Runner: Book II of The Chosen

by Roh Morgon

  Chosen scents and auras fill the air, but overriding it all is the coppery sweet smell of blood. Human blood. Taz pauses for a moment, his nostrils flaring.

  My jaw spasms once and the fangs are down. Electric anxiety, both his and mine, pulses through my veins. I press Taz’s ring against my nose and inhale, over and over.

  Reeling, I try to understand what we’ve walked into. Square tables surround a small but crowded dance floor in the dimly lit bar. Most of the tables are taken, primarily by humans, but a few are exclusively Chosen. And some are mixed, and no one’s bothering to hide what they’re doing. The bloodlust explodes as a female Chosen drinks from the wrist of a young man at one table, while at the next, two males are sharing a pretty brunette.

  The dance floor is no better. Entwined limbs and mouths are all I see when I look at the couples swaying to the pounding music.

  Chia quickly disappears into the mix.

  “Taz.”

  “Hmm.” He seems as mesmerized as I am. His blood hungers in my veins, adding to my own craving, and panic races through me.

  “I can’t be in here.”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “Taz. I need to leave. Now.”

  Confusion creases his brow as he looks down at me.

  “I don’t do this. Get me out of here. Please.” I grip his upper arm and he tenses as my nails sink into his flesh. The ache in my mouth demands satisfaction, and I fight the urge to bite anything, anyone. Even him.

  He looks at Redd. The big Scot sighs and nods.

  “I’ll be here, laddie.”

  “We’re good?”

  “Yeah. We’re good, bro.”

  Without another word, Taz turns and escorts me outside.

  I release him and walk ahead, not stopping until I reach the seawall on the other end of the parking lot. Below me, the water’s black satin surface shimmers beneath the city lights. The smell of the harbor clears the other scent from my passages, and I gratefully breathe in the fishy stench.

  Taz stops behind me. He brushes a wisp of hair back from my face and I resist the impulse to lean into him, to gain any comfort I can. But encouraging him won’t do me any good—once I give in, there will be no going back.

  And I’m not ready to give up Nicolas.

  “You never feed on humans?”

  “No,” I whisper.

  “That could be a problem.”

  “Sometimes it is.”

  The water laps gently against the seawall. The sounds of distant traffic and a helicopter across the harbor blend with laughter from outside the bar to form the nighttime voice of this city. I yearn once again for the quiet mountain forests of Colorado and Montana, and wonder what the hell I’m doing here.

  Taz steps closer, close enough that I feel him against my back. His hand strokes the scar on my face, then he kisses my temple. His desire and bittersweet longing pulse through me, and my resistance begins to fail.

  “Taz. No. Please.”

  His breath against my ear, he takes hold of my shoulders. Gently. His touch bears a lover’s intimacy that somehow feels familiar, like it’s caressed me before.

  “Tell me you don’t want this.”

  I nearly choke on my response.

  “I… I don’t. I can’t.” Bloodtears blur the restless water below me.

  He goes very still. An eternity passes in a few short seconds.

  “Someone else?”

  I nod.

  “Is that who you’re looking for? Who you’re really looking for?”

  I nod again.

  He’s statue still for a long moment, then brushes his lips against my ear.

  “I hope you don’t find him.”

  And with that he steps away. I listen to his near silent footfalls as they cross the parking lot. His blood screams inside me, thick with unsatisfied need and pained rejection, and most shocking, deep self-disgust.

  He’ll never take me to Alina now.

  Taz is leaning against his bike with his arms folded when I walk up. His expression is cold, distant.

  “I need to go back inside, and you’re not staying out here by yourself. So get your shit together. We might be in there a while.”

  “No. Don’t make me…”

  “I’m tired of hearing that word from you. You either walk in on your own or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you in.”

  Bastard.

  “Just try it.”

  “Have it your way.” He advances on me, crimson-eyed and fully fanged.

  I back across the sidewalk and bump into someone. Someone big.

  The bouncer.

  His massive arms wrap around me. “I got her, Taz.”

