Scorched Souls (Chosen Book 3)

by Jeff Altabef

  He touches my hand and his fingers feel soft and warm. “It is not that. I am worried about you. That much power can... accelerate your abilities. We need more time to understand them together, so you can safely control them.”

  I sigh. Of course, he’s right, but how do I stop? I absorbed that energy without knowing what I was doing. It wasn’t planned. “Okay, no more blowing up anyone. Got it.”

  “Good.” He grins. “You must be exhausted. We are safe here, for now at least. You should get some rest.”

  He shifts his weight to stand, but before he rises I stop him with my arm. “I have something to tell you.”

  It’s time to trust him. He risked his life for me, and I can’t murder him—not now. If I wanted him dead, I could have left the Compound and let Zanda finish him off. I had a perfectly easy way out, but I didn’t take it—couldn’t take it. I’ve made my choice, and if I’m honest with myself, my mind was made up from the moment we met in the maze. Stalling any further will only make things more difficult and more dangerous for us.

  His brilliant eyes sparkle as he waits for me to continue.

  “We have a problem. The Alphians planted a bomb on Earth that can destroy the entire planet. If I don’t kill you, they’ll blow up the planet with everything and everyone on it.”

  His expression turns distant for a moment and then flashes back to the present. “I am surprised they would turn to such drastic measures, but it is certainly logical. They understand how powerful a Deltite-human partnership might become—how we could change the universe together. Such a union would threaten them. Do you know where the bomb is located?”

  I sigh and shrug at the same time, feeling helpless and more than a little stupid. “No.”

  He beams a bright smile at me, which takes me totally by surprise. I’m sure this should be bad news, but he looks like he’s just won the lottery.

  I shake my head. “What gives? Isn’t this bad?”

  “Yes, and no. The only way they could blow up a planet is with a red crystal we call a Heart Stone. Only such a crystal is powerful enough, but they are extremely rare and can only be found on Alpha. With a Heart Stone, I could work wonders.”

  For a second his eyes flash dangerously, but that look evaporates so fast I wonder if I imagined it.

  He paces with slow measured steps. “We must find the Heart Stone before they activate it. The Alphians believe so strongly in their superiority, they would choose a place that has a particular symbolism to them. A place that has a certain importance.”

  Symbolism and importance—an idea flutters through my mind. “What about the Orders? They must be important to them. They’ve monitored them for years, and we know where they’ve established them.”

  He paces faster. “Excellent. That has to be it.”

  “They created four Orders in different parts of the globe to create the Chosen,” I say, although I’m sure he already knows. “We won’t have time to investigate all four places. I’m positive they have spies on the planet to monitor my progress. If they think I’ve failed or we’ve teamed up, they could destroy the planet at any moment.”

  “We do not need to investigate all four.” He flashes me a smug look like the one my friend Ella gets when she has just solved a tricky puzzle. “There is only one place they would select. You are the Alpha. They would choose your birthplace.”

  A strange sinking feeling settles into my bones.

  He’s right, and I should have known it all along.

  Connor

  The captain eyes me suspiciously, lifts the confession he made me write, and reads it aloud. “I killed the butcher.”

  He puts down the paper. “The smiley face at the end is a nice touch, but that’s not much of a statement. How about you add in some details like how, when, and why?”

  I can’t include any specifics because all I know is what we read on Blake’s laptop, and the news reports could be wrong. If I start making things up, they might realize I’m not guilty, and then they’d look to Michelle.

  I won’t let that happen, so this is all they’ll get from me. “You can bloody well piss off. He deserved it, so I killed him. You can add that if you’d like.”

  The captain’s voice stays calm, almost soothing. They must teach him that type of nonsense in interrogation school. He’s trying to be the good cop. It won’t last. “Listen, I can help you. There could be mitigating circumstances. Maybe he threatened you so you acted in self-defense? You’re not eighteen yet, so everything will be taken into account.”

