THE CLAIMING (The Chosen Series #1)

Mac Tíre Maité

Before I see who that came from, the woman continues in her firm Irish voice. "Shannon, Reagan, why don't you two go to the kitchen and make some tea? I think refreshments are in order." Trying to peek from my hiding place, I see a striking woman with long dark chocolate hair sitting in the chair opposite us, watching me intently.

"You may not remember me, but I'm Siobhan. Olivia," she waves her hand, motioning to my mother's friend, "why don't you come closer? I think Ava would appreciate a familiar face." Olivia, who hasn't aged a day, comes over and reaches out to touch my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Erin growls at the gesture. My bitch!

"It's okay, Erin, I'm okay," I reassure her, sitting up, my head heavy from exhaustion, but my body now thankfully warm from the fire.

"Ava," Olivia clears her throat, "honey, I'm so sorry. We thought... I don't know what we thought. I want you to know that none of us wanted this to happen, not like this."

Olivia, Liam, my parents—they all knew.

"How, Olivia? Tell me, how it should've been?" Looking at Siobhan with pleading eyes, Olivia swallows deeply and nods as the two women silently communicate. Siobhan reaches out a hand and takes hold of a small, brown leather picture book from a young girl with midnight black hair and pale skin.

"Thank you, Roisin. Olivia, I'll answer Ava's question," she passes the book over to me.

I open it, revealing a picture of my unmistakable mother in her later teens with long, dark blond curls and big eyes. She stands with a group, including a younger-looking Olivia, Siobhan, and among others, a woman standing in front with familiar steel grey-blue eyes. Griffin.

"Aye, love, I see you recognize some of us—your mother obviously, Olivia, myself. Noticing my focus on the beautiful woman with long dark brown hair, she smiles, "ahh Aisling," she points to the delicate girl with piercing eyes that could see into a person's soul—so familiar, innocent. Griffin. I can only see Griffin! "You see the resemblance?"

"Griffin?" I mumble, dazed about how beautiful she is, her soft, cherub-like face, and sparkling eyes.

"Aye, that's his ma." Pausing, a brief look of sadness flits across her features before a gentle smile returns, "Our families grew up together—your ma, Olivia, and the rest. Well, no, we didn't all grow up together in the same place, but we're part of the same community."

Confusion furrows my brows, feeling my head starting to pound lightly from the bond. Siobhan sits back in her seat, ankles crossed beneath black slacks, "It was a tragedy what happened to your parents, Ava. It's our tradition, our way for them to tell you about your heritage. But, given the current circumstances, we'll do our best to help you through this transition."

Turning to face Erin, she continues, "Before we begin, Erin, you must swear that what you're about to hear stays in this room. We don't usually involve outsiders in our community's complexities, but Ava seems to have claimed you as kin."

Nodding, Erin agrees, her lips pursed. Accepting a mug of steaming tea from one of the two girls, Shannan or Reagan, I think? She confirms her understanding.

Taking my mug, I inhale the sweet, floral aroma, sipping the warm liquid—different from traditional black tea but delicious nonetheless. I wait for Siobhan to continue, eyes scanning the room—women slender, stunning at different maturity levels, clustered in respective age groups.

The young dark-haired woman, Roisin, sits at the center of the younger girls, seemingly significant to them. In the far corner, a young girl, late teens, early twenties at most, sits alone in a wheelchair, wrapped in a blanket, gazing out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Enraptured by her silent beauty, I stare.