Chosen (The Last Guardians Book 1)

by C. V. Gregorchuk

  “What time?” Mia didn’t mind the change of topic. It had been a long time since she’d last had a haircut.

  “Noon,” The microwave beeped, and Mrs. Astor retrieved the tea.

  “I work,” Mia said regretfully and frowned in confusion, “don’t you?”

  “I’m only working four days a week now.” Mom answered, passing the now steaming tea back to her.

  “Oh nice,” Mia tried her best for a light tone but failed miserably. Exhausted, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and forget the events of the night. “I think I’m gonna go to bed mom,” she said, getting to her feet. “Thanks for the tea, and the talk.” She bent down to retrieve her purse from the floor.

  “You’re welcome honey,” Sarah said. She wore a sad smile but said nothing about the early hour. Mia was grateful. She took the steaming mug of tea by the handle and went in search of her bedroom.

  The room was a mess. Her bed unmade, the plain cream duvet a writhing mass on the mattress. Clothes littered the floor, discarded in heaps from the morning’s mad dash to find something suitable for her meeting with Cam. Mia stood in the doorway and took a sip of her tea. She hadn’t added enough sugar, but it was too late to go back for more. As much as the conversation with her mother was needed, it hadn’t done much to lift Mia’s spirits, and she wasn’t overly eager to discuss it further just now.

  She stepped into her room and swung the door shut behind her. Hers was one of the only places in the apartment that remained untouched by the plague of renovation. The walls were still a questionable shade of blue she’d begged her mother to help her paint when she was ten. The worn, cream carpet was soft and forgiving underfoot unlike the hardwoods and tile dominating the rest of the apartment.

  Mia dragged her feet across the carpet, liking the softness of it against the soles of her feet. She set her tea on top of the pile of sketchbooks on the nightstand and stood, letting her eyes sweep over the disorganized desk in the corner, covered in balls of crumpled paper. The dresser with all its drawers open and spilling clothes onto the floor. Mia found her tired, red eyes in the oval mirror above the dresser top cluttered with her stuff, and felt an unexpected chill. Remembering the bathroom at Ruby’s, she looked away quickly.

  You were drunk. She reminded herself sternly, but couldn’t reason out why she avoided looking in the mirror again. Disgruntled, Mia fished her phone out of the small black purse hanging from her shoulder and tossed the bag aside. She pressed the home button, but nothing happened.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She muttered. Mia found the white cable and plugged her phone in to charge, waiting to see the power symbol on the black screen before turning her attention back to her messy bedroom. With what must have been her hundredth sigh of the night, Mia set to work, organizing and cleaning her room.

  Chapter 6

  The dream woke her.

  Mia’s eyes flew open, and she gasped. Her heart beat against her ribs so hard it might burst from her chest. She stared up at the stippled ceiling of her bedroom with unseeing eyes.

  She’d been running down a long, stone hallway, a torch burning in one hand, lighting the darkness. She was searching for something. Out of the dark, a door had appeared in the stone at the end of the narrow hall. She’d ran towards it, her dream-self sure that what she was looking for lay behind the door. Mia had grasped the brass handle and wrenched at it, but it would not budge. From the other side of the thick slab of wood, someone had said her name. A shiver ran through her as she remembered the sound of the voice, distinctly male, at once familiar and yet Mia knew she’d never heard it before.

  “Yes, it’s me!” She’d yelled in the dream and thrown herself at the solid door, banging with her fists until her hands were numb.

  “Mia!” The voice had cried.

  “I’m coming!” Mia had screamed and tried the handle again, wrenching frantically. “I can’t open it!” Lying in the comfort of her bed, Mia couldn’t remember ever feeling that kind of desperation in waking life.

  “Mia!” The long drawn out cry of pain stayed with her, echoing within her head. She blinked once, twice, three times, trying to clear the dream away. When last had she had such a realistic dream? Mia couldn’t remember. Her dreams were usually so fragmented and unclear with only faint suggestions of emotion. This was something different altogether. Something almost like a memory.

