The Chosen Trilogy Boxset

by David Leadbeater

  “Hey,” she said, and that was enough for now.

  Above us the World-Ender’s spinning maw began to contract. I saw spidery legs sheared off and fall to the beach. I saw them crawl away towards the nearest darkness. The slithering sound of their passage would haunt my nightmares forever.

  Johnny came to stand over me, his hand fell on my shoulder, and we launched another devastating power wave. Lucy sent forth a tornado of primal force.

  Gorgoth screeched in pure animal rage, a kid thwarted and venting his fury, and then his core disintegrated like a collapsed black hole. The edges of his cloud snapped together with a crack that shook the earth. The sky healed itself in that moment.

  We were left stunned by the immediate silence, our ears ringing, unable to believe that we had survived.

  I clung to Belinda. Beside me Marian Cleaver fell to his knees and cradled Devon’s body. I wept for the girl from Maui. In the end Loki had gotten his kill.

  The hateful Destroyer’s body lay prone before us. I watched Lucy crawl through the wet sand to Devon’s body and lean over to kiss the healer’s forehead. Ken collapsed near her and doubled over, his body wracked with sobs. When I glanced around, still numb, still choked, I saw Tanya scratching her head and staring in surprise at a distant running figure.

  “Emily Crowe,” Tanya replied to my unasked question. “This is unreal. Cheyne said she had a connection to the Hierarchy demons, and when Gorgoth fell she just took off.”

  Weird. I cast around again as Belinda struggled to sit up. Behind us the exhausted Trevochet’s, along with Lysette and Giles, were in earnest conversation with Cheyne and Ceriden. Near me, a shattered and battle-worn Jade sat with glazed eyes. Even in her agony Jade wept aloud for her fallen King. Eldritch lay dead in the sand. His Queen had died days before. The Elven race was shattered. They had done everything possible to help us and now…what would they do? Were there any more elves left in the world?

  Felicia stood near Ken, her head down. I watched as Felicia’s shoulders shook.

  My God. Think of all we have lost. Of the people who gave their lives.

  Then I heard Ken cry out. My heart performed somersaults. I followed the direction of his disbelieving gaze.

  To see Dementia, the crazy bitch-demon, sitting nonchalantly on a fallen, still-smoking palm tree to the left of the wide-open, still-pulsing, Gates of Hell. Nothing came out of there now, but Dementia twirled a dirty lock of hair around one finger and observed us with a mocking intensity.

  “I killed you!” Ken shouted. “For Ryan and Myleene! I killed you, you fucking bitch!”

  My eyes blurred with tears. How many good people had we lost today? How many more?

  “Ken Hamiltonnnn,” Dementia hissed as glee twisted her face. “I challenge youuuuu. If you dare come and get meeeeeeee-”

  And with that the insane demon leapt into the Gates of Hell.

  Ken screamed and made to follow, but Tanya blocked his way. “NO!” she shouted along with almost everyone else on the beach. Our chorus stopped him.

  “Not into Hell.”

  The crazy demon was gone. Back to whatever vileness she called home.

  Vampires and Lycans were walking past us now, trudging wearily up the beach, nursing their battle wounds. Marines and cops in their hundreds were mixed in among them, comrades joined through battle.

  Then someone cried: “Eliza!” I saw a huge bear of a man stand up, the chef from Ceriden’s house named Milo, with Eliza’s body cradled gently in his massive arms.

  Milo, this enormous man, weeped uncontrollably.

  Eliza’s body was limp but moving. I saw her feet kick, and the weak raising of her hand.

  “Oh, Eliza!” Ceriden cried out in hope and flew past me as if the pit-born hounds of hell were at his heels. “Devon must have saved her,” he shouted to anyone who would listen. “Devon protected her.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. It seemed Eliza was another of Loki’s victims that he’d overlooked in his arrogance. Thank God. No. . . thank poor Devon.

  I started as Lucy slipped her small hand into my own. I smiled into her tear-streaked face and hugged Belinda to me. We’d won. So why did our victory feel so empty?

  Lysette suddenly screamed, her voice a knife in the dark. Everyone on the beach turned to her.

