Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles

by Karen Dales

  Astonished, Jeanie could only blink. Never had he spoken to her in this manner.

  In amusement, Fernando’s eyes widened.

  Taking a deep breath, he continued without meeting Jeanie’s shocked green eyes. “Somehow they know your connection to me and this has placed you in great danger, for possibly only one purpose: to get to us. We cannot have you place yourself in situations that could get us all killed. You have no idea what you are dealing with.”

  “And ye do?” She shifted away from the Angel. She did not understand him. One moment he was kind and gentle to her and the next he was so cold and ruthless.

  “To some extent, yes,” he responded. Who wanted he, Fernando and the rest of the Chosen dead was a mystery slowly unravelling itself, but he knew them to be cunning and extremely dangerous.

  “Then tell me,” she implored.

  “I cannot.”

  “Why?”

  “I cannot.” He paused a moment, the silence in the room overwhelming. “I have asked you to trust me, a task that is not easy, I know, but please try.”

  A frown formed on Jeanie’s lips and her eyes fell to the intricate patterns of the rug. “Aye, I trust ye, but,” she sighed, she wanted to do more than just trust him and he was making it oh so difficult at this moment. “I feel so useless, like a dog on a leash, ye ken?”

  He nodded. He felt exactly the same.

  Unexpectedly a loud rumble exploded in the room and Jeanie blushed. Fernando could only shake his head in exasperation. “There’s food in the pantry.” He jerked a thumb behind him. “Go help yourself. I’m sure some of Bridget’s whores wouldn’t mind sharing.”

  Standing up, Jeanie unwrapped herself from the Angel’s cloak, folded it and gave it to him. “Thank ye,” she said, blushing again as her stomach rumbled once more. Grabbing a solitary candlestick from the candelabra, Jeanie followed Fernando’s directions to the pantry.

  Alone in the parlour, his pale features hardened on the Noble.

  “What?” cried Fernando.

  “If you ever raise even a finger to harm Jeanie in any way I will see you dead.” Crimson eyes flashed menacingly.

  Surprisingly, Fernando chuckled before his face turned to stone. “Yes, I can see that you have it bad for that one, but let me point out one thing, you cannot be in all places at all times. If she does not follow orders, especially at a crucial moment, and the result is, how shall I say it, less than desirable, then she will wish that she had never been born. It is you who desires her presence, thus tying our hands to act in ways that are normal for us.”

  He looked away, knowing the truth of the Noble’s words, but he would not allow Fernando to harm Jeanie. “If I have not said so before, I will say so now. I will take responsibility for any and all of Jeanie’s actions, and I will take the consequences that come with them.”

  Tapping finger against his lips, Fernando quietly studied his partner. “Alright, then it’s settled.”

  “What’s settled?” Jeanie walked into the room, her arms laden with an open bottle of wine, a little black jar, a hunk of cheese and a package of crackers. Setting the groceries down on the table she produced three wine glasses from her large skirt pockets and sat down.

  “That the Angel is going to take full responsibility for you.” Fernando ignored her dumb expression, took his feet off the table and lifted the wine bottle. “You have expensive tastes, my dear. I usually reserve this vintage for special guests.” He poured her a glass of the fine Beaujolais.

  “It was all ye had.” She nodded her thanks and took a sip. Putting the glass down, Jeanie looked at the Angel who stared out into the hall. “Ye dinna hae t’ do that; take responsibility for me, ye ken.”

  He turned to face her. “It was the only way.”

  She let out a sigh and picked up the little black jar, trying to open it. “I’ve taken care of myself for as long as I remember. I can care for myself now.”

  Noting her frustration over the little jar, he took it from her grasp and opened it. The angry expression on her face stopped him short from returning the jar. Snatching it back, Jeanie curtly offered her thanks and gazed into the contents, frowning. A dunk of her finger revealed tiny black pearls stuck together that shimmered wetly in the candlelight. “Wha - what is this?” She wiped her finger on the jars edge, removing the little globs, and tried to read the foreign language on the label.

  “It is Russian caviar,” answered Fernando, dryly.

