The Chosen (25 page)

China shifted her gaze to Remington, questioning him with her eyes. He lifted his hand. “You’ll see. She’s really quite marvelous as far as inventions go.”

Remington slipped a hand around China’s waist as they followed Colt through the stacks and down a hallway to a back room guarded by a bank vault door. China paused for a moment to look at the door. “That’s some pretty heavy hardware to protect an invention.”

“You haven’t seen Balmora yet.” For that matter neither had he. He’d only heard over-flowery descriptions from Marley as he’d worked on the machine.

Besides the glass-fronted bookcases that lined the walls, this was the most vacant room of Marley’s home. In the center sat something large beneath the covering of a pristine white sheet.

Marley whipped the sheet away to reveal a mechanical woman who sat at an elegant polished cherrywood table. China gasped.

“She’s beautiful,” she murmured.

And she was right. Marley had outdone himself. Balmora was more art than machine. Flawlessly smooth silver skin formed a set of aristocratic features looking eerily similar to those of Miss Octavia, even down to the wide blue glass eyes. Her fat copper curls were held in an elaborate cog and jewel clasp. And while she was dressed in the fashion from twenty years ago, it was refined, made of polished brass, right down to the elegant edging of detailed brass lace. Set into her chest sat a red, heart-shaped jewel that began to glow once Marley had set the clockwork in motion by turning the large key behind Balmora’s chair.

Her head lifted, and she blinked.

Marley came around from the back and clasped the papers in his hand. “Good day, Miss Balmora.”

She turned to him in recognition. Over the sound of gears and clockwork clicking, they heard a tinny but musical female voice. “Good day, sir.”

“We have a puzzle for you in code. Can you please translate? American English, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Marley fed the papers one by one into the narrow slot on the top of the cherrywood table. The gears and clockwork whirred, and everyone held his or her breath.

“She’s amazing,” Octavia said, her voice full of admiration, her eyes fever bright. “And she looks so very like Mother.”

A slight mist clouded Marley’s eyes, making Remington’s chest ache for him. Clearly Marley had created Balmora after his memory of his lost love. It was a bittersweet thing.

Balmora cocked her head to the side and blinked as if listening intently to something. “It is not in code, sir, but another language. Language: unknown. Shall I continue to translate?”

“Yes, please.”

“The sooner the better,” Colt muttered under his breath.

China shushed him with a finger to her lips. Remington tried not to smile.

There was the clacking sound of typewriter keys flying over paper. It fed up through the slot in the table into Balmora’s metallic hands. “Shall I read the first page, sir?”

Marley glanced at Octavia, taking in her reaction, and nodded. “Proceed.”

“And at the dawning of each night, the Gates of Nyx shall arise anew, so that none may use such power to their advantage over the mortal worlds. But on the day of the dark moon, when the Gates of Nyx be closed by the Chosen among all mankind, they shall rise up on a mountain in the sea. A mountain of fire by the name of Krakatoa. And there shall be the battle of all.”

For a moment, none of them said a word. They didn’t even get to page two of the translation. They were stunned that the Book of Jezriel was so specific about the location of the Gates of Nyx. The only sound in the room was of their mingled breaths and the continued whirr and click of the mechanical Balmora as she continued to translate pages.

“Krakatoa? Where the hell is that?” Colt muttered.

Winchester shifted his weight from foot to foot. “We need a map.”

“Follow me!” Marley barreled out of the room and down the hall with everyone in his wake. He stopped only briefly to rifle through a series of rolled maps stuffed into a large blue and white Chinese vase in the corner of his living room before continuing to the kitchen. He spread a map on the table, tracking his finger across the Pacific Ocean to a spot just north of Australia. “Krakatoa is a small island between the Sundra Islands of Java and Sumatra in the Dutch East Indies.”

Remington whistled long and low, then looked up at his brothers. “How are we going to get there in time?”

“We fly,” Winchester said matter-of-factly.

“I didn’t know you intended to sprout wings.”

“Very funny, Remy. We fly on Le Renaud’s ship, the
Circe
. It can take us that far before the moon goes dark.”

“That great hulk of a sea vessel with sails sitting out in the desert?” Colt asked.

“The very same. It got me and Tessa here; it can get us to Krakatoa.”

 

 

They had a full complement of crew when they boarded. In addition to Marley and his brothers, the contessa, Miss Arliss, and China, Monica Nation and Captain Nation had arrived by horse, and both came aboard and were introduced to Octavia and Captain Le Renaud.

Since they possessed intimate knowledge of the Darkin realm and of Rathe’s weaknesses in particular, the contessa, Miss Arliss, and China were all dispatched to concentrate on creating tactical plans for eliminating Rathe and the different Darkin they might encounter.

The Jackson brothers, Marley, and Octavia went to the workroom in the belly of the
Circe
to reunite the Book of Legend. And Captain Nation and his daughter were to work with Captain Le Renaud to strategize on the defenses of the ship.

