‘Can you feel that?’ she asked of the others. Aubrey’s gaze was blank when she met it, and Jadon and Samuel only glanced at each other, confused, wondering what they were meant to be able to feel. The twitches became twangs – what was breaking?
‘What do you feel, Teresa?’ Emmanuelle asked, a tiny frown forming. Teresa could only shrug, unable to communicate the weird energetic itch she sensed.
‘I don’t know…like a twitch, somewhere near. It’s something connected to me,’ she added, feeling stupid. She couldn’t explain, and it was probably something really simple. She looked down at her hands, sliding the illusion ring onto her fingers. It was loose on every one – she had thinner fingers than Emmanuelle did.
‘Do you have wards up here?’ Emmanuelle glanced between Teresa and Samuel.
‘Of course; I cast them around the house when I was initiated,’ said Teresa. ‘Lord Gawain said-’
‘Are they still up?’ Emmanuelle interrupted. Teresa blinked – she’d put several nets up last year and not thought of them since – and took a moment to spread her magical senses through the rooms of her small home, across her vegetable garden outside, out onto the street…
The net was gone, cut to pieces. One strand remained, holding up one flimsy cloaking ward like a tent, guarding her entire property. The other layers had been carefully cut away – one by one, twitching like severed elastic.
Teresa didn’t know what to say. She stared at Emmanuelle, frozen in confusion and indecision.
‘But…where have they gone?’ she asked after a long, tense moment. Nobody said or did anything for a second.
Then everything happened at once.
The last strand of magic protecting Teresa and Samuel’s little cottage snapped and was gone. Emmanuelle had her wand in her hand and cast some kind of ward on the ring in Jadon’s palm, and it was suddenly energetically invisible, just as if it had become like any other ring. Teresa became aware of something wrong outside the door – masses of nothingness, impenetrable by air, dust particles and miniature insects – and realised what it must be just as she saw Emmanuelle’s spell.
They were people, energetically cloaked, conspicuous only by their apparent lack of substance. There were people outside who had pulled the house’s wards down. This was, and could only be, an attack.
Emmanuelle and Teresa acted at the same time in the instant before the door smashed open. Teresa flung her hand out towards the kitchenette, willing her magic to shield the people in it. Her wards were not the flashiest, so an illusion was born – a picture of an empty kitchen, dishes for two strewn across the bench, silent, the energy dull and unmoving, the auras of the three occupants impossible to detect. Emmanuelle cast her powerful wards through Teresa’s magic, building two opalescent walls between Teresa and the door.
The door was opened with such force that chips of wood were splintered away from the lock. The door itself swung inward and hit the wall with a bang, bouncing back into the sides of the men who streamed through the door, armed with wands and knives.
There were nine of them, Teresa became aware vaguely through her panic; too many for her to take on. Aubrey drew his wand and stepped in front of her, his mouth set in a determined line. Teresa’s heart clenched – she had not acted fast enough or effectively enough. Her illusion had not stretched far enough to envelop him, too.
The men hit the first ward with force, like running into a glass door. Two fell, stunned. The third, a tall, black man with a wide, white grin, slashed with his wand, and the wall was gone.
Aubrey pointed his wand at the intruders and a small globe of bluish light shot from its tip. It cut straight through the second ward (Emmanuelle had thought to use proper defensive combat wards, which worked much like two-way mirrors) and struck the temple of one of the men struggling to his feet. The man’s eyes rolled back, and he slipped back to the floor, unconscious. His fellows behind him hesitated when they saw Aubrey turn his wand on the next man in line, but the heavy-set, black man stepped forward, his grin still in place.
‘You can’t win, boy,’ he said, as though amused. His accent was American, although Teresa couldn’t guess the locality.
‘Stand down,’ Aubrey commanded. ‘This is private property, and we are councillors for the White Elm-’
‘I know who you are,’ the man said, looking around while Teresa silently assessed him from his aura. He was a Crafter; powerful, but not complete, somehow. ‘Frankly, I think you’re a poor replacement for someone like me. I just want to know where you’ve hidden Emmanuelle.’