  “I thought it was jam.” Her mystified expression deepened into a frown and she glanced up at the Noble. “What’s caviar?”

  Fernando blanched noticeably at the revelation. Pursing his lips into a tight line, he replied, “Fish eggs.”

  “Oh, that’s disgustin’.” She dropped the jar on the table, spilling some of the contents.

  Picking up the jar, Fernando unceremoniously dolloped some of the caviar onto a cracker and shoved it towards Jeanie’s face. “You touched it, you eat it,” he stated matter-of-factly, holding his anger in check. “I paid a pretty penny for this and you will eat it.”

  Jeanie made a face at the little black eggs glooped together on the wafer and took it from the Noble. Her sense of hunger abated at the sight and she glanced to the Angel hoping he would rescue her from this trap, but he seemed more intent on the Noble.

  Cautiously, she took a bite. The salty round hardness exploded in her mouth. The taste was neither pleasant nor unpleasant and she took another bite. She could feel dark eyes intent on her as she washed down the mouthful with the Beaujolais.

  “Aren’t ye gonna hae some?” She broke off a chunk of cheese and popped it into her mouth, relishing in the normalcy of the taste.

  “No, that’s alright,” declined Fernando. “We’ve already eaten.”

  Cautiously, Jeanie spooned some more caviar onto another cracker and popped it into her mouth. This time it was not so bad. It just took a bit of getting used to.

  Nodding towards the four piles, her mouth still full, she asked, “Why d’ye take these?” She swallowed. “It dinna look to me like ye do much cookin’.”

  “How very astute of you.” Fernando fingered the fine powder of the first pile. “I do tend to eat out quite often.” He flashed a full-toothed grin exposing his sharpened teeth and ignored the Angel’s disapproving glare. “The food is for my guests. As to these, I brought them on a hunch. The ambiguity of the contents of the barrels and this little bottle,” - he pulled out the phial - “and a certain reaction, in the midst of other deciding factors, leads me to theorize that this is what will aid us in our search.” He placed the phial at the end of the row. “But do these equal that and if so, how?”

  Licking her fingers clean of caviar and crumbs, Jeanie picked up the little bottle and read out the numbers. “D’ye ken the names of these?” she asked, indicating the piles of spices.

  Fernando placed a finger to his lips. “There were no names given, even on the shipping order, only numbers. One, two, three and four,” he answered, mildly amused at the girl’s involvement. If she had any knowledge he would use her. Fernando was starting to see some benefit of keeping her around.

  Her wine stained lips pouted in thought as she read the bottle again. Wiping out the lid of the caviar bottle with the hem of her skirt – she could not find anything else – she placed it lid side down on the table before the phial. “Which one is one?”

  Interest aroused, Fernando pointed to the pile on his left. “I believe this is one, that is two, that three and this one is four. Why?”

  Jeanie flashed a smile and measured one into the palm of her hand. Satisfied with the amount she dumped it into the lid, and began doing the same with the other powders.

  Intrigued, the Angel brought his attention to the careful measuring and mixing of the herbs and watched as Jeanie dumped the last spice and stirred with her finger. The intensity of the smell exploded into the room, causing him to gag before his hands could cut the putrid smell from infecting his nostrils.

  Thro
ugh tearing eyes he witnessed Jeanie’s gasp as the Noble snatched the lid, ran to the door, arm covering his face, to hurl the contents and lid into the street. The door slammed shut, Fernando clearly shaken.

  Reluctantly, the Noble lowered his arm, sniffing the air. The Angel followed Fernando’s example. The smell lingered, and to the bemusement of Jeanie, he covered his mouth and nose with his hand.

  “This is wonderful, just wonderful,” muttered the Noble as he went about the room flinging heavy drapes aside and opening windows in an attempt to air the place out. “It’s going to take forever to get rid of the stench.”

  A slight breeze stirred his long white hair and through the hand covering his mouth, he spoke, “At least we now know what those herbs are.”

  “Yes, but is it the cause of the poisoning?” Fernando found his seat. Already the room smelled better.

