A Chosen Life (12 page)

Chapter Nine

Into
Shadow

Not a flicker of yellow light pierced the heavy darkness.

Something thick, black, and blood-like, trickled down the stone walls.

The Ookra shivered. The servants of the demons were not known for bravery. A single blue-flame candle, clutched in his clawed hands, barely revealed the way down the frigid passageway.

A loud wail, followed by a pain-filled scream, echoed through the blackness, and the Ookra shivered again.

The Tormentors were extracting.

A door opened on the left and the servant shuffled through it. Daemon, the Demon Master, stood in front of the stone fireplace, his massive figure filling most of the small room.

“Speak, slave.” Daemon’s deep, cold, voice reverberated through the room and the Ookra fell to his knees.

He gulped loudly from his supine position—the tips of Daemon’s black boots were the only thing he could see. “They have escaped, Master.”

“How?” Daemon circled the Ookra who began panting nervously.

“They split up. A diversion. We know which direction they are headed. We will catch them.”

The room fell silent for several minutes. The Ookra chanced a look up. Daemon stared into the fireplace, his horrid face eerily lit by the strange blue flames.

“The prisoner?” He asked softly.

The servant’s eyes moved back to the floor. “Weakening, Master. It will not be long before you have the information you seek.”

Daemon circled again and his blood-red cloak swept across the Ookra’s fingers.

“We do not have time to waste relying on the stupidity of the Raksasha, or the slow pace of the Shadows. The Watcher must be eliminated if we are to proceed. Release the DéHool.”

His shadow, cast by the dim light of the ice blue flames, covered the Ookra like black fog.

Chapter Ten

Real or
Dream?

Tolen’s eyelids fluttered and a girl’s voice filtered into his ears.

“Hey, Bastian, the kid’s waking up.”

He knew this voice. Macy. Macy killed the Raksasha. He was supposed to run but he couldn’t make his legs move. He’d lost his dinner all over the desert floor and . . . he couldn’t remember what came next.

Where was he? He struggled to open his eyelids.

A loud motor rumbled beneath him and he realized they were moving—fast. Something hard and uncomfortable poked into his back; his legs were twisted at a painful angle. He wanted to sit up and find out what was going on, but his body felt so heavy.

“Tolen?” Bastian whispered.

He cringed at the sound of this voice. It scared him.
Why?

He remembered now. His mom had been talking to him, wanting him to wake up, but he hadn’t been able to get out of the fog. A little voice told him he could have if he’d chosen to, but what he’d really wanted was to stay there. There were no monsters in the fog. He was a coward. Guilt rushed over him as he realized they’d had to drag his unconscious body through the desert until they’d reached this vehicle. How much more danger had he put them in?

He slowly opened his eyes. “Mom?” He swallowed hard wanting to apologize, but not knowing what to say. It was dark; the only thing clearly visible were the outlines of two people and two sets of eyes, one blue, one green—both filled with worry. He was such an idiot.

He looked around for two more sets of eyes and realized he was squished in the cab of an unfamiliar truck. His long legs were half on the seat and half off, his big feet wedged against Macy’s tiny ones. His head rested on the seat next to Bastian, who held a foul smelling rag on Tolen’s forehead. There was no one else.

He swallowed again as his heart raced and dread crawled up his spine. “Where’s my mother?” he licked his lips. “Where’s Dane?”

Bastian glanced down from the road and shook his head sadly.

Tolen sat up so fast his head spun and he bumped into Macy. “Where are they?”

“Your mother and best friend stayed behind as a diversion. We could not have made it out without them. They saved our lives.” Bastian’s voice broke at the end.

Anger and remorse more powerful than anything he had ever felt flooded through Tolen’s veins like a drug. He could feel the strength of his emotions building within him. The heat was back in his chest and his hands burned with power. “You’re lying!”

“Tolen, I am not lying. Please, calm down.” The Watcher spoke softly but there was an edge of nervousness in his tone.

Tolen shook his head as the heat rushed to his palms. “Go back.”

“We cannot.” His calm tone only enraged Tolen further.

“GO BACK! NOW!” The truck’s engine stuttered and smoke billowed from beneath the hood.

“Stop it!” Macy screamed and grabbed Tolen’s arm.

He twisted out of her grip and one part of his mind registered her gasp. “Pull over.” To his surprise, Bastian did as he asked.

Once the truck rolled to a stop, Tolen reached past Macy and unlocked the door. “Move.” He spoke through his teeth.

“Excuse me?” Macy huffed.

