Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles (80 page)

Stunned at the Noble’s compliance, a smile slowly lifted her lips as she made for the door. “Ye’ll be happy t’hear that it’s raining out.”

The door closed behind her. A string of expletives that would make her father blush muted behind the old wood. Grinning at her success, she hurried down the corridor that would take her to the stables and the covered wagon.

M
iserable, Fernando sat cross-legged, blankets solidly covered him
as each bump and shift of the cart spasmed healing muscles. Gritting his teeth, Fernando could do nothing to release the anger and frustration he felt at allowing himself to be wrangled into such an undignified position
twice!
The first was, albeit, necessary to save his life, but to agree a second time was degrading. He hated how Jeanie had wound him into her machinations to free the Angel, but he could not dispute what she had shown him. Not only of what was murdering the Chosen, but the necessity of honour when those who would see his kind wiped from the earth, held none.

For centuries, he and other Chosen had, at first, laughingly accepted “Vampire” as a description of who and what they were despite the complete fabrication of what the mortals believed them to be. Foolishly the Chosen assumed the mortals were fictionalizing them and used the name to fashion themselves a new vision based upon the horrific images the stories lent. It seemed to give permission to act in ways that were, well, more to the liking of those Chosen who revelled in moral depravity. After all, was it not expected of Vampires to act monstrously?

A jarring bump threatened to topple the Noble over. If it had not been for the blankets stabilizing him, he would have. Instead he hissed through his teeth and placed a hand along the wooden slats in an effort to keep his purchase. The rain beat down upon the canvas, drumming pools where the fabric sagged until even the tight weave was no match for the persistent fluid. Drips splattered down onto the blankets, adding their incessant metronome to the discord.

Releasing a huff, Fernando still found it difficult to grasp the reality that Vampires existed and they were the ones killing the Chosen. The evidence on Jeanie’s neck corroborated by her story was indisputable. Added to the fact that the men he had stabbed and sliced who did not fall had moved nearly as fast. Shivers ran up Fernando’s spine.
     

If he could not tell the difference between a mortal and a Vampire, then what chance did the rest of the Chosen?

Or worse yet,
he thought.
What if we can’t distinguish between a Vampire and a Chosen because we’re all calling ourselves Vampires?

Mouth suddenly dry, Fernando licked his lips and swallowed.
 
Fear coiled around his belly. It could only mean that those he knew for absolute certain to be Chosen could be trusted, and that was a dwindling number.

Fernando’s first instinct was to run back to London to tell Mistress Katherine what he had discovered and let the Court deal with the repercussions. But how do you fight this? Worse yet, would Katherine believe him even if he brought Jeanie along? The coil drew tighter and he knew she would not. The only one who could possibly add to the veracity to these claims would be the Angel. If Katherine would not believe the Angel then many others would, thereby placing pressure upon her to act accordingly.

Fernando frowned. Yes, many would believe the Angel over him because despite everything else about the man, the Angel was honourable. A flush of embarrassment rushed through the Noble. Fernando would do the honourable thing. After all he was the one who instigated the partnership and he had absolutely no doubt that had the situation been reversed the Angel would now be sitting in this Godforsaken cart on the way to rescue him. The realization made him even more uncomfortable than the ride.

The cart came to a stop with a creak and a shudder. The discrepancy between the sound of falling rain on either side of the wagon and none on the covering canvass proclaimed they were sheltered. Lifting off the blankets, Fernando took a cautious peek and found himself in muted darkness. Dull grey light sifted in through the back exit. Though the sun was still up, it was clear that the bulging clouds masked most of the suns deadly rays.

Unexpectedly, Jeanie’s head popped into view as she pulled on the latches, opening the end so that Fernando could easily slide out.

“C’mon.” Her breath puffed before her soggy face. Dark red ropes of hair plastered her face and shoulders.
 
“We canna stay here all day.”

With the snap of metal and wood, he was able to get out. Feet landing with a squish, he felt the cold mud seep around his booted ankles and gazed up. Above him dark grey stone protected him not only from the rain, but also from direct light. A shiver shot through him with the realization he was out in the day with no recourse but to trust this mortal girl to get him back to safety, along with the Angel, if they found him. Skin prickling Fernando absently scratched his arm.

Glancing at the girl, Fernando noticed that she was soaked through and through. Her normally healthy looking appearance was fraught with blue tinges around her mouth, including her lips, and dark bruising around her eyes. It did not take a genius to realize that Jeanie was unwell and pushing herself past the limits her body could well afford.

“So what’s your plan now?” demanded Fernando, his voice gruff.

Jeanie glanced at the front door. “We go in.”

“Through the front door? That’s insane.”

Jeanie turned to face him. Her normally vibrant green eyes, dulled to ocean depths. “Violet will be in her crypt - or so I overheard. Ye and the Angel killed almost every mortal she has and any Vampires left will be dead to the world too. I assume ye can handle any mortals we will find still awake, let alone alive.”

Pursing his lips in annoyance, Fernando bit back an argumentative reply. Instead he asked, “And what if the Vampires wake? I’m not in the best of shape to fight them one handed while I attempt to protect you.”

A sarcastic smile lifted the edges of Jeanie’s lips. “Ye, protect me? I wouldna believe it even if I were t’see it. In any case, Vampires canna wake during the day.”

“And how do you know this?”

“The stories.”