  The alarm clock on the nightstand chose that moment to come to blaring life. Mia jolted in surprise. The dreamy haze shattered into a million small pieces, like a mirror after a hammer to the face. After a beat, she turned her head to glare at the red numbers glowing merrily on the screen. Half past six, it was time to get up and get ready for work. Mia sat up, her movements slow, and used her elbows as supports. The open sketchbook lying across her chest slid down into her lap along with the few pencils she’d been using. The hollow sound made by them rolling against one another was music to her ears. She reached for the alarm clock and smacked the button on top perhaps with more force than necessary. Mia felt like she hadn’t slept at all.

  Her hand closed around her phone, and she pulled it towards her, separating it from the power cord with a small tug. This time when she pressed the home button the screen came to blinding life. When her eyes had adjusted to the sudden brightness, Mia noticed the banners of text messages and missed calls blotting out her wallpaper. She sat all the way up. Jake had called her fifteen times and sent more than double the amount of texts. Hating the part of her that was relieved to find he had in fact called, Mia entered her passcode and swept through the messages, scanning them. Realizing he must be out of his mind with worry, she abandoned the messages and called him.

  “Mee!” He answered on the first ring despite it being six thirty in the morning.

  “Hey Jake,” Mia said in a rush.

  “What the hell happened to you? Are you okay? Where are you? What happened?”

  “Jake stop, it’s okay. I’m okay!” Mia had to yell to be heard over the torrent of questions coming across the line. “I’m at home.”

  “Mia, what the hell?” He demanded. He sounded angry. Really angry.

  Mia held the phone against her ear, opening and closing her mouth as she searched for something to say.

  “Mia!” Jake prompted through the phone when she still hadn’t said anything.

  “I left,” Mia answered. She could barely keep her voice steady. Now she was mad.

  “Ya, I noticed.” Jake snapped, “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

  Mia clenched her teeth and did something she rarely did. “Oh, you noticed huh?” She challenged. “I thought you were too busy to care what I did.”

  “Are you stupid?” He asked. He sounded bewildered as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Explain the fifteen missed calls on your phone Mee. If I didn’t care-”

  Mia hung up the phone and threw it on the ground. She inhaled through flared nostrils, clenching and unclenching her hands. The phone started vibrating offensively on the carpet. She closed her eyes and waited it out, letting it go to voicemail. She couldn’t believe how pissed off she was. It wasn’t just the events of the previous night. No. It was the way he’d made it sound like he expected her to ask his permission to leave Ruby’s without him. What had her mother said about Jake monopolizing her? She was right. Who did he think he was? He wasn’t her boyfriend. He had no claim to her other than friendship. Where did he get off?

  She made a faintly animalistic sound and ripped the covers off her, sending the sketchbook and pencils flying from the bed. Mia swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and stood- and had to sit back down immediately. It was as though a substantial weight had fallen into place in the pit of her stomach the moment her feet touched the carpet. The unexpected force of it drove her back down onto the edge of the bed where she stayed, stunned. Mia felt weird, cold and hot at the same time and prickly all over. Like she didn’t belong in her own skin.

  Mia closed her eyes an
d bent forward until her forehead touched the flannel material of her striped pajama pants. She sat for what felt like a long time taking deep, measured breaths, pulling the air in through her nose and expelling it through her mouth. It did little to ease her discomfort, but it did help her to figure out what was wrong. She was hung-over. Paying the price for the three beers she’d downed the previous evening.

  Her phone buzzed against the side of her foot, and Mia started. When she realized what it was, she kicked the phone a short distance away, glaring at Jake’s name flashing on the screen. “Serves you right,” Mia muttered in disgust, grimacing as she got to her feet. She waited for the bout of light-headedness to pass, closing her eyes against the dizziness. “Come on.” Mia said impatiently and forced her feet to move. She needed a shower. A shower would help.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Dave asked, not for the first time. He’d found her in the back room leaning with her full weight against a pile of cardboard boxes; head tucked against her chest.

