Shadow of Death: Book Two of the Chosen Chronicles (57 page)

It did not take long to find the laneway that ran parallel to the municipal parking lot. A dappling of different coloured cars sprinkled the lot, their windows black and vacant. Widely        dispersed street lamps rained puddles of luminescence, throwing some vehicles into sharp relief while others faded into the blackness of deep night. No one stirred as the ricochet of his steps bounced from the brick buildings into the wide open space of the lot. A loud squeak of a rat exiting its hiding space beneath a dumpster was the only warning of its scurry across his path to a garbage bin next to the lot. Disgust warred with awe as he watched the cat sized creature hunt for throwaways. Only when it had achieved its goal of finding a discarded hot dog bun did it flee into the darkness, its prey in its mouth. Swallowing his disgust, he continued his search for the rear of
The Veil.

There was no doubt he was walking into a trap. He had to get his sword back and he would do almost anything to do so. The likelihood of death was high but he no longer cared. All that was left for him was his sword, nothing else. It was all that mattered, the only thing that never failed him. If necessary he would kill as many Vampires as possible before that eventuality. The only ace in his hole was the fact that the Vampires did not know about his current state of mortality. As to what would happen when they discovered the truth, well, he did not care about that either.

A lone figure stood at the corner of the black bricked wall and he walked up to the Vampire, staring down at the creature of modest height and muscular girth. With short cropped black hair and beard, the Vampire appeared well tailored for the venue in a
suit more fitting a hundred years ago. With a nod of the Vampire’s
head he walked past and stepped into the private parking lot for the club.

He repressed the shiver at seeing so many Vampires standing statuesque and hated having even one of them at his back. He had been told not to invoke creatures he had no access too but he had not been told not to bring any weapons. Placing his hands into his pockets he could feel the pommels of the two Japanese blades in their hidden compartments within the long leather coat. The sensation of cool smooth wood wrapped in silk was a comfort.

He came to stand in the centre of the lot. Two black cars flanked the black painted door. Nervousness evaporated the moisture in his mouth, leaving it dry as ash as numerous       Vampires seemed to appear out of nowhere to encircle him. There were more, many more, than he expected. He hoped that keeping his hands gripping the
katana
and
wakizashi
would make him  appear nonchalant rather than exhibiting the fear that threatened to fell him.

No sound stirred from the creatures. Only the occasional rat squeak and police siren filled the tense air until the clanging sound of the back door opening drew everyone
’
s attention. The sandy haired Vampire who had stolen his sword, and who had issued the invitation, stepped forward.

“
Well, well. You
’
re here.
”
Fake astonishment dripped.
“
It
’
s not every night that Vampires can stand before the Angel of Death without experiencing his demonic wrath. So nice of you to keep to our bargain.
”

“
And what about your end?
”
he asked impassively. There was no way he was going to display the fear that filled him.
“
Where is my sword?
”

“
It
’
s coming, but first to other matters.
”
The Vampire stepped to the left of the door as it opened once again.

A short man with black hair gelled back from his Romanesque face emerged from the building.

He could not believe who he was seeing. His shock broke his cold reserve allowing anger in its place.
“
Valraven!
”

“
It
’
s nice to be remembered,
”
smiled Corbie, stepping forward.
“
Does your back itch for my staff, Angel? Or do I need to capture your sire first?
”

Rage sent him trembling, his hands and jaw clenched. He would not succumb to the taunts Valraven spewed. He guessed he should not be surprised at Valraven
’
s sudden appearance or that he was a Vampire. After all he had been the right hand of the Vampiress who had not only completely deceived the Chosen, but had enacted their genocide. He would not succumb to the taught and instead stood silent, refusing to take his eyes off the Vampire as others around him chuckled.

“
You
’
re the one behind the theft of my sword,
”
he stated coldly. It was tough keeping the mask from slipping.

“
How astute of you,
”
smirked the Dominus. Hands clasped behind his back, Corbie rolled onto the balls of his feet before settling back down. Excitement radiated from him.

“
Your second said he would give me back my sword.” He bore his gaze into Valraven and was pleased that his nonchalance slipped a notch.

“
Brian, you didn
’
t, did you?
”
recovered Corbie, mock surprise widening his dark eyes.

Brian shrugged, his face placid.

 
Corbie returned his attention to the Angel.
“
It seems Mr. Haskell doesn
’
t recall such arrangements.
”

He bristled at the expected statement, his crimson eyes narrowing. It was not a surprise to have the Vampires break their word or to be caught in their machinations. It was disturbing not to know what was next.
“
Regardless, I am here for my sword.
”

“And what will you give me if I give you what you want?” Corbie stepped closer to the Angel, but not in immediate striking range.

