Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles (79 page)

His eyes widened as his breath and heart raced at the sight. Cold terror impaled him and he found he could not relinquish the gaze until she was beyond his sight. Again he felt his head snap back, the cold metallic touch of the scourge’s rod pressed upwards under his chin.

“I have had my fun,” she hissed, “but it is starting to grow dull. I had believed that the Angel would be more fun than this. Answer me.”

An explosion of air ripped through his lips. “They know.” His raw throat barely allowed the whisper. “Jeanie and Fernando know about the Vampires poising the Chosen and you will never find them.”

He felt her tense with the understanding of the truth and he closed his eyes. “You may possess my body, but my soul belongs to Jeanie.”

Another scream of rage shook the room and he felt her sudden release that sent him swinging.

He knew it should not have been a surprise what happened next, but the intense agony of feeling the barbed iron lashes rip and flay him, lifting and separating, searing skin and muscle, pulled him closer into the embrace of the demons.

A second followed by a third lashing, as the Mistress raved.

In her fury she cursed her failure with the Angel and screamed her defiance against whose orders she had broken. She had failed her Mistress, the Lady Bastia, Mistress of Britain, Mother of All.

The sound of tearing and the smell of burning seemed remote as the inferno that became his back radiated through his body, numbing his mind.

Four.

Five.

Six.

The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth and he wondered whose it was.

He lost count after eleven. His body was numb as he swayed on the chains. He wondered if he could die from this torture and decided he did not care.

Let go.

A woman’s voice, multilayered in its harmony, rang through his mind above the sound of the decimation of his body and he whimpered.

It’s time to let go.

Closing his eyes, he could see them. The white-faced demons were close; Their hungry expressions inviting.

You made a choice. Come.

Darkness descended between he and the demons. White putrescent faces twisted in impotent rage before they were obliterated by nothingness.

With a sigh, he fell into the Void.

Jeanie stood outside Fernando’s door, hand poised to strike the wood and halted. It was a day and a night since they arrived back at St. Martin’s amid a flurry of questions from the monks that received them. The worse was trying to explain
l’Ange‘s
whereabouts and their damaged presentation. She had even heard Fernando thank God that there was a cloud obscuring the brilliant fall sun when he exited the covered wagon, his body layered with blankets, to enter the dark stone walls of the monastery.

Upon witnessing the burnt ruin of Fernando’s face, an elderly monk sent several others scurrying. The Noble had barked a laugh, which turned to a grimace of pain before letting the old man guide him to his room. Jeanie had been surprised to witness the healing changes on Fernando’s face and hands, but they were far from healed. She wondered how many more horses it would take. Guided by another monk, Jeanie followed him to the room she shared with the Angel and was told to wait. Father Theodore would wish to speak with her.

The inviting bed pulled at Jeanie. Succumbing, she lay down. It did not take long to fall into a dream-plagued sleep that left her more exhausted than before. In every nightmare Violet’s youthful body, her soft lips and sharp teeth penetrated her mind leaving her desiring the Vampires touch. Each time she woke, her body shivered in anticipation while her mind reeled against what her body desired.

Shaking off the reminiscence, Jeanie knocked on the door. They had waited too long already and she was anxious to get back to
Le Jardin
. The problem was that she felt pulled to see Violet, to feel her betrayer’s touch, to hear the Mistress’ voice. It was growing hard to keep her focus on rescuing the Angel.

“Come in,” came the brusque response.

Jeanie turned the handle and pushed. She had not seen the Noble since returning and stood in shocked silence.

Fernando fastened the top two buttons of his blue pyjamas and turned. “Didn’t your mother teach you that it’s impolite to stare?” He turned back to the small mirror hanging on the wall above the washbasin, patting his dark hair into place.

Shutting her mouth, Jeanie stepped into the room and closed the door. She could not believe the change that had come over him. No longer burnt, Fernando’s skin took on a deep bronze colouring, as if darkly tanned. There were still a few patches that appeared red while others seemed to be peeling.

“There’s a chair over there if you wish to sit down.” Fernando absently waved to the seat next to the dormant hearth and turned. “I presume that you have come to discuss the other half of our bargain.”

The hard wood seat forced Jeanie to sit straight. “Aye.”

Fernando harrumphed and walked over to the single bed, casually sitting down with one leg bent before him while the other dangled to the floor. His dark brown eyes locked onto her form. “And I presume that you have a plan?”

Jeanie opened her mouth to snap a retort and then shut it. Taking a deep breath, she let it out in a huff. She doubted that Fernando would agree with what she had in mind, but he had promised.

“Aye, I do.” Jeanie crossed her arms over her chest. “I was hopin’ t’go back today.”

“Fine,” replied the Noble. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve fed on nearly every cow from here to Bellingham - not a pleasant task to say the least - and I am tired.” Fernando stood and gracefully walked to the door. “I’ll meet you at sunset.”

“No,” barked Jeanie as she stood.

Fernando turned to face her, eyebrows raised. “Pardon? Are you releasing me from our agreement? If you are I am quite amenable to that.”

“I’m no doin’ that either.” Jeanie paced a few steps and then halted. She had made him agree to go and rescue the Angel, but could she make him agree to the next? “We need to go now, during the day.”