  But apparently Taz doesn’t hear him, and the big Indian roars and peels the skin from the bouncer’s face with one swipe of his nails. The Chosen releases me as Taz throws him up against the wall. He rears his hand back again, this time aiming for the bouncer’s throat.

  The door bangs open.

  “Hey, bro. Thought I heard you singing out here. Now what’re you doing? Let the poor lad go. I’m sure whatever insult he gave you wasn’t worth losing his head over.” Redd eases in between Taz and the terrified bouncer.

  Taz growls and gives the Scot a nasty look, then drops his hand and backs away.

  “Watch her. Don’t let her out of your sight.” He storms into the bar.

  “Well, lassie, you heard what he said. Inside. Now.” Redd gestures with his bearded chin.

  Taking a deep breath, I walk back into the bar, Redd trailing. I keep my gaze on the floor as he guides me to a table.

  “Have a seat, lass.”

  I sit down, the ring plastered against my nose. A commotion on the dance floor is impossible to ignore, and I watch as Taz engages in a growling match with another Chosen over a tall, leggy brunette in a tight dress. A human.

  “Ach. Gonna be one of those nights, is it?” But Redd makes no move to interfere this time.

  The other Chosen backs down. Taz grabs the wrist of the brunette and tugs her along behind him across the dance floor. They disappear down a hallway at the back.

  Redd looks sidelong at me.

  “Don’t know what you did to piss him off, lass. But I haven’t seen that Taz in a very long time.”

  Taz’s violence howls in my blood. I struggle to contain it and finally wall it off, along with all of his other wild emotions. The effort drains me, and I sag back against the chair for a moment, then turn to Redd.

  “He’s not going to kill her, is he?”

  Please don’t let him kill her over me.

  I start to stand, but a heavy hand on my shoulder presses me back into my seat.

  “No need to worry about her. She’ll be fine.”

  “He won’t—?”

  “No, lass. He won’t.” He frowns. “At least, I don’t think he will.”

  Worry for the girl slips just enough for the hunger to reclaim my attention. My hand trembles as I once again inhale the Hopi herbs in the silver ring. They seem to be working better now that the shock of this place has worn off, and I just keep breathing them in, over and over.

  “You’re a strange one, I’ll give you that. Never seen anyone so concerned about killing before. Except maybe that big Indian.” Redd laughs. “At least with humans. Chosen, on the other hand…”

  “What do you mean?”

  He takes in a breath to answer, but just then a waitress—human—walks up to the table, a bottle of what must be bloodwine on her tray along with several glasses.

  Redd looks at me, his eyebrows raised in question, and I shake my head.

  “Think we’ll pass on that for now, missy. But you look mighty tasty.” He smoothes the russet beard back from his mouth and smiles at the young woman, the tips of his fangs pressing against his lower lip.

  I hug the ring to my nose.

  She laughs, obviously used to such offers.

  “You know the rules. Hands and teeth off the help.” With a nod to me, she leaves.


  Her uniform is similar to the other waitresses circling the bar—black high heels and skimpy black shorts, topped by a tuxedo-style white blouse with rolled up sleeves and a red bow tie at the throat. Nothing ever changes, not even in the world of the undead. Just like in the human world, women seem to be sex objects in this one as well.

  I watch the waitresses hover around the tables, intent on keeping both Chosen and human well-supplied with drink. The humans all have small decanters of liqueur in front of them, and I suppose it’s part of the waitresses’ jobs to make sure each human patron consumes the alcohol laced with Chosen blood. That would be the only way to keep this place secret. Once bound by the blood, the humans would be physically unable to reveal the underground society’s existence and would even go to great lengths to protect it.

  But all my musings do little to blunt the impact of what’s happening around me. Flashing fangs and the heady aroma of human red nectar has me nearly crawling out of my skin. I stare down at the table and wish I had the clove necklace as well as the ring to help keep me grounded.

  A shadow falls over our table and I look up to see two Chosen in suits staring down at me.

  They’re of Nicolas’s lineage, with his feel and characteristic amber-and-violet auras.

  Redd slowly eases his chair back.

