Unchosen

by Vail, Michele

  UNCHOSEN

  By Michele Vail

  Copyright © 2013 Michele R. Freeman

  Writing as Michele Vail

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means—by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement from the author of this work.

  Cover Art by Renée George

  http://www.reneegeorgeoriginals.com

  To the Viking

  I love you

  “Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave

  Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;

  Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.

  I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.”

  ~from “Dirge without Music” by Edna St. Vincent Millay

  “Of all the gods only death does not desire gifts.”

  ~ Aeschylus

  Molly’s Reaper Diary

  What You Should Know Already

  SET, THE GOD of Chaos, tried to take over the Underworld a looooong time ago … and started a war. After a whole bunch of reaper and human casualties, Anubis, the god of Death, kicked Set’s ass into the deepest part of the Underworld and imprisoned him.

  Because so many of the reapers had been corrupted and betrayed Anubis, he took their powers, split them into five necromancer abilities, and gave the magic to (mostly) worthy humans. If these blessed humans used their powers well, they become reapers (some sooner than others) in the afterlife.

  Those five powers are:

  Ka Heka – Re-animates dead bodies using a teeny tiny part of the soul called the ka.

  Ren Heka – Calls forth and communicates with earth-bound spirits.

  Sheut Heka – Creates and commands soul shadows. A soul shadow results from peeling away the top layer of the soul.

  Ba Heka – Binds souls and keeps them from entering the afterlife.

  Ib Heka – Sees into the heart of the soul, and knows the soul’s true worth.

  Very rarely a necro is born with two gifts. The last one recorded was Leonardo Da Vinci. No known human has ever had all five gifts. If someone was born a full reaper, then she’s probably the half-god kid of Anubis. Ahem.

  How do you know if you’re going to be a reaper? Lucky for you, the god of death likes to plan ahead. You’ll probably have an Anubis dream on your sixteenth birthday and/or your necro family will go consult the Anubis oracle and get the oh-so-happy news.

  Let’s see … oh, yeah. Did I mention there’s a prophecy that says Set’s gonna escape his prison and bring death to the world? Sooooo, if you’re extra-extra special, you’ll become one of Anubis’s Chosen warriors. You know, in case that whole battle goes down with Set. Among the Chosen is one awesome warrior destined to lead all the rest.

  That would be me.

  Molly Bartolucci Briarstock.

  As a reaper in training, you gotta keep secrets. I keep secrets from all my friends, including my besties who still live in Las Vegas and the ones I’ve made at Nekyia: Barbie, Autumn, Daniel, and Trina. And then there’s Rath. Rath is … well, he’s hot. He’s like some super ninja reaper. Oh, he’s dead, too. That could be a problem in other relationships, but since I’m the daughter of Anubis, dating dead guys not much of stumbling block for me (um … that’s not as gross as it sounds).

  Anyway. Since I’m trying to make this diary a how-to survival guide for soon-to-be reapers, you should just know that keeping secrets is part of the deal. You can’t go blathering about your trips in the Shallows, what souls look like, how scary Maat really is, or where you keep your scythe. You’ll probably have to lie and avoid, which makes you feel like a jerk, and you may lose friends. You have to decide what’s more important, you know? Because at the end, when it all goes down, saving the world means you’re saving your friends, too.

  Hey, sometimes life—and death—just sucks.

  Keep calm … and carry your scythe.

  “In ancient Egypt there was a religious sect devoted to Set, the god of chaos. The priests used their magic and knowledge to create soul boxes. These boxes could harbor many human souls, and it was said Set would feast on these souls, consuming them in the same way one might enjoy gourmet chocolate truffles. After the Reaper War, Anubis sought out these boxes and destroyed many of them—along with knowledge of how they were created. It is said that some survived—even into modern times.”

  ~The Secret History of Reapers, Author Unknown

  “If you can survive high school, you can survive anything.”