  “Seven demons,” she said, leaning her weight on Giles. “I…I read Crowe as she ran away. God, for my future sanity, I wish I hadn’t,” she groaned into Giles’ arm. “I know everything. It all comes down to the text Crowe stole from the Louvre. The Text of Seven. Including Dementia, there are seven major demons. And seven Hells.” She paused, shaking her head in confusion. “The Hierarchy and Black Chapter manipulated everything. There are seven places on Earth where seven ancient artefacts are hidden. I gleaned that. . .”

  “We should have known,” Ceriden sounded as crushed as if Cameron had just called to cancel a dinner date.

  “Known what?” Belinda asked weakly. Felicia and Ken turned towards us.

  “It was their plan all along,” Cheyne cleared her throat. “As we kept saying, no demon, and especially the Hierarchy demons, would destroy this world. Because it is also their world.”

  “So the mall was a distraction,” Lysette said. “Or rather – a simple distraction in Gorgoth’s plan and in the minds of his Destroyers, but Crowe was a double agent. For her the distraction was everything, allowing her to engineer the Hierarchy’s summoning at the mall.”

  Marian Cleaver nodded. “Whilst we were busy with Gaines?”

  “Yes,” Cheyne said. “In a normal world the witches council would have stopped any Hierarchy summoning. That is our job, to monitor magical activity. But with the finding of the Text of Arcadia and its message – that Gorgoth was coming – it grabbed every ounce of our attention. I believe now that the Hierarchy themselves, or Emily Crowe, arranged that we find the Text of Arcadia to keep us focused on Gorgoth.”

  It made sense. “But why?” I asked. “What does the Hierarchy want?”

  “They are already seeking these seven artefacts,” Lysette said slowly, speaking from memory. “Two of these artefacts are in Hell. The other five are scattered across the far reaches of our world-” as Lysette paused to think a profound silence settled. “We must get to those artefacts before the demons do.”

  My initial thought was: a race.

  “But why?” it was Ken’s tortured whisper.

  “Their plan all along,” Cheyne told us. “was to be summoned whilst this whole Gorgoth thing distracted us. To disguise their ultimate agenda.”

  Ken prompted, “Which is?”

  Cheyne paused. “To bring Satan Himself, in all his hellish glory, back into our world.”

  I felt my jaw drop. “They’re trying to raise the Devil?”

  “They will raise the Devil,” Lysette said. “If they manage to collect all the artefacts.”

  “And the Devil is worse than Gorgoth because-” I had to ask.

  “Imagine Hell on Earth,” Ceriden said tonelessly. “With all of us alive. Forever. I mean, Gorgoth was just going to destroy it.”

  And now memories of my visions rose like black thunderbolts. I had seen Belinda captured by a demon, among corpses piled high. They hadn’t been visions of the coming of Gorgoth. They had been premonitions as I had feared, precursors to the coming of Satan. The Devil.

  The very embodiment of mankind’s deepest fears. And he would bring Hell to Earth.

  Ken turned once again towards the Gates of hell, hefting his sword. “It comes down to Dementia and me.” he started forward, and my heart went out to him. “I will go into Hell and find the two artefacts. Someone has to.”

  “No,” I heard the Jade, the elf, say. “Not without me.”

  Then Felicia looked straight at me and flicked a glance off Belinda to Ken. “And not without me, too.”

  I felt my heart break as our fellowship broke apart. I remembered Felicia sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee, playfully mocking Belinda and explain
ing to me the ways of her kind. She loved life; she loved the freedom of the run. And she had just volunteered to walk the dread paths of Hell.

  Together they stood, these new companions, brushed themselves off, and walked towards the Gates of Hell, kicking sand as they went. Moonlight and starshine glittered from their eyes and in shimmering shards from their readied weapons.

  Humility brought tears to my eyes. One swift glance at Belinda and I knew that if she had been able, she would have accompanied them.

  But still there was more. I saw Eliza wriggle out of Milo’s grasp and land on steady feet, breathing harshly, but determined. “I will help you, Ken.” Eliza spoke up, and Milo also grunted in agreement.

  And finally Mai walked up to the little group. “And I,” she said with venom. “I also owe Dementia a painful death.”

