02 Hunted - The Chosen

by Denise Grover Swank

  Emma didn’t answer and the woman moved down the hall.

  “You wait outside the bathroom door. I’ll be out in a second.”

  Emma looked at the dark paneled walls in the hallway covered with family pictures. She moved from photo to photo of children and families.

  “Those are my children and their children,” Sophia said and Emma jumped, startled. She rested her hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Relax, you’re safe here.”

  Emma turned around. “Your family is beautiful. You’re so lucky.”

  “Yes, I’m a very rich woman. Not by the world’s standards.” She waved to her living room. “But where it really counts, I’m richer than most. Do you have a family? Children?”

  Emma’s throat burned. “I have a son. He’s five.” She paused, suddenly feeling an urgency to share her pregnancy. “And a baby.” She put her hand on her stomach and smiled in spite of her sadness choking her heart.

  The woman glanced at Emma’s finger. “And the father?”

  “He’s the one coming to get me.”

  The woman took Emma’s hands in her own. “Does he love you?”

  Emma nodded, tears falling. “Yes, very much so.”

  “You hold on to that. Love is more powerful than all the money in the world.”

  Emma pushed open the bathroom door, worried she couldn’t keep her emotions in check much longer. Sophia handed her a small white bundle. Emma glanced down and back to the woman in confusion.

  “You’re a wee thing, not much I own will fit you. This is all I have that will work.”

  Emma shook out the cloth to find a white nightgown in her hands. Her eyes grew round as her heart seized. “Oh, no… I can’t…” She handed the gown to the woman.

  The woman waved her off. “It’s an old gown. I never wear it anymore. Just the other day I considered cutting it up for rags. You put it on to get warm and dry.”

  Emma couldn’t figure out a logical reason to refuse. She told herself to calm down. It was just a nightgown. Just because she wore one in her dream with Raphael didn’t mean anything. “Okay,” she said as she shut the door and pressed her back into it. She looked up at the ceiling, willing her tears away then turned to the mirror, surprised by her reflection. Her left cheek was swollen and cut, her right side fuller than usual. Her arms were covered with cuts and scratches. Leaves and small twigs had embedded in her hair.

  She stripped off her wet, muddy jeans and t-shirt and folded them into a pile on the side of the tub. She wet a washcloth and scrubbed the dirt and grime from her arms and face, being careful around her abrasions. She waited until the very last moment to slip the nightgown over her head. The woman was several sizes larger than Emma, and the gown swam on her. She told herself it was only until Will got there. He’d get her something else to wear.

  Opening the door with her clothes sandwiched in her hands, she peered into the hall, half expecting someone to jump out at her. When she returned to the kitchen, Sophia held a kettle in her hand, pouring water into a cup.

  “I was making myself some tea. Would you like some?”

  The thought of drinking tea made her want to hurl. “Uh, no thank you. Maybe a glass of water.”

  Emma sat on the edge of a chair, scanning the room. The woman tilted her head. “You can trust me, you know. You can tell me what happened to you.”

  “It’s better if you don’t know.” She paused. “Did you say you have a gun?”

  “Why?” Sophia’s words were crisp as she straightened, more alert.

  “Just in case someone shows up looking for me.”

  “No, I made that up.”

  Emma’s shoulders sank. She was weaponless.

  “Who’s after you? Do you think they’ll come looking for you?”

  “I don’t know. I hope not, but I should probably just go. I can start walking to the road and Will can meet me out there.”

  “Will, is that your friend?” She nodded. “Will can pick you up right here. If you think someone’s out there looking for you all the more reason to not be out there.”

  “But…”

  “Sweetheart, I didn’t get to be eighty-six years old by being stupid. Now I may not be very fast on my feet, but I can stand up to the best of them. I’ve got a cast-iron frying pan or two at my disposal.”

  The corners of Emma’s mouth lifted. “I don’t think a cast-iron skillet will hold off men with guns.”

  She winked. “They haven’t met my cast-iron skillets.”

