Chosen (9781742844657) (47 page)

Despite his unhelpful page-related advice, I still wanted to speak with Renatus, so I marched up the stairwell to the top floor and down the hall to his office. I slowed as I got closer, noting a piece of paper tacked to the door. I knew straightaway what it was. I recognised the scrunched paper that had lived for days in the pocket of my jeans, and I recognised the eight names written in the spidery print of Renatus's handwriting. I battled a smirk; he
knew
I'd come. I pulled the list free of the door without giving it a proper look.

If I had, I would have noticed new lines crossing out all remaining names, bar one: mine.

Teresa nervously checked the oven again. Her rich vegetarian lasagne was coming along perfectly, cheese bubbling cheerfully on the top. Would the homemade fries be ready in time to be served with the lasagne? What about the steamed vegetables?

‘Relax, Teresa,' her boyfriend, Samuel, soothed, speaking English. He was Italian, and when she'd first moved in with him they'd only spoken Italian at home and in their community. When she'd been initiated onto the White Elm, the need to speak fluent English had become prevalent, and Samuel had had the idea to speak only English at home so that her fluency could improve.

‘I'm trying,' Teresa said, tucking strands of curly brown hair behind her ears. ‘I just want everything to go perfectly tonight. I don't want any hitches…'

‘Everything will be fine,' Jadon assured her. He, Aubrey and Samuel were sitting around the small table, playing a game of cards. ‘We're here in case there are any complications. And stop staring at the oven,' he added. ‘You haven't managed to burn or ruin a meal in all the times we've bludged here. There's no way you can possibly screw it up.'

Samuel very subtly glanced up from his hand of cards to eye Jadon. Neither of her colleagues noticed, but Teresa did.

Teresa had never been a very social person, but upon her initiation onto the council she had formed very strong and close bonds with both Aubrey and Jadon. Just like her, they were young and new, and just like her, they were mostly treated like outsiders by the rest of the White Elm. It became routine to spend time with them outside of work, hanging out like normal friends did.

Samuel had at first been distant with her new friends. She knew he had felt suspicious, not of her but of them. Why else would two guys want to spend time with his girlfriend? Slowly, though, he had come to accept that both Aubrey and Jadon were nice young men, worthy of his trust and friendship. He had warmed to Aubrey much more quickly, upon learning that Aubrey had a girlfriend of his own, Shell. Apparently, despite appearances, Samuel was still cautious of Jadon.

Teresa knew it would help matters if she spent less time with Aubrey and Jadon, but she cared about them and felt responsible for them. Neither of them had a clue how to take care of themselves. Shell was always travelling somewhere, leaving her domestic disaster of a boyfriend to fend for himself, and Jadon lived alone in a granny flat under his mother's house. Neither of them knew how to cook a meal from scratch. Jadon thought that “real food” meant drive-through burgers and fries because it wasn't from the freezer. They
needed
Teresa. She was surprised they'd lasted twenty years without her.

‘So who is it that's coming tonight?' Samuel asked, laying out his cards for the others to see.

‘Emmanuelle,' Teresa answered, adjusting the heat setting for the vegetables.

‘I don't remember her,' Samuel said, watching as Aubrey also laid down his cards.

‘You will when you see her,' Jadon assured him. He dropped his cards triumphantly. ‘She's nice to look at.'

At the trio's initiation, Samuel, Shell and other family members had been present as witnesses. It was the only time Samuel had met anyone on the council except for Aubrey and Jadon.

‘So long as you're not looking at her forehead, which has “traitorous bitch” written across it in bold print,' Aubrey muttered. Jadon and Samuel tried not to laugh, while Teresa struggled to pretend the insult didn't offend her on Emmanuelle's behalf.

‘Aubrey,' she said, firmly.

‘What? She's family. I'm entitled to think of her like that.' He sipped his beer and reshuffled the deck. ‘I certainly can't think of her like Jadon does.'

