Cursed Presence (Trilogy of the Chosen Book 2)

by J. M. LeDuc

  “Start with the first thing on your mind,” she coaxed.

  “All right. You and your husband have been very kind to me. I haven’t seen you look at me funny or whisper behind my back. Do you know who I am?”

  “We know that you’re someone important to the Ambassador. That’s all we need to know.”

  Charlotte shook her head. “I mean, do you know my identity, my name?”

  “No, sweetie, we don’t. But it wouldn’t matter if we did.”

  “You might want to know that by having me here, you’re risking your lives.”

  “We knew when the Ambassador asked for our help that there was great risk involved.”

  “Then why did you do it?”

  “Because it’s an honor to help the Ambassador and it’s a privilege to be called upon.”

  “I don’t mean to pry, but if you’re involved in some sort of a cult, I know people who can help.”

  Sonia smiled and giggled softly. “I kinda understand how you might interpret what I’ve said to be cultish, but I assure you, it’s not a cult. I promise you, our only concern is your safety and helping the Amba—”

  “Yeah, I know…the Ambassador,” Charlotte said, with an air of frustration.

  “Who is this ambassador you keep talking about? Why are you helping him?”

  Sonia put her cup down, took a deep breath, looked away from the fire and stared directly into Charlotte’s eyes. “I’ll tell you what I can. The condensed version is this. For generations, all the way back to the days of the Old Testament, a pact was made between God and man.”

  “You mean like a covenant?”

  “Yeah, like a covenant. Well, this pact—or covenant—is transferred from generation to generation by one person. The person is known as the Ambassador.”

  “What is this pact and why is it so special?” Charlotte asked. “And who is this ambassador you keep speaking of?”

  “To be honest, all we know is that this pact is so special that if it’s ever broken, it would mean the end of the world as we know it. Total Armageddon. As far as the identity of the Ambassador, to be truthful, we don’t know who he is.”

  “Huh?”

  “What we know is, each Ambassador searches the world to find his successor; a man or woman from the next generation who is totally above reproach. This person is of such high moral and ethical fortitude that he would never break the pact that was made with God.”

  Charlotte cocked her head to the side, confused by Sonia’s statement. “If doing so would cause the end of the world, why would anyone risk breaking this pact?”

  “Good question. What is known of the secret, or covenant, is this: if it is opened or used by someone, they would become almost immortal.”

  “In what way?”

  “They would age very slowly, never get sick and would live for hundreds of years.”

  “Like the ‘Fountain of Youth’?”

  “Some, throughout history, have called it by that name. But, breaking the covenant would cause the release of such evil throughout the world that it would bring about the demise of mankind. The entire earth would be destroyed.”

  “Like an atomic bomb or something?”

  “No one knows. It could be immediate, or it could be slow, with intense suffering.

  I can only pray we never find out.”

  “And you believe this?” Charlotte said.

  “Yes, we do, and we are not alone. There are thousands of others like my husband and I who have sworn our lives to help the Ambassador in any way we can to keep this secret safe.”

  “Why? What proof do you have that any of this is true?”

  “What I have is faith. I choose to believe it’s true.”

  “Who told you about the secret and about the Ambassador?”

  “My family and Zach’s have been Knights—friends of the Endowment or Ambassador for hundreds of years. It is part of what makes me who I am, just like my faith in God.”

  Charlotte turned her eyes away from Sonia. “This is where I get off the train. I don’t believe in an imaginary God and since I don’t believe in him, I certainly don’t believe in any mythical being called the Ambassador.” She stood up to say goodnight. “Then it’s a good thing you won’t have to rely on faith, my dear.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that when you leave here, you’ll be taken to him. Something tells me that, before this whole situation is finished, you’ll not only believe in the Ambassador, but more importantly, you’ll believe in God.” Sonia got to her feet and gently hugged Charlotte. “It’s been a long day and tomorrow will be even longer. How about we call it a night?”

  “Just a couple more things,” Charlotte said as Sonia walked toward the door. “How do I know I wasn’t followed here and how do I know we won’t be seen leaving here tomorrow?”

  “The Ambassador employed so many decoys, it would have been virtually impossible for anyone to follow you. But, for argument’s sake, let’s say you were. This home has been in my family since this country was first settled. It’s impenetrable, I promise you.” A smile spread across Sonia’s face. “You don’t have to worry about being seen leaving—because you won’t be leaving.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Faith, my dear, have a little faith. And if that’s not possible, then you’ll have to trust me. Goodnight, Charlotte.”

  Although Sonia’s remarks hadn’t set well with Charlotte, she had to admit this was the safest she’d felt since her abduction seven years ago. She decided not to question her host further. Not tonight.

  Before she turned off the lights, Charlotte saw a crucifix on the wall. For a moment, she wondered if she was wrong. Closing her eyes, she envisioned the devastating ordeal she’d experienced and then thought otherwise.

  CHAPTER 12

  One by one, everyone arrived at Fisherman’s Point Inn just before 1900 hours. Chloe directed them to their rooms, telling them dinner would be served at 8:30 p.m. Per Brent’s orders, she instructed squad members to join him in the great room half an hour before dinner for a briefing.

