The Rainmaker (Saga of the Chosen Book 2)

by Petra Landon

  “He might not have been aware of the poison in him until it was too late for him to heal himself, Dini.”

  There was a moment of silence between them. Then, Nandini’s arms came up to hug her brother tightly.

  “You think Papa was right, Mahen? Ma is alive somewhere and she might be in danger?”

  “That’s what he was trying to tell us that night when he was dying. He made us promise to warn her.”

  “I’ll go, Mahen” she offered immediately. Nandini knew how hard it would be for her brother to leave the Kabila and make the journey to a different continent on a quest to find a woman believed dead for over twenty years now. He was the new leader of their people and his first duty would always be to them.

  “It might not be easy to find her, Dini” Mahen warned. “And it could be very dangerous if the people searching for her came after you.”

  “I’m Naga too, Mahen” she reminded him. Though she did not often choose to exercise it, she was a powerful Eru trained to use her powers.

  Mahen smiled slowly, an attractive smile that lit up his face, transforming it to boyish and appealing when moments ago he had been sober and grave. “I know what you can do, Dini. Otherwise, I would insist we find Ma together once things calm down here.”

  She could hold her own, this sister of his. But Mahen was uneasy. Their father, a powerful First One, had been blindsided by the men who hunted their mother. Nandini, forewarned of the threat, would still need to be very careful. He had taken steps to ensure that his sister was protected by one of the more influential Eru in their world. Yet, he was still disquieted by this venture. Only the death bed promise made to their father held him back.

  “Be very careful” he reiterated. “Stay in touch and come home if things get too dangerous.”

  “Remember” he said gently, as he met her gaze. “I’m trusting you to recognize the danger to yourself, Dini. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

  No, he wouldn’t. Not Mahen, her responsible, sober twin and the conscientious leader of their people. Nandini knew that.

  “I’ll be very careful. I promise, Mahen” she assured him earnestly.

  He nodded soberly. Dini was very powerful — she had their father’s blood in her veins, just as he did. The difference between them was one of training and experience. While he’d been groomed from an early age to be king, Nandini was no shrinking violet. She knew how to use the magic that was her heritage.

  “There’s not much to go on from the documents Papa left with Sita Amma. A copy of Ma’s American passport and a copy of the document used to apply for a marriage license in Shimla. In it, she lists an address in Portland, Oregon. Also, Papa’s letter tells us that she was a Level Two Wizard.”

  “Wizard, hmm” Nandini murmured. “Perhaps, Wizard Headquarters might have some record of her.”

  “I talked to SivoTar” Mahen said. “He called to offer condolences for Papa. He’s offered to provide any assistance you require, Dini. His people will meet you at Portland Airport.”

  “Portland?”

  “You’ll go much further with his assistance, Dini. And, I would sleep easier knowing that you weren’t alone. See if you can trace Ma’s whereabouts in Portland first before you head to Wizard Headquarters” he suggested.

  Nandini found herself acquiescing to her twin’s request. Mahen was right — this endeavor would not be easy. If her Ma had been presumed dead for twenty years, she would not be found that easily. Especially, if Ma suspected that she was being hunted.

  Amongst all the factions, the First Ones were the most disparate group of Chosen, with vastly differing powers and abilities. As they had for centuries, these groups of First Ones continued their ancient traditions and customs, passing the old ways down to their descendants, reluctant to dilute their legacy in any way or form. Most Ancients primarily considered themselves to be custodians of their illustrious heritage — very old magic from when the first Chosen walked the earth.

  Centuries earlier, at a time of great upheaval in their world, the First Ones had banded together to form two loose confederations, based on their brand of magic, in a bid to protect their dwindling numbers and to keep their existence a secret from the humans. Like other Chosen, the Ancients too held the Supreme Edict to be paramount. Mostly self-classified, the Ancient identity was based on the origin of their power — Setik’Aar or Eru’Aar. Eru’Aar literally translated to ‘of the soil’; the First Ones who identified as Eru received their power from the various elements of the earth. The Setik, on the other hand, were a group of First Ones whose magic was derived from other sources. This very loose division persisted even today.

