Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles (53 page)

It was not the knocking at the door by the shipmate telling them they were preparing to dock that woke Jeanie, nor was it the sounds of the moorings locking the ship into place. Jeanie had been up for some time, having slept sporadically through the night. The Angel’s fever induced dreams had made his sleep fitful and there were many times when Jeanie did not understand his mutterings. Those that were clear were just as confusing and made her wonder how many languages he knew.

Rising from the mattress she had dragged to the floor, Jeanie squeezed out from between the Angel and the wall, allowing the blanket to fall, and felt around in the dark for the box of matches she had seen him pack in his suitcase. Victory achieved, she struck the match, squinting at its yellow brilliance and found the lantern. There was enough oil for the wick to catch, illuminating the cabin in a soft glow.

She pulled her dress on over her chemise and went back to the Angel’s side. He had stayed in his torpid state for the duration of the trip and now they were finally in Calais she needed him to wake, if he could. Laying a hand on his face, Jeanie realized that he was not as hot as before. For some reason the fever was diminishing.

“Gwyn,” she called softly, “we’re in Calais. ‘Tis time to disembark.” Jeanie hoped he would feel better once back on land. His face screwed up as if in pain, yet his eyes would not open. Jeanie called to him again.

The explosion of movement caught her completely off guard, sending her sprawling backwards with a cry. A loud resounding crack rang through the berth followed by a groan and the sound of collapse. Turning over, skirts tangling around her legs, Jeanie lifted up to see the Angel crouched, holding the crown of his head in both hands. It was enough to get her moving. She stood up and all but ran in the confined space to fall to her knees before him, fearful that he had badly hurt himself. Quickly gazing up, she saw the damaged joist that he cracked his head upon.

“Let me take a look,” she said. She reached to lower his hands and examine the wound and halted as she saw his eyes.

“Crei?” he pleaded; his eyes wild and haunted as he gazed into springtime eyes. He could not believe she was here, but why was she dressed that way and why did his head hurt? He groaned and pulled a hand away from his head to see blood on it. Nausea swept through him as the ground lifted up and then sank back down. It was enough of a movement to cause him to land on his backside. A vague awareness of where and when he was slowly trickled back.

The woman he thought he knew rose up on her knees and made him bend his head. There would be no evidence of the wound, having healed quickly, but the worry on her face made his head swim. Images of the past and the present slammed into him and he shook his head. He could not understand what she was saying at first and then he gasped. Her facial features shifted ever so slightly, but the eyes, they stayed the same, even to the colour and the shape. The curls decorating her pale neck faded from chestnut to a fiery copper.

“Jeanie?” he whispered, finally recognizing her. It was the epiphany of how closely Jeanie resembled her that set him trembling.

“I’m right here.” Jeanie hunkered down, brushing his hair from his face and was shocked to see tears glittering his face. “What’s wrong?”

Frowning, he rubbed his eyes with forefinger and thumb and found the wetness on his cheeks. Nausea surged up making the room spin and he closed his eyes. He did not know what to say to Jeanie. He was as confused as she.

Something was happening to him and he did not know what it was. The memories of the past, usually forgotten and ignored, were surging to the present, confounding and confusing him. It was not unusual to remember little things, but this was too much like reliving them, with the demons coming back and everything else going on, he began to wonder about his sanity.

A knock on the door saved him from answering. “Miss Stuart, the Captain says you can disembark anytime you wish, ma’am.”

Jeanie twisted to face the door. “Thank ye. We’ll be up shortly.” Turning back to face him, she continued, apprehension filling her tones, “We’re here, in Calais. D’ye think ye can leave the ship?”

He was not sure if he could stand, let alone walk up to the deck, but if it meant leaving for the stability of land, he would crawl if he had to. With Jeanie’s help he rose and clung to the table, carefully avoiding the wood beams overhead. He let Jeanie get their things together while he stood clinging for stability. He felt her unsuccessful attempt to buckle on his sword belt. He took it out of her hands, offering her a tired smile and managed to strap it on before the spinning became too great. Stabilizing himself for a moment by griping onto the table for support, both he and Jeanie waited for the room to stop swirling before he took the heavy cloth from her arms and the clasp from her hand. With her help he managed to encase himself in the comforting darkness of his cloak and went to pick up the suitcases.

“I’ll take them,” offered Jeanie as she shrugged on her mantle. A smile softened her face.

Relief flooded his as he gazed upon the most beautiful woman he had ever known and wished that the trip could have been an enjoyable one for her. He did not remember all that she had done for him, but he knew that she did what she could to take care of him and for that he was immensely grateful.

Jeanie unlatched the door and before she could open it, he laid a hand on her shoulder. She turned to face him, worry still in her eyes. “Thank you, Jeanie. Thank you for everything.”

A smile bloomed on her face and she fiercely hugged him. It was the only thing that kept him standing under the spinning nausea, and he hugged her back inhaling the soft smell of soap from her hair.

“Can we go now?” she asked, pulling away.

“Oh Gods, yes, please,” he sighed and picked up the luggage. Regardless of how he felt, he was not going to allow her to carry the heavy burdens and silenced her protestations with a glance.

Opening the door with an uneasy smile and a shake of her head, hat back in place, Jeanie led the way to the stairs leading to the deck. Stooped in the short hallway, he gratefully followed, eager to finally have the world stop spinning.

