The Forsaken (The Chosen Series Book 2)

to test him on his knowledge.
As he sat down at the desk, he opened his notebook. Inside, he had written down the entire lineage from the Old Testament Prophet Daniel to his grandfather and then down to him. He was in the direct ancestry of Daniel, the one who was thrown into captivity by Babylon in 605 B.C. when he was only a boy, himself. The most courageous. He stood up to King Nebuchadnezzar and did not falter. Even when they pitched him into the lion’s pit, he remained faithful.
His teacher, a wiry old man named Luke Gates, entered the room. “Blessed morning, Young Prophet Daniel.”
It was already after noon, but Daniel did not argue. The man was very old. He’d been the very one to train his father. And his father had trained Daniel’s grandfather. Luke was the only one to ever give him the premature title of prophet.
“Blessed morning, Luke.” Although titles were important, from the time he was able to speak, Daniel had called the man by his first name.
“Are you ready for your lessons?” he asked as he sat across from Daniel.
“Yes, sir.”
“Where were we, then?”
The lesson, though different each time, always began the same.
“Babylon,” Daniel said.
“The English, they are Babylon,” the old man chanted in a gruff voice. “If you do not keep the whole word of God . . .”
“Babylon shall overtake you,” Daniel finished. The words were drilled into his brain.
“And why is that?”
“The Israelites were disobedient. That was why God allowed them to be overtaken.”
“You must not falter in the word of God,” the old man started.
“Therefore, be diligent in keeping His laws.” Daniel finished.
“Let us begin our lesson.”
DANIEL FLIPPED THROUGH the stations of his television. Out of over a hundred cable network channels, there was not a single thing worth watching.
How to reduce wrinkles and Three steps to a healthier you did not interest him. Infomercials. He’d seen them all.
Daniel got up from his beanbag chair on the floor and flipped off the television. Maybe there was something better going on in his father’s office.
He crept quietly back to the room. The sound of his father’s voice echoed down the long corridor. “. . . and I have the English police coming right in and questioning the members of my community.”
“There is nothing to be done about that. Just keep a low profile, and they will eventually go away.”
As soon as Daniel heard the response, he knew the familiar voice of the man his father was speaking to. One who looked nothing like the people of the community but one Daniel had seen often. Even from behind, his dark wayward hair and his creased button-down shirt tucked neatly into his dress pants was proof of who he was. Marcus Commons was another permanent fixture in Daniel’s life. He was a cool guy who often snuck candy and other goodies to Daniel while his parents weren’t looking. Although he would never say so, Daniel got the idea Marcus felt sorry for him.
“What will it take to find them, Marcus?” his father asked. “Naaman will not do the job properly. He is weak. I am in need of someone who is not afraid to do the job right.
“What exactly do you want me to do? You want them brought back here? To you?”
“I want them gone. Done away with. Dead.”
At his father’s words, Daniel crept closer. Dead? He would have them murdered?
“I will see what I can find on them,” Marcus said.
“Yes, you do that,” the High Prophet huffed. “And what about Rachel? What have you found out about her?”
“She is alive. She was apparently picked up on the side of the road and taken into a woman's home. Her name is Shelly. Shelly Newton.”
“How did this happen? She was supposed to die in the desert.”
“Maybe your god had other plans,” Marcus mocked.
“Do not start with me, Marcus. Find her and get rid of her as well.”
“Daniel, do you not understand how dangerous this is? You risk placing your entire community in danger.”
The man never spoke to Daniel’s father with the respect others did. He was an outsider. Daniel was not sure what his purpose there was, but he was certainly not Chosen.
“Marcus!” The High Prophet roared as he slammed a hand on his desk. His face turned several hues before finishing off with a dark shade of candy-apple red. Daniel took a step back. “Do I need to find someone else? Someone who will do the job without question?”
“I’m just saying, if this comes back to you, the entire—”
“Marcus!”
“Fine. But I won’t go down for this.”
“If you do it right, you won’t have to.”
“Don’t tell me how to do my job, Daniel. I'm not one of your servants, and I'm not your henchman either. I do not believe that killing a bunch of wayward teenagers has ever been in my job description. I will not be—”
“Take care of it, or I will find someone else to do it. End of conversation.”
Young Daniel peeked around the door to get another look at his father. The High Prophet’s eyes were like fire. His mouth was so pursed together that his bottom lip had completely disappeared. He’d been pushed to his limit.
“Find someone else.” Marcus threw up his hands. “I have done your dirty deeds long enough. Murder was never in the contract.” As the man turned, Daniel scooted back. “Hire a contract killer. I won’t be a part of it.”
Yes! Daniel punched a quiet fist in the air. Finally, someone brave enough to stand up to his father.
The man rushed out the door so quickly that Daniel had to scurry backward so as not to be seen.
Daniel sprinted down the hall and into the corridor leading to the dining room. Shaking and out of breath, he peeked back around the corner. Marcus stormed off in the opposite direction. Daniel stopped and leaned against the wall. Shocked and completely out of breath, it took him a moment to notice the click sound