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

by Ivy Asher

  “I don’t know how to reconcile what I thought I knew about each of you with what you showed me before the reading. I guess not you Uncle…” I speak the word with cold sarcasm.

  “You’ve been clear all along about how unwanted I was, so I shouldn’t be shocked. But the rest of you,” I laugh humorlessly shaking my head. “I thought Beth was bad, but at least she was always honest about how much of a piece of shit she thought I was. There were no shopping trips or promises that things would get better. There was no pretending like I mattered or deserved to be cared for. Beth never lied about how welcome I was. I always knew exactly where I stood with her. I’d take that over your lies any day.”

  Lachlan flinches at my comment, and my first instinct is to feel bad. That thought alone enrages me. I push my chair away from the table ready to leave. Aydin’s hand shoots out and grabs my wrist to stop me.

  “Don’t touch me,” I warn venomously.

  “Vinna, please hear us out,” he begs and immediately pulls his hand back.

  I stand silent as I stare at the wood of the table and try to calm my rage.

  “I’ve spent all night beating myself up for letting this happen. I was desperate for acceptance, for answers. I clearly made all of this more than it was. The truth is we don’t know each other, and I’m not owed anything...”

  I look from the table up to Lachlan.

  “We share blood, but that doesn’t connect us. It doesn’t make us anything more than the strangers we are.” My eyes move from Lachlan and settle on each of them as I fall silent.

  “Give us another chance," Keegan tells me softly, his tone hopeful.

  “Why? Why should I do that?”

  “Because we’re family and that’s what family does.”

  “Family?” I snicker humorlessly. “I don’t even know what that word means, Keegan. I never have. All that word has ever done for me is beat me down like I was less than nothing and then throw me away. So, what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?” I ask him.

  “Then let us teach you what it really means," Aydin reassures me.

  “I was trying to, but all you’ve taught me so far is that none of you are worthy of my time, because none of you really give a fuck about me. You all think you’re so much better than Beth because you don’t beat me like she did, but you’re not. You still treat me like I’m nothing.”

  I look at Aydin. “Or worse, convince me that I’m something to you when you know it’s all a lie.” My eyes fall on Lachlan. “And just like Beth, you’re ready to throw me away when it’s convenient for you. Or I should say, whenever you deem me too much of a fucking threat.”

  I feel gutted. The hurt and betrayal are fresh and festering.

  “I’m done. I’m leaving. All of you just stay the fuck away from me.”

  “Leaving is not an option, Vinna, you are claimed and underage," Lachlan declares, and I can feel his rising anger.

  “Just try to fucking stop me. You think you know what I’m capable of? You have no fucking clue.”

  “Vinna you can’t just walk away from being a caster," Silva tells me.

  “I’m not. I’m walking away from all of you and this fucked up coven you want to pretend could ever be my family."

  “You are not leaving!” Lachlan slams his hands on the table and stands up squaring off with me.

  Here we go. Magic sparks awake inside of me and I ready myself.

  “Lachlan!” Birdie yells, as she stomps into the dining room, Lila and Adelaide close on her heels. “What are you doing? We’ve given you time to work through how difficult all of this is for you, but enough is enough! What are you hoping to accomplish behaving this way with her?”

  I expect Lachlan to rage at her like he does with me, but he drops his gaze guiltily.

  “What if it were you? What if you disappeared and Vaughn discovered your daughter. Would this be what you’d hope for her?” Adelaide asks lovingly.

  “It should be him here, not her!” Lachlan bellows, a tear sliding down his face, and his admission breaks something in me.

  “Well, it fucking isn’t. You selfish piece of shit. You think I asked for this, any of this?” I scream at him.

  “Neither did I!” he yells back.

  “Yeah, but the difference between you and me is that I’ve made the best I possibly could with the shit I’ve been given. All you do is pout, feeling sorry for yourself, and destroy the only connection you have to your brother. You’d rather have him here than me, and now you have neither!”

