Chosen (The Chosen Few Trilogy #1)

by Leadbeater, David

  Then Ryan was at his side, breaking Dementia’s nose with a palm strike, spinning and back-kicking her in the ribs. Ken used the respite to take a deep breath. He didn’t feel too bad, under the circumstances. Maybe he’d gotten lucky and the steel had only penetrated a few inches, missing his vitals.

  Cheyne settled beside him. “It’s still there,” the witch whispered. “The victory, I mean. Use the pain.” She supported him with her shoulders.

  “My side is on fire,” he spat.

  “It’s nothing. A scratch. Use the pain. Use it to focus.”

  Ken slowed his breathing, allowing the pain to gather and then forced it slowly away. He hefted his sword with a grunt and then started to slice it through the air. He watched as Ryan moved in and out of Dementia’s range, striking warily, aiming to do no more than to keep her busy. But Ryan was weary, and the blood on his face and arms attested to the accuracy of Dementia’s aim.

  Ken gathered his wits and found the power that Eleanor and Jade had nurtured and moulded and sharpened. The zone snapped into being. He stepped to one side of Ryan just as Dementia’s sword came up and flicked out at the Englishman.

  The blade pierced Ryan’s neck, sliding straight through.

  Ryan folded, his body hitting the asphalt with a sickening smack at the same instant that he died.

  “NO!”

  Ken charged with all the ferocity of the damned, of a man who realizes he must live or die right now, at this very moment. It was his time of reckoning.

  Dementia staggered back. Ken saw his sword slice through her shoulder; he saw it take a chunk from her hip. He ignored the sticky ichors that spurted from both wounds.

  He sidestepped Ryan’s body, ignored the grief that threatened to snap him out of the zone, and assailed Dementia so powerfully that she was forced to climb onto the guardrail. Her dirty white hair flowed behind her in the sea breeze. She teetered, trying to keep her balance.

  Ken didn’t stand on ceremony. He slammed his sword through her chest, twisted it in the wound and wrenched it out at a different angle to inflict maximum damage. He danced aside to avoid the sticky black substance that poured out.

  Dementia looked down at her wound and giggled. “The Hierarchy issss comingg,” she hissed between manic snorts of laughter and pain. “You have noooo idea. And after them-”

  “Gorgoroth will be stopped!” Cheyne rushed forward. The witches face was a mask of sorrow and pain.

  Dementia laughed wildly as her life-blood drained from her. “Who iss Gorgoroth? He isss of no consssequence to usss-” she whispered. “For after the Hierarchy comes…comesssss-, comessssssssssssss-”

  Ken stared as the maniacal demon finally fell off the bridge, free-falling to the churning waters below. After a long moment he tore his gaze away and turned in utter confusion towards Cheyne.

  They had both heard Dementia’s last, low, sibilant gasp of breath as she plummeted towards the calm waters.

  “Luccccciferrrrrrrrrrr-”

  48

  NEW BABYLON- THE BEACH

  I climbed out of the car halfway along Ocean Drive, one man amidst hundreds, and turned to stare, along with everyone else, at the beach and the rolling seas that that would soon become our battleground. The beach looked pretty tonight, lit by a silver moon that rose by tiny degrees above the ocean, throwing everything into stark relief.

  Lucy stood by my shoulder, pressed so close I could feel her shivering. Despite the danger, I figured she was better off with us than alone.

  Belinda stood next to my other shoulder. “Ten years,” she pondered. “Ten years of training and trying. Does it really all come down to this?”

  I looked further along the line. Beyond Belinda stood Eliza, hair caught by the breeze, her face a study in tension. A glint of pure white fangs showed between her full red lips. Devon Summers and the Trevochet’s were next, Natalie rubbing Johnny’s shoulders as he sat rigid in his wheelchair, and past them I saw the Elves- Eldritch, and Jade with her green-tipped hair. I turned my head in the other direction. Tanya Jordan was beside Lucy, her blonde-grey hair falling over her eyes. Lysette and Giles were next, close enough to be touching and I could only wonder if they had let themselves fall in love yet, or if they were waiting to see what tomorrow would bring.

  I hoped all would go well for Lysette. Earlier, she had told me how surplus she felt. Who needed a mind reader in a battle, right? But I had shared with her a smidgen of my own fears, and she had been gracious enough not to let on that she already knew.

