Chosen (The Chosen Few Trilogy #1) (19 page)

Belinda clapped her hands.
“
People talk!
”

Ceriden looked
ecstatic.
“
Oh!
I could
use
him! Imagine the scandals!
”

Myleene held up a finger.
“
Yes,
but the gargoyle demands a
high price in return for his assistance.
”

“
He has already proven his worth,
”
Giles said with satisfaction.
“
The price is not too high.
Our enemies are loose of tongue
.
What
they say,
we hear.
Already we know things about Gorgoroth, and the
Destroyers. And
Kinkade learns more every minute. Every second.
”

“
Kinkade?
”
I said.
“
That
’
s the gargoyles name?
”

“
Yes, Logan.
”

“
And what is the price?
”

“
When this is all over, providing we win, Kinkade wants to inhabit the body of a female movie star for a year. Without her knowledge,
”
Eleanor shook her head.
“
We have agreed to his terms.
”

Ceriden looked interested.
“
Which one? I know a few. Maybe I could soften her up a little.
”

“
She won
’
t
know,
”
Eleanor snapped.
“
Weren
’
t you listening? And he hasn
’
t decided yet.
”

Ceriden flapped a wrist.
“
Well, maybe I could assist right there. Julia
’
s a good bet. Or Nicole. Or maybe he should go for someone who
’
s already pretty vacant,
”
he laughed.

I pursed my lips, waiting for him to run out of steam, then leaned forward with my gaze fixed on Myleene.
“
So,
”
I said.
“
What do you know?
”

28

HONOLULU, HAWAII

Tanya Jordan had lived in Honolulu her entire life. All the locals knew her. It wasn
’
t a good day if the old men who drifted down to Waikiki Beach to catch the sunrise didn
’
t see her bronzed figure jogging past as the first golden rays graced the horizon. It wasn
’
t a good day if the newspaper-reading businessmen didn
’
t catch sight of her stretching outside her-and, coincidentally,
their-
favourite Starbucks a little after seven in the morning. And it sure as hell wasn
’
t a good day if the construction workers didn
’
t get a saucy
hi
and a wink when
she jogged past them as they sat in
traffic with their tanned
arms stuck out of their open car windows.

Tanya Jordan was more than an easy-going, familiar figure. She was a local idol, known and talked about by everyone.

Today Tanya did nothing different. She was a creature of habit. The beach run, followed by an exhausting stretch, the three shot, skinny, iced Vanilla Latte with the long straw, the peaceful but brisk stroll home.

The shower. She flicked the news on. Headlines bl
ared at her, shouting about a
lethal
tsunami in
Hong Kong, an earthquake somewhere in the Pacific, unrest in Miami. She flicked the news off. She stood naked in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror and checked for white spots, for growths, for wrinkles.

After a light lunch she connected to the internet, checked her e-mails, deleted a ton of spam, and logged on to her bank account. Everything was the same. Constant. That meant everything was good. Tanya hated it when things changed. Her $750,000 was still there, conned from the sweating hands of
her cornered ex-husband who
once
found it was his pleasure to beat her senseless two or three times a week. The high point, he used to tell her later, was when she blacked out, because that was when he
realized
he was
more than a
man.

Eventually she had taped him, confronted him, divorced him, then set him up with half a dozen other women. Together they had trapped him, conned him, and walked away with a million each.

Now, outgoings were constant. Life was good. Tanya walked to the local market and bought fresh fruit and vegetables every day. She walked home. She washed the food, made a pasta meal, and sat in front of the TV.

This was the sum of her day. Every day. Monday to Saturday. On Sundays she threw in an extra evening run around sundown.

Today was Sunday.

Tanya jogged along the beach, feeling the light sand particles press between her bare toes. A fresh breeze
skipped
off the ocean, cooling the sweat on her arms.
S
he concentrated on the cool stretch and flow of her body, on the freedom and perfection of exercise.

She pushed her limits. The exertion made it hard to think, which was good. Her blonde hair fluttered out behind her, its many streaks of grey a testament to why she didn
’
t want to think.

But think she did. Her recurring memories were as inevitable as the Hawaiian sunrise.

Her ex-husband had killed the child in her stomach three months before it would have been born. Even then the child had a name- Alyson. He had known what his fists could do, but the knowledge had not stopped him. The man was a monster and deserved so much more than simple extortion.

Tanya lived
every day with ev
ery hateful detail. And each day she tried to get past it
, tried
to move on. And live.

But each day she failed.

Now her muscles caught fire, her heart hammered. Images were vanquished by pain as she slammed along the beach, chasing the waves up and down the surf line, chasing the setting sun.