Teresa resisted the urge to glance into the kitchenette.
‘She’s not here,’ Aubrey said coldly, and the intruder scoffed. Without warning, he shot a stream of flame from his wand. Teresa’s instincts had her hand up straight away and casting a ward, but to her dismay her quick reflex meant nothing – no sooner had her thin sheet of magic blocked the flame than it shattered like eggshell. It was Emmanuelle’s ward that repelled the dangerous magic, ricocheting the flame into the kitchen and blasting a cupboard door clean off.
Teresa turned to look, glad for the excuse to check on the three she had hidden. Clearly, the intruders could not sense through her illusion. At first, neither could she, but a change in focus and her eyes were able to pick out three people ducking to avoid the cupboard door as it fell. Emmanuelle was standing very still, recognising the need to stay hidden until the right moment. Jadon had a hand clamped across Samuel’s mouth; upon meeting his girlfriend’s eyes, Samuel made a sudden movement as though to go to her, but Jadon pulled him back. There was nothing Samuel could do, after all. It was better he stayed safe. In that same instant, Jadon sought Teresa’s gaze. She felt their minds click together just as she turned back to face the trespassers.
It’s okay, Jadon’s reassuring voice sounded in her head. Em and I have him; just worry about yourself and Aubrey. We’ll jump in soon, we’ll take them all on together.
‘See that ward?’ the American asked, nodding at the silvery wall protecting Teresa and Aubrey. The kitchen light glinted dully off his bald head. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t recognise her work? It’s Emmanuelle’s – where is she?’
‘She’s not here,’ Aubrey said again. ‘She’s gone.’
‘I don’t think so,’ the impostor disagreed, looking around but not moving, still grinning as though this was all very funny. He raised his voice. ‘I know you’re in here somewhere, darling. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.’ He paused, waiting, and his grin widened snidely. ‘I promised Peter I’d find you.’
‘Who are you and what do you want?’ Aubrey demanded, apparently losing patience.
‘I’m your predecessor, and I’m here to collect something for a good friend.’
Predecessor? Teresa had the word confused with ancestor, and couldn’t make sense of the American’s claim, but she had a good idea as to what he wanted to collect.
Teresa, Jadon said, forcibly calm, baby girl, you’re on your own. Lord Gawain has ordered Em and I to stand down.
Her heart skipped a beat.
He won’t let us step in until backup arrives. You and Aubrey have this, though. You’re okay. Just stay calm. You’re doing great.
‘You need to leave,’ Teresa said, stepping forward to stand at Aubrey’s shoulder. ‘You are trespassing.’
‘That’s her, Jackson,’ another intruder, another American, this one bearing a hunting knife, exclaimed suddenly, pointing at Teresa. ‘She’s the one I seen. He said she’d be the one with the Elm Stone tonight.’
Teresa’s stomach flipped over. He’d seen her? How? No one knew what she looked like. The world knew only her name, as well as Aubrey’s and Jadon’s – Lord Gawain had refrained from introducing the new three publicly, enjoying the fact that three of his councillors were unknown to the enemy.
And Jackson?
How does he know you? Jadon demanded, less reassuring now. Teresa could only wonder, her thoughts diso
rdered and flustered. It doesn’t matter. Renatus is coming, and the rest of the council.
Teresa’s mind froze on that thought.
Renatus.
Teresa’s illusion was Renatus’s idea.
The ring’s presence here tonight was Renatus’s idea.
Was it possible, at all, that this raid was yet another of his ideas?
‘She’s got the ring,’ one of the trespassers at the rear of the group pointed out, and they all looked to Teresa’s hand.
‘I think you ought to hand that over,’ the leader (could it be the Jackson, who had left the White Elm with Lisandro?) said, stretching out a hand. Aubrey shifted forward again to put himself between the intruders and Teresa.
‘This is the last time we’re going to ask,’ he said, his voice hard. ‘Leave.’
