The Lost and the Chosen (The Lost Sentinel Book 1)

by Ivy Asher

  “He was called away.”

  I wait for the guy to elaborate, but it appears that’s all he’s going to give me. I pull loose sweats on over the spandex boy shorts I’m wearing, and I slip on my socks and shoes. I yank a shirt over my black sports bra and grab my bag.

  I’m ready to go in minutes, but judging by the impatient tap of the driver’s foot and the irritated expression he’s wearing, I’ve somehow taken too long. I make a mental note to ensure that Talon doesn’t stick me with this prick again.

  I swing the straps of my bag over my shoulder and square up to the driver.

  “After you.” Asshole.

  3

  I follow my curt escort out a door that exits to the rear of the building. The makeshift parking lot is barely lit, and a solitary black SUV sits parked fifteen feet away from the door. As the driver leads the way to the car, a quick flash of something catches the peripheral of my eye. I freeze and scan my surroundings, alert and ready for an attack. I swear I just saw something run past me, but I don’t see anything there now.

  I find myself expecting the creepy, dark-haired guy from inside to pop up out of nowhere, but all I see is an expanse of packed dirt and a smattering of small shrubs. Just as I’m about to turn away, I notice a faint shimmer in the air about ten feet in front of me.

  “Miss Aylin?” The driver calls to me.

  I’m sure I look like a mental case, standing here staring off into empty darkness. Okay, Vinna get your shit together. A weird noise, almost like a grunt, interrupts my inner chastisement, and I find myself moving toward the weird shimmer. As I get closer to the anomaly, power roars through me like a flash flood.

  “What the hell?” I mutter.

  I look back to find the driver staring at me like I’ve lost my mind, and I wonder for a second if maybe he’s right. Another sound pulls my attention back to what seems like empty space, but something about it feels really fucking off.

  I continue walking forward, and my body is overcome with a staticky sensation. It feels like every muscle in my body simultaneously fell asleep, and is now in the process of waking up. I take a second to shake out the buzzing in my limbs, and then I step into that shimmer in the air to find complete chaos on the other side.

  The outbreak of action all around me, where seconds ago there was nothing, is disorienting. I stand frozen in place as I take in the melee. I’m surrounded by people…fighting. I look around, and recognition sparks through me when I realize that one side of the battle involves the entourage of the guy I just fought.

  There are seven of the big burly men against four other middle-aged men I don’t recognize. Five, I realize, when I spot a guy standing off to the side, separate from the others. He stands there with closed eyes and his lips move like he’s talking to himself. Well, if I am crazy, it looks like I have company.

  One of the men from the entourage sprints with alarming speed, heading right for the solitary guy, a glint of metal flashing in his hands. He bears down freakishly fast on the mumbling man, who doesn’t seem to realize that danger is coming for him like a freight train.

  My internal power perks up, eager to answer my call. The strange markings that showed up all over my body on my sixteenth birthday begin to tingle in anticipation. I call on the energy in the markings that line the bottom curve of my butt cheeks and throwing knives become solid in my hands.

  I wait a few seconds to see if the chanter will respond to the threat, but when he doesn’t even open his eyes, I spring into action. As the attacker brings up his knife, I throw my own at him. He roars out in pain and then drops to the dirt, blood flowing freely from the dagger that just landed cleanly in his throat.

  The mumbling guy’s eyes fly open, just as the body of his attacker skids to a stop a few feet away from him. The man’s gaze lands on me, but instead of the look of gratitude I expect, his eyes narrow in irritation. He starts walking towards me, the constant movement of his lips never ceasing.

  A man’s shout of pain fills the night air, pulling my attention from the chanter. I focus on a man who looks to be almost seven feet tall, with long red hair that falls past his shoulders. He pulls a knife from his side, and blood seeps through the seams of his fingers as he applies pressure to the wound. He continues to fight off a man in front of him, oblivious to the threat that creeps up behind him.

  “Aydin, watch out!” the chanter yells to his friend.

