“I need a beer,” Ken said, opening the fridge. He pulled out a six-pack, and then offered one to Kisami. “Coming, man?”
“Ah, yis,” the little Japanese guy bleated.
Ken smiled around at everyone. “Hear that? Been teaching the little guy some pure American English.”
Ken pushed through us. I felt pity for the poor guy. He was only trying to lighten the mood, but didn’t have the social skills to appreciate there were times you just simply couldn’t.
“I want only those people from last night,” Myleene sounded as overwrought as I felt. “In the conference room. Now.”
I found my seat as Myleene’s Vaio signaled a newly arrived e-mail.
“Kinkade?” I asked, pouring a glass of water.
“Gargoyle’s chattier than a nest of sparrows. It seems like he’s enjoying his first contact in five thousand years.”
I watched Myleene read the e-mails as the others filed in. I felt absurd, sitting in the midst of these people, hiding the knowledge that I was a sure-fire failure, so I sipped my water and stayed quiet.
Belinda spoke up quickly. “Okay, well some things have started to make sense now guys, but still not the involvement of the Hierarchy of Demons.”
“Because they need this world as much as we do?” Devon’s question was a mix of sarcasm and understanding.
“Correct.”
Felicia held up a small hand. “Didn’t I hear Ryan and Ken reporting that they’d already had a run in with the demon, Dementia?”
Myleene nodded. “Yes. It’s another one of those things we can’t explain, I’m afraid. Dementia is the worst kind of demon. Seventh on the Hierarchy. She is devilry incarnate, and crazy to boot.”
“Our intelligence,” Lysette spoke up next. “Seems…ummm… very limited.”
“Know this, Lysette. Before the witches involved Kinkade we were floundering badly. Without his help, Aegis would be lost. He has furthered our efforts more in the last few days than all the witches and scholars combined in the previous twelve months.”
Myleene’s laptop bleeped again, as if Kinkade were listening.
“My God,” she said. “Jesus Christ!”
“What?”
My heart started to race. “What?” I echoed, along with everyone else.
“We have Tanya Jordan,” he said without taking his eyes off the screen. “She’s okay. And she killed a Destroyer!”
I felt my mouth go dry from the knowledge that yet another one of the so-called Eight had proven themselves.
And I had not.
“I quote,” Myleene’s eyes were wide. “ ‘Message from Remy. I have met Tanya Jordan. I saw what she did. I have never seen the like of it before, not in all my years. Jordan is the Master of her art. And her art is fighting.’”
There was a revered silence. Belinda made a pouty, but good-humoured face. “Coming from Remy, that is sheer gold. Bet she’s not as cute and feisty as me though.”
“Bonus!” Felicia struck at the air with both hands. “One Destroyer down, only five to go. Score one to the good guys,” her last few words became a long drawl.
“It also says Tanya should be here late tomorrow. And that her powers surfaced as she fought for her life.”
That pattern was getting irritating. What the hell did I have to do? Run naked across the Minster grounds shouting: “Ashka! Ashka! Come kill me!” and then hope my fucking powers decided to save me?
“It’s all coming together,” Myleene said. “But not quickly enough. Our enemies’ plan has been devised over centuries. We mustn’t lose sight of the sort of evil we are dealing with here.”
“Yes, mother,” Belinda said, making me laugh into my water. When I looked up, spluttering, I found her gaze locked on to me. I froze.
Jesus. Belinda’s eyes smoldered at me with barely concealed heat. Jolts of passion shot through me, making me shiver. Nobody but Raychel had ever fired my heart that way. But I didn’t want to fuck it all up again.
I barely heard Ceriden rise to his feet to inform us a reasonable amount of Vampire resources were now being focused on the capture of Loki and Emily Crowe- the two Destroyers Kinkade revealed had killed Tristran.
Reasonable amount of resources to find his boss‘ killers? Hmmm…
Another ‘message delivered’ chime sounded then. Using the distraction, Belinda scooted over next to me. The creak of her leather pants made me catch my breath. When she was settled beside me she leaned so close that her lips brushed against my earlobe.