  ~Amanda Cannon Fenley, author of Parenting the Necro Child

  Chapter 1

  NIGHTMARES ARE OFTEN built with bricks of reality. I could not escape from either bad dreams or bad reality. Not after using my reaper gifts and taking a trip into the Underworld…

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I put my hand on Rick’s chest, and I felt his ragged, broken soul fluttering like a trapped bird. The soul knew that it was incomplete, and that it was caged inside a dying vessel.

  I had caused that suffering, that confusion.

  “C’mon,” I said. “Let’s finish your journey.”

  The soul popped free. Rick gave one final exhalation, and then he stilled.

  I kept my gaze on what was left of him. The soul, a faded blue, was as mangled as Play-Doh in the hands of a toddler.

  “In here,” I said softly, offering up the glass orb that had been given to me for transportation. The soul wiggled inside.

  It was time to heal Rick’s life essence.

  It was time to let him go.

  I woke up, my skull pounding, my eyes tear-swollen, my limbs aching. The dorm room was dark and silent. I grabbed a nearby pillow and mashed it on top of my head. “No more, okay?” I muttered, as I gave in to the exhaustion. “Please, no more.”

  “Present the soul,” said Maat.

  Everyone turned to look at me, waiting for me to relinquish Rick’s soul. I swallowed the knot in my throat, and cleared it a few times. “It’s not whole,” I said. “I was hoping you could repair it.”

  Maat stared at me with distant eyes. “Why is it not whole?”

  I licked my cracked lips, my heart beating so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest. Sweat trickled down my brow. “I tried to save him. I didn’t know … what I know now.”

  The goddess sighed. “I do not understand why humans struggle so against death. It is not an ending.”

  My eyes popped open.

  “Damn it.” I tossed the pillow, and rolled onto my side. My mouth felt dry, but I was tired, too tired to go to the bathroom for a drink of water. I wanted so badly to sleep. Just sleep…

  “You have done a great disservice to this being,” said Maat.“You must pay penance. You will owe me three favors, Molly Bartolucci.”

  Maat lifted her hand and the glass orb lifted from my hands. It rose into the air … and the glass shattered. Rick’s soul zoomed forward, seemingly eager to see Maat.

  “Poor child,” she murmured as the warped blue mass settled onto her upraised palm. She held up her other palm, two wormy blue lights appeared.

  The missing parts of Rick’s soul!

  Maat cupped her hands together. She closed her eyes, and for the longest moment we stood there, while she whispered prayers I didn’t understand.

  When she opened her eyes and then her hands … Rick’s soul was whole again.

  I WOKE UP to find my ghoul’s gray, gaunt face inches from mine.

  “Aaaah! Henry!” I sat up and slapped a han
d against my chest. My heart tha-thumped. “Don’t do that!”

  “I’m sorry, miss.” His expression held vague concern. He straightened, looking quite formal in the pristine black suit he always wore. “Miss Chiles has requested your presence.”

  After killing my almost-sorta boyfriend, escorting his soul to the Underworld, making a deal with scary goddess Maat, and finding out my sperm donor was Anubis, I wasn’t exactly in the mood to have a chat with the headmistress of Nekyia Academy.

  Oh, well.

  After I got dressed and had a quick breakfast of toast and orange juice, Henry led me to a small, stuffy and dimly lit room. Three people sat behind a long, dark wood table. Miss Chiles occupied the middle, her expression grim. The other two adults were a study in contrasts: a plump woman dressed in an alarming shade of purple with matching stripes in her short dark hair; and a man with a long, gray beard who wore glasses and a checkered jacket. The man looked confused, as though he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten here.

  “Molly,” said Miss Chiles, her voice stern. “We’ve convened a council of three, as outlined in Nekyia Academy’s bylaws. On my left is Dr. Lawrence Riverton, and to my right, is Professor Suzette Mills.” She put her hands on the table and threaded her fingers together. “A council of three is created when an accusation of forbidden necro magic is levied against a student.”