  “Poisoning?” exclaimed Jeanie, backing away from the powders. Her hand grabbed another cracker and dunked it into a surprisingly empty jar. The smell had made her ravenous and all that now remained were a few crackers.

  Lowering his hand from his face, he tried to soothe her. “There is nothing for you to worry about. Even if it is, it will not harm you. At least I don’t think so,” he finished in a whisper. He exchanged her frightened and confused sight for the frown on the Noble’s face.

  “Well,” huffed Fernando. “There’s only one way to find out if this is the cause.”

  “How?” Crimson eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  The answer was quick and forthcoming as Fernando whipped out Yin, grabbed Jeanie’s wrist and cut. Her scream of shock turned into a cry of pain as the Noble held her, allowing red beads to drip from the shallow wound onto the table. Try as she might she was locked in strong hands.

  At her cry and the realization of the Noble’s movements, the Angel bolted to his feet. It was totally unexpected and he moved in a haze of shock, but fast enough to grab the thick wrist and strike Fernando across the face. The Noble released Jeanie’s wrist as he bounced against the back of the couch.

  The malicious smile gone, he rubbed the side of his stinging face and tested his jaw. Fernando had never been punched that hard before. “You weren’t kidding.” The Angel glared at him and he brought his attention to the pool of blood on the table.

  Shooting the Noble one last glare, the Angel sat beside Jeanie who rocked her embraced arm in an attempt to will the pain away.

  “Let me see it.” He tried to make his voice gentle despite the anger that swelled within. It seemed to work; Jeanie sniffed, nodded, and extended her arm, allowing him to take it.

  Her skin was soft and warm to his touch. The cut was not deep and seemed to be clotting. He ran a thumb over the wound, making her flinch, but it seemed better. The smell of her hot blood called to him and he met her intense green eyes. For a moment they locked and there was nothing but each other. Startled, he released her.

  “It will heal,” he remarked, and then turned his attention to the Noble. “Is there some place where she can rest?” His anger barely in check, his inquiry was more of an order.

  Brown eyes narrowed yet the curl of his lips did not depart. “Upstairs,” answered Fernando with a jerk of his head. “Second door on your left.”

  Nervous of possible further attacks Jeanie stood, holding her wounded wrist and glanced down at the Angel, worry filling her eyes.

  “Go ahead,” he nodded. “It will be alright.”

  Jeanie turned, picked up the flickering candle in a plain silver holder and went half way up the stairs where she halted. Allowing for one final glance down at him, she briefly smiled, and hurried up the final steps.

  He watched Jeanie’s flight and slumped his shoulders at the slam of the door. Running an uninjured hand through his hair, he brought his eyes to bear on the Noble. “You had better explain yourself.” His tone was cold and threatening. “For if you do not I will carry out my promise.”

  “Yes, you do have it bad for that one,” chuckled the Noble. He swirled a finger in the pool of blood and popped the red stained finger into his mouth, sucking it clean, all the while keeping an eye on the Angel. “Delicious don’t you think”

  “You are a vampire,” he sneered. He meant it purely in a derogatory way and at the raised brow he knew Fernando had received it as such. “There is nothing left to you except your own cruelty.” He rose to his feet. “You care for nothing and as such nothing cares for you. I pity you.” He turned to go up the stairs.

  “Where do you think you are going?” bellowed the Noble, rising. Pity was for weaklings and to have it thrust on him infuriated him.

  He placed a foot on the first step and addressed Fernando. “I am going to remove Jeanie and myself from your presence. This partnership is at an end.”

  “Fine, but don’t you want to find out if it is that powder?” His half smile returned as the Angel halted halfway up. Pulling out the purchase order, Fernando waved it enticingly. “Not to mention I am the one with the next lead. What do you have?”

  Knowing that Fernando was right, he reluctantly descended and came to tower over the Noble, who sat and opened the little bottle. Instantly the room filled with the horrible stench.

  “You may have the leads. I can find more on my own.”

  “With her helping you? I doubt it.” Fernando tapped the mouth of the phial, distributing a small amount into the red pool. “You allow her presence to limit you because you will not tell her the truth of what you are.” He mixed the blood and powder together with a finger.

