Wilder Read Free

pray also for the Chosen Ones. They accepted my grandson and gave him a role to play in this fight.”
    Guests were hanging on his every word, clearly confused by the direction of his speech.
    Meanwhile, Wilder mothers moved the younger children toward the shelter of the forest.
    Zorana came to Konstantine’s side to stand beside him.
    His family knew trouble when they saw it.
    Konstantine continued to speak, his voice commanding attention, the legend he told almost hypnotic with its dark, primitive rhythm. “Long ago, when the world was young, twins were born, marked by fate. Repulsed, their mother took them into the forest and abandoned them, and in recompense, the good God gave them special gifts. The boy could make fire, and he was rescued by a band of roving Gypsies and lovingly cared for. When the boy grew into a man, he gathered others like him, seven people with gifts who wished to use them for good, and they formed the Chosen Ones.”
    The Varinski now openly stared at Konstantine, his eyes black with hate.
    “The girl was rescued by a witch, who abused her most horribly. When she grew into a woman, she found she could see the future. She killed the witch as a sacrifice to Satan himself, and then gathered around her seven people with gifts who wished to serve evil, and they formed the Others.”
    Konstantine’s guests squirmed in their seats, starting to look uneasy at the turn this celebration had taken.
    Konstantine’s sons and grandsons followed Douglas’s silent commands and moved into place around the Varinski.
    “Each group of Chosen Ones serves a term of seven years, until a new group takes their place to fight the battle against the Others—and their master, the devil. These Chosen were sabotaged before they started. They came to the battle unprepared and without resources, for evil managed to breach their defenses. Their building, their researchers, their books, and their history were obliterated in one mighty explosion. And all of you must realize”—Konstantine leveled a stern look at his guests—“that the world as we know it is crumbling under the weight of corruption, blackmail, drugs, and vice.”
    The Varinski smiled, a wide, ugly, sneering grin.
    “We have only a few weeks left before the seven years of these Chosen are up, and when that happens—” Konstantine saw the Varinski lift his hand from under the table. He saw the flash of a metal barrel. He shouted, “Get down!”
    As the pistol roared, Konstantine dove sideways, sheltering Zorana with his body, taking her down to the ground.

Chapter 2
     
    K onstantine held Zorana tightly in his arms, terrified that she had been shot, and crawled with her under the table.
    Around him he heard guests screaming, benches being overturned.
    Feet stampeded past.
    “All clear!” Adrik shouted.
    “It’s all right, folks; we got him!” Rurik yelled.
    A whistle blew, loud and long—Douglas’s police whistle.
    At once the crowd quieted.
    “Calm down, everyone. We have everything under control. You’re safe,” Jasha said. “Please go ahead and return to your seats. I think we’re all going to need more vodka.”
    Nervous laughter.
    “Who is he?” someone asked.
    “We’re sorry. He’s a cousin. Looks like he went off his meds. It wasn’t a real gun,” Jasha lied with easy charm, soothing their guests. “We’ll handle him. Has anyone seen my parents?”
    People bent. Eyes peered beneath the table.
    “They’re here!” someone shouted.
    Zorana shoved at Konstantine. “Get off of me, you big oaf. You’re so heavy I can’t breathe.”
    He gave a sigh of relief. If she was giving him trouble . . . she was fine. Sitting up, he looked down at her, at the smudges of dirt on her face and her angry, snapping dark eyes. “You don’t usually complain when I’m on top of you.”
    “You usually offer me a better time than getting shot at.”
    “Next time someone aims a gun at you, I’ll whisper love words in your ear before I save