Shadow of Death: Book Two of the Chosen Chronicles (53 page)

“
And you
’
re sure that he
’
s staying there?
”
asked Bridget. She sat on the couch beside him.

He was sure of nothing. His life was no longer the same. He shrugged.

“
Well that
’
s a great help!
”
Fernando walked over to the dinette where a sleek laptop lay open, its screen glowed brightly in the sparsely lit room.
“
Do you know where she lives?
”

Notus frowned. He did not want Elizabeth or her daughter brought into the world of the Chosen. The risk to their lives would be too great.

“
Paul, please, we need to talk to him,
”
implored Bridget.
“
Hopefully he
’
s cooled down.
”

He shook his head.
“
He won
’
t talk with me.
”

Fernando glanced up from his computer and stared at Notus as if the monk had said the stupidest thing he had ever heard.
“
I don
’
t want you going near the Angel. You incinerated that bridge quite nicely. I don
’
t want you to blow up our chances to possibly regain a valuable asset.
”
He went back to his computer, typing and swivelling the wireless mouse.

“
I don
’
t understand,
”
queried Notus.

Fernando sighed and looked over the monitor.
“
Bridget, you explain it. If I have to be reminded one more time that it is because of Notus that we
’
re in this predicament, I swear, I
’
m    going to strangle him until his head pops off.
”

Notus
’
eyes went wide. No doubt remained. The Master of the British Chosen was still furious at him.

“
It
’
s clear that the Angel still has the abilities that make him what he is regardless of whether or not he
’
s Chosen,
”
explained Bridget, in a business like tone.
“
The severing of your ties to him in the callous and hurtful way—
”

“
Don
’
t forget selfish,
”
interrupted the Noble without looking up from his screen.

“
Do you want me to do this or not?
”
snapped Bridget.

They’re both furious with me,
thought Notus, sadly. He had not ever been on the receiving end of her whip like anger, but having witnessed others cower under her lash Notus did not relish the prospect that he was next.

Fernando raised his hands. “He’s all yours.”

Bridget gave a terse nod and redirected her flashing eyes back to the monk. It took what was left of Notus’ nerve not to cringe under her imperious glare.

“Yes, well, because of you the Chosen have either lost their greatest protector or have turned that weapon against the Chosen. Fernando and I hope that we can convince the Angel to return to us and not rise against us. It is our deeply held hope that we can, at least, try to repair some of the damage you created. If we can get the Angel back we’ll be thrilled. The least we can hope for is that he won’t turn on us.”

“And you think he would do that?” asked Notus, horrified. “Turn on the Chosen?”
Because of me?
This last thought he smartly kept to himself.

Bridget sighed. “I pray not, but he’s been used and abused, and he has every right to be angry.”

Notus dropped his gaze to his hands that rested on his thighs. “And if he’s turned against the Chosen?”

Bridget’s jaw locked, unable to respond. She glanced to Fernando who penetrated the monk’s eyes with a gaze that bespoke death.

“There is no way in hell that I’ll let a weapon of such destructive capabilities be turned against the Chosen,” said the Noble, icily. “If it comes to it I will kill the Angel.”

The Master and Mistress ignored Notus’ sudden intake of air.

“I found it,” stated Fernando looking at the monitor. He quickly scribbled something down on the hotel pad of paper as he stood. Bridget followed suit, leaving the couch for the front door.

Fernando met Bridget there and gave her the paper before turning to face his unwanted guest. “You will stay here. If you are not here by the time we come back I will hunt you down myself and toss you in front of a Grand Council, am I understood?”

The Nobel’s imperious tone chilled Notus and he slowly nodded. He watched the two leave without another word. All that was left behind was their anger permeating the suite. Notus closed his eyes and buried his face into his hands.

Dear God, what have I done?

“D
o you think there will be any problem with Dr. Bowen remembering us,” asked Bridget as she smoothed out the navy blue skirt over her knees.

Fernando shifted the car into greater speed and wished that he had the top down. Unfortunately Bridget insisted it stay up less the wind mess her hair. He shook his head. “I’m just glad that she was home when we arrived.” He sifted down again, slowing the BMW as they fell into heavier traffic. The Global Positioning System calmly spoke the next set of directions. “I wouldn’t worry about it. The worst case scenario is that the Angel isn’t at the club she said he was going to and he heads back to Dr. Bowen’s.”

“I still don’t like it,” frowned Bridget. “He’s never been one for crowds. Hell, it’s like pulling teeth to get him to come over to the house. Now he’s off to some nightclub alone. I don’t           understand and Dr. Bowen seemed relieved that we were going after him.”

