The Complete Chosen Trilogy (The Chosen Book 0)

by N. M. Santoski

  “I’m fine—I’m pleased to be back.”

  “So am I.” He hesitated, and then slid his hand along the leather of the seat. He saw her flinch slightly, but she didn’t pull her hand away as he covered it with his own.

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Yes.”

  He didn’t know what else to say to draw her out, so he said nothing more. He applied pressure for a moment as the car slid to a smooth stop.

  “Time to face the music,” she said with what he thought was the barest hint of a smile.

  Alan took the chance and smiled back fully, climbing from the car and circling the back to open Leiani’s door for her before he could see her response. “My Lady.” He offered her his hand.

  She took it.

  Alan tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her quickly through the frigid December evening air. They passed through the front doors and into the hall, where Michael Warrington was waiting to greet them with his family.

  Since Michael had no wife, Alixandra stood next to him to serve as hostess, as she had through so many of his official functions. Manas stood to his right, and Isabella Rodriguez stood with him.

  Alan took this all in with a single glance, noticing everything.

  “Lord Artifex,” he said with a bow. “Thank you for welcoming us to your lovely home.”

  “Lord Alan,” Michael said, granting Alan his courtesy title as Leiani’s husband, “you and your beautiful wife grace our home with your presence.”

  They headed down the line, shaking hands and exchanging kisses. Manas pulled Alan forward while shaking his hand and hissed in his ear, “Find me later—we have to talk.”

  Alan nodded once and lightly pulled Leiani away from Isabella. “We will meet up with her later, darling,” he promised, the endearment like ashes in his mouth.

  “Of course, dear,” she said with a sickly smile.

  As they headed into the main ballroom, Alan quickly swiped two glasses of champagne from a nearby waiter and handed one to his wife.

  “Cheers,” he said, raising it in salute and downing the entire glass. She raised hers in return, but didn’t even bring it to her lips.

  “Not your favorite year?” he joked.

  She shook her head and handed it back to him. “I’m not in a drinking mood.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why do you look so nervous?”

  “I—“ She got no further. Her mother was quickly sliding through the crowd.

  “Leiani, my darling!” Keopelani hugged her daughter and included Alan in her approving glance. He shook off his suspicions and smiled at his mother-in-law.

  “Mother Keo, you look lovelier than usual,” he said with a bow.

  “Alan, my dear boy, why am I not a prospective grandmother yet?” Keopelani demanded, stomping her tiny foot in its delicate slipper. “You’ve had over half a year—“

  “Mother!” Leiani groaned, covering her face with her hand. “We’re still young—give us time!”

  “In my day…”

  “You were thirty when you had me, Mother, don’t start!”

  Alan stopped listening as he saw Manas across the crowded room and gave him a nod. He excused himself suddenly and made a beeline for the Lord Younger Artifex.

  “Manas.”

  “Good evening again, Alan—am I keeping you?”

  “You’re saving me. They’re talking about grandchildren.”

  “Nothing like an overbearing mother. May I offer you something stronger than champagne?”

  “Please.”

  The pair stepped into a side room, where Manas poured Alan a drink and got straight to the point. “Alan, we’ve known each other all of our lives. I believe you are a man of integrity and honor.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I also know that your relationship with Nolan is somewhat strained.”

  “We don’t have a relationship, other than through our parents.”

  “Yes. Of course, I would never dream of asking you to betray your own blood, but…”

  “Go on, Manas, lay it out for me. I know your father is up to something.”

  “Your brother is a wanted man. He has to answer for his crimes and those of your grandfather. We have to find him and bring him in.”

  “You want my help?”

  “No.”

  Alan frowned over the rim of his glass. “Then why am I here?”

  “As I said, I don’t want to ask you to betray your own brother. I do, however, want your word that you’ll stay out of the way, and keep your wife similarly occupied. Let justice be done.”

  Alan raised an eyebrow. Manas was serious.

  “If I refuse?”