  The Nagas identified as Eru. SivoTar, a powerful and influential Eru, had been a friend of their father’s. Every few years, Eru from around the world were known to meet in seclusion to discuss threats to their kind and explore ways to further their interests. SivoTar and their father had struck up a friendship at one such conference. A friendship that had stood the test of time much after their father had stopped attending the conferences, following the death of his wife.

  “Once you’ve warned her, as Papa wished us with his last breath, Dini, we’ll track down the people that poisoned him.” There was an implacable determination in Mahen’s voice.

  Nandini had no doubt that her brother could carry through on the promise. Mahen was a man of his word.

  Nandini met her brother’s eyes, her own a mix of mingled grief and confusion. She would track down their mother to deliver the warning from their dying father. And, she’d demand answers from the mother who had walked away without a backward glance. Then, she would join Mahen on the quest to hunt down their father’s murderers.

  Pack Lair, San Francisco

  Tasia’s attention wandered to the charismatic tawny-haired man with the remarkable gold eyes, currently engrossed in conversation with Jason LaRue. Those gold-colored eyes, superbly skilled at screening his thoughts from the world, could flash cold fire when displeased. She had seen him bring his Were-Alphas, powerful Shifters in their own right, to heel with one fulminating glance from those unusual eyes. The man was an enigma — dangerous, ruthless and inflexible, but also complex, unfathomable, impenetrable. In short, a walking mass of contradictions.

  Even as myriad conversations drifted around her in the Pack Room, Tasia ignored them to silently ponder the conundrum of Raoul Merceau. At first glance, he embodied the uber testosterone-fueled Shifter Alpha of Chosen lore — aggressive, dominant, territorial, autocratic and ruthless; intolerant of dissent and capable of swift and brutal retaliation when faced with anything but absolute fealty from his Shifters. Unlike other Magicks, Shape-shifters derived most of their power from their physical prowess. The Were-Alphas of yester years, who had once run their were-packs with complete autonomy and absolute control, had been notorious in their day, too. But the Alpha Protectors of today, who led the new paradigm of Shifter Packs, had taken control and power over their Packs and territory to a different level altogether.

  Her front row seat at a Shifter Lair had given Tasia an appreciation for the onerous and often Herculean task that faced an Alpha Protector. She was beginning to understand that the nature of the role left no room for ambiguity. That perhaps, a scorched earth approach was the only way to control such a fractious and volatile group of Chosen. Given that Shifter collectives tended to be populated by belligerent, violent and paranoid Chosen, often an Alpha’s only recourse was to wield control and power with brutal and ruthless ferocity.

  The most self-controlled man she had ever met, he was coldly distant and curiously detached from everything and everyone around him. Theirs had been a thorny and difficult relationship of dramatic ups and downs. Since the night Hawk and his Alpha had crashed into a darkened room to rescue her while she lay terrified and bleeding from a Blutsauger’s bite, Tasia found herself engulfed in a world alien to her. That night had forged a peculiar bond between them. She trusted the Alpha to defend her, to keep hi
s word to her and to safeguard the secrets she revealed to him. In all other matters, Tasia made sure to keep her distance from him, wary of the intimidating Shifter with the cold eyes capable of a whisper-soft menace that frightened her.

  Theirs was a strange relationship, one forged out of necessity and compulsion on her side, and a sense of obligation on his. A part of her trusted him instinctively, while another feared the violence she sensed buried deep within him. There was a darkness and a coldness in him that put Tasia on her guard, making her circumspect around him. Like a tightly-leashed volcano holding its fire within with an iron-will, he possessed the ability to obliterate everything in his path if the control over his inner aggression ever unraveled. This sense of a tight leash over his self was the first thing she had noted about him. And, that this man would make for a very bad enemy.

  The Chosen world whispered Raoul Merceau’s name with a mix of fear, awe and respect. And Tasia, decidedly bruised by some of her encounters with him, believed everything they whispered about him — and then some. Dangerous and relentless, he could be ferocious when crossed. Yet, amidst the strains, there had been the occasional glimpse of a different man under the mask, one at odds with his reputation. The man was an enigma, an uber Wyr at his heart and yet, one that continued to surprise her at every turn.