Shaking his head Fernando followed the GPS’ instructions and turned right. “I don’t get it either. I could have if I Pushed.”

“And have the Angel more furious at us for doing so? I think not.” Bridget watched Fernando’s dark features tighten with an impending outburst. “You know he’d figure out that one of us Pushed her. It’s better that she believes that we’re friends who, after finding out what happened between he and Paul, flew over to help mend things between the two.”

“I don’t care—”

“Yes, you do,” snapped Bridget. “That’s always been your problem. Don’t think to fool me. I’ve known you far too long. You care too much.”

“Bridget,” growled the Noble, not liking the shift in the conversation.

“Fine.” Bridget crossed her arms and stared out the passenger window to watch the flowing scene of lit up buildings and passers-by. “Do you have a plan what we’re going to say when we find him?”

“Nope. I thought I would leave that to you.” He turned onto Queen Street West and slowed the two-seater so they could count the numbers as the GPS counted down the metres.          Fernando pulled into a parking spot before the SUV could parallel park into it. He expected to have the driver get out of his car to start something and was surprised to hear some nasty names     directed at him before the SUV pulled slowly away in search of another space.

Exiting the BMW, Fernando walked around, opened the passenger door and offered Bridget a hand as she rose from the low riding vehicle. She smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt as Fernando closed the door and locked the car with the key fob.

“Do you want to guess which the nightclub is?” smirked Bridget.

“Fuck,” swore the Noble. “Is he insane?”

The two Chosen stood outside
Beyond The Veil
watching Gothically dressed individuals move in and out the propped open black doors. Two guards stood to either side of the entrance, crossed arms bulging, threatening to rip the tight t-shirts, as they kept a watchful eye. Music pounded out the doors and onto the street, mingling with conversing patrons seeking fresh air or to pollute their lungs with cigarettes. All ignored the security, though on the occasion, someone would find the courage to glance their way. Despite the plethora of mortals pretending to be Vampires it was clear to the Master and Mistress of the Chosen what sort of place this was.

“Why would he come here, of all places?” concern tightened Bridget’s voice, sending it higher.

“A death wish perhaps.” Fernando walked towards the guards.

Bridget rushed up to her Chosen and grabbed his forearm, stopping the Noble and turning him to face her. “What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, fear widening her eyes.

Fernando glanced over to the guards and noticed their full attention on him and Bridget. The Noble grasped her arm and pulled her off to the side to stand beside the rundown     neighbourhood storefront. “We need to find him and get him out of there before he either gets himself killed or breaks the tenuous truce by killing everyone there,” he whispered through clenched teeth.

Bridget worried the inside of her cheek, her gaze running past Fernando to land on the two guards. “But if that place is a—”

“Come on, Bridget,” snorted the Noble. “Of course it’s a Vampire club. Don’t be an idiot. I have three in London alone. They’re perfect for finding a willing dinner, especially one that can have their memories appropriately dealt with. You think the Chosen are the only ones to have whorehouses and nightclubs as our versions of restaurants?”

Bridget scowled. “Of course not, but do you think that walking into a Vampire infested club is wise for us?”

“No, but I’ve done worse.” He turned to head towards
The Veil’s
entrance.

“Shall I remind you of how you got your nice golden tan?” Bridget looped her arm through his.

“That was because of the Angel allowing me to be captured.” Anger darkened Fernando’s tone.

“And how is this any different?” asked Bridget in all seriousness.

“Shut up, Bridget,” snapped the Noble as they approached the guards.

“I’m sorry but there’s a dress code in effect. You’re fine but your girlfriend isn’t.” The guard kept his relaxed stance as he looked down on the couple.

“What do you mean?” fumed Bridget. “I’m impeccably dressed!”

“Yes, you are, miss, but blue is a colour and the dress code is monochromatic and red,” replied the guard.

“Bloody hell,” she swore. “It’s navy. It’s so dark that–” She halted realizing to what she spoke to. No mortal would have noticed the difference in the faint light that streamed out of the door and onto the sidewalk.

Fernando stiffened and unhooked his arm from hers as the same realization hit. He was not expecting a run in with a Vampire quite so quickly and damned himself an idiot. He should have expected it; after all he hired Chosen to act the same part as these two at his clubs. The question now was how to proceed.
Fernando being Fernando chose the direct approach. At least if an altercation rose both he and Bridget could have room to manoeuvr
e.