Chosen

by Denise Grover Swank

  Will hoped to find a container of gasoline, but the scrub brush outside proved the occupants had little need for a lawnmower. Instead, he found a small can of turpentine, some paint rags and a glass jar full of screws. He dumped out the screws, filled the jar with the turpentine, and stuffed the rags in the top.

  He’d smoke them out.

  Leaving the stuffy garage into the sweltering heat, he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his branded arm. He couldn’t get out of godforsaken Arizona fast enough. He’d had enough nightmares awakened in the last few weeks without unleashing more by playing commando in the desert.

  The unsettled feeling stayed with him as he sneaked around the side of the garage and stopped at the corner. He took a deep breath and refocused, telling himself this was just another mission. Just another of the many terrorist stakeouts he’d run in Iraq. Not that he was trying to rescue the boy who branded the mark on his arm and bound him to his mother as her protector.

  He spied on the house for several moments, amazed no one had come out after him. Not yet. He took a lighter out of his pocket and lit the rag, waiting for it to burn down before he threw it into the back window of the house.

  “Time for happy hour,” Will said.

  It was a risk. There was a chance Jake was inside, but Will now doubted it. Jake was considered far too valuable to be with someone so sloppy. At this point, Will hoped merely to get information.

  The fire erupted almost immediately. Will waited about thirty seconds before he ran to the side of the house and watched for the occupants to evacuate, which he presumed would be out the front door. Again, his intuition proved right. Two men in jeans and t-shirts burst out, each with a rifle in his hand.

  Will fired a couple of shots into the ground next to their feet, halfway between the front door and the landscape wall. “Hold it right there or the next one’s got your name on it.”

  They stumbled to a stop, thrusting their hands into the air.

  “Drop your guns.”

  The rifles dropped the earth with a dull thud, barely heard over the growing crackle of the flames.

  “Okay, hands behind your heads and walk slowly over to the wall, then turn around.”

  They shuffled forward and spun to face him, their faces pale and drawn with fear. Will hid his surprise. Teenagers. A scrawny dark-haired boy nearly six feet tall and his red-headed companion, who stood several inches shorter as well as wider. What the hell? He’d expected amateurs, but kids? The Cavallo had to be toying with him.

  Will moved closer. “What are you little boys doing out here all alone? You a couple of latchkey kids waiting for your mommy to come home?”

  The dark headed teen straightened his back and squared his shoulders, glaring at Will in defiance. His anime t-shirt stretched across his thin chest.

  “What? You getting a growth spurt?” Will laughed, then lowered his voice to a growl. “You didn’t answer my question. What are you boys doing out here?”

  “Waiting for you.” The defiant one curled his lip, accentuating the patches of hair growing unevenly under his nose.

  The redheaded boy remained silent, his freckles bursting from his ashen face. His hands trembled over his head.

  Will raised his eyebrows. “Do you even know who I am?”

  The kid with an attitude narrowed his eyes. “I know you don’t belong here.”

  “And what did you expect to do with me once I showed up?”

  The silent teen’s lip began to quiver. Will knew the answer before the other boy answered.

  “Kill you.”

  Will leveled his shotgun, aiming for the boy’s chest. A flicker of apprehension showed in his eyes before he quickly recovered. Will had to admit that the kid had balls. “You ever kill anyone, Ponyboy? In real life, not in some video game.”

  Doubt flashed briefly across his face.

  Will turned the gun to the redhead. His quivering had spread to his jaw. “What about you? You ever killed a man before?”

  He shook his head violently.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Will turned the barrel back to the first boy. “Obviously, you don’t know who I am or what I’m capable of. You boys picked the wrong man to mess with.” Will cocked his head to the side and glared. “Who do you work for?”

  “We don’t have to tell you nothin’.”

  Will was hot, tired, and irritated as hell. He wanted this done. Twisting his gun around, he smacked the boy in the face with his shotgun butt before the kid had a chance to react.