‘I said she's nice to look at,' Jadon said again. ‘I think she's hot, and she is. I wouldn't dare think anything else. Can you imagine what would happen to me if anyone happened to be browsing my thoughts at that moment? She'd tear me to shreds. Not worth it. I'll stick to looking – no thinking.'

Aubrey and Samuel laughed. Teresa pretended to preoccupy herself with cooking. Aubrey's attitude towards Emmanuelle had gone a long way downhill in recent weeks. Teresa didn't like hearing it. She quietly admired the French Healer, who embodied many qualities that Teresa wished that she herself possessed. Emmanuelle was strong-willed, defiant, determined and confident. When she wanted something, she went forth and got it. She was an intelligent, independent and empowered woman. She showed her feelings, which Teresa really respected. When she was hurting, she let it show. She was open and stronger for it.

Teresa found it difficult to consider herself equal to the other White Elm councillors. They seemed so imposing and superhuman. It was rare for any of the male councillors to ask her for an opinion, although Lady Miranda, Susannah, Anouk and Emmanuelle easily held their own during council circles, so it wasn't because she was female. It was because she hadn't proven herself yet.

The lasagne was ready, so Teresa donned her oven mitts and pulled it free of the oven. There was a soft knock at the door.

‘Can someone get that?' Teresa called over her shoulder, feeling nervous. It was like being ten and having a friend over for the first time. What would she think of your family home? That terror of being judged was still very real.

‘Yeah, I will,' Jadon said, carefully setting down his cards. ‘Keep an eye on these two for me, will you?'

‘Don't you trust us?' Aubrey asked, grinning.

‘With my life, yeah,' Jadon said. He approached the front door. ‘Just not with my cards.' He opened the door and smiled easily at the person on the other side, stepping aside for her. ‘Hey, Emmanuelle.'

Emmanuelle smiled in return, a golden smile, and swept inside. In her scarlet dress and black corset, and with her wavy blonde hair, she looked every bit a medieval princess. Teresa had difficulty ignoring the soft voices of her insecurities – jealousy and inadequacy were the loudest.

That
was what a White Elm councillor should look like. Self-assured and confident:
that
was how the ring's guardian should be.

Why had Teresa ever agreed to this?

‘Hi,' she said, trying to smile normally.

‘Hi, Teresa,' Emmanuelle answered, smiling warmly. ‘Thank you again for inviting me to stay for dinner.'

‘You're very welcome,' Teresa said, feeling nervous as she began to dish up the food. She had thought that by having dinner first there would be time for her nerves to settle before she had to work, but now she wasn't sure. Maybe prolonging the inevitable would only make it worse.

‘Let me ‘elp,' Emmanuelle said, her tone too firm to argue with, as she moved into the kitchen and took the vegetables off the boil.

‘Thanks,' Teresa mumbled, meekly handing over a ladle. She hurriedly collected five plates and spread them across the limited bench space.

‘So, you're alone tonight, Emmanuelle?' Aubrey asked from the table.

‘If by that you're asking whether Renatus is joining me ‘ere, no, ‘e isn't,' Emmanuelle replied. ‘He made it sound as though you were afraid of ‘im being ‘ere tonight. I
hope
that isn't true.'

‘It isn't,' Aubrey assured her, lightly punching Jadon's arm to get his attention. The American councillor had not yet taken his seat and resumed the game; instead, he was hovering beside the table, watching the women prepare the meal, apparently wanting to offer to help but unable to see any way of being able to do so now. ‘What else did your boyfriend say?'

‘Renatus isn't my boyfriend,' Emmanuelle answered easily, spooning the last of the vegetables onto the fifth plate. Teresa admired the calm and grace with which Emmanuelle dismissed Aubrey's jibe. ‘‘owever, ‘e asked me to ask you to do something, but I won't repeat it. It wouldn't be polite.'

