The Forsaken (The Chosen Series Book 2), Patricia Bell [e textbook reader .txt] 📗

even think about marrying such a young girl. But still, he could not let it show. “I am ready.” His voice came out stilted.

Jonah chuckled.

AS THEY UNLOADED THE goods into the stall at the Phoenix Swap Park, Malachi scanned the area. It was still early, and few people were around. In a couple of hours, the place would be full of shoppers.

Keep calm.

He continued to unload blankets and place them neatly on the long table that spread out in front of their stall. They would bring in a good amount of sales being that it was the weekend. Saturdays, although a sacred day of rest for The Chosen, was their biggest selling day, and therefore they were the only ones allowed to work. That had been one of the things that had started him in his mindset. Made him wonder about God and His rules. Made him doubt.

Several hours into the morning, a man walked by who looked familiar to him. He was not Chosen, and Malachi had no idea where he’d seen him before, but he had. That dark, disheveled hair, probing brown eyes, and the stubble that held bits of gray in it he’d seen somewhere before. His button-down shirt was pressed and neatly tucked into his jeans. And he had a clean musky smell about him.

“Blessed day, Marcus.” Elder Joseph called out as the man headed their way.

“How are you, Joseph?” the man said as he came closer.

“I am well. I have not seen you around lately.” Elder Joseph answered.

“I have been let go.” The man’s face grew stern. “I was hoping you would give this to Daniel for me.” He pulled an envelope out of his top pocket and handed it to Elder Joseph.

“I will see that he gets it.” Elder Joseph answered.

The man nodded and walked away.

Malachi followed the man with his eyes. “Who is he?”

“Does some work for High Prophet,” Elder Joseph said, placing a stack of rugs onto the ground below. “Well, at least he did.”

“Elder,” Malachi spoke with almost a tremble. Marcus was the one. He needed to speak to him before he got too far away. “May I run to the outhouse. I think I have drank far too much water.”

“Make it quick, Malachi. We have much work to do.”

“I will, thank you, Elder.” Malachi rushed off after the man.

He didn’t dare look back for fear his anxiety would show.

Up ahead, Marcus was coming up on the bathrooms, heading toward the front gate. Malachi picked up his pace. It would not be a good idea for Malachi to pass up the bathrooms himself. He dared a glance back. The booth was out of sight. Good. He would not be watched.

When he faced forward once again, the man had vanished. Malachi scanned the area. Where did he go? An ache settled in his stomach. Could he dare pass up the bathrooms to find the man?

He could not chance it. He’d just have to hide the money somewhere and try again another time.

He glanced back one last time as he entered the bathroom and smacked right into something solid. His hat fell to the ground as he stared face to face with the man he’d been looking for.

“Sorry about that.” Marcus reached down to pick up Malachi’s hat. “I think you dropped this.”

Malachi ran a hand through his short damp hair as he took his hat. The bravery he’d had all morning dissolved into a puddle of fear. “Thank you.” He took his hat from the man.

The man nodded and took a step forward but Malachi was blocking his way. This was his chance. He couldn't let the man get away. The man turned back. “Hey, aren’t you one of them?” He nodded to Malachi. “You know, The Chosen?”

“Yes, sir. I am. How do you know us?” Elder Joseph had said he’d worked for the High Prophet, but Malachi wanted to keep the conversation going until he got up the nerve to say what was on his mind.

“I have had some dealings with your leader, Daniel.”

Could he trust the man? What if he told the High Prophet? All his bravery flew out of him like an untied balloon.

“Nice to meet you, sir. Have a nice day,” Malachi said but continued to block the man’s way.

“Is there something you wanted?” The man raised an eyebrow at Malachi when he still did not move.

“I . . .  well.” The money in his pocket burned. “I . . . sir, do you still work for . . . uh, Daniel?”

It was a sin to call the High Prophet by his given name, but Malachi felt strange calling him by that title in front of this man. As it was, Malachi had come to doubt the man was truly a prophet.

“I did some work for him, but I found his values to be, uh, well, let’s just say, less than moral.”

“So, you work for him no longer?”

“Is there something you need from me?” The man glanced at his watch. “I have an appointment to make.”

Sweat dripped from Malachi’s pores. It was now or never. “Yes, I . . .” Malachi swiped at his brow. “I want to hire you.” He pulled out the sweaty wad of bills from his pocket.

“Woah, man.” Marcus threw his hands in the air. “Put that stuff away.”

Embarrassed, Malachi pushed the money back into his pocket. He was no good at this.

Marcus pulled him all the way into the bathroom. “Look, man. I already told your psychopathic dictator that I would not harm those kids. If he has sent you to do his bidding—”

“What?” Sweat dripped into Malachi’s eyes. “No, I want you to save them.”

Marcus motioned for Malachi to continue. “I’m listening.”

A toilet flushed in one of the stalls, and a door opened. An oversized man exited. “Excuse me.” He eyed them for a second, then proceeded to the sink to wash his hands.

How much had he overheard? Would he go tell — that was ridiculous. He didn’t know