Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles (65 page)

The horse turned her head and pressed against his chest as if to console. He brought his limp arms around the black’s neck and laid his head against the horse. The blood scent exploded through him but he found he did not want to taste. He could not do that to the innocent beast. Just feeling the heat and presence of a living creature gave him some sense of stability.

Ignoring the stares of the people exiting and entering the building, he and the horse stood together, his hands absently petting and scratching.

“I’d wondered where’d ye gone.” Jeanie’s voice was tinged with concern as she and the Noble walked out of the hotel. Each held their suitcases ready for the next leg of their journey.

Straightening up, he walked to the side of his horse and checked that his bag was firmly attached to the saddle. He could not match Jeanie’s eyes right now and Fernando’s probing expression made him even more uncomfortable.

Taking in the sight of the three horses, Fernando frowned. “Horses? You hired horses?”

“How else do you expect to get to Balinghem?” he countered, refusing to look at the Noble.

Fernando walked to the dun gelding and studied it for a moment. “If we didn’t have the girl we’d be able to get there in no time.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. It was the same old argument.

Jeanie stared nervously up at the chestnut. Her saddle was markedly different from the other two. “Ye expect me t’ride that?”

“Well, if you don’t want to come along –“ Fernando let the sentence hang.

Jeanie turned to face the Noble, dropped her bag and placed her gloved hands on hips covered by her green coat. “I’m coming and ye canna stop me.”

“Heaven forefend,” feigned Fernando, his hand to his breast. “Who else will warm the Angel’s bed?”

The slap resounded in the cold damp air. Fernando lifted his hand to the side of his mouth and brought away a finger coloured with blood. Raising a brow at the sight, he tested his jaw and smiled.

Jeanie’s eyes went round at the Chosen’s expression. She had not expected to hit him, but he had it coming for so long. Now her blood ran cold at the realization of whom she had slapped and noticed that Fernando stood between her and the Angel.

From beneath the darkness of his hood, the Angel watched the growing tension between the two, his own thoughts muddied by his daytime hauntings. Absently his left hand fell onto the pommel of his sword.

Slowly turning on his heel, Fernando walked over to the saddle strap to fasten his bag. He would remember this insolence, despite the fact that had he said similar to Bridget or any of her girls they would have hauled off one as well. It was the ominous threat of the Angel and his near mythical use of his blade that halted the Noble in any retaliation. Last night’s slaughter astounded him and added an extra notch to his fear of the Angel. It was a feeling Fernando attempted to squash with bravado.

Swinging up onto the saddle, Fernando enjoyed the greater height. It had been a very long time since he had horseflesh between his legs and taking the reins he hoped he remembered how to ride. “Are we going to stand here all night?”

Jeanie tried to hide her relief by picking up her bag. She had no idea how to ride a horse.

Taking a look into the deep brown eyes of the chestnut she murmured, “Nice horsey,” and patted it on the nose.

It seemed friendly enough but her experiences with horses in the past had always been with her being in a cart or coach. Her nervousness increased by the Noble’s annoyed grumble.

“Here, let me help you,” offered the Angel. Taking Jeanie’s bag, he watched her face blossom into a radiant smile before twisting into concern at what she saw on his face.

Before she could ask, he turned away and focused his attention on firmly securing her suitcase. He knew he took overly long but he found the time necessary to compose himself enough to face her. Turning back, her head cocked to the side in study, she emitted a high-pitched squeak as his hands went around her waist and lifted her lightly into the saddle.

“Hook your leg around this,” he stated, helping Jeanie to position on the side-saddle. He did not look up until she had arranged her skirts to cover her legs and placed a warm hand on his face.

“Are ye alright?” she asked.

Removing her hand from his face, he collected the reigns and placed them in her hand. How could he tell her that he was not fine? He could not even tell Notus about the white-faced demons and what they have done to him through the ages. “You do know how to ride, right?”

Jeanie shook her head and frowned. The fact that he had not answered her question struck a chord. The last time she had seen him like this he had lied. Now he did not even attempt to explain.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” swore Fernando, rolling his eyes skyward.

Ignoring the Noble, the Angel took the lead rope from Jeanie’s hand and tied it to a loop on his saddle. With lithe grace he mounted the black, settled his cloak around him and the horse, and chucked the reigns while gently squeezing the black’s barrel.

Needing no more encouragement, the horse turned at the pull of her reigns and headed towards the road, Jeanie’s horse following closely.

It had been quite a while since he last rode a horse and it was one of the few pleasures in his long life, always bringing with it a sense of peace. Riding seemed to be the only time he felt free of the encumbrances of his existence, but this time it would not be the case.

He heard Fernando’s horse canter up beside him.

“Do you happen to know where we are going?” asked the Noble, enjoying the smooth muscles move between his legs.

“Yes,” he answered. He stared straight ahead refusing to look at Fernando. With an added pressure to the horse’s sides, he tried to break away from the Noble and failed.