  The people on either side of Miss Chiles eyed me as though I was wiggling bug under their microscopes. I didn’t enjoy the feeling of being so coldly studied.

  “A witness has reported to us that you stole a soul from a dying woman and gave it to an enemy of Anubis.” Miss Chiles paused, apparently waiting for me to comment on the accusation.

  How was I supposed to respond? Cold fear slicked down my chest and settled like a greasy lump into my stomach. The memory flashed in my mind like guilty lightning:

  I looked down at the homeless woman named Sylvie. Irina--reaper, trainer, and nutjob--picked up the flashlight and aimed at Sylvie’s face. She hadn’t made a sound at all or tried to utter any last words.

  She’d just … died.

  Before someone could be a ghost, their soul had to reject the Light. Sylvie’s soul rose out of her body, dancing upward. She wasn’t going to stick around. For a moment, I was glad she wanted to leave the earthly plane.

  “Molly.”

  My gaze slid to Irina, and my knees nearly buckled when I saw the big, nasty-looking gun she pointed at me. “The woman is dead,” said Irina in a cold voice. “And you will be, too, if you don’t take her soul.”

  I couldn’t believe that after all I’d been through, not to mention all the things I’d done that were not-so-awesome-and-or-legal, I was getting busted for a crime I didn’t even know I’d committed.

  “While this report is troubling, Molly, the alleged incident did not occur on school grounds, so we will not address it here,” said Miss Chiles.

  Um, then why did you bring it up?

  She expelled a deep breath. “However, we have evidence that you’ve concealed an illegal magical device on school property.” She reached under the table and brought out a small object that she placed carefully in front of her.

  My gaze dropped to the gleaming obsidian box sitting like so much sin on the table. A knot formed in my throat and I swallowed heavily.

  “Do you recognize this item?” asked Miss Chiles.

  “Yes,” I said. I’d left the soul box in my dorm room, unsure what I should do with it. I knew it was dangerous, which is why I didn’t tell anyone I still had it. But someone knew the box had been stowed in my dorm room. And that someone had told on me. Anger flared, but I keep my stance loose, trying to look as innocent as possible. Who would try to get me in trouble?

  One name came to mind immediately. Clarissa Jacobs. I had saved her snobby ass, too. She had been the only one in the alleyway with me when I’d been forced to steal the soul of the homeless woman. I thought Clarissa had been knocked out, but maybe she came to in time to see me stash Sylvie’s soul. But if she’d seen me, then why hadn’t she seen the woman pointing the gun at me? Well, duh. She wanted to lead the Chosen so badly she’d probably do anything to be named Kebechet.

  “Are you aware of the soul box’s purpose?” Miss Chiles’s expression revealed nothing but cool professionalism. I felt betrayed by her because she knew that I was a member of the secret faction of the Society of Nekros. She knew I was Chosen, that I was among the elite warriors in training, and that I was prophesized as Anubis’s Champion, the Kebechet. If Set managed to break out of hell and start a necromancy war, I would be the one to lead the fight against him.

  “I’m aware of the soul box’s purpose, Miss Chiles.”

  “Have you used it, young lady?” asked Dr. Riverton. He didn’t sound accusatory at all. In fact, he seemed more curious than condemning.

  I nodded.

  “She admits to the use of forbidden objects and magic,” said Professor Mills in a clipped tone. Her brown eyes filled with worry. “No young necro has yielded such power since…” She trailed off. She blinked at me, her mouth opening slightly, and then she looked down at the table. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was afraid of me.

  Miss Chiles stood up, her robe rustling. “Molly Bartolucci, I am opening an inquiry into your illegal use of forbidden necromancy objects.”

  My heart started a slow, erratic thudding.

  “We do not render judgment,” said Dr. Riverton in a deep, lazy tone, as though he were merely commenting on the weather. “Judgment is for the tribunal.”