  Maddie walked in and looked about the place and smiled. “You’ve done a great job redecorating this place, Chloe.”

  “I’m glad you like it. After the government deeded Ferric’s estate over to the alliance, I had to change it. Too many ghosts, if you know what I mean.”

  Maddie nodded her understanding. This was the same place where she and Chloe were held captive by Ferric. The same place where Brent and the reunited Phantom Squad staged their dramatic rescue.

  “Hey, do me a favor,” Maddie said. “Assign Joan as my roommate.”

  “Will do,” Chloe said.

  Brent looked over his notes as the team entered the study. He surveyed the room, and realized how lucky he was to be surrounded by people he loved. Seven and Maddie sat on a love seat, whispering and holding hands. It’s nice to see some normalcy, even in times like this, he thought. It must be true that opposites attract. Who would have ever thought. Seven, a man of few words, who is more comfortable in some hell hole than he is in his own bed, and Maddie would click like they did. She is as feminine as a woman can be. Brent laughed to himself. She probably has him showering every day. Brent shook his head. If she can domesticate Seven, anything is possible.

  He turned to look at the other members of the Phantom Squad: Jefferson and Fitzpatrick. As usual, they were right next to each other. They were seated in antique, high-backed chairs. The sheer size of both men made the over-sized chairs seem small.

  Brent thought the imposing men looked like twin sons from different mothers.

  Malcolm Jefferson was six feet five inches and weighed nearly two hundred eighty pounds. It was evident, even in a sweat suit, that he was all muscle. His skin was as pitch as night. His stature was intimidating. It bothered
Brent that people—with the exception of squad members and SIA employees—shunned Malcolm because of his size and appearance. It didn’t bother Jefferson, though. He figured he could use other people’s fear to his advantage when necessary.

  Brent turned his attention to Thomas Fitzpatrick, squad member, Jefferson’s best friend and polar opposite in all but a few matters. At five-foot ten, Tommy was pure Irish. He had hair so red it was orange, and he was covered with freckles. Their differences didn’t stop at outward appearances. Jefferson was vociferous and outgoing, while Fitz was quiet, introverted. Those qualities didn’t prevent him from being the first to let Malcolm know when he was too rowdy or when it was time to dial back the attitude. Like his best friend, Fitz was all business in matters dealing with the SIA and the Phantom Squad and he would snap to attention when Seven spoke.

  Although Seven was only five foot eight, they both looked up to him, much like a son would to a father.

  Just before the clock struck eight, Brent’s attention was diverted to the figure walking into the room. Chloe. His Chloe.

  She’d spent the past couple of hours in the kitchen, cooking with Lucille. She untied her apron, removed her scrunchy and shook out her hair. Decked in faded jeans and a white tee-shirt, she caught Brent staring at her. Her cheeks flushed. Was something amiss? Was she wearing pasta sauce on her face?

  She went over to Brent to find out. “What is it?” she whispered, sitting down. “Do I have food on my face?” She dabbed her fingers with her tongue, prepared to wipe away anything he pointed out.

  “No,” he smiled. “It’s just…”

  “Just what?” she elbowed him in the ribs.

  “I’m still amazed how beautiful you are and how lucky I am that God brought you into my life—twice.”

  Making a small fist, she playfully punched him in the thigh. She was about to say something when Maddie interrupted.

  “Where’s Joan? It’s not like her to be late.”

  No sooner had the words left her mouth, they heard the tunnel’s steel doors slide open. Lucille ambled to the entrance before anyone could get up.

  “Oh dear,” she said, “let me help you with that.”

  Joan stood in the opening, arms loaded with stacks of paper. Brent raced over to take some of the load while Lucille wheeled in her suitcase.

  “What is all this, Joan?” he said.

  “Dr. Osgood’s notes. They arrived just before I left. I made copies for everyone.”

  She walked into the great room and glanced at the grandfather clock. “Sorry I’m late.”

  She grabbed the empty chair next to Maddie.

  Joan looked at Maddie, gave a slight smile and waited for a reprimand. The boss ran a tight ship and didn’t allow excuses.

  “Next time this happens, I expect…”

  Here it comes, Joan thought.

  “…you to call me. I’m only too happy to help. Then I won’t have to worry about where you are.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Joan answered, emphasizing the word ‘mom.’

  Her comment made Brent chuckle, but he quickly suppressed it when Maddie glared at him.

  Brent cleared his throat. He was quick to start the meeting and shift the attention away from Maddie and Joan.

  “I want to thank everyone for getting here on such short notice. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for the intrusion into your personal lives. I appreciate you agreeing to stay here at the Inn until the mission is complete. Fitz and Malcolm, everything you hear from this point on is top secret, but since we’re sequestered until the case is resolved, I see no reason why you can’t tell your wives everything. After tonight, they’re welcome to join us at future meetings. Use your discretion”

  “Thank you, Colonel.”

  “Ditto,” Fitzpatrick replied.

  Brent handed copies of notes around to everyone. “The materials Joan brought change the dynamics of this meeting.” He flipped through a stack of notes. “We have 430 pages to plow through in order to get a handle on what makes the butcher tick. More importantly, we need to find his Achilles heel and stay a step ahead of him.

