Unchosen

by Vail, Michele

  “Uh, no,” said Trina. Trina was dark as cocoa with long silky black hair that fell past her shoulders. She wore her favorite color: pink. Today, it was a shimmery white tank with pink polka dots tucked into skinny pink jeans. “If you bring that crap to movie night, I will cut you.”

  We all laughed.

  Daniel shrugged. “It’s good,” he said. “You’re missing out.”

  Autumn threw a balled-up napkin at him, which bounced off Daniel’s head and landed in Barbie’s messy fries. She sighed and flicked the napkin off her food. “Gee. Thanks.”

  “I gotta go.” I looked down at my supreme nachos, and mourned the loss of cheesy calories. “Anybody want my—”

  “Girl, you know I want those.” Trina lifted her hands in a “gimme” gesture. I handed Trina my tray, and she wasted no time digging in to my lunch.

  “See you tonight,” I said.

  Everyone said bye, and I trudged out of the cafeteria, pissed at Clarissa for the umpteenth time since I’d been at Nekyia. Not only was she ruining my social life (what little I had these days), but I just knew she’d been the one to plant the soul box in my dorm room. She had the number-one motive: get rid of her competition.

  The temple was near the school, but it was underground and could only be accessed if you knew the way to the entrance and if you knew the magic passwords to open the carved stone door.

  The secret headquarters of the Nekros Society had been built at the same time as the school, except the temple was created inside a natural cavern. The temple was covered in wall reliefs that told the stories of Anubis and his reapers.

  Getting to the temple meant going outside, entering the woods, and walking downhill on a path most people used to go down to the lake. About halfway down this path, I veered off and continued to a small hillside. Hidden by illusionary magic, I walked through what appeared to be a pile of brush and fallen trees. Then I pushed on the hidden door and uttered the magical password.

  The rock-carved staircase was lit by blue-flamed torches. As I descended, I heard conversations rumbling and shoes scuffing as restless teens awaited the great Mac Jacobs’ “announcement” in the main area of the temple.

  The flames suddenly went wild—dancing as though tormented by wind. I felt a swish of cold and in front of me, a flash of inky darkness that quickly disappeared.

  Had a reaper entered the temple?

  I was reminded about the first time I met Rath. At my Sweet Sixteen party, I’d felt that same kind of chill and saw the same kind of black flash—right before I noticed Rath leaning against the wall, with a smile that cut like broken glass.

  “Rath,” I whispered.

  Molly, you idiot. Rath wouldn’t have to sneak in to the temple. And I don’t think he’d show himself to me as a freaky shadow, even if he did.

  The flames returned to their normal flickering, and I shook off the experience. I don’t know if the shadow meant for me to see it at all. Now, I needed to worry about whether or not an unknown reaper, or maybe even Anput, or worse, something Set sent, had infiltrated the temple. I mean what—

  Aunt Lelia.

  The only moving inkblot I’d seen before this one was the sheut of my long dead Aunt Lelia. She’d left the earthly plane when I was six months old, and for reasons I had yet to discover, she had been enslaved by Set as a sheut. A sheut was the shadow of a person’s soul—stripped from its other parts and controlled by the type of heka magic that usually caused trouble.

  I didn’t know if that shadow thingie was Aunt Lelia or not. Aunt Lelia’s visits weren’t exactly the warm and fuzzy kind. She was always warning me about impending doom. I had noticed that she was getting weaker as Set got stronger, and seemed in pain—tormented—when she did manage to visit me.

  It was time I found out more about Aunt Lelia—and my mom. Nobody would talk to me about our mysterious family tree, but I did know that my grandparents had disowned Cynthia Briarstock Bartolucci. Oh, and let us not forget about the still circulating school rumors that Mom hooked up with a teacher and got preggers (with me, ugh).

  Right now, what mattered most was that I didn’t want my Aunt Lelia to suffer. So, I had to figure out a way to free her from Set’s control. You know, along with preventing Set from destroying all mankind. And I really need to pass my next Algebra exam.

  Hmm. I better prioritize my to-do list.

