Chosen (The Chosen Few Trilogy #1) (4 page)

“Well, yeah, just once,” Clanger hesitated. “And this is where it gets weird. And I mean ‘off the chart’ weird. Hold on, I’m gonna quote you the exact words.”

Cleaver stopped with the cell tucked between shoulder and chin, casting his eyes over the staging area. He wondered wha
t could possibly make this
scenario any weirder. The building in question stood ahead now, stone clad, three
storey
’
s
high and half a block wide.

“Okay,” the Clang-man was back on the line, shuffling papers. “You still there?”

“Right here and waiting.”

“Then let the weirdness begin. To quote this woman: ‘My name is Mena Gaines. At this time I mean you no harm, but I will do what I must to complete my part successfully. I will sit at the head table of…ummm…
Gorgoroth
, beside Loki. Your children will be freed to live a little longer when you send
to
me the man who represents Aegis. You know him by the name: Marian Cleaver,” Clanger paused. “I guess that’s you.”

Cleaver’s legs buckled with shock.
This was about Aegis! And Gorgoroth!
Clanger was
firing out
questions
,
b
ut Cleaver didn’t hear them above the thunder that filled his ears. This was end of the world stuff.

It’s all about Aegis. My God, it’s beginning already.
For a moment dark spots danced before his eyes and the world turned grey.

This woman is our
client.

He knew the name Mena Gaines. She was one of the six evil Destroyers who would engineer the doom of the world and who would be arrayed against the world’s eight Chosen in the final battle. Marian Cleaver, naturally, had volunteered to help protect those Chosen.

Mena Gaines might well be his nemesis.

4

YORK, ENGLAND

If I knew Lucy she would sho
w happy-face on the outside and
save the real hurt for when she was alone.

I looked away from a TV full of doom and gloom towards w
hat we called our Victory Wall
.
My part of the Wall con
sisted of prints I’d sold
over
ten years. If it didn’t sell, it didn’t get framed. The other, larger,
part of the wall was full of
Lucy’s squash trophies and pictures of her receiving awa
rds. Lucy’s part was now
encroach
ing
on my part. The daughter starting to outdo the father. The wall boosted her confidence. Almost every day I caught her admiring a photo or a sparkling trophy.

But tonight
I don’t think the wall was giving either of us
much
inspiration. Major event
s were shaking the world
. The stampede at Madison Square Garden, something about a roller coaster collapse at Sea World, a
deva
stating earth tremor in Costa Rica
.

In
my house, in my chair, in this c
ity hundreds of miles away from any scenes of destruction, I began to feel unsettled.

I’d witnessed something odd during
our celebration meal last night
at Mauricio’s, but dismissed it when I heard about Lucy.
Huge r
ats had teemed through the r
estaurant,
through our legs,
attracted to a corner
full
of
shadow
s
where all natural law said there should be light
.

I had never seen so many people so scared, so many witnesses speaking with such fear. And now there
was something going on in Miami;
something about a bunch of college kids being held hostage by a mad-woman. And someone said a bomb was involved. A wave of terror was sweeping the world.

“What
’s going on, Dad?” Lucy asked
, her first words in twenty minutes. “Are we safe?”

I frowned
. Could it be that even more insignificant occurrences were being lost beneath the information deluge that accompanied the devastating events? For a moment I felt glad that my partner, Tom Acker, was looking after the new business whilst I spent time with Lucy.

I nodded. I flicked off the TV before it sent us both reeling tow
ards deeper depths of despair
.
“Take away?”

“Cool.”

“Preference?”

   “Mmm, maybe Italian. Mauricio’s?”

“Maybe not,” I shuddered.  “I thought Oscars was your
favorite
?” And I knew they had a two-for-one deal on deliveries before seven.

She
leapt for the phone.
“Quick, before he changes his mind!” Lucy’s presence filled the house, and it felt good. I shook my head. Yesterday she
lay
in a hospital
bed;
today the event was past history. 

“Bring it on,” I said to the guy who answered the phone. “Everything we can have on that two-for-one deal. Garlic bread, beer-”

“Wine?” Lucy interrupted.
“Let’s not forget who’s sixteen in a few days.”

I coughed. “N
ot in this decade
.”

Lucy gave me a narrow-eyed look.

“
Diet Pepsi,
” I said. “For the tweenie. No ice.”

“Loser,” Lucy grumbled, but it sounded good to my ears.

I put down the phone and smiled
. “The treasure hunt went well, Luce. I don’t think we lost any tourists.”

“Shame.”

I ached inside. It had been an all-or-nothing business gamble, and Lucy had known. I had ploughed our remaining money into it. I wasn’t the successful type. I was sure this business, sooner or later, would
fold.
Like my much loved photography career.
Like my marriage. . .

The meal arrived, steaming hot. She grabbed my beer and downed a mouthful before I could get a hand on it. I gave her a pretend glare, but couldn’t keep the twinkle from my eyes, and it was like we were a normal father and daughter for about three minutes, which was when a knock at the door made us both sit up. Outside were two serious-looking guys in suits.

“
Mr.
Logan?” The
taller
one
spoke
.

