by Karen Dales
He measured the Noble’s words and the man before him. He did not trust this one. He was too much the Vampire - relishing in pain and fear. Any semblances to what a Chosen should be were not found in de Sagres. He must be one of the younger ones. Recognizing the merit of the words, if not the motive, he replied, “Are you proposing a partnership with me?”
“Yes, damn it. Didn’t I just say that?” This was not the response Fernando was expecting. In one simple question the Angel had manoeuvred dominance of the conversation into his corner and Fernando did not like that one bit.
“Why?” he asked, dubious when it came to others wishing contact with him.
Fernando’s face puckered in anger. “I told you why. If you do not wish to work together to get Katherine for what she’s done to you that’s fine. I’d probably do better on my own than with one such as you.” He strode forcefully towards the door and abruptly halted when the Angel did not move. The Noble glared up into red eyes that momentarily flashed with pain before settling into burning anger. This time Fernando did not back down from the flaming eyes.
“I did not say I would not work with you.” The Angel’s voice was cold, hiding his anger.
“Get to the point.” Somewhere inside, Fernando smiled at his victorious return of control.
“If it will free Notus faster than it would be prudent to work together.”
“Are you now asking for my help?” This time Fernando did smile a sadistic lopsided grin.
“No,” he stated flatly.
“Ahh, I thought not, but no matter. The point is made. You and I will work together.” Fernando’s smile disappeared to be replaced with a look of great concentration and he walked to stand in the middle of the room. Turning abruptly to face his new, yet strange partner, he tapped a jewelled finger to his chin. “I don’t suppose you have any idea where to start?”
Realizing that he too had no clue where to begin, he frowned. He had nearly stumbled into the night almost expecting the answers to present themselves in a neat little package, and silently cursed himself for a fool.
Dark brown brows rose in wonderment. Fernando let his arm drop to his side. “Well?” Accustomed as he was to having a one-sided conversation, the Noble did not like it when answers to his questions went unspoken, and the Angel’s lack of communication was starting to become irritating.
He sighed; the condescension in the Noble’s voice did not go unnoticed and he returned it. “I do not suppose that you have any ideas.”
Loud boisterous laughter rang through the room, surprising him. He could not imagine what was so funny. Fernando confused him. In a short span of time he had witnessed his newest unwanted companion run a gambit of emotions that he, himself, never dreamed of displaying so openly.
“Don’t look so surprised, my pale friend.” Fernando wiped a tear from his eye, his laughter coming to a jittery halt. “I guess we both don’t have a clue. Shall we be like Holmes and Watson and search London for the man with the limp?” Boisterous laughter exploded again and was quickly suppressed at the incredulous look on the Angel’s face. “No, I didn’t think so.”
Fernando sobered, frowned and flung wide his arms, his cloak billowed behind. “This situation is ridiculous! Preposterous! Totally insane!” With a snap of cloth the cloak wrapped around Fernando and he strode towards the Angel and the door.
Completely bewildered, he stepped back away from the Noble.
Slamming open the door, Fernando stated icily, “She will not get away with this,” and glanced up at him. “Let’s go. We have some planning to attend to.”
In stunned silence, he followed de Sagres outdoors to stand between the guards. He kept his eyes on the Portuguese Chosen and felt as if he were on a chain, being jerked this way and that, and resented it. His frown deepened at the flicker of amusement that sparked Fernando’s brown eyes. Following the gaze, he discovered the reason for the shift in Fernando’s malleable façade, and clenched his jaw in rising anger.
Turning his head over his shoulder to look up at the Angel, Fernando smiled. “Something to wash away the bad taste of this evening?”
Before he could restrain his newly made partner, Fernando raced down the steps with preternatural speed towards the girl under the lamppost.
Muttering a curse that Notus would have been furious to hear, he quickly followed, hoping to catch up before Fernando caught Jeanie. He pulled up behind the Noble in time to hear him say; “Now here’s a tasty morsel if I’ve ever seen one.”
