Chosen (The Chosen Few Trilogy #1) (8 page)

Ken tousled his hair in frustration,
and then
straightened it out again almost without
realizing
. It was a bad habit, and drew the wrong kind of attention. Girls thought he was vain, guys thought he was a dork. He didn’t really love himself. Not too much anyway.

“And the bitch?” he pressed, jerking his head towards the rear.

“A rogue element
. A secret weapon of our enemy
, I fear, sent to kill you. She is not one of the Six Destroyers. I fear she is something else.”

“Like what? A
vampire?
Are you saying Kate was right?”

“Kate?”

“
Beckinsale
. You know, the Underworld babe?
Mentioned s
ome bullshit about a war going on for centuries, between vamps and werewolves.”

“Well, as much as I respect Ms Beckinsale’s work, our story is a little different.”

Ken swung around a slower car. “Sure it is, man. So where do I fit in?”

“You have a latent ability, Ken. A
power
, if you will. You are one of eight people who might be able to save the world.”

Ken grimaced. Listening to this crap was starting to freak him out. There was a reefer stashed away in the glove box, and Ken’s fingers were itching to make a grab for it. He gritted his teeth, trying to focus. It wouldn’t do much good zoning out at this speed, not with that bitch hot on his well-tanned ass. He risked a quick glance at the Englishman. The only reason he hadn’t broken the dude’s bald head was that he’d beaten off ‘sword-bitch’ back there.

Ken shook his head mockingly.

“Dude, after a few smokes and a crate of Bud I might buy that,” he made a quick, thoughtless decision and decided to end this. He slammed on the brakes. Cars all around him swerved and honked and flashed their lights. Oncoming traffic slewed left and right.

The Englishman’s nose ended up
an
inch from the glove box. “Whilst I encourage unpredictability in a student,” he said softly. “I must say that if you don’t get this vehicle moving right now and get some distance between us and that mad woman I’ll break your fucking arm.”

Ken goggled at the small man.
Whoa
, the dude was serious. And not just about his threat, but about everything else too. Ken could see it in his face. Fo
r the first time since they
met forty minutes ago Ken felt an icy finger of fear slide down his spine. What if all his fancy words were true?

He gunned the engine. The Porsche took off like a missile, tyres squealing. The bitch came alongside them for a moment. Ken got a brief look at her, and what he saw m
ade his fear turn into
undiluted horror.
The woman looked insane. Her eyes were inhumanly wide
. W
aves of dirty white hair framed her snarling face. She had more teeth than a Ferrari gearbox and a mouth so crooked it could probably bite off her own left ear. She gestured threateningly at him with a well-muscled arm. Rings of bone were set at every knuckle.
N
ecklaces of small skulls jiggled around here throat.

“Man,” Ken breathed. “That bitch sure looks crazy.”

He
swerved as she tried to ram
their cars, narrowly missing the guard rail. He juiced the accelerator and the Porsche leapt forward. Before them a great sense of space suddenly opened out.

“Oh, man, it’s the Golden Gate,” Ken blinked rapidly, tensing with st
ress. “What are we gonna do
?”

“Keep going. Watch the road,” the Englishman barked. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s the fucking
Golden Gate,
you English fruitcake,” Ken loved insulting people who thought they w
ere in charge. “The bridge will
be snarled. Do you wanna end up fighting her on the Golden Gate?”

The Englishman narrowed his eyes and turned to Ken with a wry smile. It was the first time Ken had seen the guy lighten up. 

“Swords clashing on the Golden Gate
Bridge
?” H
e said dreamily. “Now there’s a vision”

“How do you
know
me, man?”

“Stop when you get near the bridge. I will distract her. You must drive through San Francisco to the
old
Hard Rock Café, the new House of Aegis. They will explain everything,” the Englishman smiled sadly. “I so wish I could have trained with you. I wish that I could have seen your power revealed.”

Ken’s mouth tasted like sand and blood. “What the crap do you mean? Spill, man. Who’s the bitch?”

“Dementia,” the answe
r held a tone of deep terror, as
if they were talking about the Angel of Death. “She is not one of the Six Destroyers. She i
s
a
leg
endary demon
of Satan’s
top
Hier
archy, someone we believed to be
a kind of ‘bogeyman’ figure, dreamt up to scare vampires and lycans. My, God, why the hell would she ally herself with this World-Ender? This Gorgoroth. It makes no sense at all.”

“
Fuck me!
You’re telling me that this Dementia is a
demon
d
reamt up to
scare
vampires
?”

“
Maybe a
secret weapon of the enemy, and perhaps their most powerful, as Belinda is to us,” the Englishman set his jaw. “I will hold her back as long as I am able.”

“
What
?” Ken didn’t like the way this was going. “What are you saying? That you’re going to
sacrifice
yourself for me?”

“You must live, Ken. The fate of millions could depend on it.”

Ken made his decision in a millisecond. “Fuck that.”

He swung the wheel hard and wrenched at the handbrake, grimacing as the Porsche
executed a squealing
360 degree turn.

In a split second
they were now facing their enemies
onrushing car.

“The Porsche Turbo,” Ken breathed. “Off the mark, it’s still the fastest car in the world.” His hands gripped the steering wheel until the knuckles turned white.