My instant though
t was of Raychel, and a
rush of fear swept through me. Then I thought they might be here because of Lucy’s recent hospital visit.
Either way, my heckles ro
se.

“
Mr.
Logan?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Ryan. My colleague here is Geoffrey Giles. May we have a moment of your time, sir?”

I frowned
. They seemed an odd pairing. Ryan was tall and all business. Giles,
on the other hand, looked
uncomfortable, apologetic even, which was alright by me, and gave me slight pause. Giles
rooted a finger around his
coll
ar as if unused to the
fit of a shirt and tie.

“I am with my daughter,” I said, stating the obvious.

“If we could have a moment to explain
,” Ryan’s tone softened
.

“One minute.”

I noticed both of them flick their eyes at Lucy, hopping silently behind me. “Umm, it would be better if we could talk alone,” Giles said uneasily.

Lucy rolled her eyes.” Christ, what are you guys? The Fucking Bureau of Investigation?”

I felt my good feelings beginning to evaporate.

“Talk in front of her.” I said. “Or leave us to our meal.”

I heard Lucy’s sharp intake of breath at that moment of unconditional trust. Good. We all trooped into the living room.

The tall guy, Ryan, gave a tight smile that turned his lips bloodless and
said:
  “Quick version. The world’s going to shit. Have you seen the news?”

I glared, saying nothing.

“The disasters you‘ve heard about so far?” his voice was pitched low. “They’re nothing compared to what’s coming. May I?” he gestured at my forgotten slice of garlic bread.

I blinked, thrown by his cheek
. He took my silence as assent, and bit off a large piece. “Right,” he mumbled. “Where was I?”

“World’s going to hell, gonna get much worse, yada yada yada, ooh I’m so
hungry,” Lucy summed up
.

Ryan narrowed his eyes. “Thanks.
Which brings me to you, Mr. Logan?
”

I wondered if Holly had hired these two clowns as a joke.

“Look-” I said. “The circus left town a while back, and-”

“Dean Logan,” Ryan said quickly. “Owner of a new business venture called Logan’s Tours. We know about the problem at the restaurant last night, with the
rats….”
he let that hang. “Anyway…your friend is Holly Green. Wife, Raychel, disappeared without trace back in ‘05. Daughter here is called Lucy. School, City, and County squash champion.”

Giles
said. “
W
e represent an
organization
called
Aegis.
Please give us the chance to explain things to you. A lot has happened in the last few days, Logan, and our people are still playing catch up.”

“So,
what
has happened?” Lucy asked. “Don’t tell me Britney’s pregnant again.”

“Madison Square Garden,” Ryan almost hissed in his frustration. “The woman thrown out of the hotel window opposite. The roller-coaster collapse at Sea World-”

“I watch the news,” I said shortly. “Christ, even Lucy watches the news.”

“
Thanks, Dad.”

Now Giles stepped forward, all but shouldering his partner aside. “The incident at Mauricio’s,
Mr.
Logan.
It’s all linked. I will explain
, but you simply
must
believe me when I say that you have been identified by Aegis as one of eight people alive who can save our planet.”

With that, both men stopped to gauge my reacti
on. I stared back in disbelief
, then rolled my eyes at Lucy and watched her face go through a dozen comical changes, from amazed, to scared, to downright curious.

I threw up my hands in despair. “Alright! That’s it! Who hired you two fucking clowns?”

***

   Lucy’s eyes were dinner plates. I paused, took a deep breath to calm myself. “Look,” I spread my hands. “Joke failed. It backfired. Never mind, at least you tried. Now run along.”

And yet why would
a
practi
cal joker mention Raychel
in front of Lucy?

Ryan stepped forward and bent down until his lips were level with my ear. “You saw the darkness didn’t you?” he whispered. “At Mauricio’s. You saw one of
thousands
of fragile areas around the world where evil is leaking through. You saw the vermin, attracted to it.” his voice lowered still further. “This evil is rising, Logan, in response to an approaching cataclysmic event
.”

I flashed back to a guy outside Mauricio’s, slapping wildly at imaginary rodents in his hair.

Ryan continued. “Something is forcing its way up from below,
Mr.
Logan. An evil is rising to meet its maker. We need an hour of your time to prove all this.”

My heart was beating fast. Those words: ‘
Something is
forcing its way up from below
struck an ominous chord
.
I suddenly had no doubt that these men believed them. I recalled Lucy’s scared question earlier tonight:
Dad, are we safe?

I spoke succinctly, each word a sentence. “What. Do. You. Want?”

“One hour,” Ryan said, straightening up. “We’ll tell you everything.”

I handed them my take-away bill.

“You’re paying,” I said to Giles, ever money-conscious.

***

We followed Ryan and Giles patiently down Parliament Street. The May weather
was
balmy, attracting both tourists and locals into town. The pavement cafés were full.

   At length we entered an upscale area where each home was large and close enough to the city centre to be worth upwards of a million
pounds
apiece. Our two guides stopped by a discreet doorway marked only by an unassuming brass plate that read:
AEGIS
. Giles punched a code into a keypad and opened the door.
A
darke
ned passageway widened out into a pleasant inner garden
paved with random Indian stone. Lucy shuffled next to me. I laid a protective arm around her
shoulders, which she
promptly shrugged off.