  The shorter of the two leans toward the other as he gestures toward me.

  “That’s her. She’s got the scar on her face.”

  Instinct shifts my body into fight mode as it assesses the two Chosen. Medium in build and height, even together they are no match for the burly Scot beside me. He sits up, suddenly larger, more imposing than normal.

  “Is there something I can do for you gents?”

  “Where’s your partner, Redd?” The taller one takes off his sunglasses. His eyes are deep brown, almost black.

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Doesn’t matter anyway.” He turns his dark gaze on me. “We’re here for her.”

  I’m not liking this. Something doesn’t feel right.

  “I don’t think so, Johnny Boy.” Redd’s bearded mouth twitches, exposing a fang.

  The other Chosen bristles. A third suit, taller and stockier than the other two, materializes behind them.

  “It’s Mr. Jonathon to you. And we’re taking her.” He motions to the others.

  “She’s not going anywhere,” Taz growls from the other side of Redd. I didn’t even see him cross the room.

  “Nice of you to join us.” The Chosen points toward me. “Mr. Isaac wants to know why you haven’t brought her in yet.”

  “I don’t answer to Isaac.”

  “You’re overstepping your boundaries, Taz.”

  “You trying to tell me how to do my job?”

  “Yeah. Right now I am. She’s coming with us.” He moves toward me, his hand reaching as though to grab my arm.

  My growl is drowned out by Taz’s as he shoves himself between me and the Chosen. The other two rush forward and Redd is out of his chair. Someone pushes someone else and the mass of Chosen explodes into fists, claws, and fangs.

  I scramble backward out of the way and look toward the door. With the whole city in which to disappear, now might be my only chance.

  But as I sidle away from the battle, I’m brought up short by Chia’s dagger poking me in the belly.

  “Going somewhere? You got a ringside seat to this little party you started. Sit down and enjoy it.”

  I feint to the left, then try to duck out to the right. But she’s faster, and all I get for my efforts is a slash across the cheek.

  “Sit your ass down, bitch. Or I’ll take an eye. Or both. That’ll keep you still for a while.”

  Growling, I sit. I look back at the fight, which is now over. Redd stands facing Taz, shaking his head, a thick-fingered hand against the Indian’s chest. The three Chosen straighten their torn suits as the last of their injuries heal up on their faces. Other than a few strands of hair that escaped his black braid, Taz looks none the worse for wear.

  The dark-eyed Chosen puts on his sunglasses and straightens his jacket, then sneers at the big Indian.

  “Psychopathic unbound scum. You’re nothing but an overpaid garbage collector. Bring the woman. Tonight.” The three walk away, their confidence clearing a path before them.

  The muscles across Taz’s jaw flex and tension ripples down his neck and across his back. Fingers arched, a low snarl slips from his curled lips. Redd clamps an iron grip on Taz’s shoulder.

  “Easy now, bro. Save ’em for later, when there’s less likely to be questions.”

  Taz nods and slowly relaxes. He turns to look at me, then at Chia behind me with her dagger resting on my shoulder. He looks back at me and shakes his head.

  “Let’s go.”

  I stand between the idling bikes, helmet on, and wait while Taz and Redd argue on the other side of the parking lot. Worms of worry crawl up my spine. I don’t know who this Isaac is. As much as I want to be rid of Taz and the emotional turmoil that goes with him, I’m reluctant to leave his protection.

  Better the enemy you know than the one you don’t.

  Robert’s the only Chosen who’s seen me and knows who I am. Worse, he didn’t seem too pleased by my presence. I certainly don’t know if I can trust him or not. My instincts tell me Alina’s still my best bet.

  If I can ever get to her.

  For now, my fate rests in the big hands of the angry Indian striding toward me.

  Taz climbs onto the rumbling motorcycle and I slide on behind him. The sound of the bikes bounces off each warehouse we pass and soon we’re back on city streets.

  But several blocks later, Redd waves and turns right while we continue straight. The last thing I see of him is Chia on the back of his bike, her middle finger stabbing the air above her head.

