Craved: A Chosen Ones Novel (19 page)

I cautiously approached Chase’s hospital bed. I didn’t know what to say or what to do or what he would say or do.

His eyes flickered with the same emotion I’d last saw in them. Complete and utter shock.

“You stabbed me. In the heart. With a steak knife.”

“I did.” It was pointless to apologize for it.

“Why?”

“Because you were going to kill me?”
 

“What? Why would I kill you?”

I breathed out a frustrated breath. “You can drop the act. I know you’re not what you seem to be. I don’t know what you are but I know you’re not human.”

Understanding dawned on his face.
 

You shouldn’t have been able to tell. For all intents and purposes I am human.”

“What does that mean?”

He looked around the room and then past the partially opened door out into the hallway. “Not here.”

He sat himself up and started disconnecting the various machines and tubes that were hooked up to him.

“What are you doing? You can’t do that. You can’t go anywhere. You just got out of surgery!” I said bewildered.

“I’ll be okay once I get back to my apartment. Will you go there with me? I promise not to hurt you and I promise to explain everything. I apologize for obviously scaring the shit out of you and making you stab me. I would never hurt you. Please, trust me on that at least?”

I looked at him, nearly laughing at the madness of his plea and the irrationality it induced in me. Was he insane? Was I insane? If I’d trusted him not to hurt me, I wouldn’t have driven a steak knife into his heart. Then he wouldn’t have nearly died and we wouldn’t be talking to each other in a hospital room after a touch and go surgery that had had to be performed to save him. All of it sounded crazy. Completely illogical. The knife should have done little more damage than a flesh wound on a human would have done. I also should have never been able to pierce his heart with it. He should have, he damn well could have stopped me before I even nicked his chest. But he didn’t.
 
I almost killed him; he didn’t injure me. Even when I attacked him the first time and moved to take out his eye, he didn’t retaliate. He only restrained me from harming him. When I’d told him to go ahead, get the business of killing me over with, the look that crossed his face was genuine confusion. And now that I thought about it, his eyes also held a hint of pain and maybe hurt. Maybe that part, remembering the pain and the possible hurt I’d seen is what made me come to the decision that I did. Or maybe it was the fact of thinking about how I’d driven a knife into his chest and recalling the blood staining his shirt and how he’d dropped to his knees in shock and then I hadn’t been able to reverse the damage. Either way, I nodded my head, silently communicating that I would, that I did trust him not to hurt me. I couldn’t say the words, but the sentiment was the same.
 

“Are you sure you’re okay to leave?” A human wouldn’t have been but he wasn’t human. And yet, he’d bled like one and had had to have surgery like one.

“Yeah. Like I said. I’ll be okay once I get to my apartment.”

“What’s at your apartment?”

He disconnected the last of the machines and stood. He walked over to me and held out his hand. “Not here.”

I nodded again and put my hand in his. Given what had just happened the action was as wrong and as contradictory as the warmth that tingled in my palm and up my arm at the contact of my skin against his.
 

The staff on duty tried to stop Chase from leaving the hospital. When their efforts proved futile they had him sign papers that plainly stated he had not been discharged by a medical profession. He was discharging himself against the explicit advice of a doctor. He handed the papers back to the Charge Nurse and asked her for a pair of scrubs to leave in.

I marveled at the fact that he had been able to walk out of there on two legs, stay upright for the car service I’d called, and then make it into his apartment. It must not have been as easy as he made it look because as soon as he reached the couch he collapsed onto it.
 

“Are you alright?” I asked panicked.
 

He’d gone a little pale and a slight sheen stood out along his brow line.
 

“I’m good.” His chest heaved up and down heavily as he spoke. “In the bathroom inside the bedroom there is a vial of liquid underneath the counter. It’s clear and unmarked. Should be easy to spot. Can you grab it for me?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.”