Jackson only smiled wider and began to walk forwards. Aubrey cast another stun, and the bluish light shot towards Jackson’s chest, but the bigger man raised his empty hand to catch the magic. The light dissipated in his hand, ineffective, and he shook his head. Aubrey raised his chin slightly, defiant and determined not to show his fear.
The intruders were all advancing now, slowly, taking care to keep behind Jackson. Teresa took a big step backwards, pulling Aubrey back with her to give them some space. He cast another spell, and the bright globe of light was bigger and brighter this time, but Jackson just caught it again.
Try something else, Teresa found herself begging silently, knowing only Jadon could hear. Other White Elm councillors were brushing past her consciousness, confused and scared, but only Jadon was listening.
One of those presences, one of her brothers or sisters, had instigated this. It was the only explanation. Nobody else knew this was happening tonight, nobody but the White Elm. Even Samuel, her own boyfriend, had only found out a few hours ago when she’d started preparing for dinner. For Jackson to know, somebody on the council had to have told him.
Her instincts told her who.
Aubrey thankfully decided to change his tact, and his next spell was something different of his own make. Jackson closed his hand on the bolt of sparkly green and flinched as his skin seared and the muscles in his hand experienced a sudden spasm. It was better but it didn’t slow him.
Another ward, Jadon commanded suddenly, and Teresa did as he said, just as Jackson tore down Emmanuelle’s and another intruder blasted dark magic at her. Her ward was instantly in shreds, barely existent, but it had served its purpose.
Aubrey tried something else, missing Jackson when the target ducked aside, but striking his nearest fellow in the neck. The man who was struck fell back, clawing at his own neck, shouting incoherently as imaginary pain took hold. Buoyed by success, Aubrey turned back to Jackson and tried the spell on him.
In an instant, Aubrey had lost. Jackson cast a hasty reflective ward, good enough to send most of Aubrey’s spell right back. He had no chance to deflect. The spell caught him in the stomach, and he fell to his knees, gasping as though he’d been stabbed.
‘Aubrey!’ Teresa clutched at his shoulders, trying to pull him back to his feet. He couldn’t be down; she couldn’t fight these people, not without him. Jadon’s voice still streamed through the back of her mind: You’re doing fine, he’s going to be okay, you’re going to be fine, too, I swear…But even that was becoming less and less comforting as the situation worsened rapidly.
‘Just give me the ring, pretty thing,’ Jackson said, reasonably. ‘We’ll go.’
Teresa nodded, recognising her chance. She kept one hand on Aubrey, channelling healing energy through him, giving him strength. It was slow work because there was no actual wound or damage. She began to twist the Elm Stone free of her finger but Aubrey grabbed her wrist.
‘No, Teresa-’
‘No, what?’ she hissed back, trying to get him to understand. They could have it. This was the whole point of tonight, making a convincing fake for Jackson to steal. It wasn’t worth dying for. But he wasn’t the Telepath, and he was in too much pain to be thinking clearly.
‘Just don’t-’
Two of the intruders hit him with stuns, and he crumpled.
And Teresa was alone, or as good as. In the corner of her eye, she saw Jadon release Samuel and step forward, but Emmanuelle had the sense and the strength to fling her arm into his path and catch him across the chest, stopping him from throwing himself into danger. They’d been forbidden to step in. Lord Gawain had to have his reasons for that. Teresa understood that. Emmanuelle understood that. Jadon did not.
I want to help you, Jadon said, almost pleading. Teresa stepped over Aubrey, her every instinct craving to check his vitals, to tend to him, but she could not. He was alive; that was enough.
You cannot, was her answer to Jadon as Jackson raised his wand. Lord Gawain must know that the situation was hopeless. It was better to lose only two councillors than four.
‘Stop,’ she ordered, when she saw that Jackson’s wand was still aimed at the motionless Aubrey. ‘He’s not a threat.’
‘I know.’ Jackson laughed loudly. ‘That was disappointingly easy. I was promised a decent fight.’
By whom? Did Renatus tell Jackson who would be here tonight, and suggest that the boys would pose a formidable threat?