Tolen squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the build of heat that would release soon without his control. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he would if she didn’t get out of his way.

“Macy, let Tolen out.” Bastian’s voice was low and commanding. Macy slid back against the seat and pulled her knees to her chest.

Tolen pushed past her without looking at her face. He heard Bastian climb out and shut his door.

“Tolen, wait.”

Tolen spun on his heel and looked at the strange man, feeling a hatred grow within him so powerfully it was as if a living monster had taken resident in his chest. “
You made her STAY!
” The voice that issued out of his mouth was not his own. It was low, like the growl of an animal, and in no way human.

“You are letting your subconscious take over—you are not accepting reality.”

“They’re
not
dead!” Tolen brought his hands up and flame shot out of them toward Bastian who ducked out of the way just in time. The burst of flame hit a spread of dry grass and it lit up at once.

Macy jumped out, twisted her hands in the air and the flame went out.

Tolen turned into the night and ran. He ran from the two people who should have stayed behind and protected his mother, and who refused to help him now. He ran from the possibility that the Watcher was telling the truth. He ran from his shame.

He would go back to the canyon. Retrace their steps. He would find the truth for himself. And if his mother and Dane were still alive, he would find them. If they were captured, he would save them. He ignored the voice in his head telling him he had no idea how.

The anger swelled within him and he felt the heat in his palms again. He raised his hands above his head and let the flame release toward the sky. He hadn’t created flame in his hands since he was six and accidentally lit the neighbor’s house on fire. He remembered the horror and guilt he’d felt as he’d watched their house burn while his mother packed their bags. He’d practiced hard to control this power, to never let it out again. He knew what the heat meant as his anger rose in the truck, but it had never been so hot, so impossible to contain.

His foot caught on something in the darkness and he fell forward on his face. He spit sand out of his mouth and turned his head to look behind him. He could just make out the truck’s headlights, nearly a mile in the distance. How fast had he run?

While he stared, his eye shifted and he could see Macy standing on the front bumper bent under the hood as if she were fixing the truck. Bastian stood beside her holding a flashlight, but he was facing Tolen, his bright eyes fixated on Tolen’s face as if he could see him perfectly.

Tolen didn’t see his lips move, but he heard Bastian’s voice as if he were standing beside him.
I am sorry.

Tolen could feel the Watcher’s sadness, but his own anger overruled. He stood up and looked back toward home. He took three steps and heard the Watcher’s voice again.

Your mother is very gifted, as is Dane. Doogar have a very special alliance with the Earth. It is possible that they managed to escape.

Bastian was not convinced of this, it showed in his tone.

Even if you make it back there without something killing you, and they actually survived, you will never find them without my help.

The fury licked at Tolen’s heart. For the first time in his life he wanted to use his curse to hurt someone. He wanted the Watcher to pay for leaving his mom and Dane behind. He wanted him to suffer the way Tolen suffered now.

Tolen, come back. Let me help you.

He’d never forgive this man for leaving his mother and best friend behind and he’d never forgive himself for choosing to stay unconscious. The two were connected. He knew it. And he’d never stop trying to find a way to make it right.

Tolen, it is not safe for you to be alone. Let us take you to the Binithan. Dane’s people are expecting you. Come with us that far. I will do what I can to discover what happened to them. I will try to help you, but if you stay out here, you will die.

Get out of my head!
Tolen’s jaw clenched and he pushed venom into the thought,
I’ll never forgive you.

I will never expect you to . . .
The Watcher’s voice trailed off and Tolen felt his presence leave his mind.

His hands shook, his whole body felt weak, and his head spun. He hated the Watcher and his ward more than he’d ever hated anyone, even more than Jeff Macro and or any other bully he’d ever dealt with. But he knew he was being stupid if he thought he could walk all the way back to the canyon and try to go after his mother and Dane. After what he’d seen this night he knew he had no real idea what he was going up against. This rekindled the anger, but this time it only drained him. He’d lost and he knew it. For this single thing he needed their help. But once they reached the Doogar, he never wanted to see them again. If the Doogar people were as amazing as Dane was,
is
, then he would ask their help. His mother had trusted them and in that he knew that he could too.

He pulled the anger inside and buried it deep until the heat was completely gone and the facade he’d spent years creating fell over him. He could be with these two the same way he was with every other person he knew—aside from the two he truly cared about. He would treat them the same as the faceless people he went to school with, bagged groceries for, or walked past on the street. They meant nothing to him and he would control his anger by remembering that. They were merely a means to an end.