I pushed the closed door leading into his bedroom open. Normally, entering a person’s bedroom was a deeply private act. They usually served as inner sanctums and going into them was like wading through their owner’s privacy. I didn’t feel like I was trespassing on anything personal when I walked into Chase’s bedroom. It was bare except for a plain-looking large bed with a black comforter that sat off to the right and a wooden dresser that sat on the wall opposite it. There were no personal knickknacks lying around, no pictures of family or himself or friends, or anything else that might provide an iota of insight about who he really was. The bathroom was just as bare. I looked in the cabinet under the sink and immediately saw the vial. I swiped it up, wondering at the identity of the clear liquid contents it contained.
 

I walked back into the living and handed the vial to Chase. “What’s in there?”
 

He uncorked the small glass bottle and placed it to his lips. I expected him to drain it, but he only swallowed a small fraction of the liquid. A few seconds after he did so, his breathing became less heavy and his muscles relaxed. He re-corked the vial then held it out to me.

“My archangelic creator says it is water from the River of Life that flows through Heaven. I don’t know for sure because I’ve never been to see for myself. Other than an Archangel in the flesh, it is the only thing capable of healing me or any of the other Chosen Ones when we have been mortally injured. I’ll be good as new in a couple of minutes.”

I eyed the clear liquid that looked like water from the tap and nothing more. Still…I hastily sat it on the coffee table in front us. If it was what he said it was, it felt freaky to be holding it.

“How is that possible? That I was able to injure you? The knife wasn’t silver. And what are you? You’re not human and you’re not a daemon and you’ve proven not to be a Brethren either? What else is there ? I didn’t think anything else existed except….” I nearly leapt from the couch until I remembered the fact that Archangels were banned from returning to Earth in corporeal form.

“Remember the last time you were at my apartment and I asked if you wanted something to drink because you would need it after you heard what I was about to say? Well I am offering it again. Do you want a drink before I start talking?”

Oh God. My head hurt and I wanted to rub my temples just guessing at what he would tell me. I had needed a drink or two then and I more than likely would now. I almost said yes. Then I remembered what transpired the last time I’d gotten drunk around him. I answered with a quick “No.” I hadn’t meant for it to sound as intense or as shaky as it did.

 
“Okay, but it’s on the table if you change your mind. Here goes. I’m not entirely human; I technically am not a Nephilim though I am close enough to one that that is what we pretend to be; I’m not a daemon either, and you reasoned correctly when you stopped short of assuming that I’m an Archangel. Sort of. I am both more and less human than you are just as I am both more and less part Archangel than you are. I am the consequence of an Archangel’s essence being merged with the soul of a human child. It is what marks me and the others as Chosen Ones. It is also why I can pass for a Nephilim even though I am not truly one of you. You are part Archangel, part human as the product of a biological union between the two. I am what I am because an already made human soul was fused together with an Archangel’s essence. The result is that I have all of the abilities of an Archangel as well as all of the vulnerabilities of a human body. I am every bit as fast and as strong and as powerful as you would expect an Archangel to be, but I can be injured as easily as any human. Which is ironic because while you can heal humans, apparently Nephilim healing abilities do not work on me. I didn’t know that until you stabbed me by the way. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have let you.”

“How could you not know that?!”

“Because a certain fucking Archangel is a douche that likes to give you information with watermelon sized holes in it.”

“So M-,
he,
told you about what you are?”

“He told our parents when he informed them of the honor of raising Chosen Ones. They told us when we were informed of our
specialness
at sixteen.”

I covered my mouth, horrified. I pushed the bile that rose in my throat back down. I had almost
killed
him.
 

“Don’t apologize,” he said to me before I could. “It should be me apologizing to you for only telling you half the truth before. I’m sorry I deceived you, but it is not something most Nephilim would believe.”

