by Jeff Altabef
“What rubbish! I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m with you. There’s no way I fancy letting you save the world while I sit on my arse. Besides, I burn like toast in the sun.” He grins. “I’m in.”
“Well, now that I’m badass, I figure this Prime Elector guy should be a breeze. Get it, a breeze.” Blake makes a short burst of wind and laughs that genuine real laugh that took so long to come out of him. “I’m in.”
Akari playfully elbows him in the side and he squeals. “Yeah, you are a killer all right. We’re a team.”
Troy shrugs. “I’m in if you guys will have me. I know I’m not a Chosen or special.”
Connor shoves him in the back. “Of course you’re in. I don’t know why Juliet was so hard on you. We tried to tell her that you’d come in handy in a pinch. She can be a bit stubborn.”
“Right.” I chuckle. “I’m not the only one who’s stubborn around here.”
A squeak emanates from the corner and Blake jumps. “What’s that?”
“Just a mouse, Mr. Badass,” Akari teases.
“What about Sydney?” I ask.
“Sydney owns the Inn,” says Blake. “Stuart deeded it over to her before we went to the Boathouse.”
“He was full of surprises,” I say. “He was braver than he seemed. He must have known that if we failed, Gagarin would have killed him.”
“I guess I had him pegged wrong,” says Troy. “I think he loved Sydney. He knew what it was like to live as a slave. Maybe he didn’t want Sydney to live that way under the Deltites.”
“Maybe. That might explain those romance novels he always carried with him. Where’s the bathroom in this place?”
Connor points to a small door in the corner.
I go in and wash two days worth of grime from my face, then stare in the mirror. I’m the Alpha. I’m different from the others, but that’s not so bad.
A vibration in my front pocket startles me. It takes a few moments for me to realize what it is.
The vial from my room, the one with the Fusion I’m supposed to take when I’m ready, has come alive. It has turned crimson and the top has vanished.
I guess I’m ready to learn the next crucial bit of information, the secret the Alphians wanted only me to know. I tip back the glass.
My mouth freezes and a million tiny pinpricks stab at my insides. Then, as the coldness melts away, a whoosh of thoughts and ideas whip through me.
Oh no! What have they done?
---THE END---
But... please continue on for a Special Sneak Preview of
SCORCHED SOULS (Chosen – Book 3)
What’s Next?
The third and final book in this young adult fantasy thriller series is now available. Please enjoy the Special Sneak Preview of the first 3 chapters below.
SPECIAL SNEAK PREVIEW: SCORCHED SOULS
Barrett
Summoned like a pet. What did I do now?
I trudge to the sanctuary, my legs heavy. I’d rather be anywhere else. A trip to my father’s private refuge can only mean one thing—bad news.
The last time was the worst. My father sat in his chair, his face as expressive as a stone mask when he informed me that my mother had died in an accident while traveling. He acted as if he were simply relaying the latest news, nothing more important than the weather. Before the information could sink in, he dismissed me with a wave of his hand and turned back to whatever super-secret, critically vital, all-consuming task he needed to attend to at that moment.
Of course she was traveling. She had to get away from him!
I stop at the edge of a steep canyon that circles the sanctuary—like a moat. Created from pure Alphian crystal, the round building glows in the silky darkness. I used to think that the sanctuary floated in the air, but in the daylight you can see how it stands on a thin natural rock formation that rises from the planet’s core like a pedestal.
I sit at the edge with my feet hanging over the side and sigh. He knows I’m here, but he wants me to wait. He always wants me to wait.
To pass the time, I construct long lists of how I’ve disappointed him; everything from failing to be first in my pre-school class to my reluctance to pass all my tests on his timeframe. By the time I’m reasonably certain I’ve included everything, I remember to straighten my back and lift my head high. At least I can feign confidence. After all, I’m no longer a boy.
A reddish energy bridge appears before me that spans the gulf to the sanctuary. Only my father can conjure energy strong enough to use as a bridge.
For a second I consider turning away, but that would be cowardly. Better to face the problem head-on.
My father waits for me in the center of the chamber. He stands rigid, almost seven feet tall, with ivory skin, and cobalt eyes that glow with violet flecks. A shimmering white robe with a black hood and black sleeves falls loosely over his thin frame and down to his bare feet. A simple pendent with a crimson crystal hangs around his neck. His face, as usual, is unreadable.
My father always wears a robe made from black and white fabric, the colors of a logician. Black and white symbolizes truth and falsehoods—the only two possibilities that logicians accept. Those ruled by emotion wear robes of solid black, and the few spiritualists among us wear different shades of gray, the gray representing the ambiguities in the universe and the spiritual realm.
Not yet of age, I wear the scarlet robe of the uncommitted.
I used to think my father was a god—an arrogant, all-knowing, pompous, and unfeeling god, but certainly some type of divinity. He looks that perfect. Now I know better.
The walls turn a dark gray, and a crystal glows orange and flickers like a torch in the center of the room. I head towards it, let my father sit first, and then drop in the second chair next to the fire crystal.