  “And what is that?” he inquired, coldly.

  Fernando shot the Angel a sidelong glance. “A va –, a Chosen, of course.” He sucked his finger clean and spat. “It’s the powder.”

  The culprit of the poisoning revealed, the Angel stared at Jeanie’s tainted blood for a moment before bringing his gaze back to the Noble. “It is forbidden to tell mortals of our existence unless they are about to be Chosen. She is not to be Chosen. Yet you still think I should tell her.”

  “If you don’t, I will.” Fernando’s face was all seriousness.

  “No.”

  “Then you limit us both.”

  “We are partners no longer.”

  A deep chuckle resounded through the room. “You don’t see it, do you? We’re stuck with each other if we want to survive, and I have a feeling that you have much more to lose than I. Therefore you can pity me all you want and we will remain partners.”

  Shoulders slumped in resignation; he landed heavily on the opposite couch. “I do not want you to tell her.”

  “You will?”

  “No,” he shook his head.

  “God damn it, man,” exploded Fernando. He thought he was getting through to his partner. “Damn your stubbornness!”

  “We are limited by what we are. What difference does this make?”

  “A big difference,” ranted the Noble. “She is going to figure out that we don’t eat, we don’t drink and that we can’t go out in the day. She will notice that we are different.”

  Propping elbows on his knees, he rested his head in his good hand. “Notus and I have kept it a secret for five years, but if she finds out then I will deal with it if the time comes.”

  “I don’t think it’s a matter of if. It’s a matter of when. Whatever excuses you and your sire conjured up aren’t going to be applicable to us working together.”

  Silence fell between the two. Fernando was probably right about Jeanie yet he was reluctant to do anything about it. He had no idea how she would react if she found out, but he believed it would be the end of her involvement. It would also mean an end to her life since Notus made it impossible for him to use the Push on her. The thought of taking her life to keep his secrets opened a pit in his stomach.

  Gradually the light in the parlour began to take on the subtle changes that were the prelude to dawn. Lines around objects became more defined and the yellow glow from the numerous candles became more restricted.

  Slapping his h
ands against his thighs, Fernando rose to his feet. “It looks as if you will have to stay the day,” he remarked, making the rounds to close windows, draw drapes, and snuff wicks. “It is too bad that we cannot at least witness the birth of the day. If there is something I miss it is that.”

  Following the Noble’s example, he stood, cloak in hand and went up the stairs, leaving Fernando to stare oddly at him as he entered the second room on the left.

  The door clicked shut behind him and he approached the window, its curtains wide open, allowing the soft grey light of pre-dawn to spill into the large room. Savouring the last remnants of the night, he drew the drapes, leaving him in near darkness to study his surroundings.

  The bedroom was larger than he expected, with a canopied bed taking up precedence along the northern wall. A wardrobe, a chaise and a few dressers were neatly arranged, allowing for space and aesthetics. On the top of one of the dressers a porcelain pitcher and basin stood ready for use.

  A sigh filtered in the silence, reaching sensitive ears. He turned to find Jeanie asleep in the large bed and quietly walked up to her. He picked up her clothes from the floor and hung them on the footboard before coming to stand beside her sleeping form. The light from the candle on the bed stand lit up the fire of her hair. A menagerie of red, gold, russet, cinnamon and even crimson danced in response to the flickering flame.

  Kneeling down, he stared at her relaxed face and noticed for the first time the slight sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her small slightly upturned nose. Long thick red eyelashes danced over dreaming eyes and she let out a soft moan from her full lips. The cut on her forehead was healing well and he so wanted to smooth the frown from her face. Instead, nervously, he allowed himself to touch one of the many curls abound on the pillow. Its soft tress encircled his finger and he luxuriated in the touch. He knelt there silently intoxicated by the sight, sound and smell of Jeanie.

  Abruptly the short vigil was broken as she rolled onto her side. Standing up, he pulled the thick coverlet over her pale shoulder, her shift having slipped down her arm. Backing away, not wanting to retreat from the view, a shudder ran up his spine. My Gods, this is love. The thought filled him with terror and something else – joy.