  I lean back in my seat and cross my arms against my chest so he knows he won’t get anything more from me. “I’ve bloody confessed. That blighter deserved what he got. That’s all I’m saying. P-i-s-s o-f-f.”

  His bland, let-me-be-your-friend expression morphs into one of disgust. He stands, and the sudden motion sends the metal chair screeching against the tile floor. It sounds like fingernails on a blackboard. “Okay, tough guy, I’m done babying you. Don’t say I didn’t try to help. Everything that happens now is on you.”

  He motions for me to rise. We leave the interrogation room and walk down a short corridor.

  I stayed the night here once last year when they busted me for a fight. The pub owner, or even the vicar, could have sprung me, but they couldn’t be bothered.

  One cop sits behind a desk to keep an eye on inmates in the two cells. He rises when we enter the holding area, and the captain shoves me forward.

  I need to lay low until I can figure out a way to escape. It shouldn’t be that hard with my telekinesis and ability to liquefy solids. I just need some privacy.

  One of the cells has three blokes fresh from a bender in it, their faces flushed red with an inebriated glow. All three wear Liverpool jerseys, which probably means they’re hooligans who got drunk watching a match and started some trouble that landed them in jail.

  The captain smirks at the cop on watch duty. “We’ve caught the kid who murdered the butcher. He’s a real tough nut, he is.”

  The cop nods toward the empty cell. “Aye, you want me to lock him up until the transport comes?”

  “It seems like he’ll be lonely in that empty cell all by himself.” The captain winks at the cop. “Why don’t we put him in with these nice fellas. They’ll make sure he’s not homesick.”

  The largest of the three hooligans walks over to the bars. He’s a little shorter than me, but he’s built like a refrigerator. His voice rumbles. “You want to give us a pet to play with, aye?”

  The captain winks at him. “Seems like you’re bored. I don’t want him dead, but if he’s bloodied up a bit, I wouldn’t cry about it.”

  Refrigerator asks, “What’s in it for us?”

  The captain shrugs. “Funny thing about your paperwork. It seems to have gotten lost. I’ll take one last look for it, but if I can’t find anything, I’ll have to release you.”

  Refrigerator nods with a sick smile on his face.

  I’m guessing he’d like to rough me up anyway, so his release is just a bonus.

  The captain opens the cell door and takes one last look at me. “Are you sure you can’t remember any details to add to that confession?”

  I step into the cell. “Here’s one. Screw you.”

  He locks the door and waves at the other cop in the holding area. “Come on, George. I think it’s time for your coffee break. Let’s let these gents get acquainted with each other.”

  They leave and shut the door behind them.

  When I turn, Refrigerator steps toward me with his two cronies at his sides. “Looks like it’s just you and us, cupcake. Don’t expect them to help you.”

  I flash a big smile. “Liverpool is a crap team. Their players are real wankers. Chelsea whoops them every time.”

  Refrigerator is blooming angry and so are his two friends. This isn’t the first time they’ve ganged up on someone—they’ll try to jump me at the same time.

  Good. It’ll be quicker that way.

  Connor

/>   Refrigerator taps the chest of the man on his right with the back of his hand, a tall, lanky bloke with two-day old stubble on his chin. “Looks like we’ve got a funny guy with us.”

  The goon on Refrigerator’s left laughs. “Good one. He’s a funny, funny guy. Maybe we should flush him down the toilet.” Short and squat, this one has a vacant look that dulls his eyes—if I stare hard at them, I might see the back of his skull.

  I’ve had enough of these thugs. “Are we going to dance, or are you too afraid? I don’t have all night.”

  That does the trick.

  Refrigerator growls, “Get ‘im,” and lunges forward.

  Stubble moves to my right and reaches for my arm.

  Apparently, Vacant Eyes works on a few-second delay, because he’s frozen.

  I’m still drunk, but my body can process some of the energy around me to enhance my movements. Compared to the hooligans, I move panther quick. I duck under the left-handed roundhouse that Refrigerator launches my way and hit him with a short hook to the ribs. My hand feels like it hit a wall, but he winces at the compact punch.