A man was pacing her, she
realized
. Tall, with eyes the colour of her ex-husband’s dead heart, he looked eastern European. He ran beside her, staring at her.

She slowed. He ran a few paces, then turned and ran backwards, still watching her. He didn’t speak.
She stopped, suddenly
feeling self-conscious in her L
ycra shorts and top, an odd sensation that she
, a Hawaiian native,
couldn
’
t
remember experiencing before
.

Perhaps it was the man. The force of his black gaze.

“
I am Leo,
”
he said in a desolate voice
.
“
I am Sorcerer.
”

“
That
’
s good,
”
A quick look around confirmed her worst fear,
that she was alone on this
stretch of beach.

“
Good?
”
Leo echoed.
“
Just good? Do you know what I endured to receive His power, Tanya Jordan?
”
The mention of her name chilled her.
“
Do you know the hell I went
through?
The people I had to murder? The innocents?  No? Let me show you.
”

The man raised his arms in the air. Tanya backed up a step. Col
d waves splashed across her
feet. Tanya noticed the man’s arms were c
risscrossed by deep wounds
. She swallowed in fear as several shadows suddenly shot straight up from the sand and began to writhe around him.

“
Did you hear about Hong Kong, Ms Jordan? Did you hear about Montreal? About
the Louvre
? That was me. And now that we know who you are, and what you may become, I have been blessed with a new task.
”

“
Who I am?
”
Tanya backed away and moved her back foot around to present a slimmer target.

My God,
she thought.
Where did that idea come from?

Something sweeter than terror began to sweep through her body.

“
You are one of the pieces of Eight,
”
Leo sneered at her.
“
Don’t you know?
”

“
What the hell are you talking about?
”

But Leo didn
’
t seem to hear. He turned his attention to the darkening ocean, and suddenly sent his shadows flying out over the rippling waves.
“
And after Hong Kong,
”
he spoke to the ocean.
“
Comes Honolulu.
”

Immediately Tanya heard a sound deeper than thunder from beyond the rolling horizon. She tucked a strand of hair around her ear and out of her eyes. What the hell was that noise?

“
Time to die,
”
Leo’s voice was more terrifying than the deepest cavern of Hades. Tanya flinched as he gestured, then screamed in disbelief as a dozen shadows came twisting towards her. Like mini-whirlwinds they ate up the beach, flinging sand everywhere before coalescing into dark figures.

The first punched her in the stomach.

Unimpressed, Tanya felt a surge of absolute adrenalin. She h
ad been punched before. The blow did not hurt, it just made
her angry. It was time to fight back

Then
power exploded through her, resonating out of every pore, slamming through every
n
erve ending. She spun and leapt and ducked so fluidly she might have been a ballerina, or a warrior-monk. Without strategy, and without previous knowledge, she put together combination after combination, evading the shadows, punching and kicking hard at the twisting fig
ures, fighting her way
to
wards
their controller.

Leo. Self proclaimed sorcerer.

Just another
pig-
bastard who punched women.

Hatred fired her blood, made her crazy. But skill and mastery controlled her movements. She fought like a dancer would dance her greatest routine, like a composer would write his perfect symphony, like a painter would create his ultimate work of art.

With grace and fluidity and perfect ease of movement she fought her way to Leo
’
s side. His eyes, closed in ecstasy all this time, suddenly flew open in shock.

“
Surprise!
”
Tanya kicked at his chest, spun and back-kicked his left arm which cracked and made him scream. Her routine never stopped, never changed, but continued with lethal grace, like the flow of a violent but beautiful stream. A sweep cracked his shin, which turned into a side kick that took out a
rib that
became an elbow to his
throat, which
turned into a leaping front kick that slammed his head back, which became a standing front kick that made him stagger.

And so on.
Nonstop
. A dancing, fighting force of nature that was as elegant as it was unstoppable. As poised as it was lethal.

“
I am
…
a Destroyer,
”
Leo panted, forced back, his arms hanging limp, his knees shaking.
“
You cannot beat me. Gorgoroth will
annihilate
you!
”

Tanya paused for three seconds, studying her adversary. The sudden emergence of this strange power stunned her, but for now she pushed the shock to one side.

“
Here it comes!
”
Leo cackled and pointed past her. Tanya turned to see a tidal wave almost on top of them, about a minute away, a wall of water maybe three feet high, not devastating by any means but enough to cause panic. To create mayhem.

Which is what this
Destroyer
and his cohorts wanted.

They were terrorists. Child killers. Nothing more
than scum in a toilet bowl
.

Tanya used her minute well. The dance continued. In only half her time she reduced Leo to a broken, lifeless mass of b
lee
d
ing
flesh.