Chosen Page 8

  “How long has Monte been here?” Mer asked.

  “He was born here,” Henry said with eyebrows raised.

  That exact second, Monte came out of one of the doors. Julia caught a glimpse of a typical guys’ room behind him: a messy, colorful alternative to the soul-sucking sameness of the other compound.

  “Should my ears be burning?” Monte asked.

  Henry said, “They were asking how long you’ve been junking up Jacquie’s hall.”

  Monte shrugged. “Tidy mind, messy room. And it’s fine because they don’t care here. Mer, you can wear anything you want and Car, they’ve got designer clothes downstairs.”

  “I noticed.” Carlin beamed and Monte strode out in front of the group, leading them past windows with snow caked on the sills outside.

  “My parents didn’t like the cold weather, and when we left, they were recruited to the pyramid. According to the Bishops at the compound, my father was dispatched to rural Nova Scotia on a recruiting trip for The Three. When he was killed, my mother gave into her grief.”

  Did that mean she had killed herself? Julia bit her lip.

  “Whoa, I’m sorry,” Meredith said.

  “I had no idea,” Carlin murmured.

  “I was a kid,” he said. Julia was spared from having to comment by their arrival in front of a large set of double doors. “This is it,” Henry said, waving at the door. “I’ve got a WWE wrestler and his posse to go check-in, but you kids have fun, and don’t be nervous. Jacquie is great.”

  The doors, including Jacquie’s, were made of a pretty, cheery-colored wood. Monte caught Julia’s eye and smiled tightly. “Swiss pear wood.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “It’s an exotic hardwood,” Monte said. “Don’t even ask how I know that.”

  The door had a brass doorknob, and on the wall beside it was a small brass box. Under the box, in neat, slightly off-centered script: Suggestions.

  Monte knocked, and it was too late for any kind of turning back. Mere milliseconds later, the door opened, and Julia found herself looking at pretty woman with wavy light brown hair, green-blue eyes, and a ready smile. She reminded Julia of a curvy Christie Brinkley, and without forethought, Julia found herself checking Jacquie’s aura. It was apple red, with waves of purple and a faint gold glow—which said a lot of things, but mostly let Julia know that she was passionate as well as calm and steady.

  The woman motioned them inside, and the sharp smell of cider met Julia’s nose. “Come in, come in,” she waved, flicking her wrist. “I’m so pleased you found us here.”

  Julia was surprised by the woman’s voice; she was American, and there was even the slight trace of a Southern accent! Awash with a prickling cultural recognition, Julia gave her a closer assessment. Her green-blue eyes held a certain compassion, her skin was smooth and youthful, her teeth were straight, and she had a smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose. Julia guessed she was in her late 30s, but her aura felt more energetic, more youthful—more like someone in their late 20s.

  She wore flattering jeans and a sporty, white Mountain Hardware Monkey Jacket like the black one Suzanne had given Julia in tenth grade, when she’d had to take PE in the winter.

  Wow—nothing like a sporty jacket to make a Chosen leader seem normal.

  Jacquie’s room was more apartment than hotel, with a spacious, modern kitchen; a living area with two cozy, brown suede couches around a stylish glass coffee table; burlap curtains; lots of end tables stacked with framed photos; cushy rugs; and framed landscape paintings of mountains Julia assumed to be the Alps.

  Jacquie ushered them past a small table topped with envelopes and a candle, toward the couches. Carlin, Drew, and Meredith huddled on the larger couch, while Julia let Cayne tug her onto the smaller one; it faced the door, so he was probably happy to have it. Everyone was somber and wide-eyed until Jacquie brought a big tray of pumpkin bread and dainty little painted teacups filled with cider and coffee.

  “I’m sure you have questions,” she said, sitting in a cream and brown plaid wing-backed chair and tucking a layer of wavy hair behind her ear. “Let me give you the spiel, and if you still have questions afterward feel free to ask. Everyone okay with that?” She glanced at each of their faces. Julia nodded when it was her turn. “Awesome. I’m Jacquie. I inherited the House from my grandfather. It was built by his dad at the turn of the 20th Century. And as Monte has no doubt told you, it is a haven for ex-Chosen.