  What a team, I thought. How could we lose?

  Belinda spoke softly in my ear. “Just so you know, Logan, fighting makes me horny.”

  I pulled a face at her. “Is there anything that doesn’t?”

  “Not the act of fighting,” she amended. “More- the heat.”

  “I’ll be here.” I shook my head in mock disgust at today’s laugh-out-loud t-shirt. It read: Bite Me! Obviously picked for the occasion. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “No one’s going to die young today, Belinda. Least of all, you.”

  Our ranks started to move into formation. Devon and the Trevochet’s, Lysette, Giles and an honour-guard of marines stepped back to a place where those three chosen could bring their powers to bear in relevant safety. Holly was there too, and she gave me a last look that said everything.

  “Dad,” Lucy nudged me and pointed to a spot on the beach where the sand met the sea. “I see shadows.”

  I squinted. Her eyes were younger than mine, and sharper. But, amidst a dense patch of palm trees I thought I saw an insinuation of shadow. Several people, moving slowly. When the next gust of wind reached us it carried the sound of chanting.

  “GO!”

  Belinda’s shout, taut with tension and commitment, almost gave me heart failure. I leapt out of my skin, panting as the rest of the line shot forward and left me behind. A thought struck me: typical.

  Lucy looked up at me, her eyes wide. “We going, Grandad?”

  I decided it was time to face my fears. And maybe kick the shit out of them.

  Cries rang out from the charging throng. Ranks of vampires shot ahead, fleet of foot. Lycans, changing into wolf form in mid-flight, came next, their rapidly readjusting bone-structure crackling and popping as they ran. The Ubers snarled as they smelled blood. The humans among us slowed a little, perhaps realizing our place was not at the head of this primeval charge.

  From out of the shadows appeared Ashka and Jondal. I saw both Destroyers fling their arms in the air.

  Visions hit us like a blade-filled hurricane. I fell to my knees, my momentum sending me crashing face first into the sand. Lucy writhed at my side, her gasps of fear driving white-hot spears of pain into my heart.

  But then the visions withered away into nothing. I sensed another strike aimed towards us dissipate ineffectually. Devon, it seemed, had taken a longer than expected to cast her healer’s net, but now her power had come into play.

  I struggled to my feet and put an arm around Lucy. Several divisions of cops were moving past us, looking scared behind their face masks and shields.

  I walked forward, only now noticing that Tanya had stayed by our side. She nodded at me, and I remembered that I ought to be gathering my power. The battle was on. What the hell was I doing?

  By the moon’s glow I began to make out the scene ahead. A broad, hard-faced man with skin like old parchment stood in the centre of a grisly circle, the circle’s boundaries being made up of rows of headless and limbless bodies, placed trunk against neck against trunk. Standing just outside that circle were Ashka and Jondal.

  The lead vamps and lycans were now only twenty feet away from the Destroyers.

  Ashka drew her sword. Jondal took out a pair of deadly-looking tridents. Both Destroyers stood ready. It struck me as wrong. Two people waiting patiently for so many and no sign of them backing down. No matter how skilful they were, they weren’t that skilful.

  “It’s wrong-” Tanya began, then gasped as the hard-fa
ced man at the centre of the circle cried out.

  “Crack the Earth and Open! Crack the Seals and Open! Break the Lock of the Netherworld and the emptiness between, and Open! I, Loki, beseech you!”

  I walked up to Eldritch. “What the hell’s going on?”

  There was a deafening crash like a terrible traffic accident. I looked in terror at the ground, saw nothing, but up ahead, near the water line, the very air was starting to liquefy. My heart began to hammer. It seemed the air was melting, dripping like a chunk of metal being subjected to intense heat. Even the darkness recoiled in disgust, and a keening, otherworldly wind started to howl.

  The hard-faced man was shouting at the top of his voice. “Crack the Air and open! O, Charon, Gatekeeper of All Worlds, hear me! Heed me! Crack the Gates, and open!”

  “That is Loki,” Eldritch answered me at last. “And he has just opened the Gates of Hell.”

  “My God,” I breathed, falling to my knees in the sand. Any idea of summoning my power fled from my mind. The significance of that statement stunned me. How could we ever close the Gates of Hell?