  The teen let out a howl and hunched forward, covering his nose to staunch the flow of blood.

  “You know, you’re right. You don’t have to tell me nothin’, but I can make damn sure you want to tell me.” He turned to the other boy. Snot ran down over the kid’s lip and he looked close to passing out. “I’m giving you one chance to tell me before I give you a busted nose to match. And trust me, I’m just getting started.”

  “He came to us at the pool hall,” the boy blurted. “He told us we had to hang out here until a guy showed up... and then we were supposed to shoot him. But he told us you’d be here sooner... last week. We didn’t think you were gonna show.”

  The dark-headed boy moaned as he stood straighter, shooting a glare toward his talkative friend.

  Will kept him in the corner of his eye. “Was there ever a boy here? A little blond boy?”

  The redhead’s lips thinned and his eyes bugged with fear and confusion. He gave a sharp shake of his head. “No! Just us.”

  Will gave him a scathing glare.

  "I swear to God, mister! We never saw a little boy!"

  “How long you been out here?”

  “A week and a half.”

  Will wasn’t surprised. Two weeks ago, Will had beaten the shit out of Alex, the bastard who’d fathered Jake, trying to get information about the boy. As far as Emma was concerned, Alex had no claim to him after raping her six years earlier, and Will agreed. Will would have killed him two weeks ago if Emma hadn’t stopped him.

  The Cavallo had probably moved Jake the very same night. “And after you killed me, what were you supposed to do?”

  “We were supposed to call the guy, but only when you were dead, and then he’d pay us.”

  “How much?”

  The kid paused realizing what he was saying. His eyes widened.

  "Don’t be gettin’ shy on me now." Will shifted his weight to one side and gave him a cocky smile. "How much?"

  The boy swallowed. “Ten thousand. Five to come out, the other five when you were dead.”

  Will raised an eyebrow. “Is that all I’m worth? I’m insulted."

  The redhead gulped while Ponyboy pinched his nose, avoiding eye contact with Will.

  “I’m gonna need that number, boys.”

  The redhead’s face wavered with uncertainty. He looked at the gun barrel, then followed it up into Will’s grim face. He cleared his throat. “It’s on my cell phone. In my front pocket.”

  “Okay, carefully remove it. You do anything stupid and I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”

  The boy gingerly slipped his fingers into his jeans and pulled out the phone, handing it to Will.

  “What’s the name?”

  “Smith. John Smith.”

  Will grinned as he flipped open the phone. “Wow, that’s original.” He found the number and pressed Send.

  The kid’s eyes widened in terror. “We weren’t supposed to call him until you were dead.”

  “Really? Well, let’s just pretend someone’s dead.” Will pressed the speaker button, the sound of ringing filling the air. The ringing stopped.

  “Crescent Dry Cleaning…. Hello… Hello?”

  Will flipped the phone shut. “You boys’ve been played.” He wasn’t surprised. Whoever hired them never expected them to succeed. They were meant to be an annoyance. “But now, I have a dilemma. What am I going to do with you?” Will aimed his gun at the teen with the bloody nose.

  Both boy
s looked frightened now. They had good reason to be. Will had just wasted over a week in goddamned fucking Arizona and he was pissed as hell.

  “Lucky for you, I’m feeling a bit generous today. It’s hot outside and that raging fire over there," Will jerked the gun barrel in the direction of the house. "is making me hotter. But you boys look hot, too. I suggest you take off your clothes.”

  They stared, their gaping mouths showing their confusion.

  Will waved his gun. “You heard right. Start stripping.”

  They lifted the hems of their shirts, eyeing Will warily.

  "You boys are taking too long. I’m gettin’ hotter and that means I’m gettin’ crankier. This ain’t a striptease. Hurry it up." He raised the butt of his shotgun higher.

  They hurried to remove the rest of their clothes until they were standing in their underwear.