“Finally,” she whispered. “I got your attention.”
“Finally?”
“Finally, honeycake.”
“Ah. Well, I have been busy.”
“Busy putting me off.”
“I didn’t realise-”
“Huh. What are you saying? That I haven’t dropped enough hints? Is that what you’re saying? Well, how big a hint is this?”
My breath stopped as her right hand landed on my thigh. Her hot breath tickled my ear. Was that the tip of a tongue electrifying my synapses?
Then Myleene, damn her, gave another shocking exclamation.
“Christ alive! Kinkade got the whispers off the street alright! He tracked down the last of the Chosen!” She slammed the round table.
“Who is it?” Felicia was bouncing in her excitement. “And where?”
“New York,” Myleene squinted at the screen. “Someone called Johnny Trevochet. Christ, Trevochet? I know that name. He used to be a soap opera star.”
“In Friends?” Felicia cried. It was her all-time favourite programme.
“No, something else. Ah,” Myleene pulled at her bottom lip in apprehension. “I can’t believe it. We have nobody left over that side of the United States. Not one single person.”
Felicia ventured. “Cleaver?”
Myleene shook her head. “Needed where he is.”
All eyes then turned to Belinda, and widened in surprise as they realized her proximity to yours truly.
Belinda blinked, then shook her head and said: “That bastard James Bond never has this much trouble when he’s trying to get laid.”
There was a shocked silence. I didn’t dare move a muscle. Belinda finally relented. “Alright, alright, I’m on my way.”
Belinda jumped to her feet. I shrugged and tried to hide my face behind my glass of water.
32
MIAMI, USA
Marian Cleaver got the call from Myleene and left the mall. The local Homeland Security unit was running operations now, and was treating the scene as a terrorist incident. Cleaver thought that was the best way to go.
Cleaver drove through the dark Miami streets, through rundown neighbourhoods that bordered on multi-million dollar estates, bypassing ghetto blocks where cops and self-respecting hoes never ventured anymore. He cut through the resplendent Coconut Grove area that catered for the filthy rich and starry-eyed tourists, as he headed for the famous beach. On the way he crossed over one of the sprawling bridges and slowed to watch the black water churning below. At the beach he parked his old Corvette, locked it, and walked across the sand to the edge of the calm ocean.
Miami, he thought. Diamond city of the States.
The skyline behind him glittered with skyscrapers. Personally, he thought the hotels looked gaudy; places rappers might come to make videos that showcased their ridiculous music, thinking it made them look flash. Or fly. Or whatever.
New Babylon.
Cleaver had lived here his whole life. He had done murder, paid his dues, boxed himself into oblivion, and bettered himself here. In Miami. The name of the place, the beach, the nightlife- spoke of glitz, of glamour. The tourists loved it. So did the rich. But he lived here. The other stuff meant nothing to him.
Cleaver waited. At length he saw a tall enigmatic figure approaching out of the shadows. “So,” Cleaver said. “I left my post for you. I switched my cell off. I’m already at the top of my wonderful boss’ shit-list. Again. This is Miami’s peak crime hours, Mr. Elf.
What can I do for you?”
Eldritch stopped, and then turned in a slow circle. Cleaver watched him, eyes roving across the lightly rolling Pacific, past the breakers as they foamed down the shoreline, over a few groups of tourists lounging and canoodling in the sand, along those fancy hotels that sat in a million-dollar line behind them, and finally returning to the calm, limitless expanse of water.
Cleaver heard movement. From his left, materializing out of the dark, came a few dozen figures. Lycans, judging by their lithe bodies and hungry stares and by the way they just couldn’t resist shifting a glance toward the thin sliver of silver floating high above. Cleaver then sensed bodies behind him, turned and gasped. At least fifty Vampires stood there, silent in the night, pale like dying sunlight and as ageless as the shifting ocean. Cleaver’s heart started to beat so fast he thought a stoned-out drummer from a heavy metal band had just gone wild in there.
“My name is Eldritch,” the Elf said quietly. “I bring you these Ubers. More are coming. And they will arrive in their thousands.”
