Chosen

Culebra, however, can and does. I expect him to be of one mind with me on this and even send him a private message to take it easy on Frey. He obviously believes the crap he’s spouting.

The surprise is on me.

Culebra’s eyes are shining when he turns his gaze on me. “Here is the counsel you were seeking.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. It takes me a moment to search Culebra’s mind, to convince myself he isn’t joking. Even then, I can’t help blurting, “You’re buying into this?”

“You were looking for the truth. I think Frey has found it.”

For a dizzying moment, I feel like Alice down the rabbit hole. Culebra and Frey both stare at me. Their eyes reflect awe, as if recognizing something in me that was never there before. It’s both disconcerting and ridiculous.

I slam my beer bottle down on the tabletop and they jump. Beer foams over the top and soaks the papers. Frey manages to grab the book before it gets soaked, too.

Now what I see in their eyes is something I’m used to—irritation—and that’s a lot easier to deal with.

I lean toward Frey. “Earth to Frey. This is the twenty-first century. Angels and demons no longer walk the earth and I don’t have a mark on me. I think you’ve either misread the prophecy or there is another vampire out there awaiting coronation. It’s not me.”

He’s whisking beer off the table with the edge of one hand, holding the book aloft with the other. “I don’t care whether you believe it or not,” he says. “You are the Chosen One. Everything that’s happened proves it. No newly made vampire has the strength and abilities you have. You’re here for a reason. You are going to have to accept it.”

“No. I don’t.”

He looks up and straight into my eyes. “Not even to save David?”

“That is so not fair.”

Even to my own ears I sound like a nasal Valley girl and I want to cringe. But the sentiment is real. I start ticking off reasons why this idea that I’m some kind of vampiric prophet is beyond insane.

“Let’s look at this logically. You said I’m the descendant of The First. How much sense does that make? Vampires don’t choose to become. They are not born, they are made. Donaldson attacked me because I was trying to take him into custody. He didn’t intend to turn me. He intended to kill me. I became vampire as the result of a random act. Nothing else. It was hardly destiny.”

Frey lets me finish before he launches into a litany of his own. “Random? Let’s see. Donaldson was in a parking lot that particular night because he’d gone out for a drink. Alone. To a bar he’d never gone to before on the night before he was to take off to Mexico. Did I get that right?”

He barely waits for my grudging nod. “You were there because you left a safe, secure job as a teacher to become a bounty hunter. In the grand scheme of things, makes as much sense as Donaldson risking his freedom to go out for a lousy drink. But let’s get back to what happened. Donaldson turns out not to be the human skip you expect him to be but a vampire who does not kill you, but turns you because he is interrupted and has to flee before he can finish you off.”

I don’t like the direction this is heading. I open my mouth, but Frey barges ahead.

“You wake up in a hospital with no memory of what happened. You are being taken care of by a doctor who, coincidentally, just happens to be on duty the night you’re brought in and even more coincidentally, happens to be a vampire himself.”

“It is coincidence,” I insist. “All of it.”

“Really?” Frey asks. “Then why did Avery take such an interest in you? You’ve been vampire long enough to know vampires are not social creatures. They may feel responsible for ones they themselves have turned. Williams with Ortiz, for instance. But why did Avery go out of his way to mentor you if he hadn’t seen that there was something different about you? Something special.”

“It’s called being horny, Frey. Avery wanted me for sex.”

“I’m sure that played a part in it,” he says dryly. “You do inspire that in men. But even when you met Williams for the first time, he called you ‘the one.’ He saw it, too. From the begi

Damn it. I know I hadn’t told Frey all this. I wish now I’d bitten him sooner. He obviously had enough time to memorize every detail of my history before I broke our psychic co

I glance over at Culebra. He’s so wrapped up in Frey’s telling of the story, you’d think he was hearing it for the first time. I can’t expect any help from that quarter.

“All right. Let’s tackle this from another angle.” I sit up straighter in the chair. “If I’m so all powerful, how come Lance was able to fool me? He hasn’t been vampire that long and I didn’t have an inkling who he was. I swallowed his story like a shark swallows chum. I wasn’t even perceptive enough to sense that he was lying to me. He drugged me and dragged me off to France, for Christ’s sake. I can’t take care of myself. What idiot would want me to be responsible for the fate of the world?”

Finally, finally, I’ve rendered Frey speechless. He stares at me openmouthed. He didn’t know what had happened with Lance. He thought we’d just had a fight.

Culebra is the one who speaks first. “A

Frey finds his voice. “He drugged you? Did he hurt you?”

“Not nearly as much as I plan to hurt him.”

“Why would he do it? What was he thinking?” He looks like he has a million other questions, none of which would make any more sense then the ones he just asked.

“Pretty much my reaction when I woke up. But I don’t want to talk about Lance. My point is I think you’re wrong about me. I’m not special and I’m not all-powerful and I don’t want to be responsible for anyone other than myself.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself.” This from Culebra. “And if Frey is right—” He sees me open my mouth to interrupt and forges ahead before I can. “If Frey is right, what you want isn’t important, is it? You won’t be the first leader to assume the burden of responsibility with reluctance and humility.”

“Well, I can sure as hell refuse to assume that mantle of responsibility. Who’s going to stop me?”

“If we’ve guessed right, Mrs. Williams.”

Frey succeeds with that simple declaration in bringing the conversation back full circle. “She must have heard from her husband a million times how you were fighting the prophecies. How you clung to your family, to David and your human life. Your family was out of reach. David was not.”

He’s slipped the book back into the briefcase with a glance to me that says he’s doing it to keep it out of harm’s way . . . out of my way. Then he shuffles the beer-soaked papers into a soggy pile. “I made notes about what I believe will happen on the evening of your ascension.”

“Ascension?” Another word that provokes a squeak of protest. “You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack,” he says with an earnestness that borders on mania. “Now, do you want to hear what I’ve learned, or are you going to keep interrupting?”

Culebra lays his hands over mine on the table. “I want to hear it,” he says. “A

I shake my head. For someone who may be addressing the Chosen One, you show remarkably little respect.

He grins. Come Tuesday, you might be able to smite me dead. Until then, this is my bar. He lifts a chin in Frey’s direction. “Go on. You have our attention.”

CHAPTER 36

The teacher in Frey takes over. He stands up and assumes an at-a-podium kind of wide-legged stance, papers in one hand.

“You can’t do this sitting down?” I grumble.

Culebra makes a shushing sound.

“Okay. Here’s the deal. I’ve divided my research into two categories: the ceremony itself, what to expect after.” He pauses, waiting, I suppose, for me to interrupt again.