Sensing the Angel’s gloomy disposition and knowing he would not receive more of an answer, Fernando frowned and fell back until his horse was behind the chestnut. A silent chuckle escaped his lips at seeing the mortal girl jiggling along, miserably trying to hold on to her horse. It was going to be a long, quiet, journey in the dark. Glancing up at the sky, the wind beginning to stir around them, Fernando’s smile slipped with a sigh. The night promised to be a cold and wet one as well.

The faint light reflecting off the fast moving clouds were the only indication that civilization still existed. Skeletal arms of sleeping trees reached out for the three as they followed the road away from Calais and into the barren lands between populaces. Their breath mingled with the soft mist undulating its growth along the road’s surface, deadening the solitary sound of regular footsteps of horses’ hooves on the hard packed road. The wind whipped up to suddenly die, only to be stirred again.

Tipping his hood lower over his face, he tried to ignore the memories and shuddered. He knew Jeanie watched him with worried interest, wishing for some word from him to alleviate her concern, but there was nothing he could say so he remained silently ensconced in his cloak, staring into the dark night ahead. A terrible sense of foreboding had filled him and if it were not for the gentle clop-clop of the horses he would almost believe he was entering into the world of the white faced demons.

He watched in growing dread as the mist grew thicker and higher around the horses’ legs, slinking further up along tree trunks and obscuring bushes and the road ahead. Swirling motions caused by the wind never forced the fog to relinquish its hold, but seemed only to froth it further.

His breath steamed out of him and fluttered down to merge with the thickening atmosphere as it reached up, trying to grab each exhalation to feed its growing form. A chill settled around his legs as the fog smouldered higher, leeching precious heat stolen from mortal blood.

Normally the cold would not be much of a bother, but the freezing mist sent a shiver up his spine and he pulled his cloak tighter around his body. Try as he may the fog seemed to draw out his precious heat from every part of his body. The renewed sensory memory of feasting mouths upon his body set his jaw and caused him to swallow hard in an attempt to abate his trembling.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned to peer into the darkness. The black whuffled her unease but continued on with her plodding pace. Ignoring the horse, he watched in chilling horror as a figure seen only in his nightmares momentarily pass before him.

Its great maw opened in a sharp-toothed grin. Its eyes burning red embers. Putrescence dripped from Its raggedly translucent form to merge with the swirling fog. Terror struck, he could only watch as other forms manifested. With the promise of a hunger yet to be satiated, their eyeless sockets peered at him through the mist.

Wrenching his gaze away, he stared at the obscured road ahead, his heart beating painfully in his ears. This can’t be happening
.
He dropped the reigns and rubbed his face with hands as white as the creatures around him.
I must be going mad.

“Not mad.”
Its deep voice hissed with the sound of a thousand deadfall leaves scrabbling the earth.

A tendril of wisping mist swirled up to his face. The touch was solid, a torturous promise that shocked an icy shiver down his back.

Please, no,
he implored closing his eyes in denial of the manifested reality around him.

“
You are mine,”
Its voice purred through the darkness.
“Never forget that you will die before I ever let them have you.”

The solid fog instantly evaporated as a mix of hard rain and sleet flooded from heavy silver touched clouds. Panicked, he took the opportunity to flee, kicking the horse into a reckless speed for the conditions.

He ignored Jeanie’s cry and Fernando’s cursing. The only thing that mattered was his need to get away from the white-faced demons that had invaded his waking world.

On the horse sped into the dark, his cloak flying behind him, snapping heavily with each movement, his face stinging and wet from the cold rain mixing with his tears. It was only when his horse slipped and stumbled before righting herself on the muddied road that he resigned and reigned in to a slower pace. Had he been able, he would have pressed on.

Ignoring Fernando’s shouts, he stared through the curtain of near frozen water for any sign of his tormentors.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” demanded the Noble, his horse sideling up to the Angel’s. Everything had seemed so peaceful then suddenly as the rain poured down, the Angel bolted. Cold water showered over him, quickly drenching him. Fernando silently swore that whoever made him lose his cloak in the Thames would pay dearly for his misery. Catching the cape, he pulled it tight around his body.

Glancing at Fernando’s seething features, the Angel was glad for the rain that washed away his tears. Realizing that he could give no answer, he turned back to focus on their journey, praying that his tormentors would not return.

A signpost stood in stark relief against the clouds as they came upon the crossroads. Tilting his sodden hood back to read the carved and painted lettering, he allowed the cold water to wash over him as he read. His shoulders slumped in the realization that they were a little more than halfway through their journey. Turning his horse to follow the road to Balinghem his eyes widened in surprise as Fernando leaned over and grabbed his horse by the bridle.

“I asked you a question,” seethed Fernando. His grip hardened around the wet leather, causing it to creak. The black tried to dance out of his grip.

“Let go of my horse.” Anger surged, warming him. He knew it was not the Noble he was upset with, rather it was the white faced demons that he was powerless against, and Fernando had made himself into a handy target.

“I will not.” Fernando eased his horse over to the Angel’s in an attempt to straighten up in his saddle without losing his grip on the bridle. He would not look up at the Angel’s reaper like features; Fernando had to retain some sense of his anger. Witnessing the Angel’s eyes lit with fury was not something he wanted to see.