  “Those of us—well, we call ourselves ‘ex-pats’—we’ve had a place of our own for more than a thousand years. Before the House we had a large convent outside Paris. Before that a bathhouse in Florence. And other places in other cities where we felt we could be safe. Our numbers have never been large, but we’ve been able to stay free and stay hidden—for the most part. We have 127 ex-Chosen living and working here right now.”

  She paused, her eyes traveling to Meredith’s, then Carlin’s and Drew’s, then across the table, on to Julia’s and Cayne’s.

  “There are several ways in which we are different from the Chosen that follow The Three. We aren’t control freaks for one. But the ways that would probably interest you most involve Candidates. I think you’ll be happy to hear that we reject the idea of candidacy and ‘The One’.”

  Meredith cheered. Carlin looked pleased. Drew looked guarded. Julia didn’t know how she looked, but she was denying herself hope until she heard the rest of the story.

  “I assume that like most people who lived in the compound, your knowledge of Candidacy is limited to some vague story about killing Nephilim,” Jacquie continued. “There is supposed to be a ‘foretelling’, the details of which are sketchy. The truth is none of you really have any idea what ‘The One’ is supposed to do. Is that about right?”

  Mer nodded.

  “What you and most of the Chosen that follow those old men have been told is a lie. The truth is far more sinister.”

  She paused, and Julia got the feeling it was for effect. It worked.

  “The Three themselves are not who they claim to be. They are not elders. They are in fact Methuselah and his two oldest sons. They have been guiding the Chosen toward a war with heaven for thousands of years. And they plan to use The One as a tool in that war.”

  Julia’s friends had the same shocked reaction she did. Drew said, “But that’s impossible. They can’t be thousands of years old. We would know.”

  “Someone did,” Jacquie said. “The original founders of our group left when they discovered the true nature of Methuselah’s plans.”

  “It makes sense to me.” Carlin leaned forward, so her jacket fell open, revealing a gold shirt that sparkled slightly as she gestured. “We were never told anything about The One, only about killing Nephilim. It was a lie!”

  “I can’t believe this,” Meredith breathed.

  Drew wasn’t giving in. “How do you know your information is correct?”

  Despite the sharp question, delivered in typical Skeptical Drew style, Jacquie simply shrugged. “Nothing can be known for sure, but we do have documents that are very, very old.”

  Julia’s headache worsened as she tried to understand. The Three wanted to use her in a war against heaven! And one of them was Methuselah, some several thousand years old… what?

  “What—what is Methuselah?” she heard herself ask.

  “The best way to think of him is as an archangel. He stood with the Alpha and the Adversary when the earth was made, and it was he who cast the Adversary out of heaven.

  “For a time he defended heaven on earth, but eventually he developed his own aspirations to rule. The Alpha discovered his plans and forced him into mortal form. He then erected a barrier around earth, preventing Methuselah from leaving and heaven or hell from entering.

  For more than two-thousand years, not an angel or a demon has gotten through the so-called net without an act of Heaven or a trick of Hell. It can be done, but not without help directly from the Adversary or the Alpha.
The Alpha erected it, and he knows what he’s doing.

  “But Methuselah has been working on his plan for centuries, controlling the bloodlines of his offspring, working toward the development of a weapon that will bring the barrier down, through a sacrifice. We’re not exactly sure what the sacrifice is, but we’re sure The One wouldn’t want to be involved.”

  Julia didn’t see anyone in the room but Jacquie. She hung onto every word, and when the Swosen leader finished, Julia felt like she’d been gut-punched. Her head swam, and her hand, in Cayne’s, felt numb.

  “We are opposed to this plan,” Jacquie continued. “The last thing we need is demons running wild on earth. Or Methuselah running heaven.”

  She clapped her hands together. “So that’s our job. We’re a home for sensible Chosen who want to manage their own destinies. We have harbored Candidates before, and we’ll do it again, if you want to stay here. If you want to visit Spain,” she said to Carlin, “you can visit Spain.” She looked at Meredith. “You can call your family. Even invite your families here.”