My father only communicates telepathically, so I have no idea what his voice sounds like, but in my mind, his thoughts sound deep and dark, and they rumble.
“When are you going to take the test?” he projects. “You are just three months short of your eighteenth birthday.”
I had hoped he had some other reason to summon me, but that was wishful thinking. The only topic he ever wants to talk about is my reluctance to take the final test. It’s as if our conversations are an endless loop, replaying the same worn-out words over and over again.
Alphians divide our society into four official levels depending upon ability. To pass from one level to the next, one must satisfy a test, each becoming progressively harder. Only a few Alphians take the test to advance to Level One, the top category.
I’ve passed the other tests, but they make the final one extraordinarily difficult, to push the limits of the candidate’s mental abilities. Failing means certain death—unable to handle the strain, the brain simply explodes. Naturally, I’ve been reluctant to take this last test until I’m sure I’ll pass.
He can’t seem to understand that.
Unofficially, there’s a fifth level called the Elites. No test identifies someone as an Elite, but Alphians can recognize them by the strength of their minds. Only a handful of extraordinarily powerful Alphians reach that stature, my father being one.
“There’s no time limit,” I project back to him. “I’m the second youngest Level Two on the planet. Most people who take the final test are well into their twenties.”
Of course he knows all this, and it won’t change his mind.
My father’s eyes stay neutral, but he rubs the bald dome of his head—the one sure sign he’s angry. “You are not most people. I took the final test before my fifteenth birthday. If you delay much longer people will doubt your unique nature, and it will look bad for the family. The genetic match between your mother and I was perfect.”
I look away; my mother’s death is still an open sore.
“You must take the test before Cassandra,” he presses. “She’s two months younger than you, and it would be embarrassing for her to complete her tests first.”
Oh yes,
there it is. Cassandra. The daughter of his archrival.
I can almost see the weasel calculating votes and wondering whether he’ll lose the Leader position if she becomes a Level One before me. He’d rather I die than delay taking the test.
I try hard to keep the sarcastic tone from my thoughts but fail miserably. “I understand, father. I don’t wish to embarrass you.” At least no more than I normally do, I manage not to project.
What will he say if I fail the test?
He’d probably blame Mom’s genes. That way the fault wouldn’t lie with him, and he’d limit the loss of face.
“Good, but talk of your test is not why you are here. We have other matters to discuss. A situation has developed on Earth in our conflict with the Deltites.”
My senses sharpen, and I narrow my eyes. “A situation?”
He glances upward and a three dimensional globe of Earth shimmers into existence, floating above us. “As you know, Earth is a high value target for the Deltites. They want to take over the planet to use humans against us. With humans on their side, they would become dangerous. Many Alphian lives would be shed before we defeat them, if we defeat them.”
“Yes, I studied the Counsel’s debate in my classes.” I glance at him. “We established the secret orders for the four Chosen. By mixing our DNA with human DNA, the Chosen should retain some of our abilities and have a chance to defeat the Deltites and save their planet.”
“Yes, that’s the official record.”
When he hesitates, I realize that I’ve only learned part of the truth.
He leans forward. “I led the team that established the societies. The real purpose behind the Chosen is more complicated than the official version. Of course, what I tell you now is a secret and must remain confidential between us.”
He locks eyes with me and I nod—my telepathic ability temporarily stolen from me. He’s never shared a secret with me before, and I’m sure I won’t like this one now.
“The Chosen will be facing an Elite Deltite, one who is substantially stronger than an ordinary Level One. In short, someone who might even rival my abilities. So what chance do they have?”
“Very slim.” I shrug one shoulder. “But Earth is their world. They deserve the opportunity to defend it.”
“Don’t be stupid. They have no chance! Knowing the logical conclusion of their contest, I devised the real plan.” The slightest trace of a wry smile twists his lips. He’s proud of his scheme. “Once the Deltites take Earth, what will they do first?”
It takes me only a heartbeat, the answer obvious. “They will convene their own counsel of leaders on the planet. Earth will become their headquarters.”
The violet specks in my father’s eyes burn brighter. We’re facing each other as we sit on the chairs, but suddenly it feels as if the distance between us has melted away. “Exactly, and if the planet were to explode while that counsel was in session, their entire leadership would be killed. Without Elites to lead them, they would be vulnerable to attack. We would be able to wipe them out easily.”
I lean back in my chair; he’s dumped a bucket of ice water on my head, and the chill settles into my bones. “So the Chosen were set up to fail. You’ve planted a bomb on the planet to explode when the Deltites take over.”
He nods, a smug self-congratulatory grin on his face. “A Heart Stone to be precise. It was the only logical action to take.”
Bile burns my throat. “But billions of humans live on the planet.... They will all die. They have souls.”
His thoughts rumble in my head. “You spend too much time with the priests! They are fools! Only Alphians have souls. Humans are a necessary sacrifice. It’s the only sure way to stop the Deltites. We must use the lesser species to preserve our way of life.”