  “Attack!” Eldritch cried. “Be quick! Before-”

  Vampires lurched forward. Lycans leapt on four feet and two. I saw Eliza lunge at Ashka, and the two mighty opponents went down brawling. I saw Jade strike at Jondal and force him back to the very edge of the circle of bodies, his skill no match for the dexterous elf.

  Then, from out of the newly-formed dripping darkness, straight out of its oozing maw, burst a horde of demons. Some had tusks, others horns, some had horrific-looking claws, whilst still others clacked away with huge improbable mandibles. Many had wide slanted eyes that shone furnace bright whilst others had eyes that waved on thick, bristly stalks.

  The demons caused havoc in our ranks, their sudden appearance stunning the Ubers. I heard cops and marines screaming in terror. This was the stuff of human nightmare, never before revealed. In a few seconds the demons had surrounded the circle where Loki continued his invocations.

  “Loki is the key,” I heard Eldritch say. “The powerful one. Slay him, and they will wither to nothing.”

  Ahead I saw Jade parted from Jondal, most likely hearing Eldritch’s words through elvish telepathy. And then Eliza rushed towards Loki too, as if she also had heard the elf’s words.

  We were getting stretched. The demons were among us now. Biting. Hacking. Ripping. I refused to panic. I spent a second summoning my power, then aimed a portion of it at the demon nearest to me, thinking punch. My blast struck like a fireball from that Street Fighter video game and sent the demon tumbling end over end until it impacted with the trunk of a palm tree so hard that its arms sheared off.

  I looked away. Tanya leapt into action beside me, her deadly ballet dispatching two demons with a minimum of effort. She was back in a few seconds, dripping stiletto in her hand.

  “Any suggestions?” I shouted.

  My voice was swept away by the overwhelming din of battle. Snarls and screams and the sound of gunfire assaulted my ears. Belinda lunged and leapt amongst the blackened palm trees and the bloodied sand, a bright light of hope surrounded by cackling black creatures from the abyss. Next to me Lucy sobbed and tried to hide her face in my side. I staggered back, suddenly beset with indecision.

  I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t. My daughter came first, and to hell with the world. I had to get Lucy to safety. But how? Where?

  Safe inside his appalling circle Loki’s chanting continued, “O, Abominata, I call on you. God of Loathing, killer of Love. I summon you! And Kahana! God of Lust and Depravity. God of Humiliation! I call you and so bind you now!”

  I hugged Lucy closer. Loki was calling on the lesser Gods that would be sacrificed to summon Gorgoroth.

  I’d never imagined it would be like this.

  Demons snarled and stomped all around. Tanya broke bones as if they were winter-worn twigs beside me. Belinda fought at her side, her efforts both wild and calculating, leaving demon after demon writhing or dead on the gore-soaked beach. Elves fought just ahead in perfect unison, and in their wake the pile of mortally wounded demons grew and grew.

  Lucy clutched at me and pointed, uttering a keening cry of terror. I followed her hand and my stomach dropped through a thousand floors of dread. Above Loki’s circle, above his upraised arms, above the tops of the palm trees, a swirling darkness had appeared. I craned my neck and saw the darkness writhe. Within its formless maw I thought I saw racks of glittering teeth and twisted, faceless flesh. A fetid, cloying stench like dead, rotting fish reached my nostrils.

  Then something like a gigantic arm came down from the sky. Horrendous, it swayed back and forth. Thick slime dripped off its tapered end, hitting the surface of the ocean and fizzling. The arm was suddenly joined by another. I realized they were tentacles, belonging to some immense, squid-like God, and my stomach began to heave.

  Thunder rocked the sky. Lightning struck at the sea beyond the horizon. A rolling, creaking boom struck the earth, sending quakes of shock across the beach. I saw the sand undulating and rippling as if endless waves flowed beneath it.

  The shockwave hit us. Lucy screamed, making my heart jackhammer. Demons ran amok. I threw a hand up to shield my face as a cloven hoof smashed down into the sand beside me. I sent a blast at its owner, obliterating him into the night.

  I rolled over. Lucy was gone. My eyes, at ground level, searched across the sand and saw her not far away, but nearer the water.

  Tanya Jordan was at her side.

  But so was Ashka.

  Tanya rolled towards the surf, flinging out her legs and striking Ashka in the shins. Most adversaries would have folded, or at least hopped about in agony, but Ashka only laughed, her scarlet, hell-born eyes gleaming with murder.