  Will raised an eyebrow at Ponyboy. “Huh. Tweety Bird boxers. Funny, I pictured you more as a Transformers guy.” He looked at the redhead and gave him a menacing stare. “The question is: how generous am I feeling right now? Make you strip naked or leave you in your tighty-whities?”

  Ponyboy glared, but the other kid trembled.

  “You know, I think being found wearing that underwear could actually be more embarrassing than being found naked. I’ll let you keep them. Now where’s the keys to your car?”

  Ponyboy’s eyes widened in horror. Obviously, it was his. Will couldn’t help chuckling as he picked up the boys’ jeans, and dug the keys out of the pocket. With a quick toss, the jeans flew into the kid’s chest. The boy scrambled to keep from dropping them.

  The corners of Will’s mouth lifted in an evil grin. “Both of you boys go ahead and pick up your clothes.”

  They scooped up their clothing, probably hoping Will had changed his mind. Will almost felt guilty over what he was about to do.

  “Now walk over to that giant bonfire and throw them in the front door.” Flames burst from the opening.

  Ponyboy gripped his clothing tighter. “But my cell phone’s in there…”

  “You won’t be making any phone calls. Something tells me they don’t make pizza deliveries out here anyway. Now move.”

  After they threw the clothing into the fire, Will picked up their guns and slung the straps over his shoulder.

  “Either of you know anything about cars?” Will asked.

  The redhead nodded. “Yeah.”

  Ponyboy shoved his arm. “Why’d you tell—”

  Will aimed the gun three feet from the boy’s feet and pulled the trigger.

  The kid’s feet jumped off the ground and his face paled.

  “Didn’t your mother ever teach you it wasn’t polite to shove your friends?" He jerked the gun toward the red-head. “You know where the distributor cap is?”

  The redhead nodded again, his shoulders shaking from his suppressed sobs.

  Will waved the barrel tip to his car. “Good, the one in this car pops right out. Take it out and hand it over.”

  The boy lifted the hood and pried off the cap, then he held it out to Will.

  “Why, thank you,” Will said as he took the part and walked sideways to the burning house, keeping the gun trained on the kids. He tossed the distributor cap into the fire. “Let’s take a walk to the back of the house, boys.”

  He walked backward, with the teens trailing behind. The redhead openly sobbed and Ponyboy’s steps seemed to be getting shorter.

  “We’re sorry, mister. We weren’t really gonna kill you,” the red-head pleaded.

  “A little late for that now, don’t you think?” Will stopped in front of the garage and opened the door, then the driver’s door of the car.

  The teens stood in front of the garage, their breaths coming in short pants.

  “You boys stand right there until I drive off the property. If I see one of you even think about twitching your nose, I’ll shoot you. Got it?”

  The redhead nodded in short choppy bursts, but Ponyboy’s attitude erupted. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  This kid was starting to piss him off. “I, you idiotic fool, am the man with the gun pointed right at you. Rule number one of playing with the big boys: don’t piss off the man with the gun.” To prove his point, Will shot the ground near the boy’s feet.

  Ponyboy let out yelps of fear as he jumped around.

  It gave Will momentary satisfaction, knowing he’d knocked the idiot down a couple of pegs. “Next time won’t be a warning.”

  Will climbed in the car, relieved to feel the blast of semi-cool air from the air vents. He rolled down the driver’s window and pointed the gun at the boys as he rolled out of the garage.

  “Are you just going to leave us here?” Ponyboy asked in a whine.

  “Weren’t you just about to kill me?”

  He clamped his mouth tight.

  “Besides, you just sent the world’s largest smoke signal. Someone’s gonna come out to investigate. But do try to be careful and not get sunburned.” Will winked and drove off, watching them in the rearview mirror.

  Below is an Excerpt from the Number One Contemporary Fantasy Bestseller Love is Darkness by Caroline Hanson. The sequel, Love is Fear, debuted in the Kindle Top 100 on its first day.

