Chosen by Grace Read online

  Eventually, my annoyance turned to anger. I tried to let that fuel my power, but it didn’t work as I’d hoped. It was only when Kyle turned to criticizing Marek for his teaching methods and no one was paying attention that I felt a surge of electricity pass between my fingertips. As soon as I got their attention, it was gone.

  “Stop being a jerk, Kyle,” Allie snapped at him.

  He spread his arms wide as if to ask what he’d done wrong. “I’m only trying to help motivate.”

  Allie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, you’re doing it wrong.”

  Kyle let out a puff of air and turned his attention to his phone.

  “It’s okay, Allie,” I told her. “I think Kyle may have actually helped a little. So far, it seems to only work for me when I’m angry.”

  “See?” Kyle said without looking up. “I was helping.”

  “I’m sorry I’m being so slow,” I told them.

  “It just takes practice,” Marek assured me.

  “Let me try again.” I raised my palm and took a deep breath in concentration.

  As the seconds ticked by, the tension in my head intensified. I glared into my hand like I could make it combust by sheer will.

  Nothing happened.

  I sighed. “Forget it. Maybe I’ll do better another time.”

  “It’s fine,” Allie assured me sympathetically. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

  I forced a smile. “Thanks.”

  “Maybe we should take a break,” Marek suggested.

  I nodded. “Is it okay if I step outside for some fresh air?” I needed a chance to clear my head after the long day I’d endured.

  “Yeah,” Marek agreed. “Let’s go out back.”

  I hadn’t intended it as an invitation, but after everything that happened, I didn’t think any of them would be letting me out of their sight anytime soon.

  Allie and Kyle stayed behind as Marek and I climbed the stairs and stepped out into the back yard.

  A slight breeze had picked up, chilling my exposed skin. I wrapped my arms around myself and sank into one of the swings on the playset next to the house. The whole thing was rusted and looked like it hadn’t been played on in years. Marek sat in the swing beside me and swayed slightly.

  I stared down at my feet in the dirt, but I could still feel Marek’s gaze on me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “For what?”

  I closed my eyes and focused on the wind rustling through my hair. I thought for a moment that turning my attention to something so mundane might help take my mind of things, but the emotions I’d been feeling lately bubbled even closer to the surface. I didn’t even know at this point what I was feeling, but I knew that most of it wasn’t good.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “For being such a wimp. For having to turn to you every time I need my ass saved.”

  “Hey,” he said with a hint of a smile. “Don’t be sorry about that. It’s what I’m here for.”

  I shot back a half-smile of my own, but it didn’t last long. “I feel so useless. According to Fletcher, I’m some prophesied last hope, but I’m the furthest thing anyone would want to bet on. I might literally cause the end of the world because I won’t be able to live up to my calling.”

  Marek frowned. “You shouldn’t feel that way.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to believe him.

  “I don’t get why I have this special power,” I said. “It should be you, or Allie, or someone else who actually knows what they’re doing.”

  Marek dug his feet into the dirt, stopping his swaying. “I didn’t always know what I was doing.”

  I glanced his way for a second and then returned to staring at my feet. “You know what you’re doing now.”

  Marek breathed a heavy sigh. “It took me almost a year after moving here before I could use my powers properly. You’ve already conjured essence a handful of times. It’s not going to be long before you learn to control it.”

  It took him a whole year?

  “How’d you learn?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I figured out what was holding me back.”

  “What was it?” I wondered if it could it be the same thing holding me back.

  Marek let out a light laugh. “Me.”

  I looked at him curiously. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I was holding me back. I didn’t want to be a part of this world. My mom was born into a Davina family, but she didn’t have Davina powers.”

  I remembered Marek said not all Davina developed powers. I hadn’t expected him to know one of those Davina.

  “When we found out I was a Davina, she wasn’t exactly happy about it,” he admitted. “When I moved in with my aunt, she tried to explain some of it to me, but Fletcher laid on all the details. It was too much. That’s when I ran away.”

  Shock riveted through me. I definitely wasn’t expecting to hear that. But I didn’t dare interrupt his story.

  “The thing was, I had no money and had nowhere to go,” he continued. “I just wanted to get away, to erase my past and start over fresh.”

  I wanted to ask him about his past; I wondered if it had anything to do with his scars. But I didn’t want to intrude on his privacy.

  “I didn’t realize at the time Eagle Valley was my fresh start,” Marek said. “I was gone two weeks before they found me. Between walking partway and stowing away the other part, I’d only made it about a hundred miles from here. I was so hungry and tired that I didn’t really have any choice but to come back.”

  My heart broke at his story.

  “It took another year before I finally embraced what I was and conjured essence for the first time.” He shot me a half-hearted smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “So, like I said, you’re not doing bad for having just discovered what you are.”

  We both went silent. I had no idea what to say to him. I wanted to offer him my comfort, but Marek was already so tough. I wasn’t sure it would help.

  “Why are you telling me all this?” I asked.

  Marek looked at me intensely. “Because I want you to know that you’re stronger than you think you are.”