  I run towards the man creeping up like a coward behind the ginger giant. I laugh at the look on his face when I pop up out of nowhere, fucking up his clear shot at the ginger giant’s back. A flurry of punches and a quick twist of the neck has the big, burly coward face down in the dirt and out for the count. I turn to check on this Aydin guy and watch, completely gobsmacked, as a ball of fire floats above his hands.

  His large frame and the loose auburn strands of his hair are alight with the glow of flames, and the ball of fire he’s somehow creating swells between his palms. He throws it, and the man in front of him erupts into flames. The pain-filled screams snap me out of my shocked inaction, just as a whirring sound comes towards me. I reach out and catch the hilt of a knife, stopping it before it’s embedded in my chest.

  Holy shit, that was close!

  I scan the fighters, looking for the dead man who just threw a fucking knife at me. I turn in time to see a dagger sink into the shoulder of the guy who’s still talking to himself. He lets out a surprised yelp and grimaces against the pain. His mumbling stops, and suddenly two of the big burly fighters explode into gigantic fucking Grizzly bears.

  What in the furry fuck?

  4

  I don’t even try to make sense of what the hell just happened. Instead, I focus on a man from the Colossal Douche’s entourage who’s trying to surrender. He’s on his knees, crying and staring up at an older guy who has a bright ball of who-the-fuck-knows-what, pulsating between his hands.

  What the hell?

  You don’t kill someone who’s surrendering. Isn’t that like a rule or a code that fighters are supposed to live by? I run past the man on his knees and slam into the magic ball wielding asshole. Thank fuck the glowing orb doesn’t connect with me, or the man on the ground. I yell at him to run. I don’t look to see if he listens because the guy I just body checked, jumps back up, and he’s pissed.

  He’s tall with dark hair and furious green eyes. Something about his face seems familiar, but I don’t have time to think much about it before I’m dodging and evading his attack. I don’t fight back, because I’m not sure if I should. After all, when I invited myself to this party, I took the side of this guy’s group. They were outnumbered and fighting big dudes with knives, and it seemed unfair.

  Then I went and switched sides by helping the surrendering enemy. Moral of the story: I need to learn to mind my own fucking business. I don’t let the angry green-eyed man get in any hits, but he’s relentless in his attack, and if I’m honest, I’m enjoying the challenge.

  His eyes flit over my shoulder for a fraction of a second, giving away that someone’s about to come at me from behind. Oh come on, green eyes, you should know better than that. I reach over my shoulder and stroke one of the lines of markings on my back, and a staff solidifies in my hands.

  I feel a shift in the air behind me, and I twirl the staff, aiming for the body I know is closing in on my back. The green eyes of the man in front of me widen in shock at the sudden appearance of the weapon in my hand. I make contact with whoever’s behind me, just as a third guy comes at me from the side.

  It’s three against little ol’ me now, and I’m no longer questioning which side I should be on. The answer is mine. Three against one is bullshit, especially when I saved two of their posse from getting gutted. Bunch of ungrateful assholes.

  The three assholes start grunting with exertion as I stop merely defending myself and start attacking. I rotate blows between them and continue to dodge their hits. The tattooed asshole, who joined the fight last, miscalculates a move, and I swing my staf
f hard towards his unprotected head.

  I see the moment the tattooed guy realizes he’s about to get seriously fucked up. Something about the sad resignation that bleeds into his expression compels me to let go of the energy that keeps the staff solid. It disappears from my grip just before it would have delivered a crushing blow to his skull. Surprise replaces the resignation on the tattooed guy’s face, and he stiffens with shock.

  I deliver a brutal kick to his chest, which knocks him out of the fight. I turn to block the fist aimed at my face. It’s clear the two remaining assholes I’m still fighting don’t give a shit that I just showed their buddy mercy by not bashing his skull in. I’m starting to get seriously pissed, and my power rises with my mounting anger. Orange and fuchsia bolts of energy move over my skin and someone around me swears.