  “Vinna, he’s just hurting-”

  “Who isn’t Keegan? How much longer are you going to sit with blinders on and let me get crushed under the weight of his pain? Why am I so easy to sacrifice? You liars want to pretend I can be family. But you sit by over and over again and watch him try to break me!”

  I leave, my hands shaking from the adrenaline and magic coursing through my body. No one tries to stop me. No one says a word. I pull my spare keys off the ring in the garage and jump into the Jeep. I fidget impatiently waiting for the garage door to open when someone pulls on the handle of my door.

  I look over to find Aydin’s pleading face. I stare at him hollowly as he tries to say something, but I’m backing out of the garage and barreling away from the house before I can make sense of his shouts.

  I don’t know where I’m going. The fucked up reality is that I don’t have anywhere to go. I drive with no destination as I race in a random direction, speeding to get away as fast as I can. I drive and seethe for who knows how long until everything inside of me feels empty and everything outside of me becomes unfamiliar.

  The tingling staticky feeling of a barrier washes over me, and I realize I’ve left the Solace boundary. I start to slow down so that I can turn around when my steering wheel suddenly jerks and the Jeep starts to shudder. I wrestle it over to the side of the road and climb out in search of the cause. My back wheel is mangled. Shredded pieces of tread trail from the Jeep back to the road.

  “MOTHERFUCKER!” I shout out to the sky and stupidly kick the offending tire.

  I run my hands through my hair and look around like the solution to all my problems is in the trees. I’m pretty sure they’re laughing at me as they bear witness to the horrible luck I’m having.

  I’m standing on the side of the road in short cotton shorts and a tank top. I don’t have my phone or wallet. I don’t even have shoes on. I chuckle humorlessly at my stupidity. Well, I’ve never changed a tire. Hopefully it’s not that hard, I muse, pissed off.

  I dig around in the back until I find all the tools I think are necessary. I make my way to the tire and sit down in front of it. I’m at the perfect angle to clearly see my front tire slowly but steadily deflating, as I loosen the lug nuts on the back tire.

  Fuck! I press my forehead against the mangled rubber. One flat I can try to tackle, but I don’t have two spare tires. I get up, brush my ass off and rehome the tools. I lock up the Jeep, and I start walking.

  The blacktop of the road is warm on my feet, and a soft breeze has my hair tickling my back and shoulders. I’ve been walking for a little while replaying the harsh words that the paladin and I traded hours ago. I’ve been cementing my resolve and filling in the details of what I’m going to do now when the steady thrum of a car sounds from somewhere behind me.

  I stick out my arm, thumb up, in the universal sign of I need a ride. A Range Rover materializes in the distance, and my nerves and adrenaline start fluttering around at the thought of one of the paladin being behind the wheel.

  The vehicle gets closer and starts to slow. It comes to a stop perfectly parallel to me, and I hold my breath as the passenger window rolls down. I curse in my head, when the absence of the tinted barrier, doesn’t reveal a paladin but Enoch Cleary.

  “Are you okay? What are you doing all the way out here?” Enoch asks, speaking across the dark-haired guy sitting in the passenger seat.

  “Um, my car has two flat tires.” I point behind me in the direction
I’ve been walking from.

  “Was it that Jeep just outside the boundary?” the dark-haired passenger asks. “What’d you run over?”

  “Yeah, and I have no idea," I answer flatly cursing my luck that theirs is the only vehicle that’s passed me since I started the trek back to civilization.

  “Nash move to the back. We can take you home," Enoch tells me.

  I scoff, and I’m not sure if it’s from his use of the word home or that this group of casters are offering to help me. Nash opens the door and slides out. He’s tall and fit and the opposite of Enoch in coloring. His hair is black and his skin fair. His eyes, I notice, are deep dark blue as they roam down my underdressed body to my bare feet.

  He steps away from the now open door and offers me a hand like some gallant gentleman helping a woman into a carriage. I look around me, silently begging the universe to send another vehicle this way, so I don’t have to accept Enoch’s help.

  No other car magically appears, so I force myself to walk past Nash’s open hand and climb into the passenger seat. He chuckles at my obvious dismissal of his chivalry and waits until I buckle myself in before he closes my door and then squeezes into the back seat where two other guys are already sitting.