  A blush rose to my cheeks. Could he really mean it?

  “Besides,” Marek continued, “everyone else at Galen already knows. I’d rather you heard about it from me first.”

  It was evident in his voice that telling me about his past had been difficult for him.

  I twisted my swing toward him. “Thank you for telling me.”

  Hopefully he knew how much I truly meant it.

  “Trust me,” he said, “you’ll learn eventually. You’ve only just discovered your powers.”

  Or so you think.

  I bit my lip and avoided his gaze.

  “What?” he asked. He clearly knew I was hiding something.

  Should I tell him?

  “The thing is,” I said shyly, “I’ve conjured essence before.”

  Okay, I guess I’m telling him.

  I twisted my hands in my lap. “I didn’t know what had happened at the time, but…”

  I went silent.

  “But what?” Marek asked.

  What if he thinks I’m crazy?

  I slowly lifted my gaze until our eyes connected. Marek stared back at me with a look of trustworthiness in his eyes. I couldn’t explain the sudden desire to tell him everything.

  The words tumbled out of me before I could stop myself.

  “Friday night wasn’t the first time my essence killed someone.”

  24

  I didn’t know what possessed me to tell Marek. I hadn’t told anyone before in my life.

  “I’m sorry,” I said in a breathless whisper.

  Is Marek the right person to tell about this?

  He leaned closer to me in his swing. His face was so close that I could see the small flecks of brown spotted in his blue irises. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

  Can I?

  “I’m afraid you’ll tell me I’m
crazy,” I admitted.

  Marek reached up a hand to tuck a strand of brown hair out of my face. My breath caught in my chest.

  “I won’t,” he promised.

  I knew he was telling the truth. And maybe that’s why my subconscious decided to toss the confession out there. I’d never told anyone before because I knew they wouldn’t believe me. Marek was different.

  I took a deep breath. “Growing up and not knowing what I was, I didn’t know the demons were dangerous. Pretty much as soon as I could talk, I started talking to them.”

  “And?” Marek encouraged me to continue.

  “There was one demon in particular who always hung around. Clinton. He’d talk to me and play games with me. My mom would play along, but I could always tell she didn’t quite believe that he was real. She’d sometimes say something about my ‘imaginary friend.’ I knew she was talking about him because he could talk directly at her and she wouldn’t respond. Is that normal for demons? To befriend kids?”

  Marek pressed his lips together. “It seems strange. Demons would normally feed off your essence rather than befriend you. You never felt influenced by him?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

  Then again, who knew what it felt like?

  “Maybe it was different because you’re a Davina,” Marek suggested.

  I shrugged. “Knowing what I know now, I wonder if he was more interested in my mom than me. She wasn’t in a good place during my childhood.”

  How much should I tell him?

  “Once I was a little older,” I said, “I thought it was because she lost my dad. Now I wonder if all that bad stuff was because of Clinton.”

  “It’s pretty normal for humans to have a demon—sometimes even more than one—attached to them,” Marek said.

  I frowned. “You haven’t heard the half of it. Like I said, my mom was in a bad place. She—”

  No, I can’t tell him.

  This wasn’t exactly something you tell a guy you just met. At the same time, I wanted the weight lifted off my shoulders. I’d been holding onto this secret for too long.

  “She what?” he prodded. “It’s safe to tell me. I’m not going to judge.”

  I took another long breath. “My mom drank a lot.”

  I was surprised at how good it felt to finally open up to someone.

  “The thing was,” I continued, “Clinton would always egg her on. I was so young, I didn’t realize what was happening. Most of the time, I thought he was joking around. And it seemed harmless, you know? All he was doing was talking. Things like ‘one more drink’ and ‘Kathryn would be better off without you.’”

  Marek’s eyes filled with sympathy, but he didn’t say anything.

  “I guess when I was seven or so, I started to realize how awful he was being,” I said. “I’d tell him to stop. I’d tell him he was lying to her. By that time, my mom had already sent me to therapy. She said it was because I should be past my stage of imaginary friends.”

  My chest knotted. The next part of the story was the hardest.

  “Then what happened?” Marek asked softly.

  I forced the knot to ease. “One night when I was eight, my mom drank so much she passed out on the couch. I yelled at Clinton and asked him why he encouraged her to drink so much. All he did was laugh at me. That was when I decided I hated him.”

  The memory of Clinton left a bad taste in my mouth.

  “I told him to leave,” I continued. “I said I was going to call the cops on him. I mean, I was eight. What else was I supposed to threaten him with? And obviously I wasn’t going to do it because at this point, I knew no one else could see him.”

  Marek nodded like he understood.

  “I locked myself in my bedroom,” I told him, “but he didn’t leave. I couldn’t bring myself to fall asleep because I was so mad. Eventually, I heard my mom creep down the hall to her room across from mine. I waited a couple of minutes and decided I wanted to sleep by her that night. Only, when I opened the door—”

  An involuntary sob caught in my throat. Marek touched my shoulder lightly.

  “It’s okay,” he said.