  I reached the end of the staircase, and I jumped the last step. Thinking about sheuts, Aunt Lelia, Mom, and Set had upped my heebie jeebie factor by ten. I took a couple of steps, and stumbled to an abrupt stop. My whole body tingled with heat, with nausea. A pit opened in my belly, and my stomach wobbled, a stern threat to puking. I put my hand against the nearest wall and drew in a shuddering breath. I felt like Jell-O in an earthquake.

  I sank to my knees.

  My vision blurred.

  My heart pounded.

  I clutched at the wall, and tried to breathe.

  Just. Breathe.

  I fell forward, on my hands and knees now, trying to get my lungs to work.

  I teetered to my side and collapsed against the rough stone floor.

  I saw the shadow emerge from the floor and take a more human shape. A female shape. It—she—turned toward me. She wasn’t tall, but she was lean and fit, and dressed in a tight black pant suit that reminded me of a Cat Woman Halloween costume. Silver daggers glittered dangerously from their tucked positions on her belt. She wore a dark leather jacket with a large cowl that covered her head. The only thing I could discern from her hidden face was the glittering maliciousness of her smile.

  Familiarity stabbed me.

  I knew her.

  She withdrew one of the knives, and glided toward me.

  “S-stop,” I pleaded. “Stop. Please.”

  Then I saw Mac Jacobs slink away from the other side of the staircase, his face mottled and his lips moving. His gaze was on me, and those green eyes were filled with hate. A deep and terrible hate.

  Mr. Jacobs was trying to kill me, too?

  He walked forward, his hands out as though he planned on choking the rest of the air from my lungs.

  The woman whirled around, and stepped in front of Mr. Jacobs.

  “Don’t be a fool,” she snarled. “She’s mine. She’s always been mine.”

  “You made your choice,” he said. “Return to your master, slave.”

  The woman froze. She snarled, her hands going up, as though she planned on hitting him—or casting a spell. Then her fingers curled inward. Her body twisted, dissolving into an oily puddle that splashed onto the floor … and disappeared.

  Air flowed into my lungs, and I could breathe again. As I sucked in as much oxygen as I could, the wobbling nausea in my stomach gurgled, and my head ached with lightning strikes of pain. Amid all this physical awfulness came the snaking cold of fear. It slid through my limbs, coiled in my belly, wrapped around my heart.

  As his gaze landed on me, Mr. Jacobs’ self-satisfied smirk dissolved. Then he hurried forward.

  I tried to scream, to cry, but no words, no sounds left my mouth.

  The man loomed over me, and his hand gripped my shoulder.

  Terror snapped at me like the crocodile snout of Sobek, the eater of evil souls.

  Ugh. Why was the room spinning?

  I tried to think … tried to move … tried to… .

  Molly’s Reaper Diary

  Sometimes, You Are on Your Own

  YOU CAN’T ALWAYS assume that the people in your life—those alive or dead—can help you. It’s important that you become proficient enough in your training to use it to get yourself out of messes. Unfortunately, we don’t always have the wisdom to overcome certain situations. At least, I don’t. That’s the bummer of being young. Someone once told me that only experience can give you wisdom. BTW, when saving the world is the burden on your shoulders, it’s difficult to find comfort in platitudes.

  However, sometimes you have a friend out there that you don’t even know about. Keep on th
e lookout for people who want to help you. You may have thought them enemies. Or you may not really know who they are at all—not until they reveal themselves.

  The same can be true of friends. I mean, people you think are on your side can turn out to be real douchebags.

  It goes back to that wisdom thing and those oh-so-wonderful learning experiences that create maturity and understanding.

  Don’t give your trust to just anyone. Let them earn it.

  “Necromancy powers are usually limited to the parameters of the particular heka. However, necros often find ways to circumvent these boundaries, and to use their magic for purposes other than what Anubis intended.”

  ~Secret History of Reapers, Author Unknown

  “Continuing scientific studies seem to confirm that music soothes the savage zombie, or any zombie for that matter. Research has shown that the most effective use of music on the zombie brain is playing death metal at ear-busting levels. I highly recommend ‘Scattered Remains, Splattered Brains’ by Cannibal Corpse.”

  ~Wendy Bocock, Ph.D in Zombie Music Theories

  Chapter 4

  SET’S CAGE EXPLODED.