I close my eyes and shut him out of my mind for a moment. Humans are close to Alphians in DNA. They have freewill, a moral system, and religions of their own. They pass all the priests’ tests for beings with souls. No wonder this plan of his is a secret. The priests would object and half the planet would follow them. Alphian society would rip down the center.
Still, my father’s logic is undeniable.
When I open my eyes, I project, “Why tell me?”
“I sent an Alphian named Kent to Earth with his Ugly. He was supposed to ensure the Chosen put up a token fight before they failed. This way the Deltites wouldn’t suspect the trap.”
“And?”
“It turns out that Kent began to sympathize with the humans.” He shrugs. “He was weak of mind. I’m worried he might have left a message for the Chosen that divulges our plans before he died. He pleaded with me to tell him where the bomb was located, so he could disarm it.”
“He died?”
“Oh yes, very unexpectedly.”
I try hard not to look, but the pull is too great, and I glance to the shelf on the wall behind him. It holds at least one hundred small round discs, mine included. Each disc contains the brainwaves of a different Alphian. When my father focuses on a disc, he links with the Alphian instantly no matter where in the universe they might be.
That’s amazing, but it’s not why I glance at the shelf. It’s possible to kill someone using those discs. A gifted Alphian could flood a weaker mind with enough power to explode the lesser brain. It’s an unforgiveable crime and could only be carried out by someone with tremendous power. Such power my father possesses.
“Another complication has developed.” Two different human faces materialize above us and hover in front of the image of Earth. “The woman’s name is Summer Stone. She’s what humans call Native American, and is the mother to the Alpha among the Chosen. The man is not from her tribe. He’s what they call Irish.”
“So?” Why does he care?
“The calculations behind the Chosen were extremely advanced and fragile.” A third face joins that of the others. “The Alpha’s name is Juliet Wildfire Stone. She was supposed to be born from a union between two members of the same Native American tribe. That genetic combination was the only way humans could produce a Chosen strong enough to be an Alpha and draw power from the other three. The secret order had specific rules regarding this, yet they failed to heed them. Fools! I can’t predict what the outcome will be of this particular pairing.”
I study the faces and notice that Juliet has inherited much of her physical appearance from her mother: the long straight black hair, the caramel colored eyes, brown skin and high cheekbones—all but her sharp nose, which resembles her father’s.
Her eyes seem to sparkle, but I shake my head. These are only holographic images. I can’t read too much into them or let my imagination cloud my reason. “I don’t understand the problem. Either she is powerful enough to be the Alpha, or she isn’t. Since you want them to fail, why do you care?”
My father bores his gaze into me, and an icy blade carves into my chest and twists. “There is a third possibility.”
My body turns weak. I’m lucky I’m already sitting. It’s unthinkable, but it’s the only thing that might frighten my father. “You’re afraid she’s an... abomination.”
“I can’t rule it out. Even if she is, she won’t be strong enough defeat an Elite, but we can’t take any chances. I want you to go to Earth. Make sure the Chosen fail and never find out about our plans. They can’t tell the Deltites about the Heart Stone I’ve planted on the planet. If they retrieve that crystal, all would be lost, and they could use its power against us.”
“Me.” I point to my chest. “Why me? Why not send someone else, someone who has already proven—”
“I trust no one else with this! You will succeed and return to Alpha, and when you return you will take the final test. This way we have an excuse for your... reluctance to finish the final exam.”
I stare into my father’s eyes and try to find love among the pulsing violet light. I detect nothing.
Two small discs fly into his hand, and he hands one to me. “This one is programmed with my brainwaves. You will use it
when you have succeeded. I will keep the second here, so I can contact you... if need be.”
I sense the implied threat in his words and bow my head. “Yes, father. As you command.”
If pure evil exists in this universe, it’s sitting next to me, and I am this monster’s son. What does that make me?
I glance at the hologram of Earth above me. It’s a beautiful planet.
He’s sentenced billions of humans to die, but can I carry out the punishment?
Juliet
My grandfather loved to tell me different sayings—he had one for practically every occasion—but once I turned thirteen I started to tune them out. It wasn’t a conscious choice, yet it still happened, and I can’t pretend that it didn’t.
He must have noticed the vacant look that had settled in my eyes, so he recited these sayings over and over and over until he drilled them into my head.
Now, they’re fused into my consciousness as if by osmosis, and they pop to the surface of my thoughts at odd times.
I wish I had paid more attention to him when he was alive, told him I loved him more often, wrangled answers out of him, forced him to tell me what each one of his sayings meant. It’s too late for that now, but maybe in a weird way it’s better this way. Now I have to figure out what his sayings mean on my own, which was probably what he wanted me to do all along.
He often told me that you truly hear in the silence and see in the darkness. He’d say it at the strangest times, like before the first day at my new prep school, or before an important lacrosse match, or before we went rock climbing. Sounds totally off your rocker type of nuts. How can you hear if there’s nothing but silence? And the last time I checked, darkness is darkness—there’s nothing to see by definition.
While lying on a futon, breathing in the Underground’s musty air, my grandfather’s voice and this one weird saying rings in my head: You truly hear in the silence and see in the darkness.
