beneath their colored glass shades. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, but the air felt thick and unbreathable in the small space of the bathroom. Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror, all eyes in a pale, pinched face. Maybe she looked too hard because her image appeared to waver, the mirror rippling like a pond disturbed by a pebble. A thrill ran up and down her spine, and her mouth went dry.

  The bathroom door banged open, and Mia jumped with a squeak of surprise. Three young women poured into the bathroom chattering and giggling loudly. They paid Mia and her shaken expression no mind as they bumped their way in front of the mirror, digging in their purses for cosmetics and checking their appearances in the glass. Staring over their heads at her reflection Mia considered warning them about the mirror. Then she came to her senses and ducked out of the bathroom before they noticed her.

  In the close, dark hallway Mia collapsed against a wall and winced as the corner of a picture frame dug into her shoulder blade. Dizzy and out of sorts there was a good chance she might be sick at any moment. Her heart beat a harsh tattoo against her ribs.

  What the hell?

  Mia leaned her head back against the wall plastered with band posters and old pictures in battered frames. She closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose. The air was musty with the smells of old cigarette smoke and spilled beer. A bit more centered, Mia opened her eyes and looked back toward the bathroom. Raised voices reached her even through the thick swinging door with its signatures penned in black ink and the universal female icon pasted in the center. Had she imagined the whole thing? But of course, that was the logical explanation. Mia shook her head in disgust and pushed off from the wall. She was drunk. That was the long and the short of it.

  What was I thinking? Mia chastised herself as she walked down the short, narrow hall toward the strains of a Joan Jett song coming from the bar. She knew better than to drink so much- she was a bit of a light weight- especially on an empty stomach. And now she was paying the price with hallucinations and an icky feeling in her belly.

  Things were well underway in the pub when she emerged from the hall. The number of people had tripled in the relatively short time Mia was busy in the bathroom. They contended for an open space at the wooden bar top while three bartenders ran themselves into the ground trying to serve them all. Mia felt the press of the crowd all around her as she made her way back to the booth where Jake would be waiting for her. The smell of freshly spilled alcohol hung thick in the air, mingling with that of too many people in close proximity. Mia wrinkled her nose in distaste.

  The dark restaurant hummed with energy. Tiffany lamps hung from the low ceiling on chains, now rattling to the bass of a Foreigner song about a hero. Mia quite liked the song actually, but couldn’t make out much of the lyrics over the din. She wasn’t sure why she allowed Jake to keep bringing her here, would much rather hang out somewhere quieter with a bit more light. But she did know why; Jake liked it here, and so Mia pretended to as well. It was their place.

  “There you are!” Someone shouted from behind, and Mia turned in surprise to see a familiar if not welcome face. Lana stood with a beer in each hand, scowling at Mia from beneath glossy black bangs that reached her eyebrows. She wore a pink v-neck shirt which in Mia’s opinion, left far too little to the imagination and a pair of skin-tight skinny jeans. “Jake said you went to the bathroom like, hours ago. Where’ve you been?”

  Mia was sure she must look like a fish, opening and closing her mouth without making a sound.

  “Whatever,” Lana rolled her eyes and forced a beer into Mia’s hand, “Come on.” Mia was still trying to figure out why Lana was there and how she had come to be looking for her when they arrived at their booth, and everything fell into place. Jake was sitting right where she’d left him, every inch of the red velvet booth occupied. They were all friends of Jake’s, some from high-school- like Lana- most from university. Mia- who was still recovering from her alcohol-induced ordeal in the bathroom- was rattled. Where had all these people come from?

  Lana wiggled her way onto a sliver of cushion, disrupting the flow of conversation enough for Jake to notice Mia standing at the edge of the table, doing her best not to look upset. “Mee!” He shouted over the music, flashing his teeth in a wide smile. “Come sit!”

  Mia raised her brows, surveying the crowded booth skeptically. Where did he think she was going to sit? Jake frowned and looked around him for what appeared to be the first time. Mia shook her head and almost laughed. Had it been too much to expect that they’d be alone? The thought of sitting, squished between people she didn’t know- or care to- made her feel claustrophobic. Suddenly she couldn’t stand to be in the crowded, dark, smelly place a moment longer. Mia turned her back on the table and Jake with the beer Lana had given her still in hand. Pushing through the mass of bodies Mia felt hollow and removed as she made her way to the exit.

  “Hey, you can’t take that outside!” A beanpole of a guy shouted at her, flipping his blonde fringe out of his eyes with a short toss of his head.

  “What?” Mia shouted back at him. Focused on getting out of there she’d forgotten about the glass in her hand. “Oh,” Mia knew it was a bad idea but was too upset to care. As the server watched, she downed the beer, gulping the yeasty amber stuff. Finished she put the glass down hard on a nearby table, grimacing at the aftertaste. Mia didn’t know much about beer, but whatever Lana had given her was nasty stuff.