  Violet fire swept through the cave, and the triumphant cries of Set mixed with those of agonizing screams.

  “Get down!” yelled Rath. He shoved me to the ground and covered me.

  All the breath left my body at once, and I squeezed my eyes shut. The weight of Rath on top of me was both comforting and terrifying. The ground beneath us shook. Rocks crumbled from the walls, pelting us with shards.

  The stench of sulfur and death rolled over us, so thick and cloying, I choked.

  “Hang on, brown eyes,” said Rath.

  It seemed like forever, but finally the awful shrieks and the terrible rumblings stopped. It took another long moment for Rath to roll off me. He crouched in our hiding spot as I got to my hands and feet and crawled next to him. We both clung to the large rock in front of us, and I gasped. The cage that had imprisoned Set was dust.

  So were the cowled minions who had freed their evil god.

  “Where did he go?” I asked. I knew the answer, but I wanted it not to be true.

  Rath put his arm around my shoulder. “We were too late. He’s going to the mortal world. The war is beginning.”

  THE LOW MURMUR of voices infiltrated my consciousness seconds before I found the ability to open my eyes.

  The first face I saw was that of Mac Jacobs.

  “Get away from me!” I tried to scramble back, but the surface beneath me was slick and cold. I couldn’t get any traction.

  “Molly, you’re all right,” said a familiar voice. Miss Chiles edged Mac Jacobs back, and then she put her hand on my arm. “Relax. You’re in the temple, on the dais.”

  I felt like a human sacrifice lying on the big marble slab, especially when the other Chosen filled up the spaces around it, staring at me and holding whispered conversations.

  I pointed at Mr. Jacobs. “He tried to hurt me. I saw him!”

  “I did no such thing.” Mr. Jacobs actually had the gall to look shocked at my accusation. “I found you crumpled at the bottom of the stairs. You fell. ”

  Yeah, right. I wasn’t sure about how to respond. After all, he was an adult and I was a kid. Adults always thought they knew better—even when they didn’t. Whoa. I felt shaky and strange. On the upside, I didn’t feel like I was gonna yark anymore.

  “Here.” A glass of water appeared above my head. Unfortunately, it was held by the hand of Clarissa Jacobs. Anger soared through me. Were the Jacobs’ so intent on getting rid of me that they would try to poison me with magic, and now with water? “Forget it!” I knocked the water away and the liquid spilled on me, the dais, and Clarissa. She yelped, and leapt backward. Her expression turned furious.

  “You moron! I’m trying to help you.”

  “You’re trying to help yourself.” I felt tears welling in my eyes. Here I was, splayed out for all to see. I knew I looked weak, and I hated that. I gave a beseeching look to Miss Chiles. “I really want to get out of here. I need … I need…” I gulped. “Please.”

  “It’s okay. See if you can sit up.” Miss Chiles put her arm around me and helped me sit up. For a queasy moment, the room spun. I clutched my stomach, and swallowed the bile that rose in my throat. What spell had Mr. Jacobs used? Or was it that woman? Had they worked together … or had he driven her off? Ha. If he had, it was only because he wanted to do me in himself!

  I’d never heard of reaper magic making someone violently ill. I was still learning about my own necro powers, so there were probably all kinds of magic out there that could hurt people. I shuddered.

  “Molly?”

  I waved off Miss Chiles’ concern.

  “I’m fine.” Sorta. Ugh.

  “Well, we can’t stop the proceedings for one ill student.” Mr. Jacobs looked down his nose at the headmistress. “Everyone else is here. We should move forward as planned.”

  Miss Chiles glared at Mr. Jacobs. “Molly is a contender. She has the right and privilege to enter the competition. We will wait to proceed until she feels better.”

  “She can’t compete if she’s sick,” said Clarissa. Oddly, I didn’t hear a sneer in her voice. I knew she wasn’t concerned about me. But I do think she was worried about something. The fire had gone out of her eyes. How could her anger turn cold so fast? She glanced at her father, and then she looked away, chewing on her lip. Clarissa acting vulnerable? What?

  A headache pulsed behind my eyes. Still, I had grabbed on to the gist of the conversation. “Compete? Compete for what?”