He closed the large oaken doors to the theatre behind him with a click, noticing with a frown the large depression and cracks in the wood and turned to face the lobby. The paintings flickered alive in the dancing candlelight. Gruesome images looked ready to spring from framed canvas, and indeed one seemed to jump right at him. It startled him and he leapt to correct its angle. His hand paused momentarily as he stared into the demons red eyes, and wished he could cross himself for protection from his very real imagination, but the painting hung no threat to his rational mind.
Turning from the painting, he noticed the doors to the outside had been left open. He would have to deal with those two simpletons most appropriately. Excellent guards they were, they still would not open or close the doors.
Maybe I will have to requisition a doorman, he sighed and walked to close the doors.
Absently, he gazed up from the brass knob, his eyes falling upon the two Chosen standing across the street with the girl.
This would not do. Not do at all.
He watched the trio a moment longer and then slowly closed the doors.
Chapter VI
Jeanie spun around, startled at the sudden sound of the unknown voice, to face a swarthy man who stood only a little taller than she. She had not heard his approach, or the Angel’s who stood beside this stranger.
Angry crimson eyes momentarily flashed from beneath his cowl and Jeanie felt an emptiness in her stomach that made her ill.
There was no choice in the matter; Fernando had to be dealt with. The Angel could not allow the Noble to let the secret he and Notus had hidden from Jeanie all these years to slip out. Then again how was Fernando to know that this girl was something more than prey?
The look on Jeanie’s face also did not pass his notice as he took it all in with cool anger. Granted he was slightly impressed that she was able to follow him for there was no other explanation for her presence, but it proved that he had to be more careful. It was too easy to become lax on survival skills learned long ago.
Before Fernando could make good on his threat, he stated coolly, “What are you doing here, Jeanie?”
“You know this whore?” asked Fernando, gazing up at the tall Chosen in surprise.
“I’m no’ a whore!” answered Jeanie, infuriated that she was accused of such twice in one night. Any feelings of dread flew from her to be replaced with the familiar Scots temper. She gazed harshly at the stranger wishing she could burn him with her eyes. Instead he rocked slowly on his heels, his brown eyes rose in mild amusement. The Angel was, as usual, unreadable.
“Yes, I know Jeanie,” he answered, “She’s the housekeeper.”
“Keeping her for a nice light snack?” Fernando replied, impressed with the Angel and with Notus for keeping such a beauty and then recoiled at the intensity of their combined glares. “What? I’m just sorry that I didn’t think of it first. A nice tasty morsel like her would quench any Va—”
His final word was abruptly cut off as he was slammed into the brick wall of the building next to the lamppost. The fine cloth of his cloak pressed against rough stone promised to tear. He had not seen the Angel move. He did not know one of their own could move that fast. Fernando had the supernatural speed of their kind, but what the Angel seemed to possess went beyond.
Recovering his shock, Fernando gazed into burning eyes as the Angel held him firmly in place by the lapels. Somewhere behind, the Noble heard the girl’s astonished cry. Bearing his sharpened teeth, Fernando smiled and tried un
successfully to grab his daggers sheathed at the small of his back. This indignation would not go unremembered.
Ignoring Jeanie’s cries, the Angel leaned close to the Noble’s face. The flash of amusement did not go unnoticed and nor did Fernando’s attempts to reach the hidden blades. He had no choice; de Sagres had forced his hand. Making sure that Jeanie would not hear, he whispered, “Do not ever state or imply, in front of her, that we are Chosen, Vampires of whatever you call yourself. She knows nothing. She is not to find out.” With that he let go.
Fernando stumbled at the sudden release and caught himself. Swearing under his breath, he hastily righted his attire, smoothing out the wrinkles from the Angel’s white grip. The girl had stopped her ravings to stare at the newcomer in astonishment. Fernando took this all in, even noticing how pretty the girl truly was and matched the Angel’s glare with one of his own.
“Who the hell do you think you are dictating the rules to me?” the Noble stated icily. “I am the one who makes the rules. I am the last heir to the Fidalgo de Sagres. What are you? An anomaly of nature!”