Cleaver gasped. “Thousands?”
“This is the place where Ubers and Humans will make their final stand,” Eldritch said. “Together, an army united, we will fight as one to save our world.”
Cleaver tried to pull himself together. It wasn’t done yet though. Cleaver watched a beautiful woman approach from the right. It was all he could do not to stare at her wildfire eyes and her perfect, pouting mouth. The woman’s nose though, was hopelessly crooked.
“This is Cheyne,” Eldritch indicated her with an open hand turned palm up. “She is the witch Queen, originally out of Key West. Their finest.”
“I bring three covens,” Cheyne told Cleaver in a high voice. “With more on the way, my love. Are you alright?”
Cleaver breathed deeply. This whole thing was getting real big. Real fast. A new meteor-like thought slammed through him.
Why are they all talking to me?
“We are identifying various weak points around Miami-” Cheyne was saying.
“Weak points?” Cleaver managed to blurt out.
“Areas of suppurating evil. Some places are more susceptible than others. It is at these weaker places that the demons will break through.”
“Why?”
“Bridges,” Cheyne pressed. “Malls. Part of South Beach. Coconut Grove.”
“Coconut Grove?”
“Evil is a frequent companion of vanity, my love.”
“And what of Gorgoroth?” Eldritch spoke up, much to Cleaver‘s relief. “Has Kinkade learned more?”
“Kinkade is a veritable torrent of information. And he is warming to his task a little more with every second that passes. He is definitely worth the price.”
Cleaver’s head was starting to spin with all this information. “What price? And who is Kinkade?”
“Gorgoroth will be invoked over the ocean,” Cheyne rocked Cleaver with a smoldering glance, then turned to take in the surf. “A place vast and wild and untamed enough to accommodate his presence.”
“Here?” Cleaver said, biting his tongue. “You mean right here!”
Cheyne nodded and drew her dark cloak around her as though suddenly cold.
My city! Cleaver stared out over the rolling waves. “This is all I’ve ever known,” he said quietly. “How can Miami be destroyed? Good people live here.”
Eldritch touched his shoulder. “Worry not, Mr. Cleaver,” he said in his rich voice. “It is now that we will start to make a difference. Ubers. And Aegis. Believe it or not, we do have a plan.”
Eldritch laid an arm across his shoulders, turned him, and walked him off down the beach. He said, “We need your help. Before this is over, you will make a difference.”
Cleaver couldn’t believe his ears. For so long he had tried to do just that.
Now these good people were offering him their help. And they needed him.
He looked the King right in the eyes. “Let’s get started.”
33
YORK, ENGLAND
I sat across from Lucy, a chess board between us. It was my move. I couldn’t take my eyes away from her red-rimmed stare.
The chess set forgotten, Lucy said, “I miss her, dad. I miss her so much.”
“Lucy-”
“No, dad. Where did she go? What did I do?”
“It wasn’t you,” I told her. “Your mother-” how could I say I don’t know? How could that ever be good enough?
I hung my head. “I still look for her sometimes. On the internet. I trawl through websites of missing persons.”
“I know.”
I had feared my confession might upset her, but in an adult way she had simply being waiting for me to open up.
“I failed,” I said. “Her, and you,” I looked down. “And…and I think I’m going to end up failing these people. This power they say that I have? It exists, Luce. I can feel it inside me. But I can’t seem to draw it out. I think between Kisami, Ken and me, we’re the only ones who’ve failed.”
Since Raychel left I hadn’t succeeded at anything.
Why would I start now?
Later that night I got called into the conference room again. Instantly, I knew we had trouble. I had never seen Myleene looking so stressed.
She walked up to me, her eyes glistening with fear. “We don’t know the full details, Logan, but Ashka’s got Belinda. And the Trevochet’s. She captured them coming back to York from the airport. She’s holding them at the old Bonding Warehouse.”
I stared at her in horror. “The Destroyer Ashka? How do you know?”
“Kinkade. That place has been abandoned for years, but the Gargoyles are active. We must help Belinda, she is vital to everything but we can’t risk everyone.”