  “Why are you helping me? You know you’re putting yourself in danger, yet you let me stay. Why?”

  Sophia put a glass of water on the table and patted Emma’s hand as she sat next to her. “Because I’m a good judge of character. You’re a good person.”

  Emma pressed her lips together and slowly shook her head. “I don’t know about that. I don’t know about anything anymore.”

  “You are a good person. I can see it in you. I can see your spirit. Most people just think I’m crazy when I say that, but I’ve always been able to see the goodness or the evil in a person. They have a glow and I can see yours clear as day.”

  Emma’s heart leapt at the thought. She’d believed differently for far too long. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “And my baby? Can you see if he’s a good person?” If only she had confirmation that this baby wouldn’t be born to destroy everything and everyone she loved.

  “No, child. I can’t see unborn babies.”

  Emma tried to contain her disappointment.

  “Why would you think you’re bad?”

  She looked down at her lap, twisting the gown fabric between her fingers. “It’s complicated.”

  “You keep saying that, but things often aren’t as complicated as they seem.”

  Emma lifted her head and gave her a twisted smile. “Men.” It seemed pretty stupid in light of everything else going on.

  Sophia laughed and patted her hand. “There’s plenty of man trouble to make the world go round. This have anything to do with your friend who’s coming to get you?”

  She sighed. “Yeah. And someone else.”

  “Ahh...” Sophia took a sip from her mug. “You have to make a decision?”

  Did she? Was it really so difficult? The only thing Raphael had ever done for her was give her a car. But how did she explain the feelings he evoked? That had to mean something.

  “Emma,” Sophia paused and Emma looked up into her warm eyes. “At the end of the day, you have to figure out who makes you happy. Who loves you for you and is good for your soul.”

  Emma shook her head. “I’ve hurt him.”

  “If he loves you and you’re meant to be, he’ll forgive you. You need to trust him.”

  Emma’s lip trembled. “I haven’t trusted anyone or anything for so long, I don’t even know where to start.”

  Sophia’s hand squeezed Emma’s “Start by trusting your heart.”

  If only her heart wasn’t such a mess.

  Emma’s eyes widened when a gunshot rang out in the woods. “Do you hear gunshots out here very often?”

  Sophia gripped her mug tighter. “No.”

  Emma jumped out of her seat, banging her leg into the table. Water sloshed out of its glass. “I’ve got to go.”

  “You can’t leave. If there are men with guns out there looking for you, you’d be foolish to go out there.”

  She jammed her feet into her shoes. “No. They’ll come here looking for me. They’ll hurt you. I can’t let that happen.” Emma dropped her clothes on the chair. “Hide these somewhere so they can’t find them, just in case they look. If they know you helped me….” Emma moved to the back door.

  “Emma, don’t go out there. Stay here and let me help you.”

  She shook her head and pushed open the door. “You helped me enough. No one can help me now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Goosebumps erupted on Emma’s arms from chill and fright. The wind picked up, swirling around her, h
er gown flapping around her legs. Thousands of stars twinkled over her head in the narrow gap between the trees. A feeling of dread crept over her.

  She kept moving down the gravel road, the woods on either side of her silent. With any luck at all, she had imagined the noises before. She hoped that Will was closer than he thought.

  Did she love him? Sophia told her that she would know. She could never ask for a better man than Will Davenport and he loved her unconditionally. Yet there was no denying the unstoppable pull to Raphael. It was as though he had cast her in a magic spell.

  Emma nearly scoffed at the thought, then stopped. After every other crazy thing that had happened to her in the last month, it didn’t seem so crazy after all. The pull to him was almost magnetic. She found herself unable to resist, especially if he touched her. And every time she saw him, it grew stronger and stronger.

  She didn’t even know what Raphael wanted from her, but she was sure he wanted something. Why would he keep showing up out of nowhere? If only she had the stone, maybe she could use its power to defend herself from him.