  Vacant Eyes still hasn’t budged, but now his mouth has dropped open, so I flatten him with a roundhouse kick that lands flush against the left side of his face. He goes down hard, and his listless eyes roll to the back of his head.

  “Hey!” Stubble jumps forward, rams his head into my side, and wraps his arms around my stomach. The momentum sends us crashing into the bars.

  I twist before we collide so we both absorb the impact, but then he sinks his teeth into my shoulder.

  I see stars and slam his head into the unforgiving metal.

  He unclenches his jaw and releases his grip on my shoulder.

  I lift him off the ground, one hand on his chest and the other on his belt. With my enhanced strength and the adrenaline that’s pulsing through me, he feels light in my hands.

  “You wanker!” I toss him clear across the cell, where he hits the wall and crashes on his side. “Didn’t your mum teach you not to bite?”

  Refrigerator snarls at me. “I don’t know what you’re on, but I’m going to bust up your face so bad your mum’s not going to recognize you.”

  “Seriously.” I put my left arm behind my back. “I’ll fight you with one arm.”

  Refrigerator barrels towards me. He’s surprisingly quick on his feet and throws a punch to the side of my head.

  I duck, but his fist still collides with the top of my head and spins me around.

  He grabs me from behind and wraps me in a bear hug. He’s trying to squeeze the life out of me, but it won’t work.

  I grab his right hand and pry it off me.

  He squeals in pain as I twist until his wrist is at the breaking point. Right before I snap his bones, I release him and hit him hard with a left hook.

  Blood squirts from his nose, but rage still burns in his eyes, so I follow the punch with a front kick to his stomach that doubles him over.

  He gasps for air, and I use my mind to grab his hair and drag his flailing body to the toilet. “You want to go for a swim?”

  He looks at me with wild eyes as I hold his head over the toilet with my mind. “How are you doing that? You-you’re all the way... over there.”

  “Doing what?” I dunk his head, hold him down for ten seconds, and pull him out of the bowl.

  He shakes the water from his head and gasps for air. “Leave me alone, you freak.”

  I smile. “You don’t know the half of it.” Then I concentrate harder and fling him against the wall on the far side of the cell.

  His head hits first with a thud, and he’s out.

  Just when I think I’m finished with these guys, Stubble grabs my leg and tries to twist it, but he doesn’t have any leverage.

  “You again. The biter.” I stomp on his head, and he joins his buddies in sleepy land.

  I step toward the bars, ready to liquefy them, but the door to the holding area opens.

  The captain and George walk through it. George bunches his eyes together and squints at the cell, while the captain steps forward and unlocks the door.

  “What in bloody hell happened here?” he asks.

  “Beats me.” I shrug. “They started chanting Liverpool songs and body slamming each other. I was lucky to get out of the way. Red fans are statistically the dumbest people on Earth.”

  The captain grabs my arm and pulls me out of the cell. George opens the other one across the way and the captain shoves me inside. “You’re a real smartass. The transport will be here in thirty minutes, and it’ll take you to a secure facility in London. I’m sure you’ll make lots of friends there.” He swings the gate shut.

  George retrieves some smelling salts and starts to wake up the hooligans.

  I check the time on the wall.

  I touch the lock and try to liquefy it. Concentrating hard, I feel electricity in the air and a tingling sensation run down my hand, yet nothing happens. My mind, still dulled by the booze, feels woozy and my legs are rubbery. I’m still too pissed to use my ability.

  Bloody hell!

  I’ve got to stop drinking.

  If I don’t escape before the transport comes, I might not get a chance later.

  Juliet

  I’d love to sleep, but that’s asking too much. Instead, I shut off my mind, lie still and let the hours slip past. It’s as if I’m on one of those lounge chairs drifting in a pool during a lazy afternoon—not as good as sleeping, but the best I can muster under the circumstances. My body starts to revive itself, when suddenly a cold wave jolts me.

  I bolt upright and pop open my eyes.

  Connor needs my help.