“I’ll go,” I said without hesitation. Then I thought of Lucy. “But I made my daughter a promise that I wouldn’t leave her alone again.”
“She won’t be alone,” Myleene said. “We are only sending Mai, Giles, and Lysette, and you. People we can trust.”
Cold. I stared into her hard eyes. “Is…is Belinda alive?”
“No reason why she shouldn’t be. Our enemy can’t know how we use the Gargoyles yet.”
“This means the traitor, if one exists, is almost certainly one of the Eight.”
“A fair deduction,” Mai looked bright and happy under the circumstances, the darkness of her eyes offset by several diamond studded ear piercings, blood-red lipstick- at least I hoped it was lipstick- and even a touch of electric blue eyeliner. And that ’rising-sun’ smile. A vampire I hadn’t seen before glowered at her side.
“You have to go now,” Myleene said. “We’re being forced to act quickly. Christ, we can’t find Felicia, and Ceriden‘s too important to risk. Our poodle would be an asset, but we can’t waste time checking under every tree and bush.”
“They say a female dog is a bitch,” said a voice from behind me. “But the more I mix with humans, the more I seem to find among you.”
I turned, relief evident in my voice as I said, “Felicia. Thank God.”
Felicia winked at me and grinned nastily at Myleene. “Get together soon,” she said with a little finger wave and walked out. I followed her at a run.
“Wait, Felicia. We have to round some people up.”
“Everyone’s in the car, Logan,” she said without turning or slowing down. “We’re just waiting for you.”
And then she did turn round with a toothy grin. “Let’s go get your girlfriend.”
34
YORK, ENGLAND
There was nothing subtle about the way we hit the Bonding Warehouse. As we approached, Lysette, seated in the passenger seat of Giles’ Chrysler, saw a woman standing in the shadows outside the long-abandoned restaurant.
“That is Ashka,” Lysette said after a moment. “I read her briefly. And, believe me, that’s a one-time only deal.”
“Bad vibes?” I ventured.
“Horrific,” Lysette shuddered. “Pure evil. She was human once,
and had her power forced upon her by a demon- she thinks. But she remembers little of her humanity. One thing she remembers is going outside for a smoke.”
“Our bloody gain,” Giles said, and aimed the Chrysler at her.
All hell broke loose. Ashka leapt out of the way, her angular features hardening and her eyes flashing with fury. The Chrysler crashed through the half open door of the Bonding Warehouse, sending planks of wood and rusty metal flying. The car slewed to a halt about halfway across the rubbish littered floor, having spun back around to face the way it had come.
Ashka stood motionless, framed in the shattered doorway.
Doors were flung open. We all dived out. Giles left the motor running. A glance revealed Belinda chained to a far wall, her head hanging in a way that chilled me to the marrow. Lying at her feet was a man in a wheelchair, the chair having been upended. The man’s hands scrabbled uselessly as he tried to extricate himself from the chair.
Then- oh God! Natalie Trevochet was swinging beside Belinda, but her neck was in a noose. Her legs kicked wildly. Adrenalin surged through my body. She was being strangled to death before her disabled husband’s eyes even as I watched!
I ran. Nothing had prepared me for this. My feet flew and my heart pounded. As I ran I shouted, screamed at the woman to hold on, to slip the tips of her bloody fingers under the rope. Just one more second!
I got there. I hoisted her legs so that the rope became slack. I looked up into her eyes.
She was alive, and conscious. “Hold on,” I mouthed, then looked back to see how the others were faring.
Ashka had not moved, but was flinging her arms to left and right, unleashing horrifying visions into the hearts and minds of my friends. I staggered as an image beset me, almost losing my hold on Natalie Trevochet’s legs.
Belinda, chained as she was now, but not here. Instead, inside a vast underground cavern that dripped with rank water and smelled of blood and death. The centre of the cavern was heaped with bodies. Indeed, it was a mountain of bodies, all ripped flesh and broken bones. Most of them wore army gear.
Chosen (The Chosen Few Trilogy #1) Page 12