Fernando straightened and watched her go to the front door. It was bold and downright foolish, but he had to admire her audacity and hoped that she was right.

The door opened on heavy creaking hinges. To all appearances the entrance was a mausoleum. No sound came from any part of the mansion and they both stood in quiet awe at the lack of evidence of the battle that had ensued only two nights ago.

Stepping in, Fernando closed the door and winced at the resounding bang. They both halted in anxious expectation until they could not hear sounds of approach.

“So where did you say Violet has the Angel,” whispered Fernando, eyes not relinquishing his surroundings.

“Her entertainment room.” Jeanie frowned.

He could see and sense the returning of warmth in Jeanie’s face as the blue edges gave way to a healthier pink. “And where’s that?”

Jeanie’s frown deepened. “I dinna ken.”

“Well that doesn’t do us any good,” huffed Fernando. “You can’t expect us to go from room to room looking for him. We’ll be caught for sure.”

The front door slammed opened admitting a dark blonde man of middle years, dusting off droplets of rain from his hat onto his coat. “Whoever left that blasted wagon there will not live to see the dawn.” Muttering angrily, he did not notice the two intruders until he lifted his gaze.

Turning to face the man from the night of the attack, Fernando smiled. “Tried it. Didn’t work.”

The mortal’s head snapped up eyes wide and jaw slack.

Not one to pass up an opportunity, let alone a chance for revenge, Fernando grasped the man by the throat and slammed him into the doorframe. Blue eyes rolled before fixating on him in a squeak of suffocation.

“Dinna kill him,” shouted Jeanie, coming to stand next to the Noble. “Yet.”

Surprised by the girl’s coldness, Fernando smiled. “I never thought you’d come around.”

Cold hatred filled Jeanie’s eyes.

Fuzzy warmth filled Fernando and he turned to face the man squirming and gasping in his grasp.

“You - you’re supposed to be dead,” rasped the man between laboured breaths.

Fernando enjoyed watching the bulging eyes, wondering when or if they would finally pop their sockets. “The rumours of my demise are greatly exaggerated. Wait. This is getting repetitive.” He squeezed a little tighter.

“Ease up, Fernando.” Jeanie laid a hand on his arm and fixed her gaze on their prisoner. “We need him able to talk.”

Pleading blue eyes flashed to Jeanie as he tried to speak.

Fernando let go with a resolute sigh. He was so enjoying the slow demise he was offering. It was scarce punishment for the pain and indignities he suffered. “Fine. You’d better talk.”

The man’s eyes flickered from the Noble to Jeanie. “Oh thank you for coming back. I knew you couldn't to stay away once my Lady kissed you.”

Jeanie’s hand snapped up, covering the puncture wounds, her eyes wide. “That’s no’ why I’m here.”

Fernando caught the tremor of her voice.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“Nothing,” retorted the girl, shaking her head. “Violet be damned. She’ll no hae me.”

Realizing that he had no understanding of what Jeanie was talking about, Fernando turned back to their unwelcome guest. Eyes boring into the man’s he quickly caught the beat of his heart and the rhythm of his breath and Pushed hard. “I’m going to give you one chance and one chance only. Tell me where the entertainment room is.”

The man stumbled as if struck and Fernando caught the man by the arm to keep him upright. Without breaking eye contact, the Noble smiled as he felt all resistance in the man fade and dullness descended over his eyes.

“Down the hall, through the doors off to the right. A set of stairs will go down to the north cellar,” came the monotone reply.

“I think we got what we needed from him.” Fernando turned to face Jeanie. Her face hardened once more and she nodded.

Fernando turned to face the hypnotized man and regarded him with a head cocked to the side, wondering in what manner he was going to kill this pitiful excuse for a mortal. Sudden inspiration flashed to mind. “Do you wish to do it or shall I?”
      

Obviously pushing the girl too much, Fernando watch Jeanie turn her back and walk away.

Bringing his attention back to the man, his smile broadened. “Die,” he Pushed.

A shuddering sigh escaped from pale lips as the man’s blue eyes rolled up before his body slumped to the floor. Wet clothing smacked the tiles as the scent of bladder and bowels released.

Fernando’s smile grew. He always wanted to try that, never knowing if it would work. Too much of a hand’s on type of person, he enjoyed seeing the blood and feeling it course through him. This time he knew the mortal was worth none of his efforts. The blood was tainted and forfeit. Turning from the corpse, he followed Jeanie down the hall towards the stairs that would take them to Violet’s entertainment room and, hopefully, the Angel.

In the flickering glow from the single guttering torch Fernando stood at the bottom of the cold stone steps unable to catch his breath at the revelation before him. It was not what he was expecting. Then again, he did not know what to expect. Stunned, Fernando was deaf to the sounds Jeanie made as she wiped her mouth, tears spilling down her face. All he had eyes for was the Angel dangling from shackles and the splattering of blood that slicked the floor.

It was the gaping wounds on the Angel’s chest and thigh that first caught Fernando’s attention. Black rimmed red meat glistened, flashing the white of exposed bone. Swallowing down a surge of nausea, Fernando noticed the scent of burnt flesh and grimaced. Eyes coming to rest on the shackles that held the Angel, the Noble realized he could not distinguish between the black of the iron and the black of the swollen flesh of arms and hands that once were bone white. Even the redness of the seared meat on the Angel’s upper arm was incongruous to the paleness of the Angel.