  “Where are your shoes?” Enoch asks me, his eyes on my bare feet.

  “I forgot them."

  He’s quiet for a minute. “Forgot them in your car or somewhere else?”

  “I was in a hurry when I left.”

  Enoch seems bothered by my confession as he presses the gas and navigates smoothly back onto the road.

  “So why the hurry, where were you going?” A Jared Leto look-alike from the back seat asks me.

  “Why do you care?”

  He raises his arms in surrender. “Whoa, I was only curious why you’re out in the middle of nowhere with no shoes, bag, or phone?”

  “Trouble at home?” The observant Nash queries.

  I scoff again. Apparently, that is the noise I’m now going to make any time someone speaks the word home around me.

  “Trouble would be an understatement," I mumble quietly to myself, as I focus on the road in front of me.

  “What’s going on?” Enoch questions, picking up on my quiet grumbling.

  “What makes you think I would tell you?”

  Enoch releases a deep sigh and drums a rhythm on the steering wheel. “I think you have the wrong impression about us Ms. Aylin.”

  “I wonder how that happened Mr. Cleary?” I mock his overly polite cadence.

  “We’ve never laid a hand on the shifters," Jared Leto look-alike defends.

  “Maybe, but I watched you sit back and allow it to happen, and it clearly wasn’t the first time.”

  Enoch breaks at a stop sign and turns to me about to say something, but he gets cut off.

  “It’s not our place to step in," Nash mumbles.

  I turn around and scowl at him. I’m ready to explain all the ways that I think his comment is bullshit, but a big SUV is coming up behind us, and they don’t look like they’re going to stop. I barely have time to shout out a warning before they plow into us from behind.

  I jerk back and then sideways, completely askew as Enoch’s SUV jerks to a stop. Everyone inside is cursing and taking stock of themselves.

  “Is everyone o—"

  Before Enoch can finish his question, something plows into us hard and fast on the back driver’s side of the car. We start spinning like we’re on the teacup ride from hell and my head smashes back against the window. I can’t do anything as we’re thrown around, and I’m jerked every which way amid the sounds of crunching metal and breaking glass. The side of my head takes another hit from somewhere, and the world around me blinks to black.

  39

  A shout jerks me from unconsciousness, and I come to, disoriented and hurting. My chin rests sticky against my chest, and pain shoots through my neck and head when I try to lift it. I squeeze my eyes close, and try to fend off a throbbing headache battering my skull.

  Another shout has me trying to cover my ears from the assault of the noise, but my hands don’t follow my brain’s instructions for protection. I jerk my arms again and realize my hands are fastened to something behind me. I move around on what I assume is a chair, and discover my feet are also tethered in place.

  Adrenaline and fear slam through me like a tidal wave, as it dawns on me how bad this situation is. I don’t know if the pain dulls or if I just grow accustomed to it, but I manage to lift my head off of my chest and dizzily try to take in my surroundings. Another shout has me flinching to get away, and I follow the noise to one of the guys from Enoch’s back seat tied in a chair across from me. He’s yelling for help which seems counterintuitive to the situation we find ourselves in.

  “Shut the fuck up," I grumble to him, and wide, terrified eyes turn to me. “If you keep yelling, whoever did this is going to come in here. Let’s try to put that off as long as possible," I tell him, trying and failing to be more reassuring and less growly.

  He nods and thankfully stays quiet as his scared gaze flits all around us. Wherever we are is cool and damp. The moisture in the air adds to the sticky feeling on my skin, and I look down to find that drying blood has turned my gray tank top dark red. I don’t feel any trickles anywhere on my body, so it seems wherever most of this came from has thankfully clotted or at least slowed.

  The ground beneath my feet is hard packed dirt, and the walls of the room are an aged gray concrete with cracks spidering around the joints. Everyone from Enoch’s car is down here tied to a chair. They’re disheveled and bruised, and showing signs of some injuries from the accident.