‘
Pourquoi, qu'est-ce qu'il a dit
?' Aubrey asked, his voice challenging. Why, what did he say? But Emmanuelle refused to say.

‘
Demandez-lui vous-même
,' she suggested. Ask him yourself. She went to the oven to collect the fries while Teresa served out the lasagne.

‘English, remember,' Samuel reminded Aubrey. Jadon, the only non-European present, nodded.

‘Yes, please. Keep in mind that your ignorant mono-linguistic pal is still here.'

‘Please finish the game,' Teresa asked of the boys. ‘We need the table. Samuel, can you please find the spare chair so we can all sit together?'

It would be a squeeze, five people eating around a small table designed for four people. But Aubrey and Jadon had been insistent – they wanted to be here tonight, just in case.

Dinner was slightly awkward to begin with but improved as stomachs became fuller. Emmanuelle made every effort to be friendly and talkative, despite being an outsider to a tight small group, and though Aubrey didn't respond much, Teresa tried her best to keep conversation flowing, and soon Samuel and Jadon were chatting away, too.

Time just keeps on moving forwards, and those future things you dread eventually become the present. All too soon, Jadon and Samuel were kicking Teresa out of her kitchen, taking over the washing-up, reminding her that she had important work to do.

It was a brilliant idea, really, although Renatus had brilliant ideas all of the time. Teresa could understand why Lord Gawain had kept him around for so long, even if no one else could. He was terrifying but he was clever.

He'd caught up with her in the library at Morrissey House while she searched for material for her lessons. At first, when he'd entered the library behind her, she'd expected him to ignore her completely, so she'd been more than a little surprised when he'd actually called her name. He'd quietly described the all-important ring that Emmanuelle was guarding – everyone knew she had it, but only a few councillors had actually handled it and she always wore so many rings that anyone who hadn't seen it before wouldn't know which one it was.

‘She wears it on her thumb,' Renatus had explained, while Teresa had wondered why he suddenly felt like sharing information with her. ‘It's a thick, solid thing made from silver, with a crest and a black stone set into it. The Elm Stone. You must have seen it.'

Teresa had, and had considered it probably the plainest of Emmanuelle's lovely collection of “everyday” jewellery. She'd assumed it to have some kind of sentimental value, and apparently she had guessed correctly. It was the ring left to her by her old friend, Peter.

‘I know you can cast illusions as convincing as life,' Renatus had said next. ‘Can you recreate that ring?'

Teresa had deliberated, uncertain. Yes, she could very easily create a visual and tactile illusion so true-to-life that no one could tell the difference between the two rings, but she did not know how effectively she could fake the illusion's energy. A typical illusion had
no
energy. The real ring had an aura all its own – it was visible on Emmanuelle's right hand, emanating from her bejewelled fingers. Could she recreate that? Maybe. Possibly. Probably, if she exercised a great deal of skill, effort and care.

‘Yes,' she'd replied at length. ‘I think I can.'

‘How long can you make it last?'

‘The visual and physical illusion could probably last up to two days outside my auric field,' Teresa had said then, feeling oddly professional. It seemed strange to be talking to Renatus like this (talking to him at all was unusual – talking to him like an equal was just strange). ‘I don't think the energetic illusion, if I can cast it, would even last an hour. Maybe only half.'

‘You would be its guardian – the illusion's guardian.' Renatus had glanced over his shoulder at the closed door, perhaps sensing someone passing it in the entrance hall. ‘If it was taken from you, half an hour should be enough time for you to get away before Lisandro realised he'd been tricked. What do you think?'

Teresa had not told him what she thought, because she had only been thinking of how terrifying the idea of meeting Lisandro really was.

‘Sounds great,' she'd said finally, because it did, in theory. Renatus had nodded then, and turned as if to leave, but something had suddenly occurred to him, because he had paused.

‘Lord Gawain arrives in an hour. I know he'll love to hear your idea about the ring.'