  “There are still five artefacts to race for on earth,” I said, mainly for Belinda’s benefit.

  Marian Cleaver added. “The Hierarchy has a head start on us.”

  Cheyne nodded. “And we will need everyone’s help. There is a copy of the Text of Seven at the library. I’m sure there are riddles to solve, codes to crack. The search must start now. Without delay. We must determine the location of the five artefacts on Earth before the Hierarchy finds them,” she glanced behind her. “Come Brethren, timing is everything now. We must begin.”

  Behind Cheyne, the coven gathered. As a group they passed beyond the exhausted Johnny Trevochet and his wife, Natalie, who clung to one another, just happy to be alive. I studied the approaching coven. All twelve witches wore dark cloaks that covered their bodies and deep cowls that concealed their faces. Almost as one they reached around their necks for their platinum talismans, the source of their powers, as I had seen Cheyne do a dozen times already.

  They were ready to cast their spell. Where would they send us?

  I held tightly to Belinda and promised myself we wouldn’t be separated anytime soon.

  Some promise.

  THE END

  Chosen 2

  GUARDIANS

  (The Second Part Of The Chosen Few Trilogy)

  By

  David Leadbeater

  ONE

  Ken Hamilton steeled his body and readied his sword. Entering the gates of hell hadn’t exactly been on his to-do list when he’d left San Francisco. But then neither had fighting the hell-bitch, Dementia, on the Bay Bridge, seeing several of his new friends get murdered, and joining a pitched battle that ranged along most of Miami Beach. The Gorgoth threat had been averted and his harbingers defeated, only to reveal a new danger, something far more menacing for the survivors.

  An acolyte of the Devil, Emily Crowe, had summoned the seven most powerful entities—comprising the hierarchy of demons—to earth to hunt for seven hidden artefacts across the globe that, when collected, could summon the Devil himself. In the flesh. No sugarcoating, no April Fools, not even a hint of Hollywood being involved. Ken had seen more death and destruction in the last few days to last him two lifetimes. Three.

  So why the hell am I walking through this gate?

  Dementia was one substantial reason. He thought he’d killed her just after she put a sword through one of his friends. He thought he’d gotten a little justice. Not so. The hellcat still lived and, not only that, she’d carried two of the mega-important artefacts with her, straight into hell.

  Ken knew all of that because Cheyne had screamed about it. Cheyne, the witch queen. She of the crooked nose. So he and four other valiant warriors had volunteered to follow Dementia down . . . way down. The remainder of the warriors—including Belinda, he thought mournfully—had stayed ‘up top’, to chase after the other five artefacts.

  Is that the only reason?

  Ken would like to think so. He sure didn’t think of himself as a hero, a protector or a guardian. God forbid. His best days could be measured in the draining of a six-pack and the razing of a reefer, or the squeals and moans of a famous rock chick and her BFF, the height of a wave and the roaring surf. Airtime won and fought for. Once upon a time, that was all he’d required.

  Alongside him strode some of his new friends. The awesome Eliza, one of the most powerful Vampires in existence, clad in black leather just like Ken’s favorite, Kate. That brief thought instantly altered his train of thought. Ken sure was a ‘Kate’ man. A shallow value maybe, but one he clung tightly to now as he walked toward almost certain death.

  Kate Beckinsale. Kate Hudson. Kate Winslet. Kate from Lost. All were admired and marveled at.

  His thoughts flickered back and forth like a train switching between tracks.

  With Eliza came Milo, a literal man-mountain of a guy, a top-class chef and vampire to boot. Big boy didn’t say much, at least not to Ken, but looked like a force to be reckoned with. And if they came up against any gastronomically challenged demons, then Milo could be a real asset.

  Also in their little group was Felicia, the sexy, bubbly, deadly lycan. The old Ken had harbored more than one lascivious thought where Felicia was concerned. Truth be told, the new Ken wasn’t much different but at least he tried being a better man.

  That left one more in their group of five demon chasers. Mai the vampire. She’d lost her brother in an earlier battle and hadn’t spoken much since, but she was here, and she was harder than a dumpster full of old nails and ready for battle.