China went with the other Darkin ladies, but found it difficult to sit still for long around the contessa and Miss Arliss. Both ladies looked so damn proper, and comfortable, in their long dresses. China was just happy to be back in pants again. The familiar garments were like long-lost friends she’d sorely missed while on her trek to the temple and back with Remington.

The contessa and Miss Arliss chatted together like familiar friends, leaving her to feel once again rather an outsider even in this small of a group. China cleared her throat. The contessa slowly shifted her glance in China’s direction. “Did you have something to add, Miss McGee?”

“Look, I know that being Darkin and all you both think you have an idea of what Rathe will do.”

“Oh I have a better idea than most,” Lilly shot back. “I sold my soul to the bastard and served him for decades.”

“And neither of us is actually Darkin any longer; we’ve both been stripped of our powers,” added the contessa.

China’s heart took a double beat. “You what?”

“I traded my powers to Rathe in order for him to spare Winchester,” the contessa answered.

“He took mine in a bargain with Colt.”

China bit at her lip. She
really
didn’t fit in. They were mortal, human, once Darkin but no longer. “I-I didn’t know such a thing was possible,” she stammered.

The contessa poured out a measure of tea for each of them in the cups that were precisely laid out on the table before them in the small galley area of the
Circe
. “It is, but it is a terrible price to pay. We can no longer be of help to the Chosen by using our powers, so we must use what knowledge we have to defeat the enemy.”

Screw that.
China shoved back from the table. “You’ll have to excuse me. You two might not be able to do anything with your powers to get back at Rathe, but I still can.” She left the two mortals to their tea and scheming and stalked off to find out what the brothers were planning.

 

 

Once the Jackson brothers, Marley, and Octavia were all crammed into the workroom Octavia used aboard the
Circe
to mend and invent things, Marley and Remington cleared a space on the wide wooden workbench for the three pieces of the Book and the materials Marley would need to bind it back together.

“According to the Book of Jezriel, we’ll need blood from each of you to form a paste that can bind it back together,” Octavia told them briskly as she brought various jars and implements and laid them out on the workbench. The brothers hadn’t stayed around long enough to hear the entire translation of the Book of Jezriel. That had taken hours. They’d left it to Marley and Octavia to sort out.

“How much blood?” Remington asked. He didn’t mind giving some, but he didn’t want to be too weak to simply fight it out if the whole Book thing fell to pieces.

Marley frowned and glanced over Octavia’s shoulder at the text. “It doesn’t specify. It only says that the blood must be added in order of birth and gives a specific mixture of mastic, gold, and herbs to mix into it.”

“Sounds like a bunch of hocus-pocus to me,” Colt muttered.

“It worked well enough when I sent you back to Rathe’s domain to fetch Miss Lilly,” Marley countered tersely.

“You went to Rathe’s?” Winchester scowled at Colt.

Colt pulled back his shoulders and leveled his gaze at Winchester, challenging him. “I sold half my soul to Rathe to save Lilly.”

Remington’s chest contracted around his heart. Colt was half Darkin? Holy hell. The world really
was
ending. It was a damn good thing Pa wasn’t around to see this happen; it would have killed him all over again.

Winchester shook his head. “I warned you, boy. There’s no goin’ back on something like that.”

Colt’s jaw jutted as he clamped his teeth together and stared Winn down. “Worth it. Can we get back to what’s important here?” Colt’s demeanor was a mixture of dare and regret. It was clear to Remington he didn’t like what he’d done, despised it, but would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant saving the woman he loved.

“Look, I did what I had to do, and I wasn’t asking your permission.”

Remington clamped a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “You had your reasons,” he said softly. He couldn’t keep the ache out of his voice, but he wanted to let Colt know he accepted his choice.

 

 

“What is wrong with all of you?” China blurted. “This is fantastic! This could change everything!” All three Jackson brothers turned in unison and stared at her as if she’d just sprouted out of the earth fully grown. She’d in fact slipped in when they weren’t paying any attention since she’d felt more at home with the brothers than she did with their mates.

“When you use that Book to seal the Gates, they will fall, and there will be hell to pay. There’s no way a regular Hunter is going to survive that. And since it must be one of you to close the Gates, then as half Darkin, Colt is the logical choice. He’s the only one of you who has a chance to survive.”

The Jackson brothers glanced at one another, a silent communication passing between them. They were hesitating, not knowing if this would be the last they’d ever see each other once this was over. There wasn’t time to ponder and debate the decision; they only had a short time to plan!

China speared Colt with a direct stare. Looking at him now she wondered how she’d ever been attracted to him. Compared to Remington, Colt was a rough imitation. “You said if I made it through, protected your brother’s back, and found the last piece of the Book that we’d talk about what you owed me. Well, time to pay up.”

His lip curled. “And you want me to risk my
life
. That’s your price?”