  The green-eyed asshole forms another one of those glowing orbs and lobs it at me. It sails unerringly fast towards me, and I have no idea how the hell I’m going to keep it from touching me. Images of that other man going up in flames flash in my mind, and for the first time in a long time, I’m scared.

  Right before the orb connects with my shoulder, a blue convex shield explodes out of the markings on my arm. The glowing ball hits the shield, sparks and then fizzles out. I have no idea what the hell just happened but I repress my astonishment. I’ll have to explore this new ability later, when I’m not about to fuck somebody up. I turn back to the green-eyed asshole’s stunned face and glare at him.

  This fucker just scared the shit out of me…let’s see how he likes it. He watches tensely as I reach behind my back. Instead of calling on the staff again, I stroke the markings for my sword. I’m not fucking around with these pricks anymore.

  He steps back and produces another orb. My whole body lights up with crackling energy in response. My markings start to glow, and I feel the source of my power completely open up, ready to be called on. I clap a hand against the hilt of the sword that flashes solid in my palm, and it splits in two.

  A blade now gripped in each hand, I give them an expert whirl and start stalking forward.

  5

  Someone shouts “Lachlan, Keegan, stop,” but I ignore the voice as I prowl forward. It’s time to end this shit and show these assholes what I can really do. The command stop bellows out around me again, and for some unknown reason, this time I listen.

  The green-eyed asshole does the same, sneaking wary glances my way, but the ball of light disappears from his hands. I back up until I can see all five of the strangers as they gather in front of me. I’m tense and ready for any of them to come at me. Energy still crackles over my skin in a steady warning. The strands of hair that have fallen out of my braids are floating around my face like I’m surrounded by water, instead of pissed-off power.

  “Lachlan, why are you attacking her? She’s on our side!” Aydin yells at green eyes.

  The chanter stands just behind Aydin, and I can feel his caramel brown eyes on me as he brushes back a few wisps of his raven locks from his face. He’s not as tall as some of his buddies, and I would place the lot of them in their early to mid-forties. His midnight curls are mostly pulled back, but a few strands have escaped and stick to his day-old inky stubble. His skin matches the caramel tone of his eyes.

  “How is she on our side? She attacked me!” the guy, apparently named Lachlan, defends.

  “Oh, please, I pushed you, I didn’t attack you. I didn’t even fight back until you three assholes ganged up on me!” I correct him.

  They all turn to me like they’re surprised I can talk. I don’t get the vibe that any of them plan to attack me, and it’s obvious I’m in a different league when it comes to fighting. They’re all breathing heavy from exertion, and even though they’re fit for men their age, they’ve got nothing on me. I release the energy maintaining the swords’ solid form, and they fade from my hands into nothing.

  “Holy shit! So that’s how you kept from bashing my head in,” the tattooed guy marvels out loud. “I’m Evrin, by the way,” he offers.

  Evrin holds his hand out. I just stare at it--yeah not a chance buddy--I’ve seen what his friends can do with their hands, and I’m not going down from what was supposed to be a friendly handshake.

  Evrin’s dark brown hair fades from long on the top to very short on the sides. It’s super disheveled, either from all the activity or how he styles it. He looks strong like the others, but I wouldn’t call him bulky, like the men they were fighting.

  His features have a baby-faced quality to them. He looks younger, closer to his thirties than the others in this group. The innocence in his face is at odds with his heavily tattooed body. There’s not an inch of skin, aside from his face and ears, that isn’t decorated with ink.

  “You’re welcome," I tell him with a sardonic grin and his boyish face lights up with a genuine smile.

  “Thank you,” rumbles out into the night, but it’s not the tattooed guy who speaks but Aydin, the ginger giant.

  He easily stands a foot taller than me, and he’s thickly framed and stacked with muscle. His red, wavy hair hangs just past his shoulders, and I offhandedly wonder why he doesn’t tie it back when he fights. It must get in the way. He has a short beard that softens the angles of his jawline, and his dark denim blue eyes bear those crinkly wrinkles people who laugh and smile a lot get. I find it odd when I notice he’s not bleeding or favoring the side that I know took a knife earlier.