  Brent the server seemed unimpressed. Suddenly belligerent, Mia grinned and pushed past him to the door. She walked out onto the sidewalk and stopped. Mia swayed dangerously beneath the neon Ruby’s sign burning brightly overhead, casting its red glow on the pavement. Tourists laughed and shouted encouragements to one another as they draped themselves over the grotesque pink pig standing sentry in front of the bar. Mia made a face, watching and thinking she wouldn’t touch the thing with a ten-foot pole. She started walking, heading for home before anyone could see her standing there and ask her to take a picture. At any other time she would have been happy to do it, but tonight the thought was repulsive.

  Mia crossed her arms over her chest and ducked her head, keeping her eyes glued on the pavement pitching and hawing beneath her feet like the deck of a ship. That last beer had been a bad idea; she didn’t know why she did that. Mia snorted at the lie. She knew exactly why and was furious with herself for it. Like so many times before, she’d allowed herself to be lulled into a false sense of “togetherness,” and once again, Jake proved it was a completely one-sided feeling.

  Jake was a popular guy, always had been. It was unfair of her to expect him to turn his friends away but there it was. Mia had hoped to have Jake to herself, especially since they hadn’t spent much time together lately. It was obvious he hadn’t given her a second thought the moment his friends had
arrived. It stung. A lot. Mia blinked hard against the threat of tears and picked up her pace. She couldn’t believe she was letting his thoughtlessness bother her so much. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but it was the first time Mia had up and left. She credited her behavior to the alcohol, knowing it wouldn't have happened sober. Had Jake even noticed?.

  Not if he hasn’t texted yet, Mia told herself meanly, frustrated that she even cared. Get over it. Mia raised her head and sucked in a deep breath, filling her lungs with the crisp night air.

  “Just stick it out for a few more weeks.” She murmured to herself and turned down her street. It wouldn’t be long now before she was in Africa and then Canada after that. She needed to limit the time they spent together until then or risk more unnecessary disappointment.

  Chapter 5

  “Mia? Is that you?” called Sarah Astor from somewhere in the apartment.

  Mia closed the door behind herself. “Who else would it be?” She grumbled in a low voice and then answered loud enough to be heard, “Yep.”

  “You’re home early,” her mom said, popping her head out of the office down the hall. “Everything Okay?”

  Mia kicked off her shoes, “Everything’s fine mom.” Crap. Despite her effort to keep her tone bright, it came out sounding moody and detached with a hint of a slur. Her mother came down the hall, small bare feet padding across the blonde hardwoods. She stopped in front of Mia and crossed pale arms over the loud, floral print blouse she wore. Mrs. Astor regarded her daughter through startling blue eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  “Honey?” Sarah said in a tone Mia knew all too well. Her mother was on the scent of her emotional turmoil and would stop at nothing to unearth every last detail. Mia raised her head and met her mother’s eyes, so different from her own which were stinging with unshed tears. She thought she’d sorted herself out on the walk home, but obviously hadn’t. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Mom asked, her delicate features marred by a deep frown. “What happened?” She stepped toward Mia, her arms unfolding at the same time as Mia moved toward her.

  “Mom…” Mia moaned, burying her face in her mother’s shoulder and inhaling her familiar scent. Mrs. Astor said nothing as she wrapped her arms around her daughter and held her, crooning in a soft voice as she rocked her gently.

  There was something about being held by her mother, enveloped in her warm embrace and her sweet, flowery scent. It made Mia feel like a little kid again. She was safe and secure here, like no other place on earth. “Let’s have some tea,” Sarah said when Mia sniffed for the third time, her tears finally spent. “How does that sound?” She asked, holding her at arm’s length. Mia nodded and took a deep, shaky breath. She met her mother’s gaze. The concerned smile that turned Sarah’s thin lips almost made Mia cry all over again. “Okay.” Mom said, looking into her tear-streaked face a bit longer. She squeezed Mia’s upper arms lightly and turned down the hall, leading the way to the kitchen.

  Mia followed in her wake, her eyes trained on her mother’s dainty heels flashing beneath the hem of her denim skirt. A small smile tugged at her lips despite her low spirits; her mother had a quirky sense of style. Unlike Mia, Sarah Astor was comfortable in bold patterns and unconventional pairings, somehow pulling it off. Mia’s theory was that her mother’s bubbly personality made it possible. Sarah went right for the kettle, busying herself with filling it and setting it to boil while Mia sank into a leather barstool at the kitchen island. She let her purse fall to the floor with a thump and shrugged out of her denim jacket. Mia draped it over one of the other stools before resting her arms on the cold black surface of the granite counter top.

  “Where’s dad?” Mia asked. There was no way she was getting out of this conversation with her mom- and if she was being honest, Mia didn’t want to- but preferred to keep her father oblivious to her boy troubles.

  “In his office,” Sarah answered, standing on tiptoe to open the small cupboard where they kept the tea bags. The kitchen was all pristine white cabinetry and black countertop; they’d had it redone last year when dad got his promotion at the office, along with some other renovations. Mia missed the old maple cabinets with their old knobs. This kitchen was new and modern, and strangely cold. The hundreds of photos that had once masked the old fridge were gone- magnets weren’t suitable for stainless steel apparently- and now it suddenly mattered if someone dropped something on the floor.