He ducked his head and turned back into the headlights, weak but determined.

o o o

“ . . . other than the fact that it smells like dog fart under here we should be good until we reach the Jeep.” Macy climbed out from under the hood to see Tolen standing beside Bastian, his chest heaving, sweat pouring down his face, but no longer angry. He looked so calm it was creepy, as if some other dude had taken his place. His eyes were guarded, but something still festered below the surface. He met her eyes briefly but not long enough for her to figure out what he was hiding. She shrugged. Whether the kid liked it or not, Bastian would know whatever he was thinking. She jumped off the bumper and Bastian closed and latched the hood.

“We have about another forty miles to the Jeep. You are certain we can make it?” Bastian asked.

Macy nodded. “As long as you keep it below sixty and watch the temp. He boiled all the water out of the motor, and there’s a tiny crack in the block, but the water I added should get us there.”

Tolen walked away and climbed in the cab. Macy tipped her head toward him. “Is he under control?”

Bastian whispered. “For now. Do
not
goad him Macy, I mean it. He is dangerous. Far more dangerous than even he realizes.”

She wiped her hands on a rag from her back pocket. “I’ll be good.” Her eyes narrowed. “But if he pushes me like that again I can’t make any guarantees.”

Bastian shook his head and walked her to the passenger door. He waited until she was situated beside Tolen, as far away as the seat would allow, before climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

Macy turned her head toward the window and pushed her headphones into her ears.

o o o

The sun rose too bright and cheery for Tolen as he stared out the window at the passing yellow lines of the highway. They reminded him of a swarm of angry bees: black, yellow, black, yellow, humming beneath the worn tires of the rusty Jeep they were now driving.

Dumping the conspicuous BLM truck had been their only stop in the last four hours. They’d left it on the side of the road near a storage unit where the Jeep
happened
to be hidden. Macy spent ten minutes under the hood and with two words from Bastian, “Get in,” they were off again, without any explanations.

Tolen assumed the Watcher must have vehicles like this stashed all over the place.

Bastian had offered him some strange looking food for breakfast, but Tolen couldn’t bring himself to eat anything. He could feel the urgency behind their movements, the speed at which they drove, and the overall tension that surrounded them, but he’d fallen into his own personal hell and couldn’t bring himself to care as much as he knew he should.

The yellow lines seemed to be screaming their names.
Mom. Dane. Mom. Dane.
His last words to his mother had been in anger and he’d never told Dane how much he meant to him, how grateful he was for his friendship. He’d taken them both for granted, and he hated himself for it. He felt helpless, stupid, weak, angry, and ashamed all at the same time. He caught himself watching the road signs and counting the miles as they made their way toward California. His life was in the hands of these strangers for now, but once they reached the Binithan things would change. He’d make sure of it.

His throat tightened and his eyes burned.

“There is no shame in showing emotion.” Bastian whispered from the driver’s seat. “Emotion separates us from the Dark.”

Tolen glanced uncomfortably over his shoulder at Macy, who thankfully still slept sprawled out in the backseat of the Jeep, before turning back to glare out the windshield. The Watcher reading his thoughts was annoying.

“Not read. It is the tenor, or the emotion behind the thought I sense. Thoughts are not words on a page. I can feel you blaming yourself. I feel your wrath and resentment toward me. You have every right to be angry with me. As your Watcher, I must do what is necessary to protect you, no matter the cost. I do not ask for, nor expect, your forgiveness. But blaming yourself serves no purpose and will not help.”

Tolen clenched his hands in his lap, refusing to retort. Calm and aloof. This man meant nothing.

Bastian’s eyes never left the road. Either he really was leaving Tolen’s mind alone, or he was at least pretending to. He continued his one-sided conversation as if Tolen were actually interested. “It is not your fault you lose consciousness in sensitive situations. Your body feels something, and your life force reacts with your gifts. Because you have not been taught to use the power you feel, I believe that when you are particularly emotional in one form or another, you go into sensory overload. You have subconsciously figured out how to channel your anger to your most powerful gifts, which is why the trees will react and you cannot always hold back the flame, but your mind has no idea how to battle overwhelming fear or remorse. It goes into protection mode and shuts down.”

“My most powerful gifts?” His voice was scratchy, but calm. He could do this.

The Watcher nodded. “Your first birthright is that of the Honitahai, the nature speakers. This is why it is so easy for you to hear the trees and speak to them. The gift of the Kunamin, the fire-wielders, is a very emotionally driven gift. Right now, because you have not been trained in your other gifts, this is your second strongest.”