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Back The Lost Books
Chapters (132)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. CHOSEN: LOST BOOK 1
  3. BEGINNINGS
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. INFIDEL: LOST BOOK 2
  35. BEGINNINGS
  36. ONE
  37. TWO
  38. THREE
  39. FOUR
  40. FIVE
  41. SIX
  42. SEVEN
  43. EIGHT
  44. NINE
  45. TEN
  46. ELEVEN
  47. TWELVE
  48. THIRTEEN
  49. FOURTEEN
  50. FIFTEEN
  51. SIXTEEN
  52. SEVENTEEN
  53. EIGHTEEN
  54. NINETEEN
  55. TWENTY
  56. TWENTY-ONE
  57. TWENTY-TWO
  58. TWENTY-THREE
  59. TWENTY-FOUR
  60. TWENTY-FIVE
  61. TWENTY-SIX
  62. TWENTY-SEVEN
  63. RENEGADE: LOST BOOK 3
  64. BEGINNINGS
  65. ONE
  66. TWO
  67. THREE
  68. FOUR
  69. FIVE
  70. SIX
  71. SEVEN
  72. EIGHT
  73. NINE
  74. TEN
  75. ELEVEN
  76. TWELVE
  77. THIRTEEN
  78. FOURTEEN
  79. FIFTEEN
  80. SIXTEEN
  81. SEVENTEEN
  82. EIGHTEEN
  83. NINETEEN
  84. TWENTY
  85. TWENTY-ONE
  86. TWENTY-TWO
  87. TWENTY-THREE
  88. TWENTY-FOUR
  89. TWENTY-FIVE
  90. TWENTY-SIX
  91. TWENTY-SEVEN
  92. TWENTY-EIGHT
  93. TWENTY-NINE
  94. THIRTY
  95. THIRTY-ONE
  96. THIRTY-TWO
  97. THIRTY-THREE
  98. THIRTY-FOUR
  99. THIRTY-FIVE
  100. THIRTY-SIX
  101. THIRTY-SEVEN
  102. CHAOS: LOST BOOK 4
  103. BEGINNINGS
  104. ONE
  105. TWO
  106. THREE
  107. FOUR
  108. FIVE
  109. SIX
  110. SEVEN
  111. EIGHT
  112. NINE
  113. TEN
  114. ELEVEN
  115. TWELVE
  116. THIRTEEN
  117. FOURTEEN
  118. FIFTEEN
  119. SIXTEEN
  120. SEVENTEEN
  121. EIGHTEEN
  122. NINETEEN
  123. TWENTY
  124. TWENTY-ONE
  125. TWENTY-TWO
  126. TWENTY-THREE
  127. TWENTY-FOUR
  128. TWENTY-FIVE
  129. TWENTY-SIX
  130. TWENTY-SEVEN
  131. TWENTY-EIGHT
  132. TWENTY-NINE

“Maybe,” Karas said. “But I’ve run through every possible scenario a thousand times over the years, and I assure you, we’d better be prepared for the worst, because I have a nasty feeling your little stunt on the Net set into motion much more than you bargained for.”

Karas’s speculation put a bit of a damper on the flight, but it was quickly overcome by the jet’s sudden descent and frightening maneuvering over a sprawling compound of white buildings and small bodies of blue water she called “swimming pools.”

They were flying over her house. A small town by all measures, nestled in the hills above the city of angels: Los Angeles. They would set down on a private airstrip, freshen up, and change into clothing more suitable than the prison smocks they currently wore.

All this according to Karas, who gave them a running commentary. Silvie wasn’t entirely sure what it all meant, but she took it in wearing the same look of dumb wonder that was plastered on Johnis’s face. Though she suspected by the comments he kept making that he was under the illusion he understood perfectly.

They landed, exited the airplane, and took a car to the main house. More accurately, the mansion. Towering white columns supported a huge ceiling that arched over the main atrium. Several servants greeted them, one at the front door, one in the kitchen, another near the pool area that overlooked the city below.

It was all a bit much for Silvie, but Karas glided around on her bare feet as naturally as a sparrow who’d come home to her nest.

They would eat at seven, she informed the cook—after the concert. Lobster and aged Kobe beef for the guests tonight; let’s show them what the Histories have to offer.

She effortlessly ran through a stack of notes handed to her by a secretary wearing jeans and named Rick Cumberland, directing the man on a number of urgent issues, as though doing so were as natural as eating a meal.

The butler showed Sylvie and Johnis to two bedrooms where he’d laid out several outfits of new clothing as instructed by Karas. They reconvened on the patio—Johnis dressed in loose-fitting jeans with a black T-shirt, and Silvie in a black skirt with a white, sleeveless top. Johnis opted for boots. Silvie, sandals.

Karas looked them over and nodded her approval. “Not bad. You’ll fit right in.”

“Fit right in where?”

“I’m introducing one of my singers, Tony Montana, at a concert in the Rose Bowl. Something I foolishly agreed to do when a client wins in their respective categories at all major awards shows, which Tony did at the 12th annual VH2 Awards last week. We’ll leave for the Rose Bowl by helicopter in an hour.”

“A bowl?”

“A little larger than a bowl, actually,” Karas laughed.

FOURTEEN

FOURTEEN