  “May I suggest,” Brent continued, “with Maddie’s approval that we split this up and meet again tomorrow? We can go over our findings then.”

  Maddie nodded approvingly.

  “Great. Fitz, you take Pages 1 through 75. Jefferson, you have 76 through 150. Maddie, 151 through 230 and Seven, you take 231 through 330. I’ll take the rest. There’s just one more thing. Chloe, I want you to concentrate on translating the Butcher’s rant. Have you made any headway?”

  “Not yet, but I am still digging.”

  “Dig faster. I have a gut feeling it may be the key to this puzzle.” He looked around the room. “Any questions before we break for dinner?”

  “What’s the story on Dupree’s daughter?” Jefferson asked.

  “She was transferred to a safe house this afternoon. She’ll stay there until tomorrow evening. Then she’ll be transported to Palm Cove.”

  “How safe?” he asked. “I mean, this guy is not your ordinary maniac. He even knew you got married.”

  “Very safe,” Brent answered. “We’re not using SIA or squad contacts. She’s with someone from the outer circle. I broke my own rule and called upon the Knights of The Endowment for help. If the Butcher breaks that security, God help us all.”

  Seven had never known Brent to use the power he had been granted as the Ambassador. “Are you sure that giving her access to the Knights and bringing her here is the right thing to do?” he said. “I mean, I understand the concern over her safety. But you know better than anyone, what that means.”

  Brent nodded. “I do. Once she’s brought into the inner sanctum, she can never leave. We’ll worry about that later. For now, the only thing that matters is her safety.”

  Everyone appeared stunned by Brent’s decision to trust Charlotte Dupree with age-old secrets, yet no one said a word.

  “Anything else? No, good. What do you say we eat dinner?”

  Lucille poked her head into the room. “I’m glad you’re finished, because the rest of us are starving. Natalie and Kate are waiting for you in the dining room, so wash your hands and come eat.”

  The meal lasted well past the dinner hour. Conversation and laughter filled the dining room. Later, everyone gathered for coffee and dessert in the great room.

  When the clock struck eleven, it served as a gentle reminder that they’d talked the evening away. Individually, they anticipated a big day ahead and started to leave for their respective rooms. Lucille announced that breakfast would be served promptly at nine the next morning.

  Minutes later, everyone had bid good night and retired for some well-deserved sleep.

  CHAPTER 13

  Maddie was sitting in bed reading when Joan emerged from the bathroom.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Tired, but okay, I guess.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s been a weird day, hasn’t it?”

  “Weird, all right.” Joan said. “Listen, I know Brent well enough to know that he put you up to talking to me. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”

  Maddie motioned for Joan to sit beside her. “I’m not talking to you because Brent put me up to it. I’m talking to you because I need to tell you something. Something I haven’t talked about in a long time.”

  Joan settled herself on the bed and said, “We’re not gonna have some kind of college roommate lesbian encounter, are we?”

  “Hush up, wise ass, and just sit.”

  “Seriously, Maddie, I know you mean well, but I’ve heard it all before, between the therapists and Brent. You can’t tell me anything I haven’t already heard.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Huh?”

  “You heard me. You think you know everything, and most of the time, you do
astound me with your brilliance, but this time, you don’t, so please just sit there and listen.”

  Joan was taken aback by Maddie’s tone. She had never so much as raised her voice in the entire time she had known her. Joan held her tongue because she didn’t want to say anything she would regret. She turned her head away from Maddie and began to towel dry her hair.

  Maddie sensed Joan emotionally pulling away. She moved closer and squeezed her hand. “Please, Joanie, this is hard enough for me, so stop with the attitude and listen.”

  Joan jerked away at Maddie’s touch. It was instinctive since her childhood. “What attitude is that?” she said, not wanting to drop her guard.

  “The one that makes your face look like you ate dog poop. That attitude.”

  Joan tried not to laugh, but a deep belly laugh escaped her lips. “Oh, that attitude.”

  When she stopped laughing, she apologized for being a jerk and lightly laid her hand on top of Maddie’s.

  Maddie squeezed her hand. “The reason I asked you to stay with me was to let you know that I understand what you’ve gone through.” Joan was about to rebut her when Maddie shushed her again. “I understand because I’ve been through it myself.”

  She looked down at their intertwined fingers to avoid looking in Joan’s eyes. “When I was a child, my father would come home drunk and force himself on my mother. If he didn’t get his way he would beat her. Both my parents were alcoholics. My mother died of alcohol poisoning when I was eleven. After she was gone, I became his whipping post.

  “I’d lie awake at night, waiting for him to stumble home in a drunken stupor. I’d pretend to be asleep. He’d wake me up, call me a no good piece of crap and say I was just like my mother. A stupid whore who was only good for one thing. After hearing that for a couple of years, I started to believe it.”

  Joan could feel Maddie’s hand start to quiver as she spoke. “By the time I was thirteen, I no longer looked like a little girl. Physically, I was a woman.” A tear ran down her face as she looked into Joan’s eyes. “That’s when the abuse became physical.