He was loath to ask. “What could I possibly give you?”
Except a quick death,
he silently added.

A quirk at the corner of the Vampire’s thin mouth did not match the sudden darkening of his eyes. “I want you to bring back all the countless Vampires you destroyed.” Hatred broiled from Corbie.

It was a ludicrous request designed to be impossible. He matched it with one of his own, taking a step closer to the     Vampire. “Only if you bring back all the Chosen you poisoned.”

Corbie barked a laugh as he turned around, his arms wide, addressing his audience. “How like the Chosen!” he declared. Corbie turned back to face the Angel. “Of all the things to ask I would have thought the Angel would have asked for something more dear to his heart. But no. It’s always about your accursed Chosen. If it wasn’t for you and your kind we Vampires would have placed the humans in their proper position - as slaves below us on the food chain like the animals they are!”

Whoots and hollars exploded.

The statement made no sense. Both Chosen and Vampire fed from humans.

“So you wanted to kill the Chosen over food resources.” he stated, doing his best to hide his confusion. It was therefore a surprise when Corbie’s face fell, dumbfounded.

“You don’t know?” asked the Vampire, incredulously.

A measure of his confusion must have broken through his cold mask. He did not know what Valraven was talking about, but he knew he was finally close to the real reason why the Vampires had waged their war against the Chosen.

“You truly don’t know?” Corbie began to laugh, his voice ringing against brick until it came to an abrupt end. “The Chosen are called that because they are supposed to be the Chosen of God, or Gods, to be protectors of man! Oh, how low have the Chosen fallen!” Corbie turned to address his Vampires. “Oh, what cruel irony!”

Protectors of man?
The thought swirled in his mind. They were the Chosen, but chosen for what? Even Notus did not know, or did he? Was that the reason for his life as a monk? It would explain so much of what Notus did in his life. The pain of thinking of that man cleared his head and focused it onto the task at hand. He took a step closer towards Valraven.

Corbie noticed the threatening position of the Angel and took a retreating step backwards. With a nod of Brian’s sandy head he tightened the noose of Vampires.

“I know you are armed, Angel,” stated Corbie. “I haven’t been around for nearly two thousand years without learning a thing or two.”

He relaxed the grips on the hilts yet kept his hands in the pockets.

“I’ll make you a trade.” Corbie paced, finger tapping his lower lip in contemplation. “Whatever you have in your two coat pockets for the sword you came for. I’ll even throw in a small surprise.”

“And if I do, how do I know you’ll allow me to walk out of here alive?” His eyes narrowed.

“And how do I know that once the exchange is made you won’t call your demons to kill us all?” countered Corbie.

He clenched his jaw and whispered, knowing that the Vampires would hear him. “On my honour.”

Corbie inclined his head and nodded, contemplation twisting his features. “Well, then. On my honour.”

Unsure whether to believe the Vampire, the Angel realized he had little choice as he glanced right and left, taking in the ring of dark figures. Grasping the hilts, he slid the Japanese blades from his coat. He knew he was just moments from violence as he heard the creatures shift to the sudden threat he became. It was a surprise when Valraven stepped forward.

“Ah, what beautiful craftsmanship.” Corbie held out his hand indicating to the Angel that he should place the
katana
and
wakizashi
onto the ground.

“I’ve shown you mine,” stated the Angel, refusing to relinquish his weapons. “Now show me yours.”

“If you want it that way.” Corbie nodded once and Brian went to the black door. The circle of Vampires tightened further.

The black back door to the building opened. Another Vampire, a female, carrying his sword across her two outstretched hands, slowly approached. Even in the darkness he could make out her long curling locks of cinnamon as the breeze tugged it to obscure her face. She halted next to Valraven.

Everything about this Vampiress screamed to him of familiarity.
The hair, the voluptuousness of her body dressed in a tight leather mini-skirt, and full breasts rising above a black satin corset cinched over a deep green silk blouse. He recognized her from the police photo, but his body remembered what his mind failed to comprehend. It was only when she lowered his sword point down and brushed the dishevelled locks from her face that the name he denied rushed through his lips.

“Jeanie!”

Her name rushed from his lips as he bounded forward in an attempt to save her, his mind reeling at the impossibility of whom he saw. He was only able to take a single step before crushing pain flared down his left thigh and up into his hip, sending him
sprawling onto the concrete. The grip on his blades failed, sending
katana
and
wakizashi
skittering across the ground.