  We’re arranged in a haphazard semicircle, and I can’t tell if that’s by design or mere coincidence. There’s waning natural light in the room, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from. I try to turn around to see if the source of the light is behind me, but an excruciating pain in my neck and head keeps me from discovering anything.

  “Hey…” I whisper to the kid who was shouting.

  He looks up, and I can tell how much he’s trying to rein in his panic. I give him the softest most comforting smile I can.

  “What’s your name?”

  It seems to take him a moment to register what I’m asking.

  “Parker," he whispers.

  “Parker, were you awake when we were brought here?” I ask, hoping that he might be able to tell me where we are and who the hell tied us up. He shakes his head, and a sob shudders out of his throat. I give him another reassuring smile.

  “It’s okay, this is awful, but we’re alive and together. I’ll get us out of here.”

  I don’t know why I’m making promises I have no idea if I’ll be able to keep, but it kills me to see him so terrified.

  “I woke up a little while ago. I’ve been shouting, but no one has come to check on us," Parker quietly tells me, and I nod my head.

  My magic bubbles up inside of me restless and agitated, and I have to stop myself from calling on my runes and cutting myself and the others free. There may not be many opportunities to escape, and I know I need to be smart about this. Patience feels like the best step forward or at least waiting until everyone is conscious, so I’m not forced to carry anyone while potentially trying to fight my way out of wherever here is.

  A groan sounds from Enoch, and I see his head wobble. I watch the moment he realizes he’s tied up to a chair and his head jerks up and swivels around taking everything in. Our eyes meet, and I watch relief peculiarly flicker in his eyes.

  “What’s going on?” he croaks in question.

  “I don’t know. I woke up not too long ago.”

  “You’re bleeding," he informs me and then starts to struggle against his bindings.

  “Quiet!” I hiss at him. “We don’t want to bring anyone in here yet.”

  Enoch stills, but I can see the helpless rage on his face. Something moves slightly in the corner and my head jerks in that direction. My pain renews its assault, and
I instantly regret moving my head so fast. I notice for the first time that something is hanging from the ceiling in the corner.

  I squint trying to force my eyes to work like they normally do without whatever head injury I’m currently suffering from. I gasp when I gather that it’s a person slumped and hanging from a hook in the ceiling by their arms, their back to us. The person is emaciated and filthy, their clothes and skin blend right in with the grays and browns of the room.

  Enoch follows my horrified gaze. “What the hell is going on here?”

  As if in answer to his question clunks and clangs sound off in an alcove to my right, and a screech of metal on metal echoes through the room as a door opens. I can see stairs through the now open entryway, and it makes me think we’re in a cellar or an old basement. Seven men walk into the damp, dirty space and a spark of recognition ignites in my head.

  The bulky blonde from the bar is among them. My eyes are locked on his, as he files in and takes his place with the others around the edge of the room. If I had any doubt about who’s responsible for our being tied up in this room, the appearance of that blonde guy solves it. It’s me. Shit!

  “Wakey, wakey, little Sentinel," a smooth voice taunts me.

  I look over to the doorway and recognition punches me in the gut as I watch the beautiful Middle Eastern man step into the room. He runs the back of his hand over his tawny skin and the scruff on his face, drinking me in with his eyes. The same eyes that watched me as I fought the colossal douche over a month ago in Las Vegas. I knew this fucker would come for me.

  His gaze falls on my blood-soaked shirt, and his whiskey-dipped irises flicker red. He inhales deeply and closes the distance between us. He places a finger under my chin and tilts my face back until my eyes find his again. I wince slightly at the pain the movement causes, and he stares at me.

  “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, baby Sentinel. We all thought you were lost, but here you are right under our noses this whole time.”

  How the fuck does he know what I am when I just found out days ago? With those words, he leans in and smells me, which is high on the list of the creepiest things I’ve ever experienced. He pulls his fingers away from my chin, and they’re stamped with my blood. I’m fully prepared for him to pull out a handkerchief and wipe the remnants of my injury from his hand. He seems like a handkerchief toting kind of guy. What I am not prepared for is for him to bring his hand to his mouth and lick my blood off, like he’s enjoying an ice cream cone.