Chosen

AFTERWORD

I couldn’t go to the bar when I left the house. I called Frey, gave him the all-clear signal, some sketchy details about what had transpired. I know he has a million questions, but something in my voice must have betrayed my weariness because he didn’t press. I asked him to call Culebra, tell him I survived, and he said he would.

The next day, I met with Tracey. I told her David would be in but asked that she not repeat our conversation. I admitted there was no “game,” that I wasn’t in a position to explain and that the situation was complicated. A nice catchphrase.

Instead of challenging me, she looked me straight in the eye. “Okay. For now. But I know you aren’t what you seem. I can be patient. You need to trust me. You will.”

Somehow, I believe it.

David came in, still sore, still wondering what happened during his “blackout.” He told Tracey about his “accident,” and she listened to him with wide-eyed attention and said she was glad he wasn’t hurt more seriously. She didn’t even wink at me.

She lies almost as well as I do.

We had a skip to trace, so we got to it.

I felt back in my element for the first time in a while.

This is where I want to be. This is where I belong. I know I haven’t begun to realize the ramifications of being the Chosen One. But for now, I’ve survived. My first year as a vampire. My first challenge from the council. My family is safe. My friends close.

Not a bad way to start a new year.