Opening his mouth to reply, the Angel heard Jeanie pipe up, her ire up. Surprised, he let her continue knowing that once started no one, not even Notus, could quiet her. A smile twitched and was gone.
“How dare ye? D’ye even ken who ye are talkin’ to? Who do ye ken ye are? No wait. Ye’re the last ‘ear to the Feedalgo dee Sargase.” Her Scottish accent, thick with anger, warped the Portuguese title.
“That’s Sagres.” Fernando glared at her impudence.
“Sagres. Sargase. What’s the difference?” She thrust out her chin defiantly.
“The difference is in the pronunciation,” he stated coldly. Fernando looked over at the Angel, scowling at the hint of amusement on the pale face. “She’s you’re housekeeper; keep her out of my way, because if you do not control her, I will.”
“She is not my housekeeper,” he replied, amusement gone. “She does as she wills and I cannot, nor will not, force her to anything.” He gazed down into her wide green eyes. “She has already proved this,” he sighed.
Jeanie’s face brightened into a smile, making him uncomfortably warm. Reluctantly he pulled his eyes off her beautiful face and back to Fernando’s scowling features.
The Angel did not like the threatening expression on de Sagres’ face. “And you will not do anything to her either.”
Fernando’s scowl deepened, his eyes flickered with anger. No one told him what he could or could not do, and he resented the Angel for trying, but he would wait, bide his time, an immortals lifetime if necessary. Gathering his cloak around his broad muscled body, he strode up to his new partner without sparing the girl as much as a glance. “Never tell me what to do and I will spare this low born gutter swipe” – he flicked his eyes in Jeanie’s direction – “from my charms.”
Ignoring the fuming girl, the Noble swung around and stalked down the lane, his heels clicking loudly on stone. “Are you coming or are you not?” he called without turning or halting.
“Don’t.” The Angel laid his hand on Jeanie’s shoulder to still her from bolting after the Noble. He could feel the anger shuddering through her, and somehow sensed her need to go and tear a strip off of Fernando. He understood the feeling and released the tight fist of his other hand. There were reasons why he stayed away from the other Chosen, and Fernando proved part of the rule.
Shrugging off his touch, Jeanie spun around. “Were those only words ye spoke just a minute ago? Or are ye now a liar?”
Suddenly weary of all the confrontations, he closed his eyes and shook his head. He wanted this fiasco to be over with. He wanted Notus back safe and to be left alone to do as he wished, but the strings kept tugging him. Now he had to keep Jeanie safe from all this madness. “Do as you will, but I will see to it that you are kept safe.”
The anger guttered out of Jeanie’s eyes and she allowed him to guide her down the lane and back onto the street. She hardly needed protection, living over a pub had its own hazards, but she felt oddly comforted that he wanted to do this for her. No one had before. She glanced up to notice that beneath his hood he looked down trodden, that something was wrong, and then it hit her; the reason for tonight.
“Where’s the Good Father?” she blurted. “Ye were supposed t’ have gotten him back.”
He looked away.
“Where is he?” she forced them to a halt.
Images of Notus’ beaten and drained body suspended in a cruel mockery of Christ’s crucifixion flashed into his mind along with the Mistress’ victorious smile, making him wince.
“I could not get him back,” he whispered. I failed him, but he could not say this.
“Then we must go to the Bobbies.” Her voice rose in panic.
“No.” He shook his head. Bringing the police would not only endanger Notus, but most likely set a war of mortal against immortal – something that must never happen.
“Then how d’ye propose to get the Good Father back? Oh God, he isna dead?” Her hand flew to her face, covering her mouth. “Ye’re no’ saying he’s dead? Oh God, I –”
“He is not dead,” he blurted more in denial of the possibility. Her panic was beginning to affect him. Her exquisite face was full of fear. “He is being held hostage,” he stated. Trying to regain control of emotions threatening to break free, he guided them to resume their pace. “I have to do something to get him back.”