  Manas shrugged. “That is your right, of course. I cannot promise how the Council will view aiding and abetting a fugitive from justice, even one’s own family.”

  “And if I agree?”

  “Lord Artifex will be in your debt—and he never leaves a debt unpaid.”

  “I want assurances.”

  “Like?”

  “It’s Leiani I’m worried about. I can certainly promise for myself to stay out of your father’s way, but Leiani is remarkably stubborn and is Nolan’s… friend.” His face twisted. “I will do my best, but I do not want her punished for her part in this, whatever that part may be. The Lady Younger Aqua must remain untouched.”

  “If her part is subtle, many things can be overlooked. If she raises arms against my father, I cannot promise you her safety, Alan. She’s her own person, and makes her own choices—thus, she’ll reap her own consequences.”

  “And my mother?”

  “A grieving widow and mother? If your mother hasn’t tried anything against my father yet, I doubt she ever will. The same rules apply to her.”

  Alan stared into the fireplace for a moment, letting the different scenarios play out in his mind. He thought about his mother’s desperate face as she embraced him earlier, and his uncle’s stupidity in backing the wrong brother. “All I have to do is do… nothing?”

  “Exactly.”

  “That’s it.”

  Manas spread his hands. “That’s all. Of course, any information you could give us would help, but the deal will stand even if you simply do nothing.”

  Without saying another word, Alan extended his hand.

  They shook on it.

  ***

  Gia kept the smile firmly pasted on her face through the gauntlet of introductions and deliberately turned away from the Zephyrus Court, putting enough pressure on Pyrrhus’s arm that he followed. She slid through the crowd quietly, returning smiles and nods with just enough warmth to be accepted, but not enough to encourage further conversation. Pyrrhus matched her step for step without a word.

  Finally, they reached a corner where she could let the smile drop.

  “I’ve never seen it until tonight.”

  She jerked, startled by his tone. “Seen what?”

  “With that expression on your face, you looked like Arias.”

  Her lips twisted, and he could see the depression where she was biting the inside of her cheek. “We’re playing a part.”

  “I know. I didn’t mean—“ he shrugged, unable to come up with the words he wanted. “You know.”

  “I do.”

  They stood arm in arm and watched the crowd mill past, mingling and preparing to ring in the New Year. “Do you think they know what’s coming?”

  “No.”

  “Should they?”

  Pyrrhus squeezed her arm. “No. They won’t realize it until it’s too late.”

  “Can we save them?”

  “Not all of them. We have to save ourselves first—our Courts will follow.”

  “That seems selfish.”

  “If we’re dead, who will take our places? Certainly not someone with their best interests at heart. This current Council is one of the most conceited and self-serving of the past century, but our generation will be better. We can’t be better if we’re martyrs.” He hand
ed her a drink and she pretended to sip from it casually. He took a real swallow of the champagne, wishing for something stronger. “Nolan first. The rest will fall into place.”

  She nodded, but was interrupted before she could answer.

  “Welcome, honored guests,” Michael Warrington said from the top balcony, inspiring a round of applause. Manas stood with him, straight-backed and proud. They stood alone, surveying the crowd of the numen elite with what looked like arrogance from where Gia was standing.

  Warrington raised his hand, gesturing for quiet. “It has been a long year,” he acknowledged, “but tonight is a celebration! A night for new beginnings, and putting old ghosts to rest.” He accepted the champagne flute Manas passed him and raised it, inspiring the crowd to do the same. “To new beginnings for a New Year!”

  Pyrrhus raised his own flute with a quirked eyebrow. “To new beginnings.”

  Gia let a smile turn up the corners of her mouth as she tapped her glass gently against his. “Salute,” she said in Italian, taking a sip and wishing Nolan well as she did so.

  As the Warrington men descended from the landing to join Alix and Isabella, Rebecca Selocrim stepped out from the shadows to walk a pace behind them, her dark eyes sweeping the room.

  “Does she have it on her?”