  She had lived at the Lair for seven weeks now, a roller coaster of a ride. And Tasia could admit to herself that the experience had been enlightening and enriching, despite the many moments fraught with fear, uncertainty and wariness. She had forged a few relationships in the Pack. Sara, Hawk’s twin who had a strained relationship with her own Pack, had become a friend. Duncan, the powerful Were-Alpha with the Alpha’s ear, could always be counted on to ply her with sound advice on navigating the pitfalls of a Pack. Above all, there was an unshakeable bond with Hawk, formed on a dark night when she had risked everything to release a wounded Shifter in beast form.

  All her life, she had adhered to her father’s advice to keep her distance from the Chosen. She had heeded his warning because Tasia understood only too well the catastrophic consequences of becoming a powerful Chosen’s prey. Once, she would have run in the opposite direction to avoid any association with the Shifters. Now, circumstances had left her little choice but to accept the Alpha’s bargain. For a girl unused to her Chosen brethren, this experience with a Shifter Pack had been a difficult journey with a tough learning curve. Having abandoned her father’s adage, Tasia knew her path forward was likely to be challenging, treacherous, and strewn with pitfalls. On this uncharted excursion, she would be guided only by her abilities, instincts and wits, and, assistance from her new friends and allies. She could not afford to take a false step, or trust in the wrong ally. The stakes were now abnormally high for her, even more so than before.

  “Hey Tas.” Hawk plopped himself down on the couch beside her, his handsome face lit up with a smile he seemed to reserve specially for her.

  “How’s the party prep coming along, Hawk?” Sienna inquired from her seat across from Tasia. “Let me know if I can help in any way.”

  “I could use some help with the catering” Hawk admitted easily, his glance encompassing both Wizards. “Alph’s extended an invitation to the local Wizards. It warrants some variety in the cuisine.”

  Sienna arched her eyebrow, taken aback by Hawk’s words. The party was a celebration to mark their success in Chicago. Three Wizards, Sienna, Jason and Tasia, had been part of the team in Chicago, though Sienna supposed that Tasia’s Wizard status took a backseat to her Pack status, especially to the Shifters in the Pack. The local Wizards had played no part in the investigation. Moreover, the Alpha’s dislike of her kind was no secret. Given that, why on earth had the Alpha extended an invitation to the local Wizards, Sienna wondered.

  “No Guardians have been invited” Hawk remarked mischievously, correctly interpreting Sienna’s astonishment. “Except for Jason, of course.”

  Guardians were the elites of the Wizard world, responsible for policing and protecting their brethren. The Alpha had publicly thrashed a Guardian a few weeks ago for daring to kidnap Tasia. And, the Chosen world still buzzed with gossip about the humiliation meted out to the powerful Wizard.

  “But invitations have been sent to some local Wizards and a few local Ancients. Your friend Caroline will be here” Hawk directed at Tasia. “She RSVP’d.”

  Magicks, beings with magic in them, believed they had been chosen to be bestowed with special powers. These Chosen organized themselves into four factions, based on their brand of magic — the First Ones or Ancients, Wyrs known in the vernacular as Shape-shifters, Wizards and the Undead, also known as Vampires, Blutsaugers or collectively as the Clan. The four factions kept to themselves, were responsible for policing their own, objected vociferously to outside interference, and followed their individual and contrasting traditions, customs and rules cobbled together over centuries of existence. The only thread to hold all factions together was an absolute belief and adherence to the Supreme Edict — thou shallst not reveal your brethren to the not Chosen. The ramifications of breaking the Edict would be fatal to their very existence. No amount of powerful magic would save the Chosen if the humans ever discovered their presence amidst them. Until the advent of the Council of Chosen, these Chosen factions had kept their interactions with each other to a minimum. The CoC had come into existence twenty-five years ago as a forum to foster communication, co-operation, understanding and unity between the factions. The Council, meant to usher in a new era of co-operation between Chosen, comprised of four representatives, one from each faction. Faoladh represented the Wyrs, the First Wizard her brethren, ElThor his First Ones, while the Vampires had a system whereby the Masters of their illustrious Pure Blood Families rotated on the Council to represent the Clan.