  Julia felt a jab inside her chest.

  “And you,” she said to Cayne, “will be safe as long as you follow our rules. I understand you saved the lives of these four,” she said, waving at Drew, Meredith, Carlin, and Julia.

  Cayne nodded.

  “The truth is we sometimes work with Nephilim. It’s not often, and but there are a few we trust. Ones we’ve…worked with before in an attempt to get rid of The Three. Still, we’ll need to know that in a fight, you’d take our side. Continue saving Chosen. Our Chosen,” she added.

  Cayne’s hand, over Julia’s, curled. “Of course I would. Julia is my life.”

  Jacquie grinned, a big romantic grin. “I can hear your sincerity, but let’s shake on it.” At first Julia thought she was joking, but she waved and raised her brows—and Julia was surprised how quickly Cayne released her hand and stepped over to Jacquie.

  “I appreciate this Cayne,” she said as they shook. “From now on, you have a haven here.”

  He returned to sit by Julia, taking her hand again, and while Jacquie chattered about the other Chosen ‘ex-pats’ at the House, Cayne’s words echoed in her head: Julia is my life.

  It made her feel amazing. If only she hadn’t heard the bit about the sacrifice…

  She wondered sickly what Jacquie would do if she knew the whole truth. Julia told herself that surely, if she had no desire at all to be The One and fulfill that awful role, they’d help her and protect her, like Jacquie had said.

  Then it hit her like a brick wall, what it meant that the House was so old. Surely The Three would know about it. Would they come for her? She had worried about that before, back when Edan first told her about the leash; if she’d been leashed, couldn’t they ‘see’ where she was? But no one had come after them since they’d been at the House. Maybe they never would. But then she’d have to live here forever.

  All of a sudden the room seemed to tilt. She put her head in her palm, feeling unable to breathe. She felt Cayne’s hand on her back, heard a shuddering breath from somewhere… Her.

  Then Meredith was rubbing her hair, and Cayne was moving onto the floor in front of her. “Are you okay?” His hand was on her shoulder, those long, warm fingers stroking up her neck.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, looking back up, forcing her eyes not to squint and her forehead not to tense. She didn’t want to mark herself—not yet, anyway. “I’m just so…relieved. Can we really stay here?” she asked, turning weakly toward Jacquie.

  The woman nodded, and Julia tried her best to keep her face bland—like she wasn’t The One. Out of her peripheral field of vision, she saw that none of her companions were giving her obvious ‘You’re The One’ looks—thank God.

  Jacquie looked down at her wrist watch, peeking out from under the sleeve of her jacket. “I have another meeting with my pencils,” she said, then smiled. “That’s what I call my Number Twos. Doesn’t remind you of anything indelicate, you know?” She smiled at Julia. “Donna and Krista are my pencils here, and Monte and Strong are my pencils at the compound. Of course, Monte won’t be back there for a while, if ever.”

  Jacquie stood, straightening her jacket over her jeans.

  “I’m going to notify my pencils of your arrival, and we’ll be sure you’re all treated with good ole fashioned Zurich hospitality.”

  “That’s it?” Carlin asked. “We don’t have anything else to do?”

  “Two things, actually,” Jacquie said, collecting the tea cups. “Take some of this before I eat it all, and stay near your rooms until I send word otherwise. You’re staying on the fifth floor, and that’s our area for Chosen guests who aren’t in residence. Give me a little while to spread the word, let people know who you are. We’ll talk soon.”

  Meredith raised her hand. “I have a question if that’s cool?”

  “Of course it is.”

  “Do you know where they are now? The other Chosen? I don’t want to talk to them or anything, it’s just…”

  “You have friends there,” Jacquie said kindly. “According to our information, they were heading toward their Egypt compound. It’s near Alexandria. In fact, it’s under a pyramid.” She wrinkled her nose, then gave a half-hearted little laugh. “That was rude, wasn’t it? I just can’t imagine… underground. You poor things.”

  There was a split second when Julia felt like she could finally breathe—and then Jacquie said, “Be sure to let me know if you have any problems, or if any of you get sick.”