  Goddamn James. He’d drugged her, handed her over to Kramer and stolen her pendant. The one tie to who she really was and what she was capable of. Her anger grew, mushrooming into a near explosive level. Then she felt it. The burn in her chest.

  Her eyes widened at the possibility.

  A noise in the trees startled her. Emma stopped turning her head to the sound. The wind died down and a voice floated on the remnants.

  “Emma.” It was only one word, but it was laden with warmth and promise. And beckoning.

  She froze, grabbing onto a tree for support as a cramp griped her lower abdomen. She shook her head, sure she had imagined the voice. Her pain eased and she straightened, her worry for the baby growing stronger. The man had kicked her in the stomach and she was sore. That was all.

  She continued toward the main road, shadows creeping along the edges, moving with the breeze as though they beckoned. The wind lifted the hem of her nightgown, as though it played with her, taunting her. Her chest tightened. Her imagination had gone into overdrive.

  “Emma.” The wind called again, warm and inviting. It pulled her into the trees.

  She gripped the nearest trunk, clinging as her will fought against the pull that drew her. It was too strong, her curiosity too piqued to deny the call. Step by agonizing slow step, she walked toward the force that drew her, a roaring bonfire in a clearing in the forest. She stopped far enough away to feel its warmth without getting burned.

  The cool, damp air clung to her skin contrasting with the heat of the blaze that warmed the front of her. Her breath came in shallow pants, her chest rising and falling while her heart beat savagely against her chest. An undercurrent of electricity flowed along the surface of her skin, causing a tingle that rippled across her body. She wasn’t frightened. She was more alive than she had ever been and she felt power, unimaginable power. Her excitement mingled with the electrical current, causing an unexpected pleasurable sensation to spread through her. She gasped in surprise and delight.

  The fire called to her. Every part of her being shivered with anticipation. Emma felt a presence approach from behind. It lifted the hair off the side of her neck. A soft breeze blew and the leaves of the trees rustled, whispering in the night. Stray hairs tickled her face, leaving tiny electrical jolts in their wake. Warm, soft lips moved to her neck, kissing lightly and moving up to her ear. Warm breath fanned her damp skin and a slow burn began to ignite in her stomach. Emma tilted her head, looking up into the leaves of the trees above her before closing her eyes.

  “You are not bound to destiny.” A warm, husky voice filled her ear as the lips that spoke the words kissed her neck below her ear lobe. Waves of pleasure washed through her. Every part of her yearned for more. She wanted what he offered. She wanted him. Only it wasn’t Will.

  “We’re so close,” he said, his very breath pushing her closer and closer to ecstasy. “So very close.”

  Her body agreed, straining for more. He circled in front of her and she knew who it was even before she saw him. Raphael.

  His eyes glowed, feral and hungry. Raphael reached up, touching her cheek. The firelight danced on his face. “What have they done to you, my love?” His finger traced her cheekbone, electricity following in its wake. “Again, he hasn’t protected you.” His fingertip slid along her lower lip, hesitating at the fullest part. She inhaled and he smiled.

  His hand slid down to her neck, his thumb tracing along her pulse point. Raphael’s face inched closer to hers until his breath mingled with her own. His mouth hovered over hers, so close that her lips ached with need.

  His mouth touched hers, a whisper of a kiss, taunting her. She moaned and he smiled against her lower lip. “You want this too.” He nipped and she cried out again. His tongue licked her upper lip, then darted in finding her tongue. She froze as his tongue teased hers.

  “Do you remember the words?” he murmured against her mouth.

  She was lost. Lost in feelings and sensations, smoldering in the fire that swept her body. “No.”

  He wrapped an arm around her back, pulling until her chest molded into his. His hand skimmed her shoulder with agonizing slowness up to her neck, his thumb tracing a line up to her ear. “You always liked this. Do you really not remember?”

  His mouthed claimed hers with ferociousness, as though he could breathe the words into her. She clung to him overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations. His mouth moved to her ear as she panted for breath. “We’re so close now. Closer than we’ve ever been, my love. How can you not know the words?”