  Ken’s mind drifted briefly back to Miami Beach and what they’d recently left behind. Good people. Injured friends. Devon Summers, the healer of the Chosen, lying dead. A beach of stunned survivors; men and women that must now immediately take up a new battle. Ken wondered who had gotten the shoddy deal. Admittedly he was going to hell—and earlier than he’d anticipated—but it wasn’t exactly going to be a ‘merry-go-round’ for poor old Dean Logan, Cheyne and all the rest of the guys back ‘up top’.

  Ken hadn’t hesitated. He’d strode through the pulsing gate, passing between the earth and hell and feeling a brief, odd tugging sensation at his flesh, almost as if his skin had somehow become magnetized. A brief second, and then he’d stepped out the other side . . . gaping in shock . . . stunned.

  A flat prairie spread in every direction, full of waving green and brown grasses. A gentle breeze swept the plain, carrying with it a tinge of warmth. If this is hell, he thought. It isn’t half as bad as the church and Ozzy Osbourne made out.

  He lowered his sword, letting the sharp tip brush the hard earth. Felicia’s immediate act was to search for and point out a path through the grassland, but then Ken guessed direction was one of a wolf’s many natural instincts.

  To the right, a wide path of trodden-down shoots were slowly trying to reassert themselves. This was the route all the evil fiends had taken then, the ones that had already invaded their world. And there had been many—from small, vicious wayclearer demons to things as savage and even larger than meat-eating dinosaurs.

  Ken wondered why the influx had stopped. It certainly hadn’t been anything the Chosen or their helpers had done. He voiced the thought aloud.

  Eliza answered immediately. “A good question.” She looked surprised. “From you. Of course, I don’t know the answer. But if I were to speculate . . . I would say it has something to do with the release of the hierarchy. They were unleashed right at the end there. And—” she paused as a distant bellow reached their ears. “It sounds like more are coming.”

  Felicia was sniffing the air. “I love this place,” she said smartly. “Look at the space! So many places to run. And the freedom . . . it sings to me.”

  Ken looked around. “It doesn’t sing to me,” he said. “Give me U2 at the arena. Now that’d sing to me.”

  “U who?” Felicia was staring into the middle distance, lost, happy. Ken left her to it. He stole a glance at Eliza.

  “Any ideas? I mean, like they say, if Sunset’s busy, take Hollywood. Y’know?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” Eliza said. “But we should head in the direction of the sounds, onl
y down a different track.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  Ken deferred to Felicia. The grass was high and dense, and could conceal any manner of creature. His hope was that the lycan’s super-sensitive nose would sniff out a safe path. In the far distance he could make out vague shapes, advancing fast. None of them looked friendly.

  “I just hope they get that gate sealed up quick,” he said.

  Eliza, starting to drift away from the group, gave him a calculating look. “Then how do you expect to return?” she asked, searchingly.

  Ken opened his mouth, then quickly closed it. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Felicia beckoned at them.

  “We should move. C’mon. This way smells safe.”

  Ken stepped into line, wondering just what ‘safe’ smelled like. A locked door? A warm body? Krispy Kremes at 10 a.m.? They entered the grassland, nobody able to resist a last backwards glance as they went.

  Behind them, the gate that led to Miami Beach was a half-circle tear in the fabric of reality, vibrating around its edges, a shimmering window that led back to a world they might never see again. Ken felt his legs slow and his head begin to pound, but then dug deeper still, finding his courage. He was Chosen—a guardian now. His power had shone forth like the radiant beams of a new dawn. Beings with great and true power had accepted him into their circle.

  And belief should shine both ways.

  Felicia ranged ahead, taking a curving route away from the advancing creatures. As they grew clearer, Ken made out even more horrifying details. Not only were there beasts that shambled, hopped and pounded the dirt to dust, there were now fiends with wings. Flying monsters cut through the skies, screeching, flexing sharp talons and snapping wicked beaks with a sound like two guillotines striking together. Ken and the rest of the group stayed low, creeping along and fearful of being spotted and engaged in battle. Their true quarry lay ahead—escaping even now with two artefacts that humanity desperately needed. Chasing and hunting her down was the only sane plan.