  Gia watched closely as Rebecca swept past. “With a bare back like that? Not a chance. The Sword is too big to be strapped to her thigh—it would have to be in plain sight. Send the message.”

  Pyrrhus slid his phone out of his pocket and quickly scrolled to the texts he had pre-programmed at the house. He selected the one labeled ‘Yes-No’ and pushed send before replacing the phone. The whole operation took less than thirty seconds.

  Outside of the Grappenhall compound, Nolan’s phone buzzed once in his pocket. He took it out and squinted at the tiny text on the darkened screen.

  “Pyrrhus says that Selocrim is there, but there’s no sign of the Sword.”

  “Then he has it underground. Damn!”

  “I’ll take underground over a roomful of numen any day, Uncle Robert.”

  “Enough of your lip, Nolan,” he growled, but he was smiling when he said it. “Let’s move. It’s already 11:30. If we want to get this done tonight, we have to move.”

  Nolan nodded once, and they were off.

  The first guard they encountered was easy, because he was alone. Nolan simply slipped a jolt of electricity into his system, knocking him out. He made sure to withdraw every bit before they moved on, deeper into the compound.

  Their next roadblock was something Nolan never expected to be an issue—a wall.

  Jenkins froze in front of the wall, his eyes wide.

  “Uncle Robert?” Nolan hissed. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t—Trevor…”

  Nolan took a second look at the wall. It looked almost identical to the wall surrounding Caer Anglia, and he thought he knew the problem.

  He took his uncle by the shoulders and forced him to make eye contact.

  “I am not my father. There are no lions here. I’m going to boost you over, and then you will hand me up, and we will be fine. Understood?”

  His uncle’s face was grey in the half-light, but he nodded all the same. Nolan braced himself with one shoulder against the wall and cupped his hands at about waist level. “Leave the cane—I’ll hand it up to you.”

  Jenkins nodded and placed one foot in Nolan’s hands, letting the bad leg dangle a bit as he let go of the cane. Nolan hoisted him upward with all the strength that he could muster. Jenkins scrambled with his hands against the stone for a moment, searching for the top. With one last push from Nolan, his hands found the smooth stone of the cap and he pulled himself upward, balancing across the wide top of the wall.

  “Up,” he said hoarsely.

  “Good. Here.” Nolan passed the cane up, and Jenkins let it drop over the other side into the bushes. Nolan backed up, eyeing the wall with a calculating glance. Jenkins slid onto his belly, trying to push the memories aside. He hooked his good knee beneath the lip of the wall for balance and reached down.

  “Go.”

  Without further prompting, Nolan leapt at the wall, his feet finding purchase more than a third of the way up. They locked arms, and between the two of them they managed to get him to the top.

  “See?” Nolan said with a laugh through shaky breaths. “No problem.”

  Jenkins shot him a disbelieving glare and pointedly looked down. “How do we get down without killing ourselves?”

  Nolan turned his back on the ledge and began to slide over it, letting his legs dangle. He grabbed the edge of the wall and lowered himself own until his arms were fully extended and his fingers just holding on. With his height, his feet were only about six feet from the ground. He let go, landing in the grass with a small thud.

  “You ok?” Jenkins hissed.

  “Yes. Now you—want me to catch you?” Nolan held out his arms.

  Jenkins ignored his nephew’s teasing look and began inching down the wall.

  ***

  If she had to talk to one more person, she would scream, Gia decided. Not a little scream, either. A full-throated battle cry designed to curdle an enemy’s blood. That would stir things up.

  As if he could read her thoughts—and if she was honest, it was probably written all over her face—Pyrrhus steered her toward the dance floor.

  “Dancing, really?”

  “We’re about to be interrupted anyway,” Pyrrhus said with a smile as they turned with the music. “Makes it look convincing. Must almost be midnight—are you ready?”

  “Yes!”

  “Good.”