  A vision of him fighting in jail forced its way into my thoughts as if someone pried open my mind with a crowbar and stuffed in the images. I watched him clobber three thugs and heard the guard mention a transport.

  I rub the almost sleep from my eyes.

  Connor drank too much and landed himself in jail—a colossally stupid thing for him to do—and now he can’t use his abilities to escape. Once they move him to a secure place in London, he won’t be able to free himself. He’ll be trapped.

  Guilt lumps in my chest because I’m sure it’s my fault. He probably started drinking because of me, because I left. One stupid thing led to another... and now he’s in trouble.

  Groaning, I pull on my jeans, lace up my sneakers, and hope the closet is not just for decoration. Luckily, there’s a stack of T-shirts and a couple of hoodie sweatshirts that’ll fit me. I grab a black T-shirt and a gray hoodie—the dark colors match my mood.

  I tread into the living room, hoping I can free Connor and return without bothering Aaric. I’d rather not mix the two. I’m sure they’d get along like oil and vinegar, but that’s only one reason. Part of me wants to keep them separate, lock them away in different mental folders so I don’t confuse them.

  When I sneak into the living room, I hear Aaric and Jared arguing over something that sounds important.

  Aaric speaks confidently, as if giving orders comes naturally to him. “You will have to go to Guernsey and solidify our position.”

  Jared grunts. “Guernsey is not our biggest problem. Vladic will oppose us. He’s a butcher. He’ll rather kill the humans than work with them.”

  “Yes, Vladic is a problem. I will handle him. You need to go to Guernsey and make sure he does not garner more support from the other coveys.”

  “Why do we need her?” Jared sounds frustrated. “She’s confirmed our suspicions that the Elders left a Heart Stone on the planet, and we know generally where it is. Once we travel to Arizona, we’re sure to find it in her hometown. She’s just added baggage. We can handle the stone together.”

  I quiet my breathing as goose bumps run up my arms, and strain my ears to hear the rest of the conversation.

  “Do not question me. I will accompany Juliet back to Arizona. You tend to the coveys. Reassure them that everything is going according to plan. Root out any traitors. Let me know if
the old Prime Elector shows himself.”

  Everything is going according to plan?

  A door slams. I don’t want Aaric to find me eavesdropping, so I retrace my steps back to my bedroom, close the door, and steady my racing heart.

  What were they arguing about? Did they know about the Heart Stone before I told Aaric? If they did, why didn’t Aaric just ask me about it?

  I don’t have time to think hard on it now. Connor’s trapped in that jail and the transport is coming for him. I have to move, so I will my legs forward, swing the door open, and act as if I hadn’t heard anything, making more noise than necessary.

  When I enter the living room, Aaric is sitting on the couch staring at a crystal disk in his hand. My presence must have startled him because his eyes jump to mine, and he slips the crystal into his pocket.

  “I thought you were resting,” he says. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “No, you didn’t. I have to go. One of the Chosen is in trouble and needs me.”

  I step toward the door but he blocks my way. “How do you know?”

  “A vision came to me.” I shrug. “Sometimes it just happens. Connor is in jail and needs help to escape. I have to hurry before they transport him to a secure facility in London.”

  “You saw a vision?” His eyes glimmer. “Usually we can only see such visions if they involve our mates or someone we have been close to for a long time, like a sibling or a childhood best friend.”

  I look into his eyes, and wonder if there’s a trace of jealousy in them, or did the light from the lamp play tricks? Why would he be jealous of my relationship with Connor? He’s practically a god. He’s the Prime Elector and looks like an angel. I’m nothing compared to him. Heck, he’s not even human! He probably has no interest in me.

  Still, my face burns as if I’ve just opened the door to a hot oven, and my voice sounds mousy. “Connor and I aren’t mates or anything like that. He’s just....” I was about to say a friend, but that’s not true, or at least it wasn’t true. We were more than friends, but now I’m sure he hates me, and I doubt he’ll ever trust me again. I give up and just say, “A friend,” without knowing the right words to express my true feelings.