  I shook my head, unable to choke out the words. It really wasn’t okay.

  Maybe I should stop, I told myself. I’ve told him enough.

  Except I wanted to tell him more. Getting it off my chest was a relief. I couldn’t stop now.

  My breathing wavered. “When I opened the door, he was standing over her… telling her to kill herself.”

  I couldn’t help it as the tears fell down my cheeks and my body shook in sobs. I covered my face with my hands and barely noticed when Marek wrapped an arm around me. I wanted his warm embrace to soothe me, but nothing could help erase the images burned into my memory.

  “I just remember so much blood,” I cried into his chest.

  Marek didn’t say a word. He only pulled me closer as we lightly swayed back and forth in the swings.

  I didn’t know how long we stayed there. When my tears finally dried, I pulled away and wiped at my face.

  I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “I saw the cuts on her wrists, and I yelled at Clinton. I told him it was his fault. He told me he knew, that it’s what he wanted.”

  Bile rose to my throat at the memory.

  “The night my mom tried to kill herself, I used essence on Clinton,” I admitted. “I don’t really remember it. I just remember this bright purple light shoot across the room, and then he was gone… vanished into thin air.”

  I paused. “All that was left was his cloak. I never touched it when we moved. Since she’s human, my mom never knew it was there in the first place.”

  Marek took a deep breath beside me like he was going to say something, but he remained silent.

  “As soon as Clinton was gone, I called 911 then wrapped my mom’s wrists with the blanket on her bed. I saved her life.” My voice cracked. “Sometimes, I wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t walked in on her, if I had fallen asleep or something.”

  I couldn’t bear to think of that. “I’d spent so long trying to forget that night. All these years, I felt like I was somehow to blame, like Clinton was some sort of omen telling me it was coming…”

  I sniffled and wiped at my eyes again. “Mom got better after that. I told her I’d stopped seeing Clinton because, well, it was true. And I pretended like I couldn’t see the rest of them. If I acted like I could, I was afraid something bad might happen again. So I ignored them, never made eye contact, never once spoke back to them.”

  Marek nodded in understanding.

  “It was hard at first,” I said. “I wanted to be homeschooled to avoid them altogether. But that was right when Mom started working from home so we could move around—and ‘see the world,’ she said—so she didn’t have the time to homeschool me.”

  She never made the time for me at all, and then she’d act like it was my fault.

  I sighed heavily. “I’ve spent most of my life believing I was imagining it all. That’s why I thought I was hallucinating—or drugged—the night we met. I never knew what really happened to Clinton until you told me I’d killed that other demon.”

  My gaze finally locked on his again. After sharing so much about myself with Marek, all I wanted to do was stare into his eyes. They remained soft, like he really cared about what I was saying.

  I wiped at my nose. “I’m sorry about crying.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” he said gently, pulling me once again back to his chest. “I’m sorry all that happened to you. You have every right to feel upset over it.”

  I forced a smile, even though he couldn’t see it. “Thanks.”

  Marek loosened his hold on me, and I drew away. He stared down at me.

  “What?” I asked shyly.

  His eyes danced across my face. “I just want to protect you.”

  My heart flipped in my chest. “From what?”

  “From Clinton. From Dorian. From everything.”

&nb
sp; “You can’t protect me from everything,” I told him.

  Marek frowned and pulled me back to his chest. His breath was warm against the top of my head.

  His words came in a low whisper. “I can try.”

  25

  “Marek! Marek!” I cried.

  I glanced around frantically, searching for an indication of where I was and what I was doing there. In front of me spanned a large patch of grass, but beyond that, nothing. A thick layer of gray fog obscured my view.

  “Marek!” I called again.

  “Ryn?” An unfamiliar voice cut through the fog.

  “Who’s there?” I demanded.

  “It’s me,” the voice said.

  A figure stepped forward. It was a young man who looked to be about thirteen. He stood shirtless and shaking in front of me. White wings rose behind him, giving him away as Davina. His blue eyes looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, quickly rushing to the boy.

  His bottom lip quivered, and his eyes filled with terror. “Ryn, I need your help.”

  “It’s okay,” I told him, but I couldn’t be sure without knowing what was actually wrong.

  A woman’s voice echoed from somewhere past the fog. “I will NOT raise a Davina. You are a disgrace!”

  I surveyed the area in a heartbeat, searching for the woman the voice belonged to, but I saw nothing. When I glanced back to where the boy stood, he was gone. Instead, Marek stood in his place, complete with his leather jacket and a hard look on his face.

  “We shouldn’t be here, Ryn,” he said, stepping forward to take me by the elbow.

  I dug my feet into the grass and pulled away. “We have to save the boy!”

  He reached for me again. “We can’t, Ryn.”

  Marek’s grip was so tight that I couldn’t pull away this time. He dragged me alongside him.

  “Why not?” I insisted.

  “Because, Ryn, he’s already gone.”

  “But Marek!” I jerked away again.

  “Come on, Ryn,” he insisted. “We have to go. He’ll be here soon!”