  A tribunal sounded bad. Since coming to Nekyia Academy, there was a lot I had learned—about my own past, about necromancy, and about being a reaper. All the same, I’d been a ka heka my whole life and helped my dad with his zombie-making business since I was twelve—and I’d never heard of half of the things I’d found at this school. Why was I surprised about a tribunal?

  “Molly,” said Miss Chiles softly, kindness edging her voice, “do you understand?”

  I felt the hot pressure of tears, but I blinked hard so they wouldn’t fall. I didn’t want to be seen as weak. Miss Chiles’ gaze remained steady and calm. I swear she looked almost sympathetic. I drew in a shuddering breath and tried to swallow the stupid knot still clogging my throat.

  “You’re arresting me,” I said hoarsely. “And I have to stand trial.”

  Like I was a criminal. What was I supposed to do? Call my Dad? Pray to Anubis? Contact my grandparents?

  “You’re not under arrest,” said Dr. Riverton. “The tribunal is not … well, a traditional trial.”

  Call me oh-so-comforted.

  Behind me, I heard the squealing metal of the wooden door opening—with such force it crashed against the wall and shook the floor. I looked over my shoulder as a blonde woman dressed to the nines marched into the room.

  She was followed by my grandparents, Derek and Sandra Briarstock.

  Crapity crap crap!

  My heart leapt into my throat, and I felt my lungs squeeze. I opened my mouth even though I wasn’t sure what to say. Sandra shook her head slightly. She didn’t look happy, and neither did my grandfather. Dread crawled through me.

  I turned back around, wondering what kind of lectures and punishments I would receive for getting myself into this mess. I was startled when I felt my grandmother’s arm slip around my waist. My grandfather put his hand on my shoulder.

  A show of solidarity from my grandparents?

  Whoa.

  I was so grateful for their support that I clung to them with both arms It was nice not to feel so alone or afraid.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The woman slapped a stylish black briefcase onto the table. Her brash voice and furious tone reverberated through the room. The three people sitting there reared back, all wearing alarmed expressions.

  Miss Chiles recovered first. “Who are—”

  “Rosie Knowles,” interrupted the blonde. “I’m Miss Bartolucci’s lawyer.” She sn
apped open the locks and then paused in opening the briefcase, looking at Miss Chiles. “Did you inform Miss Bartolucci that she’s allowed to have representation during these proceedings?”

  “Nekyia Academy has in loco parentis—”

  Rosie laughed, whipped out some papers from the case, and snapped it closed. “Don’t give me that ‘school acts as the parent’ crap. Your accusations have the potential to affect my client’s life far beyond the walls of this school.”

  “No one outside of campus has been brought in on this matter,” said Miss Chiles in a polite, but strained voice. “We are choosing to handle it quickly and quietly within Nekyia. The tribunal is the best way—”

  “Railroad students?” asked Rosie.

  “To help Molly,” finished Miss Chiles.

  “Hah!” Rosie slapped the papers onto the table. “Where’s her accuser?”

  “The accuser is anonymous.”

  Rosie lifted one blonde brow. “How convenient.”

  “We offer a Peers Helping Peers program where students can anonymously report trouble or abuses without fear of repercussions,” said Miss Chiles. “We received such a report. We have the purview to search any student’s room, car, or belongings. A search was made of Molly’s room, and the soul box found.”

  “I see,” said Rosie. “So, you get an anonymous report, and you find the soul box in Molly’s room. What if the person who reported this alleged ‘magical abuse’ was the one who put the object in Molly’s room?”

  The teachers looked at one another, and shifted in their seats. Professor Mills coughed into her hand, obviously uncomfortable with the lawyer’s scrutiny.

  “May I remind you that this is the child who was taken—on a school-sanctioned field trip—by Russian gangsters with ties to Set supporters? She was emotionally traumatized and then imprisoned. She barely managed to escape with her life. And you, the stewards of this school, repay that bravery, that sacrifice with these ridiculous accusations!” Rosie launched her words with precision of darts hitting the bulls-eye.