Shadow of Death: Book Two of the Chosen Chronicles (4 page)

“
No?
”
replied the Master.
“
No? I don
’
t think so.
”
Fernando grabbed the Angels scarred arm and turned the tall pale Chosen to face him and nearly caught his breath at the fury behind the     garnet gaze.
“
Do you know what
’
s happening out there? Do you even care?
”

Fernando did not smile at the Angel
’
s grimace.

“
Leave off, Fernando,
”
interrupted Bridget. Her blue eyes gazed up at the Angel.
“
It
’
s clear that he does not.
”

Bridget
’
s harsh tones and hurt feelings discomfited him and he looked away. It was Notus who came to his rescue.
“
Leave him alone. Hasn
’
t he suffered enough?
”

It was the wrong question. Fernando
’
s anger flared.
“
He
’
s not the only one who has suffered,
”
stated the Noble, his sun kissed skin still bronze from his escape from
Le Jardin
.
“
Chosen are dying while he hides here, licking his wounds.
”

The venom in the words stabbed at him, but he could not deny the truth of the Noble
’
s words. Turning back to face the Mistress and Master, he did not endeavour to hide the pain their emotions caused him.
“
What would you have me do?
”

The three Chosen gasped at the misery he projected and he turned away to stare back into the flames. It was proof enough of why he could not be around other Chosen. His wounds still bled, infecting others.

He felt a tremulous hand alight on his bandaged wrist and he felt the pity flow from Bridget and hated it. She snapped her hand back.

“
We need you,
”
she pressed.
“
The other Masters and Mistresses need someone to guide them in this war.
”
He shook his head in denial that it could possibly be he.
“
We don
’
t know who is or isn
’
t Chosen. They have so befuddled us that we
’
re probably killing our own as well as the Vampires.
”

He groaned. Turning around, he sat on the worn couch, his leg throbbing in relief, and buried his face in his hands. He knew their need. He could almost taste their desperation. The Vampires had effectively confounded the Chosen from within, causing distrust as to who is or is not Chosen so as to affect their genocide. Fernando was right. No matter all else, Fernando was right. But could he accept that? He looked up at the three Chosen, his eyes falling upon Fernando
’
s deep brown.
“
This Grand   Council, who does that entail?
”

Fernando told him the names, leaving Hugo
’
s for last, and he groaned. Hugo, no doubt, would demand that Fernando and Bridget put him to death. There was no love lost between the new Master of France and the Angel, having had the Angel defeat him in battle and then being kicked off the rooftop. No. Hugo would demand his Destruction.

Dropping his gaze back to the gloaming hearth, he shook his head.
“
No.
”

This time he expected the rush of anger directed at him and he closed his eyes in regret, wincing at Fernando
’
s rant.
“
You care more for your own blessed secrets than to help those who hold those secrets?
”

Implication
’
s dart hit true and his head shot up, eyes wide in disbelief of what Fernando was threatening. But it was the Master of Britain who spoke them, glaring down his disgust. It was    Fernando and Bridget
’
s call whether or not he would be Destroyed for his differences. Some part did not believe it, but then again he had never imagined another Chosen, besides Notus, would keep his deadly secrets.

As Chosen, they had left him a choice: to be Destroyed by their command or to stand before the Master and Mistresses of almost a dozen countries and proclaim his differences so as to possibly help fight this war against the Vampires. He very much doubted that any of the others would grant him clemency, but what choice did he really have? He glanced over to Notus and a wave of despondency overwhelmed him and he knew that the monk could not save him. Notus
’
head bowed under the belief that his only son would be Destroyed before his eyes.

“
I will go,
”
he acquiesced. Refusing to meet Bridget
’
s relieved smile and Fernando
’
s smirk of victory, he stood with great difficulty.
“
I will go and stand before them. I will do all of what is asked of me so long as Notus remains shriven of responsibility for my differences.
”
Notus
’
raised his gaze to meet his son
’
s, surprise written over his features.
“
But understand this; I will purge this Vampire threat for you, but they will not see the Angel standing in their midst. They will only see a shadow.
”

London, England - Christmas

S
itting at the medieval style kitchen table, he held the thick pencil meant for a five year old and began writing on the lined sheet of paper. He had not intended to stay as long as he had, but Gerry and Donna
’
s insistence, coupled with their children
’
s enthusiasm, made it impossible to leave at sunset. Carefully making each stroke of the pencil, the words of gratitude began to take form. After over a century, writing was still one of the greatest difficulties he had to overcome. Thankfully, Rory
’
s school pencil was laying on the coffee table in the living room.

Concentrating on forming the words, he only heard Gerry
’
s approach when the mortal descended from the stairs. He looked up at his friend and noted the tired circles and dishevelled dark hair. The lights from the Christmas decorations and tree were illumination enough, casting the open home in a cheery light, giving Gerry just enough to see where he was going.

Wooden chair sliding against the tiled floor, he stood at his friend
’
s approach, letter forgotten.
“
I
’
m sorry,
”
he said.
“
I did not mean to wake you.
”

Gerry covered his yawn with the back of his hand and waved dismissively with the other before walking to the kitchen counter to pour himself a stale cup of coffee. He pulled out a second mug and lifted it in offering.

Recognizing the offer, he smiled, shook his head and sat. It was nice to be himself with Gerry and his family. He had forgotten what that was like. Amongst the Chosen he was on guard, defending his emotions from leaking to others or shielding against them. Here, with Gerry, he could relax. It had been so long since he opened up like this to a mortal, despite Gerry not knowing his true nature.

He had met Gerry six years ago, several years after returning to London. It was Bridget
’
s insistence that he find something to do. Since he could not properly use his sword because it was not light enough for his damaged wrists to manage, he knew she was right. Geraint
’
s sword was relegated to being a wall decoration while he honed his skills with lighter eastern weapons. It was in search of a smith to fix some of time
’
s damage to Geraint
’
s sword that he met Gerry.

He had liked Gerry instantly and it was the man
’
s curiosity as well as his enthusiasm that suggested that the ways of the forge might be of interest. It had been centuries since he had taken up learning anything new and Gerry
’
s authentic friendliness and willingness was enough. He became Gerry
’
s apprentice and friend, ever keeping his Chosen nature away from the mortal. It was enough that his appearance marked him different, he would not bring a mortal into the world of the Chosen ever again. He would not risk it.

Gerry sat down across from him and sipped the bitter liquid that steamed before his face.
“
You
’
re heading out already?
”
His grey eyes landed on the long wooden box bisecting the oblong table.

Both knew that his Masters
’
piece was in there. He opened up the metal latches with two successive clicks and lifted the lid.
“
I was supposed to be home this morning.
”

“
May I?
”
asked Gerry. Placing his mug down, he picked up the hilt of the sword; its silver pommel and guard plain against the ebony grip. Four feet of finely honed steel flashed red in the gleaming decorations as Gerry lifted it to his face and whistled.
“
She
’
s a beaut and the balance is perfect. You did a brilliant job. I don
’
t think I could have done any better,
”
he offered, placing the sword back into the case.

Embarrassed by the praise, he closed the lid, locking it into place.

“
So,
”
continued Gerry, renewing his interest in the contents of his mug.
“
Are you going to come by before you and Paul head across the Pond, or is Donna going to have to drag you back by your ear for one last visit?
”

The image of Donna doing so lit a grin to his face and he shook his head, sending long white locks swinging.
“
I will come by for a visit.
”