  “Yes, and thank you from me, too,” the chanter adds.

  I give a small nod to both of them.

  “Well you’ll get no thanks from me; you let my shifter get away!” Lachlan huffs.

  Shifter?

  I guess that explains the sudden appearance of grizzlies in the Nevada desert. First the fanged fuckers, now shifters? Throw in whatever these guys are, and there’s a hell of a lot more out there in this world than I ever thought possible. I swat away the shit ton of questions I now have and glare at Lachlan.

  “He was surrendering. Who fucking kills someone when they’re surrendering?” I ask him, condemnation saturating my tone.

  “They’re traffickers. We have orders to kill them.”

  “Well... I didn’t know that” I snap back, the righteous indignation falling from my voice.

  “Of course not, because you have no business being here. Is vigilantism how you get your rocks off?” Lachlan sneers at me, and I snort out a laugh.

  “Dude, rein in the asshole if you want any answers from me," I warn him.

  Get your rocks off? Okay, grandpa. Seriously, who says that? When Lachlan remains quiet, I decide that maybe I should explain why I stuck my nose--or knife rather--into their business.

  “I fought here tonight. I was leaving when I stumbled into all this shit. One minute I was staring at the empty desert, the next I was watching some guy try to kill your friend," I gesture to the chanter.

  Lachlan turns his angry gaze on the chanter “How’d she get through your barrier, Silva?”

  “I don’t know. It shouldn't have been possible. I didn’t feel any breaches in the magic. She just appeared inside,” Silva adds, as he studies me.

  “You’re the girl that beat the shit out of their alpha," Keegan, the tall tan man with light brown hair and blue eyes, comments.

  “Um, sure," I agree, not sure if it’s true. Was Colossal Douche the leader of the pack? Suddenly that song by The Shangri-Las gets stuck in my head.

  “Does anyone else think it’s weird that she looks super familiar?” Aydin asks randomly.

  They all look me over more critically and I fidget, uncomfortable with the intense appraisal.

  “Who’s in your coven?” Silva asks me, a strange look in his eyes.

  I look around the group in confusion...my what? “Am I supposed to know what that means?”

  Lachlan scoffs. “She probably doesn’t want to tell us so she can’t get into trouble with mommy and daddy.”

  “Annnnd, now I’m done talking to you," I snap.

  Aydin laugh
s and then coughs, trying to cover it up.

  “We’re paladin. We’ll find out anyway. You might as well make it easier on yourself and just tells us," Keegan coaxes, his soft-spoken words matching up with his easygoing surfer vibe.

  “Yeah, I didn’t understand a fucking word of what you just said."

  I glare at him my irritation growing by the second.

  Lachlan snorts. “All casters know what paladin are. Nice try, little girl.”

  “For fuck’s sake! Are you always this much of an arrogant prick? I don’t know who the fuck you are, or what a damn caster is, and honestly, I don’t care. So, fuck you very much, I’m out of here!”

  I find my bag laying abandoned in the dirt, and I sling it over my shoulder. I look around for the black SUV and the driver, but they’re both long gone. I laugh, but it’s hollow. Yeah, I can’t blame him for taking off. I wonder if it was before or after the Grizzlies showed up.

  I fish my phone out of my bag, and I call Talon. It goes straight to his voicemail.

  “Talon, your man left me out here in the middle of bloody nowhere, call me when you get this.”

  I open my Uber app, even though I know what it’s going to say before I do. I’m stuck out in the middle of nowhere. Fuck my life.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Away from you weirdos.”

  “You can make weapons out of magic, and we’re the weird ones?”

  Magic?

  A hand comes down on my shoulder. Acting on instinct, I turn and punch whoever’s touching me. I use my markings to add extra power to the hit, and Aydin flies back a couple of feet, landing flat on his back with an oomph.

  “By the moons, you’re fast," Silva exclaims, eyeing me warily.

  I meet his caramel eyes, raising my eyebrows in unspoken challenge.

  “And strong," Keegan adds.

  “I don’t know you. We’re not friends. Don’t touch me."