  “I can certainly help with that” Sienna piped up good-naturedly. The Shifter diet consisted almost exclusively of hunks of meat since their super-active metabolism demanded a high protein diet. No wonder Hawk needed help with catering for the diverse group expected at the party, Sienna mused in amusement.

  The heavy stainless-steel door that provided the only external access to the Pack Room squeaked shut, leaving the vast room sound-proofed from the rest of the Lair and the Shifters with superhuman ears that inhabited it.

  “The Alpha has asked me to summarize my findings from the Chicago Registry’s investigation into the explosion twenty-four years ago” Jason announced, taking up a stance beside Duncan.

  The English Shifter sat in his usual chair by the fireplace, while the Alpha leant against the mantel in his favorite pose. Tasia glanced around the room at the team handpicked by the Alpha to investigate Lady Bethesda. Besides the Alpha, Hawk and Duncan, it included three Shifters, all Were-Alphas — Luis Beltran, Stefan Simeonov and Elisabetta De Luca. Jason LaRue, deputed by the First Wizard to liase with the Shifters on this investigation, and Sienna McAlister, the daughter of the powerful Wizard they investigated, completed their team. And, then there was Tasia, with one foot in each camp and ties to both — Wizard and Pack.

  “I was able to confirm that the Registry investigation did not conclusively identify Lady Bethesda’s remains at the site of the explosion” Jason opened.

  “And that didn’t concern the Registry investigators?” Elisabetta inquired, clearly incredulous. “A bomb goes off in the Registry, while a powerful Wizard is being questioned on its premises by a contingent of Guardians. Yet, the investigators don’t raise their eyebrows at the lack of her remains at the site. I find that hard to believe, Guardian.”

  “I said conclusive evidence, Elisabetta” Jason responded in his unflappable way. “Not lack of any evidence. They did find traces of her DNA at the site. Remember, she was presumed to be at the epicenter of the explosion” he said with a sidelong glance at Sienna, who had on the usual poker face she wore during discussions of her mother’s alleged misdeeds. “And unlike the others, there was no family clamoring to hold a funeral in her case” he added
quietly.

  “What of the Guardian Council’s investigation — did they identify her remains?” the Alpha prompted. The GCW, engaged in an escalating power struggle with the First Wizard, had refused the Shifters any access to their records. With time, as the Guardian and the Alpha had slowly built an unlikely partnership, Jason had agreed to help the team get access to records from the GCW archives that the Alpha deemed necessary for their investigation.

  “No.” Jason shook his head. “They assumed that the Registry would deal with her. Instead, the GCW investigation focused on identifying the remains of the ten Guardians sent in to interrogate her.”

  Raoul held the Guardian’s chocolate brown gaze soberly. Jason’s parents had been amongst the ten Guardians killed by the explosion, as had the Oracle, Sienna’s father and a Guardian revered for his phenomenal abilities as a seer. The Shifters attempting to unravel this mystery were doing so at the request of Faoladh. But for the two non-Pack members of their team, this affair of Lady Bethesda was more personal. The events long ago had shattered their lives and helped shape their futures. Every revelation they unearthed during the investigation had the power to affect Sienna and Jason. Raoul was always conscious of this.

  “Anything on Raoul’s notion of Lady Bethesda using a magic armor to escape the explosion?” Duncan interjected in his precise way. Now that they had conclusive evidence that the Wizard had escaped the blast at the Registry, the next approach was to figure out how she had accomplished the feat.

  “You believe she’d already depleted her magic before the Registry confrontation?” Jason inquired. A magic armor required powerful and precise magic. Only a rare Wizard, one with the perfect combination of power, training and experience, would be able to build and hold a personal shield to emerge unscathed while a powerful explosion ripped through everything around her.

  “Don’t you?” Duncan asked quizzically of the Guardian.