  A bell chimed through the room, calling for attention. The party turned their attention back to the balcony, where Isabella had now joined the Warrington men, her dark up-do shining under the lights. The white flower in her hair stood out all the more starkly against the rich colors on the walls behind her. Her parents stood at the corner of the balcony, only reluctantly included.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please!” Michael called, his hands raised for silence. They complied almost immediately as waiters appeared, restocked with champagne. “As we begin the countdown to the New Year, I would like to make an announcement that changes the future of my family.” He beckoned the young couple forward. They looked like poster children for the one percent, confident of their worth and their place in the world. Manas took her hand in his and kissed it lightly before the crowd, who sighed in romantic appreciation.

  “Tonight, I am proud to welcome Isabella Rodriguez into the Warrington family. She and Manas will marry six months hence, at Caer Anglia.” He joined in the applause, stepping back to let his son step forward into the spotlight. This was the future of his line and the future of the numen, right here. It was his doing—he was shaping history with this moment.

  Manas and Isabella stepped forward and he slipped her engagement ring down over her knuckle, bending his head to kiss her lightly.

  “Poor thing,” Gia said under the cheers, pleased to see Pyrrhus have to squash his amusement. “She has no idea what she’s stepping into.”

  “Oh, I think she might. Izzy’s no fool.”

  “Even worse.”

  “Let us count down to the New Year!” Manas shouted, raising his and Isabella’s entwined hands. “Ten!”

  The numen began to count down, following his lead. Outside the house, Jenkins and Nolan were eyeing their watches, doing their own countdown to midnight.

  “Three. Two. One. Go!” Jenkins said as the second hand clicked over.

  Nolan took off in a run across the lawn, his uncle only a handful of steps behind. The guards were slow to change tonight—too distracted by their own celebrations to watch a small access door on the north lawn.

  Nolan reached it first and fumbled with the latch. “Locked, as we expected.”

  “Quickly—supercharge it.”

  Nolan wrapped his hand around the steel and began pumping watt
age through it.

  “Faster,” Jenkins urged as Nolan felt the steel lock begin to tremble in his hands. The molecules finally sped up enough to liquefy the metal, letting him tear it away and drop it to the floor. He wrenched the door open and gestured his uncle through.

  They moved down the halls with silent urgency, able to hear the celebrations on the floors above even now.

  “Can you feel it?” Jenkins asked Nolan as they crept around a corner.

  “No—should I be able to?”

  “I don’t know—the earth may be dampening it.”

  “We’ll have to try all of the rooms?” Nolan sounded dismayed.

  “It’s our only chance—we cannot wait for Pyrrhus and Gia to join us before we begin. We must hurry.”

  They began to work systematically down the hall. They only encountered a single sleepy guard that Nolan took care of without much fuss.

  “This is too easy. Where is everyone?”

  “It may be a trap.”

  “Very astute,” a new voice mocked from the last room in the hall, echoing through its open door. “A pity you didn’t think of that earlier.”

  Upstairs, Gia was looking at her watch with increasing urgency.

  “We should go.”

  Pyrrhus was watching Manas in the center of a crowd of well-wishers. “We should congratulate them.”

  Gia resisted. “We should go now.”

  “I’ll lay our alibi out, then—be right back.”

  Manas turned in a sea of congratulating faces to see Pyrrhus attempting to reach him.

  “Well done, sir,” Pyrrhus said, clapping him on the back. “I know you and Izzy have wanted this for quite a while.”

  “Thank you. When will you be choosing the future Lady Ignis?”

  “Well, I think I’m going to spirit Gia off for our own private celebration of the New Year—we’ll see how well that goes.” Pyrrhus nudged him with a laugh, not seeing that Manas’ eyes had gone cold at the mention of Gia’s name.

  “Of course. I won’t keep you any longer—happy New Year, Pyrrhus.”

  He watched Pyrrhus work back through the crowd to Gia’s side, dipping his head to speak in her ear before leading her out through a side door.

  “Isabella, my love, you must excuse me for a moment—my father is looking to speak to me.”