Fernando stood on deck at the top of the gang board as they emerged. His tempestuous brown eyes bored into the Angel. Thankfully Jeanie either did not notice or she chose not to care. If only the ship would stop spinning and return his stomach back into place he would have been able to ignore the glare and the pulsations of finely controlled rage that flowed from the Noble.

He halted, forcing Jeanie to stop at his side. He should not be able to feel that. He should not be able to feel anything from any other Chosen except Notus. Dumb fear uncurled itself around his heart and he knew that Fernando saw it despite being cowled beneath his hood.

A smile lifted the corner of the Noble’s lips. “Had a pleasant time?” he disparaged.

“Aye, thank ye,” came Jeanie to the rescue, “we had a verra memorable time.” She smiled and nodded her head, yet kept her eyes on the angry Noble.

Fernando sucked on his lips, displeased. “I took care of our good Captain.”

“Ye dinna –?” Jeanie’s eyes widened in shock.

“Give me some credit.” Fernando made a disgusted sound. “I paid the man, though I must say that what you agreed to pay him was robbery.”

“Well, if ye wanted to pay less, ye could hae gone and found a ship yerself,” quipped Jeanie. “Ah, but I forgot, ye canna during the day.”

Fernando’s face darkened and he took a step towards her.

“Stop it,” ordered the Angel. He was so incredibly tired of their fighting. Had they not listened to him before the journey? He sadly shook his head, answering his own question. Needing nothing more than to get off the floating torture device, he pushed past the Noble, ignored Jeanie’s gasp of surprise, and descended down the plank for the solidity of the quay. The moment his feet touched the firmness beneath him, the world gratefully ceased its turnings and the nausea miraculously vanished.

Being on solid ground never felt as good as when he left a ship. With closed eyes he took a deep clearing breath and opened them at the sound of Captain Richardson biding Miss Stuart a fond farewell. Jeanie’s polite reply floated on the salt laden breeze and he turned to watch her carefully navigate the ridged planking with Fernando not far behind. A scowl that seemed permanently etched had returned to the Noble’s features.

Suddenly, Jeanie’s heel caught and she stumbled, pitching sideways over the water.

Time stopped and he heard the dull ringing thud of the suitcases as he dropped them to the concrete. Preternaturally he leapt to the base of the gang board in the effort of halting Jeanie’s plunge into the icy dark waters. He stopped, heart pounding in his chest as he watched Fernando grab her by the back of her collar and haul her one handed onto the plank, unceremoniously landing her on her rear. Reaching out, he pulled Jeanie the rest of the way. Her feet never touched the ground until he planted her beside him. The elongated sounds of the lapping water resumed their normal cadence and he held her upper arms as she swayed, disoriented.

“Is she alright?” asked Fernando, stepping off the gang board, his suitcase still in hand, to stand beside her.

It sounded almost as if the Noble actually cared, and he turned his attention back to Jeanie. “Are you okay?”

Jeanie blinked and looked around. “How did I get down?”

“You don’t remember,” he frowned.

“I recall catching my heel halfway down, and then I’m here.” Confusion washed over her and she glanced from the Angel to the Noble and back again. “What happened?”

With a shake of his head, Fernando chuckled and walked off. “Welcome to your second experience, or would that be third, with the Chosen.”

“What does he mean?” Jeanie pouted in bewilderment.

Picking up their suitcases, he waited for Jeanie to join him as he followed the Noble down the quay. “You slipped. Fernando caught you before you fell into the ocean and I took you down the rest of the way.”

“But I would hae remembered that,” implored Jeanie.

“Not necessarily.” He stared ahead, wondering where the Noble was leading them.

Jeanie shook her head walking quickly to keep up despite the slight ache in her ankle. “That dinna make any sense.”

“We’re Chosen, Jeanie.” He smiled down at her as realization took hold, widening her eyes and slacking her jaw.

“That mean’s Fernando saved me.” Awe mingled with disbelief filled her voice.

He nodded. Maybe this was the beginning of a truce between the three of them. It was a hopeful thought.

“And ye?” she probed, glancing up at his shadowed features. “Are ye fine now?”

“Never better,” he smiled as he placed one foot in front of the other, appreciating the solidity beneath him. Jeanie’s face brightened as she returned the grin and wished he had one hand free just to hold hers.

The ring of a ship’s bell resounded mournfully in the darkness, calling to a brother that never replied. Rounding the corner, he witnessed Fernando standing stock still staring at a large tri-masted ship. A sudden sense of apprehension came over him, banishing his delectation as he came to a halt beside the other Chosen. Images of the dream before the demons had invaded flooded back and he realized he stood before the ship that had been littered with kaleidoscopic butterflies. His breath swept away with the breeze. It was real and it was here.

“The
Papillon.
It’s here,” whispered the Noble in consternation. He looked up at the Angel. “No more excuses, we have to talk and somewhere where we can’t be overheard.”

At the name of the ship, a shiver ran up his spine. The dream had been real. Meeting the Noble’s concerned eyes, he nodded. Let Fernando take it as he may, he could not let the other Chosen know he had had a dream of this ship long before he had seen it. The question arose as to why. Why had he dreamt of it in the first place? He glanced back at the ship’s dark decks knowing he would receive no answer.

An imperceptible shift in the quality of the night sent a familiar tingle across his body. “We need to find a place to stay, now.”