  Mia relaxed a bit; if her dad was in the office, it meant he was neck deep in a case and wouldn’t come out anytime soon. “So?” Said her mother, placing two ceramic mugs on the granite with a ‘chink.’ Mia caught a glimpse of the small EKG Sarah had tattooed on her wrist. Her mom leaned back against the polished stove and crossed her arms, waiting. Mia reached for an empty mug. The rumbling hiss of the kettle was loud in the room as she twisted the cup in slow circles. How much to share? It had been a long-standing rule to never speak to either of her parents about Jake. To them, he was and always had been her childhood best friend and an unofficial member of their family. Mia wanted to avoid complicating that relationship. And whatever advice they might feel obligated to offer her.

  Nine times out of ten she would have avoided this conversation like the plague. She wasn’t sure what made tonight different, but she wanted, no, needed to talk to someone other than Tanya. She was great, but she never could give Mia the right sort of advice. Mia sighed and looked up from the mug in her hands to her mother’s expectant face. “It’s about… Jake.” She said haltingly, watching for Sarah’s reaction.

  “Okay,” Sarah said with a nod and Mia got the impression her mother was fighting the urge to say more.

  “I-Um… I like him, Mom.” Mia made a face. This was so embarrassing. She was starting to rethink sharing this information.

  “Are you sure you don’t mean you love him?”

  Mia started in surprise. Her mother was watching her with a small, knowing smile. Mia flushed, heat flooding her cheeks. “Yeah,” she admitted to the mug in her hands. “That’s what I mean.” Her mom was usually so hectic and unorganized. Mia sometimes forgot how observant she could be. She looked up. The playful twist at the corner of Sarah’s lips told Mia she knew exactly what her daughter was thinking. “How long have you known?” Mia asked. She couldn’t stop the sheepish smile that forced its way onto her lips.

  “Honey,” her mom said and chuckled. “You’ve loved that boy since you were four years old. I would have to be blind not to know.” She reached for the kettle as the boiling water came to a crescendo and lifted the stainless steel jug from its base, cutting off the sharp beep.

  Mia grimaced, “Well you might not be blind, but Jake is.”

  “They usually are,” her mother said in a low voice. The two were quiet for a few moments. Mom dropped a tea bag into each cup and retrieved the milk from the fridge. “So what happened tonight?” She wrapped short, thin fingers around her mug and leaned forward over the counter. Her eyes, bright with interest were trained on her daughter’s face.

  Mia took her time stirring her tea, the teaspoon clinking merrily against the rim of her mug. She sighed. “I don’t know mum. I’m not sure it’s even worth getting upset about.” Her mother was quiet, waiting for her to continue. Mia made a sound in the back of her throat and rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure who she was more exasperated with, her mother or herself. Herself. Definitely herself. “Jake and I were supposed to hang out tonight, just the two of us.”

  “He said something about it when he dropped off the milk,” said her mom with a faint edge to her soft voice.

  “Ya,” Mia confirmed, and because she felt guilty for not sharing the information earlier, said, “Oh. I forgot to tell you, I’m going to Africa.”

  “I know,” Mrs. Astor said, fixing her daughter with a stern look. “Jake told me.”

  “Oh,” Mia said, her suspicion confirmed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she shrugged, feeling even guiltier.

  Sarah shook her head in dismissal, “T
hat’s great honey. I’m very happy for you.” She smiled. “How does Jake feel about it?”

  “Not sure,” Mia answered irritably. “I thought we were supposed to be celebrating tonight. Just the two of us but that didn’t happen.” She went on to tell her mother everything, leaving out a few details like how much she’d had to drink and the scene in the bathroom. “He hasn’t even called or texted to see where I am.” Mia finished, close to tears again.

  “Oh baby,” Her mother crooned.

  “I shouldn’t even care. I wish I didn’t.” Mia wished she could turn the feelings off permanently.

  “But you love him.”

  Mia looked up from the milky surface of her untouched tea. “Ya,” She said and huffed a sigh.

  “Does Jake have anything to do with going to Canada?”

  She wanted to lie and started to, “No-” Mia said and then stopped. “A bit,” she admitted. Wretched, she was wretched. “I know, it’s pathetic.”

  “No Mia,” her mom said, surprising her, “It’s not. I think it’s the best thing for you.”

  “You do?” Mia asked in disbelief. She thought back to that night she’d first told her parents about her plans to go to British Columbia. He mother hadn’t said much to encourage the move, but neither had she condemned it, leaving it all to Mia’s father.

  “It will be good for you to get away. I see the way Jake monopolizes you. It’s not exactly healthy or fair.”

  Mia blinked, disturbed by the depth of Sarah’s observations. “No, it isn’t.” Mia agreed with a sigh. She stared at her mug of tea and decided to take a sip. It was cold, and she made a face.

  “Here,” her mother gestured for the cup and Mia passed it over the counter into her outstretched hand. She watched as Sarah popped it into the microwave and pressed a button. The machine came to life with a high beep followed by a low rumble. Mom checked her reflection in the dark glass surface, patting her jaw length blonde hair into place. “I’m going to the hairdresser tomorrow…” she said, “Want me to try and book you in too?”