Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles (29 page)

Lowering his hand from his face, he tried to soothe her. “There is nothing for you to worry about. Even if it is, it will not harm you. At least I don’t think so,” he finished in a whisper. He exchanged her frightened and confused sight for the frown on the Noble’s face.

“Well,” huffed Fernando. “There’s only one way to find out if this is the cause.”

“How?” Crimson eyes narrowed suspiciously.

The answer was quick and forthcoming as Fernando whipped out Yin, grabbed Jeanie’s wrist and cut. Her scream of shock turned into a cry of pain as the Noble held her, allowing red beads to drip from the shallow wound onto the table. Try as she might she was locked in strong hands.

At her cry and the realization of the Noble’s movements, the Angel bolted to his feet. It was totally unexpected and he moved in a haze of shock, but fast enough to grab the thick wrist and strike Fernando across the face. The Noble released Jeanie’s wrist as he bounced against the back of the couch.

The malicious smile gone, he rubbed the side of his stinging face and tested his jaw. Fernando had never been punched that hard before. “You weren’t kidding.” The Angel glared at him and he brought his attention to the pool of blood on the table.

Shooting the Noble one last glare, the Angel sat beside Jeanie who rocked her embraced arm in an attempt to will the pain away.

“Let me see it.” He tried to make his voice gentle despite the anger that swelled within. It seemed to work; Jeanie sniffed, nodded, and extended her arm, allowing him to take it.

Her skin was soft and warm to his touch. The cut was not deep and seemed to be clotting. He ran a thumb over the wound, making her flinch, but it seemed better. The smell of her hot blood called to him and he met her intense green eyes. For a moment they locked and there was nothing but each other. Startled, he released her.

“It will heal,” he remarked, and then turned his attention to the Noble. “Is there some place where she can rest?” His anger barely in check, his inquiry was more of an order.

Brown eyes narrowed yet the curl of his lips did not depart. “Upstairs,” answered Fernando with a jerk of his head. “Second door on your left.”

Nervous of possible further attacks Jeanie stood, holding her wounded wrist and glanced down at the Angel, worry filling her eyes.

“Go ahead,” he nodded. “It will be alright.”

Jeanie turned, picked up the flickering candle in a plain silver holder and went half way up the stairs where she halted. Allowing for one final glance down at him, she briefly smiled, and hurried up the final steps.

He watched Jeanie’s flight and slumped his shoulders at the slam of the door. Running an uninjured hand through his hair, he brought his eyes to bear on the Noble. “You had better explain yourself.” His tone was cold and threatening. “For if you do not I
will
carry out my promise.”

“Yes, you do have it bad for that one,” chuckled the Noble. He swirled a finger in the pool of blood and popped the red stained finger into his mouth, sucking it clean, all the while keeping an eye on the Angel. “Delicious don’t you think”

“You are a
vampire
,” he sneered. He meant it purely in a derogatory way and at the raised brow he knew Fernando had received it as such. “There is nothing left to you except your own cruelty.” He rose to his feet. “You care for nothing and as such nothing cares for you. I pity you.” He turned to go up the stairs.

“Where do you think you are going?” bellowed the Noble, rising. Pity was for weaklings and to have it thrust on him infuriated him.

He placed a foot on the first step and addressed Fernando. “I am going to remove Jeanie and myself from your presence. This partnership is at an end.”

“Fine, but don’t you want to find out if it is that powder?” His half smile returned as the Angel halted halfway up. Pulling out the purchase order, Fernando waved it enticingly. “Not to mention I am the one with the next lead. What do you have?”

Knowing that Fernando was right, he reluctantly descended and came to tower over the Noble, who sat and opened the little bottle. Instantly the room filled with the horrible stench.

“You may have the leads. I can find more on my own.”

“With her helping you? I doubt it.” Fernando tapped the mouth of the phial, distributing a small amount into the red pool. “You allow her presence to limit you because you will not tell her the truth of what you are.” He mixed the blood and powder together with a finger.

“And what is that?” he inquired, coldly.

Fernando shot the Angel a sidelong glance. “A va –, a Chosen, of course.” He sucked his finger clean and spat. “It’s the powder.”

The culprit of the poisoning revealed, the Angel stared at Jeanie’s tainted blood for a moment before bringing his gaze back to the Noble. “It is forbidden to tell mortals of our existence unless they are about to be Chosen. She is not to be Chosen. Yet you still think I should tell her.”

“If you don’t, I will.” Fernando’s face was all seriousness.

“No.”

“Then you limit us both.”

“We are partners no longer.”

A deep chuckle resounded through the room. “You don’t see it, do you? We’re stuck with each other if we want to survive, and I have a feeling that you have much more to lose than I. Therefore you can pity me all you want and we will remain partners.”

Shoulders slumped in resignation; he landed heavily on the opposite couch. “I do not want you to tell her.”

“You will?”

“No,” he shook his head.

“God damn it, man,” exploded Fernando. He thought he was getting through to his partner. “Damn your stubbornness!”

“We are limited by what we are. What difference does this make?”

“A big difference,” ranted the Noble. “She is going to figure out that we don’t eat, we don’t drink and that we can’t go out in the day. She
will
notice that we are different.”