Fernando’s bark of laughter rang off the stone. “Oh this is rich.”

With preternatural speed he had Jeanie up against the far wall, his hands resting flat against the stone beside her head, his body pressed against hers.

“What makes you think I’ll agree to step outside during the day again? I may be a lot of things, but I am not suicidal, nor am I self sacrificing.”

The scent of Fernando’s breath mingled with the sudden bump of her head against the wall, made Jeanie wish she had not eaten. Lifting her gaze to meet his, she could still smell the lingering scent of burnt flesh.

“Because if we dinna go now and wait for night we’ll both surly be kilt.”

“You’re saying a lot of things, li’l miss,” scoffed the Noble. “But you’re not telling me anything that I want to know.”

“Our agreement was that I’d tell ye after we got the Angel back.”

“It was, but you didn’t say that you wanted to go back during the day.” Fernando tilted his head, his gaze resting on her pale neck peeking out through the green scarf.

Jeanie’s hand absently rose to touch the puncture wounds from Violet’s bite, her breath coming faster at the sensation.

“Well, that’s interesting,” stated the Noble, “and I thought you were just hot for the Angel.”

Jerking her hand back down, her fingers curled into a fist. Oh how she wanted to strike him but knew it would be an act of futility and most likely would break their agreement. “I’ll tell ye now who are killing the Chosen if ye agree to come with me now.”

Fernando pushed off from the wall, giving them space. “I doubt there is anything you can tell me that is worth the price of me going out in the sun again. The Angel’s most likely dead in any case.”

Locking her jaw, Jeanie felt the surge of anger and forced it down. It was not the time, nor the place, yet. She did not know how she knew, but there was no doubt in her mind that the Angel still lived. Lifting her balled fist up to her neck wrap, she carefully untied the knot and pulled the fabric away.

“The one’s killin’ the Chosen are Vampires.”

The simplicity of the statement riveted Fernando’s gaze back onto her neck. The fact that he did not laughingly dismiss her notions chilled her and suddenly he was upon her, lifting her chin to study the two dark marks on her neck.

“You’re lying,” hissed the Noble, spittle hitting her face. “The Chosen
are
Vampires.”

Despite the firm, immobilizing grip, Jeanie managed to minutely shake her head. “That’s what they want ye to think,” she gasped. “All the stories, they weren’t about the Chosen. They are about the Vampires. Vampires who canna bide the day and must sleep in coffins. Vampires who afear sanctified objects. Vampires who die with a stake to their hearts. Vampires whose mark is two wounds instead of four. Vampire marks that dinna heal quickly, but linger like this.”

Glaring at the unhealed puncture wounds, Fernando ran a dark finger across them, barely catching Jeanie as her legs caved out from under her. Steadying the girl on her feet, he watched as Jeanie’s eyes contracted and her heartbeat slowed.

Once she was stable he released her, confusion darting his eyes back and forth before realizing the truth to her words. A Chosen’s bite would have healed. A Chosen's bite would have been four. Any mark left would not have caused such a reaction in a mortal if touched.

“Fuck.”

“So d’ye believe me?” Fully recovered, Jeanie took a tentative step forward.

Fernando screwed up his face and shook his head in a futile attempt to shake off the truth.

“It’s not possible. It’s ridiculous, yet it makes sense. It was so difficult to kill them.”

He turned his back and walked over to the desk, laying his hands flat on the worn wood. “We assumed mortals, but the stories about Vampires were just that - stories. Many of us thought the fictions were based upon some mortals meeting us but not really knowing.” He lifted his head. “But how could they exist?”

“How is it that the Chosen exist?” answered Jeanie. The Noble’s obvious disturbance at the truth sent shivers up her spine.

Stepping away from the desk, Fernando cocked his head and regarded Jeanie before finding his suitcase. “Touché. If this is truly the case then I need to get back to London. This is not what we first thought it to be. Shit. Genocide of the Chosen by Vampires.”

“London?” barked Jeanie. She knew she should not be surprised at him going back on their deal, but she would not give up on the Angel. Walking over to the bed where Fernando placed his open bag, she slammed it shut, nearly missing his fingers. “Ye promised me.”

Irritation flashed across brown eyes as Fernando stepped back. “This information goes beyond our arrangement.”

Jeanie opened her mouth; an impotent reply remained wordless on her lips as her fist struck the Noble’s jaw. For a brief moment she was shocked at her action and the blood that welled from his split lip before fear curdled her stomach at seeing the cut heal to nothingness.

Surprise flashed across Fernando’s features as he tested his jaw. “I could easily kill you for that.”

“I ken.” Jeanie clenched her teeth. “So are ye gonna honour our agreement or are ye gonna prove that ye have as much honour as a Vampire - which is to say none.”

Fernando’s head jerked back. Releasing a huff, he flung open his suitcase.

“You’re going to wish you were never born after we get the Angel back,” he growled, pulling out rumpled black pants. “Now get the hell out of here. I’ll meet you at the entrance and you had better make sure you have that damned covered wagon and enough blankets. I’m not in the practice of risking my neck.”