  “To become the champion of Anubis … the Kebechet,” said Miss Chiles gently. However, the look in her eyes was more like: Suck it up, princess. Things are going to get rough. “The elders of our society have voted that the champion will be chosen by competition.”

  Wait. The Nekros Society had elders? Note to self: Read The Secret History of the Reapers. STAT.

  “Competition?” echoed a girl’s voice in the crowd. I couldn’t place which student had spoken, not even when she added, “There hasn’t been a Kebechet challenge since the fourteenth century.”

  “These events are only held when more than one Chosen have the ability to become Kebechet,” said Miss Chiles. She looked at me. “There is only one Kebechet per generation. Usually, it’s very clear who bears the title. In rare cases, it is not … and so, the competition was created.”

  Why did I think Mac Jacobs had something to do with this? He’d probably initiated this whole stupid contest thing. It wasn’t like I’d been announced or formally picked as Kebechet No one knew that I was the blood daughter of Anubis, and it’s not like my god-dad had bothered to talk to me lately, either.

  “After the prophecy of Set’s return was discovered, our ancestors created a series of challenges designed to reveal the true Kebechet,” said Mr. Jacobs in a superior tone.

  Oh, yeah. He definitely had something to do with initiating the competition. Not only did his voice give away his smugness, but the look Miss Chiles aimed at him should’ve melted him into a fiery pile of poop.

  “The one who won the competition had obviously been granted favor by Anubis,” continued Mr. Jacobs. He glanced at his daughter, pride evident in his expression, but Clarissa wouldn’t meet his gaze.

  What was going on between the two of them?

  “We’ll make the formal announcement at a later time,” said Miss Chiles to the kids who’d crowded closer. “Molly, you need some rest.”

  My thoughts spun. Even though Mr. Jacobs couldn’t know I was the daughter of Anubis, he still perceived me as a threat. Or maybe that‘s how he perceived everyone.

  I was the champion. Too bad the rest of the society didn’t know it. If my god-dad would just appear to everyone and say, “Hey, she’s the one,” we could avoid anything grueling, painful, and dangerous. Still, a tiny part of me wondered: What if I didn’t win? Would I be off the hook?

  Somehow, I didn’t think so.
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br />   The throbbing in my head worsened. I felt seven kinds of awful. Still, I wasn’t letting them have a meeting about the Kebechet without me. If Mr. Jacobs had anything to do with it, he’d start the competition the minute I left.

  “I’ll stay,” I said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” The headmistress helped me off the dais. She looked over her shoulder at Mr. Jacobs. “Send everyone back to the school. We’ll make a formal announcement about the competition tomorrow afternoon.”

  Mr. Jacobs looked less than thrilled with Miss Chiles’ commands. His lips thinned, and he scowled, but the headmistress stared at him until he nodded.

  “Yes, fine. I’ll see to it.”

  Miss Chiles helped me scoot off the dais, and then kept her arms around my shoulders as we crossed the room. The more we walked, the steadier I felt. When we got to the staircase, she looked at me. “Can you make it up the stairs, Molly?”

  “Yeah.” I put my hand on the wall and my foot on the first step. Then I paused. “I did see Mr. Jacobs. He was there. Right before I passed out.” I hesitated. “There was someone else. A lady. She wasn’t nice. And … well, I think she was helping him.”

  Miss Chiles studied my face. “Did you recognize the woman?”

  I shook my head. “I couldn’t see her face. She was wearing a hood.”

  “A student?”

  “No. She seemed older.”

  “How would you know if you didn’t see her face?” Miss Chiles patted my shoulder. “You passed out, Molly. It might be that what you saw was … mixed up.”

  “I’m not mixed up about Mr. Jacobs. He doesn’t like me.”

  “Not liking you is not the same thing as hurting you. In fact, he helped you.”

  Helped me almost die, I wanted to blurt. Instead, I swallowed the bilious comment. Obviously, Miss Chiles was taking the diplomatic route. Fine. She’d as much as admitted that Mac Jacobs didn’t like me—and he hadn’t since the day I arrived at Nekyia and challenged his precious daughter’s right as the champion of Anubis. Miss Chiles knew it, too. Why was she protecting him?