  Prologue

  Prague, Czech Republic

  15 years ago

  He wasn’t God.

  Although there had been a handful of years between his ascendancy to the throne and the killing of the Others, where he may as well have been. The world had not only responded to his whims but feared them.

  He wasn’t Death.

  He’d created death, given death, even taken death away by making someone immortal. But death had never come for him.

  Time to rethink that one.

  He supposed it was fitting that he would die like Gaius. Lucas, a 900 year old, vampire ‘upstart’, had walked straight up to him and cut off his head without Gaius even blinking in protest. One swing of his sword, a clearing of ash and he had taken the throne.

  Gaius had sat there for weeks, staring at nothing like a mindless fool, until Lucas had decided it was enough, that faded glory and reverence only lasted for so long.

  But now death was stalking him, sinking claws into him slowly and sweetly so that he barely noticed. Did it matter? Did he care? If he went back into that catatonic state and never came out again, would it be so bad?

  He shuffled memories like a deck of cards in his mind, turning over static pictures of his life: himself laughing, despairing, fighting, even fucking. Events that should prompt vividly colored reactions, yet all he felt was gray.

  From birth he had known his death would be in battle, fighting for something with all his heart. And that’s how he knew he wasn’t death. Because death knew what he wanted and was able to keep it well out of reach.

  The sound of wild masculine laughter floated up the stairs to his room and Lucas returned to himself quickly, his heart thundering loudly as it sped up, momentarily blotting out the sound from below. His heartbeat calmed and he blinked, thick, dark lashes shuttering his pale blue eyes. There was a rustle of silk outside the door; Marion was coming.

  He'd sired her centuries ago. She knocked and he bid her to enter. Almost quivering with agitation she went down on one knee, head bowed modestly.

  “My King, Roberto has returned from the New World. I would ask that you come to see him, if it pleases you.”

  A thread of excitement weaved through her words. She was uncommonly tall, almost six feet, and painfully thin, her features sharp and harsh. Marion's hair was a vivid auburn, her eyes forest green. She looked just as she had at eighteen, the year she had died and become a vampire. But centuries of hard living, dissipation and unhappiness had hardened her, leaving their mark upon her frailness so that her vitality was a brittle mask.

  Lucas stood and went down the stairs, the vampire guards straightening as he passed with Marion at his heels like a vengeful spaniel. The New World she called it, as though she'd never hea
rd of the United States of America.

  He looked at the grandfather clock as he passed, noting that it was now the 30th and he'd been inward for... twenty one days. Was it possible? His hands tightened into fists and he felt a pang of worry that the episodes were getting longer.

  In the entryway to the great hall, Lucas and Marion came to a halt, taking in the tableau before them. The room was almost empty and dimly lit. A vaulted ceiling was high over-head, the beams dark with age. A gigantic limestone fireplace dominated one wall, necessary to generate enough warmth for the room which could easily seat two hundred people for dinner.

  Roberto was standing on a table, walking heel to toe in a careful process like he was drunk. He began singing, a soft song in Spanish.

  “What did you do?” Lucas' voice was deep and deceptively calm as he eyed the vampire up and down before pulling out a chair from the dining room table and sitting, crossing his legs casually as he studied Roberto.

  “I was in California, and I found a woman,” he started giggling then tried to stop. “She was like...flowers, like drugs or candy— ” He gave a loose shrug, like he was giving up on finding the right words.

  There was a long pause and when he spoke again his voice sounded dreamy, maybe even a little regretful. “Stupid to have drunk her in one.” He sighed, his red lips tilting downwards into a frown. “Her blood burned me it was so sweet. An explosion and now it’s like colors racing through me.”

  Lucas stayed still. He didn’t want to make any gesture that might betray his shock. “Everyone out.”

  Marion waited as though ‘everyone’ didn’t include her. After all these centuries did she finally think she was powerful enough to challenge him? Then she bowed and left. He dismissed her from his mind. She was irrelevant.