Propping elbows on his knees, he rested his head in his good hand. “Notus and I have kept it a secret for five years, but if she finds out then I will deal with it if the time comes.”

“I don’t think it’s a matter of if. It’s a matter of when. Whatever excuses you and your sire conjured up aren’t going to be applicable to us working together.”

Silence fell between the two. Fernando was probably right about Jeanie yet he was reluctant to do anything about it. He had no idea how she would react if she found out, but he believed it would be the end of her involvement. It would also mean an end to her life since Notus made it impossible for him to use the Push on her. The thought of taking her life to keep his secrets opened a pit in his stomach.

Gradually the light in the parlour began to take on the subtle changes that were the prelude to dawn. Lines around objects became more defined and the yellow glow from the numerous candles became more restricted.

Slapping his hands against his thighs, Fernando rose to his feet. “It looks as if you will have to stay the day,” he remarked, making the rounds to close windows, draw drapes, and snuff wicks. “It is too bad that we cannot at least witness the birth of the day. If there is something I miss it is that.”

Following the Noble’s example, he stood, cloak in hand and went up the stairs, leaving Fernando to stare oddly at him as he entered the second room on the left.

The door clicked shut behind him and he approached the window, its curtains wide open, allowing the soft grey light of pre-dawn to spill into the large room. Savouring the last remnants of the night, he drew the drapes, leaving him in near darkness to study his surroundings.

The bedroom was larger than he expected, with a canopied bed taking up precedence along the northern wall. A wardrobe, a chaise and a few dressers were neatly arranged, allowing for space and aesthetics. On the top of one of the dressers a porcelain pitcher and basin stood ready for use.

A sigh filtered in the silence, reaching sensitive ears. He turned to find Jeanie asleep in the large bed and quietly walked up to her. He picked up her clothes from the floor and hung them on the footboard before coming to stand beside her sleeping form. The light from the candle on the bed stand lit up the fire of her hair. A menagerie of red, gold, russet, cinnamon and even crimson danced in response to the flickering flame.

Kneeling down, he stared at her relaxed face and noticed for the first time the slight sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her small slightly upturned nose. Long thick red eyelashes danced over dreaming eyes and she let out a soft moan from her full lips. The cut on her forehead was healing well and he so wanted to smooth the frown from her face. Instead, nervously, he allowed himself to touch one of the many curls abound on the pillow. Its soft tress encircled his finger and he luxuriated in the touch. He knelt there silently intoxicated by the sight, sound and smell of Jeanie.

Abruptly the short vigil was broken as she rolled onto her side. Standing up, he pulled the thick coverlet over her pale shoulder, her shift having slipped down her arm. Backing away, not wanting to retreat from the view, a shudder ran up his spine.
My Gods, this
is
love.
The thought filled him with terror and something else – joy.

It could not be, he had steeled himself from this possibility for so long. To have it happen again, now, confounded and horrified him, yet he so wanted to drink it in and let it wash over him.

Retreating to the washbasin, he found it filled with fresh water and placing his folded cloak on the chaise he went and dunked his trembling hands in the cool water. The scratch on his right hand cooled significantly, but the redness remained. It felt worse than it appeared and he flexed and extended his fingers experimentally. Hopefully it would be better come sunset.

After splashing water on his face, he kicked off his shoes and collapsed on the chaise. It would be a very uncomfortable day’s sleep. Blanketing himself with the cloak, he shifted the throw pillows and lay on his side, feet sticking off the end of the chaise, knees hanging off the middle. From this angle he could keep watch over Jeanie and closed his eyes. Before long the fatigue of the night’s adventures pulled him to sleep.

T
he road was muddy, pocked with puddles of unknown depths and contents, and grew larger in the addition of the heavy rain that fell in torrents. Every so often the guard would march by, seemingly oblivious to the rain yet obviously bogged down by the drudgery of labouring through the deep, sucking mud. Occasionally horse and rider would kick up and churn the sodden street, casting globules of brown muck onto those unfortunate not to have removed themselves from the downpour.

Bouncing lights in enclosed lanterns usually commanded this time of night. Now they remained stationary as members of the watch would step into a local tavern to wash away the cold dampness. A few brave souls dawdled along, cloaks and lanterns swinging in the wind, fulfilling their nightly duty.

1386 was turning out to be a miserable year.

For two hours past sunset the evening seemed more alive than usual. Coaches, elaborate in their workmanship and pulled by the finest breeds, forced the guard apart as they passed. Attendants in rain-slicked cloaks, heads down in dour misery of the weather, glanced at the occupants of obvious noble worth.

Lightly, he hopped back; mud caked on his boots, in an attempt to dodge a spray of mud kicked up by the speeding wheels of a coach. Fast as he was, the splatter dotted his wool cloak already heavy with rain. There was no use trying to clean off the muck so obviously infectious to clean garments. With a resolute sigh he plodded on.

Hunger satiated earlier with the help of a one handed beggar tired and sick of life, he now only wanted to get out of this all pervading rain and into some dry clothes. Water had seeped into his boots not a moment after exiting the small back room of the warehouse that served as their home. Now he walked in water. The mud had not decreased the intake as he had hoped. His cloak hung heavily from his shoulders and had long since ceased to be effective. Rivulets ran down his back, milk white hair plastered against his pale skin, and his leather breeches clung uncomfortably as he walked.