“Not my price, Colt.
The
price. There was never any question that closing the Gates of Nyx would require sacrifice. You gonna be man enough to do it?”

His eyes narrowed, determination streaking through his blue eyes. “I was always man enough, but now I’m Darkin enough too,” he shot back.

China gave him an approving nod. “Then we’ll do it together.” She turned to Remington. “I’ll stay with him and we can transport back to the ship.”

Remington grabbed hold of her, his hand sliding up to cup her cheek in a touch so tender it almost broke her heart. His body was stiff, as if he were in pain, and his fingers trembled against her cheek. His eyes said everything he couldn’t. Anguish filled him that he couldn’t protect her. He feared for her.

Loved
her.

The recognition that it was there in his eyes, even if it still went unspoken, both shocked and thrilled her.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“You know I do.” China placed her hand over his, holding his cold fingers against her cheek, breathing in the familiar scent of Bay Rum, possibly for the last time. “I’m the only one who can.”

 

 

The hell of it was she was right. “I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“I’m not asking you to like it. I’m asking you to let me go.”

There was nothing harder than letting the woman you loved go into danger and knowing there was damn little you could do to protect her. Remington pulled her close. “I can’t until I take care of something.”

“What’s that?”

He pulled her up tight against him, bringing them flush together from chest to toe.

His mouth captured hers like she was his last breath. He poured his heart and soul into the kiss, trying to tell her without words what he’d only just discovered: he loved her. She was the best thief that ever lived because she’d managed to steal the one thing he’d been certain no one ever could: his heart.

Her lips, soft and pliant, turned demanding. All the pent up frustrations, the worry, the fear unleashed in a storm of want and need. The realization that he loved her made him pull back and take a good long look at her. His heart fractured when he realized this might be their last kiss. So he kissed her again.

“You two about done? We got a world to save, and we’re on a tight schedule,” Colt taunted.

Remington held her close for just a moment longer, then took a deep breath, spiked with the scent of vanilla and something uniquely China, and reluctantly released it. “Let’s go.”

Ten minutes later Marley had them lined up, forearms bare beside the workroom table in the belly of the
Circe
. Marley sliced a small line on the right forearm of each of them, collecting the blood in a black bowl. “Here, put a bit of this on the cut so it’ll stop bleeding and heal faster,” he instructed as he tossed a vial of black powder to Remington.

“What’s in it?”

Marley gave him a pulsating glare. “Do you really think now is the time to worry about such things? My Uncle James was a pharmacist. Just use it.”

Marley turned away and worked with Octavia on mixing the binding blend.

He smeared the black, viscous paste on the binding edge of each piece and on the strip of imprinted leather he’d laid out on the table. “Each of you pick up the piece of the Book you brought with you. Careful of the binding blend; we need every drop.”

“Winchester, you’ll need these,” Octavia interrupted, handing him a pair of leather gloves. “Don’t want to touch the pages bare-handed.”

Colt took a step back. “I vote Winchester goes first.”

“I second that motion,” Remington chimed in.

Winchester shook his head, but there was a touch of humor in his voice. “Yer both yellow.”

China was shocked at how these big men could be so careful with their hands when necessary, as each of them gently picked up a piece of the Book, cradling it like it was as fragile as a newborn. Remington’s and Colt’s pieces each had a piece of the original leather cover of the Book still attached. Winchester held his section of pages with care. He gently placed it, binding side down, on the center of the long strip of leather.

“I’ll hold this in place while you boys put yours together. Remington, you next.”

Careful to avoid touching his brother’s pages, Remington placed his section of the Book on the leather, then carefully raised it up until it was flush against the middle section. Winchester slid his fingers out of the way. “Colt, your turn.”

Colt carefully placed his part of the Book at the end of the leather strip, and like Remington pressed it slowly upward toward the center until it was flush with Winn’s section. Winchester removed his gloves with help from Octavia.

Marley clapped his hands together, then rubbed them with satisfaction. Remington didn’t miss the bead of nervous sweat that rolled down his friend’s lined brow. “Excellent. That’s half of it.”

“Half? What’s the other half?” Remington asked.

“We have to fold the leather around the Book and use the incantation from the Book of Jezriel to finish the binding.”

Colt cut in. “Then what? Your Jezriel fella got anything to say about how we use it to shut the Gates?”

Marley blinked. “No. I suppose that might come from the Book of Legend itself once it’s bound back together.” He carefully smoothed the strip of leather over the spine of the three pieces as the brothers held them in place, and slowly began to chant.

It wasn’t a language Remington recognized, but the fluid cadence of it charged the air with power. The small hairs on his skin lifted in response.

“Anyone else feel funny?” Colt muttered. All three of the brothers let go of the Book.

Beneath Marley’s hands the Book of Legend began to glow with golden light. He backed up a pace as the Book levitated off the table and the pages began to flip rapidly, as if moved by an invisible hand.