Where are they? Teresa demanded of her best friend. You said Renatus was coming to help!
He is coming, Jadon promised, disengaging from her slightly to check in on another conversation. He returned momentarily, sounding more stressed and angry. He’s still at the estate, arguing with Qasim.
It felt like the final nail in a coffin. Lord Gawain could be at the end of the street right now, but wouldn’t go into battle without his secret weapon…who was still at home, picking arguments with their other best chance of survival.
He was doing this on purpose. Renatus was deliberately holding up the council to give Jackson a head start.
Jadon, it’s Renatus. This was all him. He’s a traitor.
She waited for Jadon to disagree, to rationalise, but he didn’t try.
Teresa lifted her hand, disappointed to see that it was trembling slightly. The ring glinted there.
‘Leave,’ she warned. Jackson smirked.
‘Looks good on you. Maybe I should let you keep it.’
‘Maybe I will.’
Jackson’s smile slipped away.
‘You know, you are full of good ideas,’ he said, and showed her the burnt skin of his palm, the result of Aubrey’s spell. ‘You’ll use it to fix the mess your boy made of my hand. You’re coming with us.’
Teresa didn’t have a chance to argue. A spell struck her shoulder and the energy was absorbed into her whole body, intoxicating her. She could feel it taking effect, dragging her into the drain of unconsciousness, that dank, dark place…
Teresa!
Jadon’s voice, scared and worried. Because she was on her hands and knees now? Because her vision had already blacked out? Because he could see strange men moving towards her, lifting her roughly, and could do nothing? Why didn’t he specify?
Jadon, you have to know, Teresa said, just as she slipped away from reality, Renatus did this.
She lost her connection with Jadon and was alone in the dark, left to regret ever trusting the Dark Keeper.
Acknowledgements
While talent, hard work and tenacity will get you a long way in life, having wonderful people alongside you will get you a fair amount further, and though I have only this one section on which to thank them all, I should first remind them that every single page of this book is dedicated to them all. Chosen would never have gotten from my jumbled mind, to my computer screen and out into the world as paper and ink without the following people:
Sabrina Raven, fairy godmother – editor, agent and explainer of things – without you, this book would still be a Word document on my computer, trapped behind the monitor screen, banging with angry fists and unable to find a way out and onto bound paper. Thank you
for your patience, support, understanding, industry knowledge and willingness to believe in me and in Chosen.
Through all phases of the writing process there are the betas – the ever-patient, ever-willing friends and family members upon who falls the task of reading, rereading and painstakingly recounting the manuscript – and they are to be hugged and thanked profusely. Deep gratitude goes to LJ, Ellen, Matt, Danielle, Mia, Mel, Tiffany, Katherine, Mum and Dad for the part you each played in moulding Chosen into the story it has become. Accepting criticism is no one’s strong suit but I’m glad I listened to all of yours.
We always say not to judge a book by its cover, and yet we all know that we still do, and for this simple fact I knew I needed the artistic talents of you, Laura-Jane MacNamara. We’ve come a long way from our days as eccentric outcast schoolgirls sitting in the back of a classroom writing fanfiction and drawing anime but the fact remains that no other artist on the planet could put up with my frustrating perfectionist nit-picking or understand my crazy mind. No book of mine could have been complete without a cover of your creation. As always you have created something more amazing than I could have ever envisioned, and I continue to be awed by your talent and honoured to count you as my friend.
On the topic of friends, thank you to each and every one of mine who have loved and believed in me, or even just not patted me on the head and told me my dreams are very sweet. Thank you for letting me believe, thank you for understanding when I chose to stay home and write over coming shopping, thank you for dragging me out anyway sometimes when I needed the break from my own mind. Thank you to the wonderful and inspiring people I work with, both past and present, who keep me afloat in my professional life; thank you to the encouraging and generous people I have connected with online in the writing communities, who shower me with praise and glowing feedback that keeps me believing in myself. Thank you to Kirsten Lund for your generous assistance with the French translating and your willingness to help me achieve my dreams without ever having met me.
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