I couldn’t hold the deception against him. I understood why he had only told me half truth. Even now I struggled to wrap my head around it. If I hadn’t seen the silver around his pupils then shortly afterward watched him succumb to a mortal wound as quickly as any human would my head would not be able to fit itself around what he’d just told me. But everything he said explained all of the things that should have happened that did not. Why the stainless steel knife had affected him so and why I couldn’t heal him.
 

He studied me intently. “I’m curious about something. How did you come to the conclusion that I wasn’t a Nephilim? And what did you think I was?”
 

I looked into his eyes and still saw what I became aware of at the restaurant. “Your eyes,” I explained. “I never noticed them before, but at the restaurant right after we spotted the Brethren, they flickered silver for like half a second. It was fainter than with the Brethren, and barely noticeable, I can see why I missed it before, but it was there.”
 

“You shouldn’t have been able to see that. Just like you shouldn’t be able to recognize a Brethren from the silver surrounding their eyes when they are using glamour to appear human. Brethren and Archangels can don glamour in the same way. Them and us Chosen Ones are the only ones that can see through it.”

“So what are you saying?” I choked out. “That I’m not a Nephilim? That I’m something else? Do you think I’m like you?”

“No, you’re not like me. Your eyes aren’t like mine. There is no silver in them. Only a deep brown flecked with shades of amber and honey. They’re radiant. But a light isn’t shining outward from them on a metaphysical level, which is where the ring that appears silver comes from.”

A tiny bit of my heart contracted at his description of my eyes. It made me want to melt into a pile of girly, swooning goo. But I had to focus on the more serious matter.
 

“You could be a Nephilim and just be special. I don’t know. But I think it’s time we talked about the prophecy and you told me what you know. I know what
he
said, but I swear that I will not let him lay a finger on your.” His eyes flashed dark in sync with the words he spoke. It was both a threat and a vow.
 

“I don’t care about his threat. I’m not afraid to die. Even before hearing the prophecy I’ve always known that fate was eventually going to catch up with me. You are right about the prophecy. I think I should tell you what I know. I didn’t even know it existed until Thursday before last when I told Bennett about being attacked by the Brethren. I thought he would question my sanity, but he didn’t. He knows they still walk the Earth. He said Michael told them of the Brethren and the prophecy the day I was born. He said that the next war that is fought between those above and below will be solely for dominion over humans and our world. Apparently my death is inevitable, but the sacrifice I choose to make before I die will decide the outcome of things. Bennett and Charissa and my parents before they died are the only ones who know about the prophecy. They kept it a secret for fear that if others in The Society found out, they might have tried to kill me to prevent the potential outcome.”

“Did Bennett say that
he
said anything else about it? Like what kind of sacrifice you would make, how you would die, when this is supposed to happen, what your two choices will be?”

“No, he didn’t. I don’t think
he
told him anything more. Bennett wouldn’t have only told me half of it and kept the rest from me.”

He grunted. “I’m willing to bet
he
only told them half of the prophecy and that there is more to it. Like I said, the Archangel isn’t forthcoming with complete details. He likes to paint half pictures to manipulate the outcome of things to the way he wants them to be. We need to find out more about the prophecy. What
he
told them of it isn’t the whole story and I have a feeling it might explain your uniqueness. And knowing how you are unique might also help you understand more about the choice you are supposed to make.”

“From what you say of the Archangel if there is more it doesn’t sound like he would divulge it.”

“No, but he might not be the only one with the information. What if the Brethren know about the prophecy too? It involves ones side just as much as the other. The Archangel is always talking about balance as his reason for doing certain things and not doing others. He claims that there are these cosmic rules both Brethren and Archangels must play by to avoid upsetting the balance of things before it is time to do so.”

“Let’s say that theory is correct. How do we go about finding out if they do?” It’s not like we could just snatch one off the street and interrogate them or walk up to one and nicely asked them what they knew.

 
A slow, calculating smile spread across Chase’s lips. “I know you’re off on the weekends, but are you up to see how Chosen Ones work? What I’ve been doing while you’ve been M.I.A?”