  “I will make you wish Leo had finished you in Hawaii,” Ashka spat at her.

  Tanya danced forward, kicking and punching with economy of movement, but at the same time conscious that she had to force Ashka away from Logan’s daughter. The knowledge blunted her edge.

  “Behind me,” she pushed Lucy into the foamy surf. She pulled her stiletto free and pointed it at Ashka’s throat.

  “My husband killed my baby,” she hissed through consuming pain that constricted her heart. “That is evil, you pathetic whore! Do you really think you can scare me after all I’ve lived through?”

  Tanya leapt, kicked at Ashka’s neck, then landed and dropped down into a crouch, swinging her legs around and took Ashka’s legs away. The Destroyer landed heavily in the wet sand, her body thudding down, breath forced out of her.

  Tanya was already on her feet. She aimed a heel at Ashka’s throat, which the woman rolled away from. Tanya’s mind clouded when Ashka threw a vision at her, but Devon’s healing net held and Tanya felt no more than mild discomfort.

  As she stepped forward she saw the knot of sky that roiled above the beach suddenly split in two. Now another tentacle dropped down, and still another grappled with the edge of the swirling, black hole as if trying to widen it.

  At the edges of her concentration she heard Loki’s droning voice, now summoning the third and final lesser God.

  The whole place was rapidly going to shit. Forked lightning marched across the horizon, coming closer with every passing minute. Thunder pealed and crashed constantly all around them. Demons hacked and slashed and died amongst the hundreds of vampires and werewolves.

  For a moment Tanya wished she was back in Honolulu. Just starting her morning jog on Waikiki Beach. But fate had called, and for a good reason. She was one of the Chosen.

  She let Ashka rise then kicked sand at her and struck with the stiletto. The blade sliced through Ashka’s flesh, giving Tanya grim satisfaction.

  Then there was a shout, a terrified, desperate shout, from where they had left the cars.

  “Help! Help us!”

  Tanya couldn’t stop herself glancing that way. Fear dropped into the pit of her stomach like a tonne of shaved ice. Demons were among the marines they had l
eft guarding Devon and Lysette. She saw Johnny Trevochet flung from his wheelchair and sent sprawling to the ground. A demon landed on top of him. Tanya saw Devon duck as a demon struck at her, tearing strips of flesh from her arm. Devon was allowed a moments respite as the demon began to stuff the dripping flesh into its mouth.

  Tanya knew what it meant. She looked at her enemy.

  Ashka’s grin sent daggers through Tanya’s heart. “At last.”

  A devastating mental assault sent Tanya lurching. The attack on the rear guard had destroyed Devon’s net. Tanya buckled as a fist slammed into her neck. She fell to her knees.

  She heard Lucy scream.

  “No,” Tanya struggled to raise her head. Ashka stood right before her. A hateful vision hit Tanya’s brain with such force that it caused her to black out for a second.

  When she looked up again Ashka had an arm wrapped tightly around Lucy’s waist and was holding Tanya’s own stiletto at the girl’s throat. Ashka grinned malevolently.

  “You ready for this?”

  Lucy screamed. Tanya pushed with superhuman strength and managed to gain her feet. She stumbled forward, almost fell.

  Ashka smiled and drew the blade across Lucy’s throat. Tanya shrieked, seeing the scene in slow motion, watching the blood start to flow.

  The world stopped. Miami, the beach, the boiling sky, it all receded. Tanya saw the death of another innocent, the death of a young girl, and she felt a deep-rooted, maternal anger like nothing she had ever felt before.

  And suddenly her strength surged back, the terrible vision withered away, and she leapt forward from a crouched position, determined to save Lucy or die trying.

  But then something hit her, flinging her haphazardly across the beach. It was a wall of water. A wall of water had hit them!

  What?

  Baffled, Tanya spit out sand and looked up from the ground. The sight she beheld was awe-inspiring.

  Lucy stood before Ashka, and she was staring right into the Destroyers hellfire eyes. Not a hint of fear showed in Lucy’s expression. A thin line of red sliced across her throat, but not a drop of blood flowed. As Tanya watched a small spark of fire leapt across the open wound, cauterizing its edges, effectively closing it. Lucy emitted not a sound, not a grunt, not a whimper of pain.