  Mia looked up and did her best not to look annoyed. He was only concerned for her after all; it wasn’t his fault she found this intrusion extremely irritating. “I’m good.” She lied, “Thanks.” Mia was not good, far from it in fact. She was only three hours into her shift, and already she was seriously considering going home sick.

  “Okay,” Dave said in a tone that made it clear he didn’t believe her for a second. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Thanks,” Mia made an effort to smile. She did appreciate his concern; he meant well. To be honest, Mia was embarrassed and annoyed at herself. She’d never suffered a hangover before, much less at work. It felt childish and immature and not at all her style. Part of her wanted to blame Jake for his part in this, but it was she who’d taken the beers he’d bought her. “I’ll be out in a second.” She said when Dave seemed set on lingering.

  “Sure,” He said. He grabbed a box from beside her; his ink-covered arm brushing against her apron. She watched him leave through the swinging door. Once he was gone, Mia closed her eyes and let her chin fall to her chest. She felt terrible.

  Her shower first thing in the morning hadn’t helped at all. Mia had stood there as the hot water cascaded over her body, fighting the urge to be sick. Even a short blast of cold water had done nothing to clear her head. To make matters worse, the hallucinations were back. It first happened when she’d wiped the film of moisture off the bathroom mirror to check her reflection. Maybe it had been a trick of the light, but her image in the glass had seemed strangely insubstantial, almost transparent. And when she’d taken a closer look Mia could have sworn she could see the wall mounted towel rack behind her through the flesh of her shoulder. Her head had started to spin in earnest, and Mia had torn herself away. She’d avoided her reflection for the rest of the morning, refusing to even check her appearance before leaving the house.

  It happened again on the walk to work. Mia had turned right down 58th when she’d caught a glimpse of herself in a shop window out of the corner of her eye. She’d been able to make out her messy topknot and pale complexion before the reflective surface had shimmered. Mia had ducked her head, her mouth bone dry, and picked up her pace. After her image flickered in the Starbucks window over the padded shoulder of a customer dressed in an impeccable grey suit, Mia lost it. Spinning away from the register without completing the man’s order, she’d escaped into the back room; a place without mirrors. In the dimly lit space where they kept countless bags of coffee beans and extra merchandise, Mia had pulled out her phone and, ignoring the text notifications from Jake, opened the Internet browser.

  With hands that had shaken so badly she’d almost dropped her phone, Mia had searched the symptoms of a hangover. She’d been desperate to know if what she was experiencing was normal or not. Four more messages had buzzed in while Mia grew more frustrated with the lack of information. She’d ignored the messages and put the useless phone away, tucking it into the back pocket of her pants. Nowhere on the vast internet could she find a straightforward yes or no answer to her question. Dave found her a few minutes later.

  Mia opened her eyes and took a deep breath. She couldn’t go home; she needed the money, but Mia couldn’t hang out in the back room any longer either. It took a considerably large amount of willpower to make her feet move, and Mia became incredibly annoyed with herself. “Suck it up.” She growled in a low voice and pushed through the swinging door. Mia stepped behind the bar where Dave was drowning in work. In her absence, the Starbucks had become the most popular location in Manhattan. The initial stab of guilt she felt gave way to a determined focus as she pushed away all thoughts of herself and threw herself into her job.

  Chapter 7

  At the sound of the door tone announcing a new customer, Mia looked up from the stainless steel counter top she was polishing and immediately wished she hadn’t. It was too late to pretend she hadn’t seen him. She’d locked eyes with Jake the moment he came into the Starbucks. His hair was a mess like he’d skipped combing it that morning, and his face was pale but not from a hangover like Mia’s. Nope, he was mad. Seriously mad. Mia met his glare straight on without flinching. Her anger was a welcome distraction from the crappy way she’d felt all morning.

  “When’s your lunch?” He asked when he arrived at the counter, his voice clipped and low.