  CHAPTER 52

  We grab the 880 Freeway north, then swing onto the 80 toward Sacramento. Considering what just happened in the club, the ensuing argument between Taz and Redd and his obvious displeasure at its outcome, I can only assume I’m being delivered to this Isaac—whoever he is.

  I just hope he’s the next stop on the road to Alina.

  Once again I mentally kick myself for failing to use common sense on Halloween night. I never should’ve gotten on this damn bike, which is now taking me farther and farther from my car and everything I own.

  Shit.

  Our destination remains a mystery as Taz veers onto the 580 heading to San Rafael, and within a short time, we’re crossing through one of the toll booths that accompany nearly every bridge in the area. Dark water flashes beneath us, and in the distant south, lights dot the Bay Bridge crossing from Oakland into San Francisco.

  Lost in berating myself, I’m not paying attention to the signs and have no idea where we are when we exit the freeway.

  Great. I’m such an idiot.

  When we jump onto the 101 south to San Francisco, I’m even more puzzled. We’ve just gone in a big circle. Why didn’t we just take the 80 to the Bay Bridge in the first place?

  The answer becomes clear when Taz exits onto Highway 1.

  He’s not taking me to Isaac, nor to Alina. We’re heading back to his place.

  I don’t know whether to be concerned or relieved.

  However, confusion takes over as we blow past the turnoff for his house and begin winding up the steep Panoramic Highway and into the Mt. Tamalpais State Park.

  The mood he’s in, I’m not sure I want to go hunting with him—I just might be tonight’s prey. In any number of ways.

  One thing’s for sure. The twisting road now heading down the densely forested mountain toward the sea wasn’t built for the speed we’re traveling, and I have no choice but to wrap myself tightly around him as we lean into tree-lined curve after curve.

  Though I haven’t been here before, the ocean view peeking through the trees looks familiar. But any appreciation I might have for the breathtaking scenery is quickly buried beneath the appre
hension regarding my fate.

  Dark sky opens up before us as we slow for a stop sign. Taz ignores it and we turn onto Highway 1 heading back toward San Francisco, the engine roaring its protest as he slams it back up through gear after gear. The winding road along the sea cliffs doesn’t hamper our speed one bit, and I continue to cling to Taz, wondering at each turn if he intends to plunge us into the water far below.

  But he doesn’t. We fly along the road, leaning this way and that in the dance of the biker and his steel steed, and I begin to wonder if this is just his version of going for a run to blow off steam.

  I finally relax and release my death grip on him when we turn onto the street for his house. We pull into the garage beside Redd’s bike, the engine’s thumping heartbeat drowning all thought as it’s caged in by painted walls.

  It continues to echo in my head after Taz shuts it off. I swing my leg over and step away, then remove my helmet and wait for him.

  Not knowing what else to say, I decide a simple thanks might ease the tension between us.

  “Thank you for the ride. It was, uh, beautiful.” Terrifying, but beautiful.

  He looks at me, pained regret flickering across his features a half second before the cold-eyed smirk slams down over his face like a mask.

  His mouth twists to one side.

  “Just wanted to feel you wrapped around me with those tits in my back one last time.”

  Then he turns and heads into the house, leaving me standing open-mouthed in the now-silent garage.

  Butterfly wings brush against my lips and I open my eyes to gaze into Taz’s, hovering just inches away. Mouth curving into a soft smile, he rises, his hair falling forward around his bare shoulders.

  Once again he’s translucent, as am I, though we’re a little fainter than before.

  He takes my ghost-hand into his and we shoot straight up into a dove grey dawn. Our flight is swift and sure, down the mountain and out over the sea. We continue to descend until we’re skimming the coastline just above the water, its silvery surface surging with the pulse of the earth. The sea cliffs follow our descent before falling away to a pale golden beach.

  Our feet touch down upon the wet sand as gently as falling leaves. Spirit-Taz leads me up beyond the surf line, then motions me to sit with my back to the sea. He sits cross-legged facing me, never letting go of my hand, and then turns and points with his other up at the mountaintop behind him.