  “Because it’s not her.” A man’s voice called out.

  Raphael’s arm tightened around her waist and he hissed. “Alex.”

  Emma’s eyes widened and she looked over her shoulder to see Alex standing on the other side of the fire. Passion swept away with the wind, leaving anger in its wake. She clenched her fists and pushed against Raphael’s chest, but his grip tightened.

  “You’re a little late to the party, Alex. Emmanuella was about to choose me.”

  The light of the bonfire accentuated the glint in his eyes. “It’s not her.”

  Raphael jerked the nightgown down to reveal her shoulder blade and the marks embedded there. “This proves that it is.” He caressed her cheek seductively, and she found herself lost in him again. Raphael smiled in triumph. “And this proves it as well. She has never been able to resist me.”

  “Maybe so, but it’s not your Emmanuella. She’s different.”

  Raphael gripped Emma’s cheeks in his hand, looking into her eyes. “What makes you say that? She’s the same as always.”

  “No, look deeper, Raphael. She’s similar but not the same. She fights harder. She resists us both more.”

  Raphael laughed bitterly. “Of course, she does. That’s how she got this far this time. She’s a fighter.”

  “No, Raphael. She’s different. When did you ever see her fall in love with the man sent to protect her?”

  Raphael’s eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t love him. She cares for him, but love him?”

  “She carries his child.”

  “She carried your child too, you son of a bitch. That didn’t change anything, did it? Did you really think it would?”

  “I hadn’t remembered at that point, but you and I both know we’re still drawn to her even before we remember.”

  “You’re goddamned lucky that didn’t restart the whole thing.”

  “Exactly. Why didn’t it?”

  Raphael stood in stunned silence. Emma’s mind found a tiny foothold on sanity and pulled out of Raphael’s grip. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Raphael’s head whipped around to face her. “Do you really not remember?”

  “Remember what?”

  Raphael turned to Alex. “How can she not remember?”

  “I keep telling you it’s not her.”

  Emma backed up several steps. “What the hell
are you talking about?”

  Alex walked around the fire, keeping his gaze on her.

  Raphael reached for her. “If you kill her this time, Alex. I will rip you apart with my bare hands. I haven’t gotten this close to lose her now.”

  “No!” She held her hands up in front of her. “Stay away from me. I don’t know how you do that to me, but stay the hell away so I can think.”

  “Emmanuella…” Raphael cooed, his hands reaching toward her, coaxing.

  Alex moved toward her and she backed up another step. “Stay back, the both of you.”

  “See?” Alex asked, turning an eye to Raphael. “Our Emmanuella is meeker. This one is a warrior. When I first met her, before I remembered who she was and who I was, she was like our Emmanuella, but she changed. When I met her a month ago and the memories returned, I knew it wasn’t her.”

  Raphael looked crestfallen as he searched her face. “What does it mean?”

  The air stilled before a voice broke the silence. “That everything has changed.”

  They all turned to see a man standing on the other side of the fire.

  “Aiden.” Both men spoke at the same time.

  Emma’s heart skipped a beat. “My father?”

  But the man before her couldn’t be her father. Tall, with a solid physique. Wavy brown hair covered his head. His face looked like a Renaissance painting, regal and cold. He looked far too young to be her father.

  “Hello, Emmanuella. You’ve done well.”

  Dizziness washed through her and she stumbled a step before catching herself. “Where the hell have you been for twenty-seven years?”

  “Waiting for the right time.”

  “Right time? Right fucking time for what?”

  “What the hell is going on, Aiden?” Alex snarled. “She doesn’t remember anything. It’s not her, yet she has the marks. She has the power. Are you changing the rules of the game now? After all these centuries?”

  Aiden shrugged and turned out his hands. “I’m bored. You all do almost exactly the same thing, time after time after time. She wants Raphael. You get angry and kill her before she can pick him. That is if you two even get that far. It was time to shake things up a bit. It’s time to end this.”