Chosen, Christine Pope [e reader pdf best .TXT] 📗

“He’s not guilty,” I managed to get out. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Beg to differ, miss.” The leader of the Los Alamos gang gave a faint nod, and the four men holding him began to drag Jasreel out the front door.

“No!” I began to move after them, but another of the group, one of the two men flanking the guy with the black box, took me by the arm.

“I wouldn’t,” he said in a murmur. “Right now you have the benefit of the doubt, but….” He let the words die away, but I got his meaning. It was Jasreel these men were after, not me. The last thing I should be doing was provoking them.

I gave the fair-haired man, who seemed to be about my age or a little more, the faintest of nods, then held my position, just a few feet away from the guy in charge. “What proof do you have that he’s guilty of anything?”

“His nature is proof enough.” He gave another of those chin-jerks at the man with the black box and the two men with him. For the first time, the one wearing glasses looked up from his device, whatever it was, then gave a faint nod, right before they went out the front door. The blond one gave me a warning glance before he turned and took up the rear, as if to tell me that I needed to stay put and keep my mouth shut.

Fat chance of that. Instead, I followed them. As soon as I was outside, the chilly air seemed to bite at me, piercing the thermal shirt I wore, but I ignored the momentary discomfort. Parked a little ways down the drive were two Hummers, one bright yellow, the other red. Clearly, these were some of the vehicles “liberated” from Santa Fe and the surrounding area.

I could see Jasreel being bundled into the yellow Hummer and cursed mentally. What was I supposed to do? There were seven of them — all right, the guy with the box seemed peculiarly uninterested in his surroundings and kept fiddling with the device, whatever it was, so maybe he wasn’t much of a threat — but the rest of them were all big enough to take me individually, let alone as a group. And all my weapons were currently locked up in the gun safe.

The leader of the group paused and glanced down at me, seeming to really assess my appearance for the first time. He didn’t leer, but I could see the look in his eyes take on a certain glint. “You should come with us,” he said casually. “We’re trying to in-gather as many of the Immune as we can. You’d be safe with us in Los Alamos. We can protect you.”

For a second, I actually considered it. Not because I wanted to go with this bastard and his crew, but because that way I’d be closer to Jasreel. I’d still have to figure out some way to free him, but I thought attempting a rescue would be a lot easier if I were nearby.

No, beloved.

The words were barely more than a gasp in my mind. I couldn’t speak aloud, not with the leader of the band of thugs standing close by, so in desperation I tried to respond the same way. Amazingly, it seemed to work.

But I want to stay with you!

You will be…better able to help me if you stay away from them, and free.

How?

You will need assistance…and you will not be able to get it if you come with me to Los Alamos now. I do not think they intend to kill me right away.

And that’s supposed to be reassuring?

Yes, beloved.

I had to ask. How are we doing this?

The bond between us. They have trapped me here on this plane, cut off my powers, but I can still speak to you thus. At least —

But then the thought-speech abruptly broke off, and I realized it must have been because they’d finally hauled Jasreel into the Hummer and shut the door behind him. So our mental connection was limited — by space, and by physical barriers.

Luckily, the entire exchange had taken place in less time than the blink of an eye.

“Thanks for the offer,” I told the leader, my tone as casual as I could make it, as if I hadn’t just held a desperate mental dialogue with their captive. “But I’ve got goats and chickens to tend. I think I’ll stay right here.”

His eyes narrowed. “You sure? It’s not safe for a woman alone.”

And I’d be so much safer in Los Alamos. Right. Evenly, I replied, “I’ll take my chances.”

A long hesitation, and I worried that he might try to force me into the other Hummer. But then he shrugged and said, “Door’s always open. Come find us there when you’re ready.”

I nodded, and he seemed to take that as the conclusion of our conversation, because he signaled the three men still waiting outside to get in the red Hummer. Immediately afterward, he crossed to the vehicle and climbed in the passenger seat. A slap on the door, and both vehicles moved off, heading down the drive and out through the gate, which I noticed was standing wide open. They must have shorted out the mechanism or something, although that should have triggered the alarm system. Then again, I didn’t know what the black box the weedy-looking man had been holding could do. Maybe it could simultaneously short out the alarm and somehow trap Jasreel here in this world, with no hope of escape. Or maybe one of the men in the Hummers had just stepped out and clipped a couple of wires.

In a minute or two, I’d have to go inspect the gate and see if what they’d done was anything I could fix. In a minute or two, I’d have to take Dutchie back into the house and lock up, and pray that no unfriendly eyes had seen me in my current vulnerable state.

Right then, though, I could only stand there in the driveway and feel the icy tears roll down my cheeks, stinging in the bitter wind that was blowing down from the north. Jasreel was gone.

I turned so I faced west, in the direction the vehicles had disappeared. And although I knew he couldn’t hear me, I still sent the words out to him, letting them ride on the wind.

I will find you…beloved.

* * *

Turn the page for a sneak peek at Taken!

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Sneak Peek: Taken - Chapter 1

I don’t know how long I stood out in the icy air, feeling the wind whip at my hair, tears seeming to freeze on my cheeks. Overhead, the sky grew darker and darker, a bruised-looking mass of clouds building from the northeast.

It was Dutchie who brought me back to myself, stirring me out of my frozen misery. She thrust a cold, wet nose into my palm and whined, her head cocked to the side. I forced myself to look down. The dog didn’t look particularly troubled, although I could tell she wanted to go back in the house. Who could blame her, with the temperature barely above freezing? Since she was a border collie mix, she had a thick coat, but it wasn’t that thick.

Some time would have to pass before she realized that