  She said it as an afterthought, like it hardly even mattered, but Julia felt a prick of fear. She nodded, grateful that everybody else was nodding with her.

  Jacquie glanced at the rest of them, still looking slightly shell-shocked. “Why don’t we talk again soon? When you have some time to form more questions.”

  After encouraging everyone to take some pumpkin bread, Jacquie waved them over to the door, where she had a parting word for everyone—and a handshake.

  “Thank you again, Cayne,” she said as he moved through the door, “and Julia.” Her hand clasped Julia’s wrist, a gentle warmth that moved into a light handshake. “I’m going to enjoy getting to know you.”

  Her eyes were warm, but still, Julia couldn’t get her hand back soon enough.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Two hours later, the group sat around the electric fireplace eating s’mores off a heated tray Monte had brought, and filling pretty crystal glasses with cider from a barrel hauled into their room by Krista, a tall, busty brunette who reminded Julia of a high school principal.

  “Jacquie had me bring it to you from the cellars,” she’d said, hoisting it onto the counter and brushing her hands off on her khakis. Over them, she’d worn a cream turtleneck and a hunter green fleece vest. She was one of those people whose age was impossible for Julia to guess, but whatever age she was, she’d seemed very particular. Like she appreciated order and didn’t like surprises.

  She opened a canvas bag on her shoulder and pulled out a handful of crisp white clipboards, topped with resort pens. Julia wondered if she was responsible for the House’s finances. Dwight and Dirk’s mom had worked at H&R Block; people that organized had a certain gathered-ness about them that always made Julia feel like a pupil who hadn’t handed in her homework.

  “Please fill these out and I’ll be by tomorrow morning to get them,” Krista said.

  Julia was probably imagining it, but she’d thought the woman’s eyes had lingered a second too long on hers.

  “Wonder what this is?” Mer mumbled when the woman left.

  Julia scanned the first page; it looked kind of like something you’d fill out for school or an after school job.

  “Name, birthday, home address. Family,” she said, although the paperwork said parents. “Phone and e-mail…” Nothing looked out of the ordinary until the back of the page, which was marked ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ and filled with questions like: Do your parents have any unusual abilities? Does anyone in y
our family feel that they are unique or unusual? Have you ever been able to do something other people say is impossible?

  “It’s like a screening quiz for possible Chosen,” Mer said.

  “Check the next page,” Cayne said.

  Please describe your unique skills, with no detail omitted, including age of onset, intensity, frequency, and your ability to control the ability.

  “Um, who’s omitting details?” Julia said. She raised her own hand, hiding a wince at the horrible, pressure/pain it caused inside her head.

  “Age of onset?” Carlin scoffed. “It’s not the…how do you say…? Chicken pox.”

  “This must have been Monte’s paperwork,” Drew said.

  “Must have,” Mer muttered.

  “I’m leaving it blank,” Cayne said. “You should, too,” he advised Julia.

  “At least until we talk to Jacquie,” Carlin added.

  Julia was almost finished with the first page when her pen—which turned out to be a fountain pen—leaked all over her palm, and then Drew went all Super Sleuthing Drew and Cayne joined in, and she was sidetracked by a big debate about the Swosen and their motives and whether they were trustworthy.

  Le sigh.

  Yeah, it was an important question, but Julia was getting totally tired of thinking about these things. Dwight had been a big fan of that TV show The Walking Dead, and that’s what her life was starting to seem like. A bunch of strategizing, a bunch of trying not to get killed and contemplating the enemy and discussing odds and scenarios…and not the World of Warcraft kind. The kind that could get you killed. She stuffed one of the s’mores, still hot because of the unearthly blue flame below the platter, into her mouth and shut her eyes, grateful for a few seconds of freedom from the headache-inducing light of the flames.

  The fireplace reminded her of late fall, deer-hunting season, Harry’s venison sausage. They’d smoke some and fry some, and that smoky smell would fill the room, and she and Harry and Suzanne would stuff their faces. Then they’d pad off to their rooms, and Julia would push her window open. Through the little screen, she would smell the pines outside her window, hear the gentle roar of downtown Memphis traffic several blocks away.