“Then I’ll help.”
He shook his head, sparking a flicker of anger in Jeanie.
“Ye said–”
“I know what I said,” he cut her off. He was in no mood for any more arguments. “There is a chance that if I fail not only will I be dead, but so will Notus. I also said I will keep you safe and that means I will drop you off at your place and you will stay there.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he quickly interrupted her. “I cannot afford to be distracted by the possibility of you getting hurt,” he said, softly.
“It’s that bad?” asked Jeanie, gazing down at the stones she stepped on. The fire was squashed before it took full light. Now that the reality of the situation seemed to present itself, danger or no, she wanted – needed – to help. “I dinna care. I want t’ help. Ye said that ye would no stop me from doin’ what I will. Well, I will help ye whether ye will it or no. I dinna want another fight. I just want t’help. The Good Father has done so much for me. I just want to do something to repay him. Please?”
They walked in silence, Jeanie’s plea hung heavily between them. Her desire to assist could not b dismissed as she waited for his answer. He frowned. Her need was so much like his own that he glanced at her as she watched the cobblestones. Her hair bounced and flew around her face, creating a fiery halo, and he knew in that instant that he wanted her near him, no matter the cost, and that frightened him.
Gazing into the gas lit illuminated night he whispered, “Alright.” Jeanie jerked her head up, green eyes wide with surprise and quickly closed her mouth. He continued on without looking at her. “I do not know how you can help, but you have to listen to me, to do as I say and not argue.” Jeanie opened her mouth and quickly shut it. “It is for your own safety.”
“Tell me what’s goin’ on,” she asked, bringing her gaze to Fernando’s fluttering cloak far ahead of them. She knew in the way he spoke, the Angel’s impassive mask was back in place, and cursed it.
“I cannot. I have told you everything I can. To tell you more will put you in greater danger and I will not allow that. All you need to know is that Notus is being held hostage until Fernando and I …” he trailed off with a sigh. “You are just going to have to trust me. I cannot answer all your questions.”
A frown formed on Jeanie’s face as they walked in silence. The only sounds were their footfalls and the occasional horse drawn carriage clattering down the street so late in the night.
“Can ye tell me one thing?” she whispered, breaking the silence. “If ye do, I’ll agree to yer terms.”
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He tilted his head expectantly.
“How is it,” she cautiously continued, “that ye would be so strangely paired with a Priest? I’ve never heard of a Priest living with and being so close with someone not of the cloth. Ye two are as different as night is to day, and yet, are close like father and son.”
The query caught him off guard. He had not expected it and glanced away from her searching eyes.
“He saved me once, a very long time ago,” he whispered.
Silence crashed between them, isolating them to their own private thoughts. Jeanie wished to alleviate the tension by pressing the issue. She had discovered more about the Angel this night than in the years of being the housekeeper. Now she yearned to know more. Her next question died on her lips before a word could be uttered as a wild carriage hurtled thunderously down the street towards Fernando, and at them.
Fernando leapt out of the way, barely missing the burlap bag that flew at him and landing on the cobbles with a wet smack.
Not as neatly as the Noble, he shoved Jeanie out of the foaming horse’s path. Jeanie landed painfully on her rear with a cry to watch the Angel leap, roll and come quickly to his feet in a blur of motion, safe out the way. He stood absolutely still, poised for another attempt. When the carriage did not return he realized that his hood had slipped, revealing his pale white features, and hastily flipped up the concealing fabric.
Reams of unintelligible cursing spewed forth from the Noble, and in one hand a blade flashed menacingly. The dark stained burlap bag lay ignored at his feet. Words finally spent, Fernando gazed down at what had almost hit him and frowned.
“Are you unharmed?” The Angel held out his hand to Jeanie. Even rumpled from the fall she still captivated him as her warm hand slipped into his.
“Aye.” She noted the cool softness of his fingers as he gently lifted her to her feet. He’s always so cold, she silently remarked. “Thank ye.”