  “Already had it.” She said and returned her attention to the counter, continuing her polishing.

  “Don’t lie Mee.” He said.

  Mia looked up and narrowed her eyes at him. They stared at each other. She could see a muscle twitch in his cheek. His mouth made a hard, impenetrable line in his face. “Twelve thirty,” Mia said, hating herself for caving under his intense blue-eyed gaze.

  “Good. I’ll wait.” He turned away from her without another word and took a seat at the only unoccupied table by the store windows. Mia watched him, but he resolutely avoided her eyes.

  “What’s that about?” Dave asked from the sink where his hands were occupied cleaning a froth beaker. Mia didn’t trust herself to speak let alone answer the question. She stared at Jake’s profile, the straight nose, and prominent brow and felt her blood boil. “Your boyfriend seems pissed.” Dave continued after a pause.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.” Mia hissed. She threw the rag she held in her hands down on the counter where it made a wet thwack. “I’m taking my lunch now.”

  “Sure,” Dave said with a grunt.

  Mia spun around to defend her statement, but he wasn’t even looking at her. His head was bent over his work, the lean muscles in his arms flexing beneath the inky sleeves. She regarded him, distracted from her ire. Here was a guy; a nice, very attractive guy she knew relatively well and liked. Why hadn’t she ever noticed him before? He looked over his shoulder at her; dark brown eyes narrowed in question. Mia looked away hastily. Her hands flew to the ties of her green apron and pulled at them as she kept her eyes trained on the ground. The reason she had never considered Dave as anything more than a friendly co-worker was because of her damnable hope to be with Jake.

  Pursing her lips, Mia stuffed the apron into a nook beside the cash register and let herself out from behind the counter just as three customers swept into the store. She stole a backward glance at Dave who waved her off. Feeling like utter crap, Mia strode toward Jake’s table. She stopped at his shoulder and waited, without saying anything, for him to notice her there. He didn’t even acknowledge her. He got up from his chair and walked out of the Starbucks leaving Mia to follow in his wake; an event she resented greatly.

  “I don’t appreciate you coming to my work like this.” Mia said through clenched teeth when they’d made it a few steps down the sunny sidewalk. Her hands were fists at her sides; her fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her palms.

  Jake stopped, his entire body rigid. Then he rounded on her, “I don’t appreciate you ditching last night without a word and then ignoring my calls.” He snarled in her face, “I also don’t appreciate,” he spat t
he word like it made a bad taste in his mouth, “you hanging up on me this morning.”

  “Yeah well, I don’t appreciate you blowing up my phone all day,” Mia said in a low hiss. Her head started to pound, and she felt sick in a way that had nothing to do with her hangover. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe I don’t want to talk to you?” She was trembling now, and a cold sweat broke out on her upper lip.

  “Mia,” Jake said and took an angry step toward her.

  “Don’t.” She spat and stepped back out of his reach. “Leave me alone Jake.” She said and felt like she might be sick. The sun was suddenly very bright and hot between the buildings and Mia needed to sit down before she fell.

  Jake’s hard expression faltered as he took in her appearance for the first time. “Mee,” he whispered and took another, hesitant step toward her. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not,” Mia answered shakily, and it was like she deflated, all her anger gone in an instant. “I’m not okay.” She said and swayed on her feet.

  He crossed the distance between them in a flash. Mia felt his hands on her shoulders as she craned her neck to meet his worried eyes. “What’s wrong?” He demanded in a quiet voice, scanning her for some visible sign of the problem.

  “Don’t know.” Mia murmured, “Hangover, I think.”

  “Come here. Sit down.” Jake led her over to one of the tables outside the Starbucks and basically pushed her into a plastic chair beneath the umbrella. “What do you mean hangover? You didn’t have enough to drink for that.”

  Mia grimaced at the sensation in her belly. It felt like her innards were tying knots in themselves. “I had three beers on an empty stomach Jake,” she said, “I was pretty buzzed.”