Ken trod heavily on the accelerator. The Porsche fired itself forward as if it had been shot out of a gun.

Headlights rushed at them. Blinding them. Dementia showed no signs of slowing down.

“It’s also the most manoeuvrable,” Ken threw the vehicle into a sideways spin at seventy miles an hour. Asphalt screeched and bits of rock and debris shot from beneath the wheels like bullets.
T
he car arced gracefully across the blacktop
.
Dementia’s vehicle twitched towards them
.
Ken wrenched the wheel quickly in the opposite direction, executing another perfect arc.

The Porsche glided gracefully around Dementia’s car, the two deadly masses of metal and glass clearing each other by a matter of inch
es. Ken, holding on for dear
life, got a full-face glare from the legendary mad-dog killer,
and then the cars were skidding apart.

Demen
tia’s car hit the guard rail, then
shot across to the other side of the road where it struck the other guard rail, b
ounced back, and rolled
onto its roof. Tyres spun ineffectually at the air. Nothing moved in the wreckage.

Ken finessed the swerve expertly until they were facing back towards the Golden Gate. “Wow!” he said. “I know I’m cool. And, God knows, I’m pretty. But
man
,
can I fucking
driv
e!
”

“She won’t be dead,” the Englishman looked suitably green. “But we can’t spare the time to finish her off. The police will be here soon. Ken, thank you. Now, will you please drive to the
city?
Let me take you to the safe house. Give me an hour to prove what I have told you.”

“Now
that’s
more like it,” Ken gave him the full beam smile. “You say
please,
you get my attention!

13

MIAMI, U.S.A.

Cleaver leapt forward. Mena Ga
ines danced away, leaving him flailing
awkwardly. He was not a
graceful fighter. He was
brutal power with minimum finesse.

Gaines had retreated towards the remote. Cleaver had been hoping she would move awa
y from it. She smiled
at him, as if reading his mind.

Harsh light washed through the windows. Vaguely, he heard someone shouting his name through a bullhorn. With an effort he put it all aside, narrowing his focus until
everything but
Gaines faded to background noise.

This was the zone. The way of combat. Let the rest of the world die away
too
static.

What remained was the spring in the floorboards, the random obstacles he might use to his advantage, the way Gaines hopped from foot to foot not favouring left or right, the location of the remote, his many weapons.

Gaines came at him. Cleaver half-turned to one side, left a stiff arm for her to run into, but she slipped under it. Cleaver double-stepped instantly, delivering a hook to the small of Gaines’ back. Amazingly, it hit, sending Gaines sprawling. Cleaver watched her fall, knowing he had a millisecond to decide.

Grab the remote. Or press forward, maybe kill Gaines.

Save thirty frightened kids or risk the lives of millions.

Cleaver went for the remote as Gaines scrambled to her feet. Cleaver gritted his teeth, offered up a silent prayer, and pressed the disarm button. There was a faint click, and then nothing.

But the grin on Gaines’ face was truly evil.

Cleaver stared at her.
What now?

“Oh, Marian, you have been found wanting,” she spat at him. “You had the chance to take me out.
You!
But you chose to save thirty not-so-innocents, and you have gambled the wor
ld. This test has shown that Aegis is
weak, Marian, and my master will be pleased.”

“Test?” Cleaver said.
“
All this is just a
t
est?
”
The pride he felt in beating Gaines, the brief flicker of hope that he might have made some small atonement for his past mistake withered and died like love betrayed.

Gaines laughed. Spittle flew from her lips. “You didn’t
beat
me. I
analysed
you! And now you will reap the whirlwind! Miami is the New Babylon and soon it will start to explode with rage and passion and death.” Gaines spread her arms wide. “
Y
ou will soon wish you
had
all been blown to bits!”

Gaines ran. Cleaver thumbed his cell phone. Bewildered, angered, and
a
ware that he might have made the wrong choice, he phoned in the all clear.

1
4

YORK, ENGLAND

My first concern after my daughter was for my best friend. As Belinda drove us out of York in her Audi A4 I reached for my mobile.

“Who
you
calli
ng, honeycakes?” Belinda glanced at me briefly as she stopped at a red light.

“I’m calling Holly. Making sure she’s alright.”
What the hell had she
called me?

Belinda blinked at me. “Who’s Holly? Your
girlfriend? Your
dog?”

I ignored the snort of laughter from the back seat. Patience before pride.

I nodded at the traffic lights that had turned green. “My best friend,” I told her. “She’s helped us out…a lot. I can’t
not
warn her about this.”

And I’d seen movies. The bad guys
always
came after your friends first.

Belinda snorted as she finally started moving. “You’ve watched too many damn movies, sugarcake.
But, g
o ahead, ring her. Christ, maybe we can make a night of it- drop by for pizza, go shopping, meet the vampire. You know, normal stuff.”

I pressed speed dial 2, trying to tune
her energized chatter
out for just a few seco
nds.
She was still babbling on about
slay a demon, catch an episode of Greys, crack open a crate of Bud…
when Holly answered.

“Dean? Are you okay?”

The digital readout on the dash glowed
11.21
and I heard the concern in her voice. “Hey, Hol, I’m fine. Listen, are you alone?” In truth I didn’t feel okay at all, my chest was aching and my
head was pounding with
a combination of stress and shock.