by Karen Dales
The other men nodded at the order and lifted Fernando by each appendage. On the count of three they heaved the limp body into the water.
A splash was their only reward.
The fifth man watched the body slowly float away. A sinister smile crept onto his thin lips. “That's one down, one to go.”
Turning back to the men, Corbie Vale snapped, “Back to work! Those spices won't ship themselves!”
“Yes, Mr. Vale,” they chorused.
Chapter XIX
The lone candle on the night stand guttered out, propelling the two lovers into utter darkness, which was perfectly well since Jeanie had long since fallen asleep, head pillowed on the crook of his shoulder. The absence of light did not hamper his ability to admire her beauty, though the light from the candle had lit her fiery hair aflame. Now he could be content with what the darkness supplied. Her pale skin glowed with a vitality that betrayed her youth and spoke well of her recuperative powers. He did not need to see the ugly bruising around the fading puncture marks on her neck. They would be mostly healed by tomorrow night. He would have to be careful lest he turn her neck into a well used pin cushion.
He had not meant to drink from her a second time, only to please her. He came so incredibly close to losing what little control he maintained and he silently thanked Notus for every bit of training he received. Never before had he felt such intense pleasure in the act. It did explain Bridget’s chosen profession and why so many of the Chosen seduced their prey. It made the feeding so much more intoxicating, more satisfying. Feeding off fear had its own pleasurable taste, one that he appreciated and hungered for, but the taste of pleasure shared was candy, having its own dangerously addictive qualities. He could still taste Jeanie’s excited blood and though his hunger for blood was well satiated there was still part of him that wanted to devour her, to make her completely his.
Brushing a long, thick lock of copper hair out of Jeanie’s sleeping face, he held her close. He could not recall how long he desired this with Jeanie. Fantasy made it seem from the first time he had seen her in this very bed those short years ago. In actuality he had slowly grown accustomed to her presence until he could not wait to see her and before the awkwardness between them would drive him into the night.
He had loved her even then, and now he felt as if his chest would burst from undeserved joy. Jeanie not only loved him but also completely accepted him as no other ever had. This was beyond all hope, and yet it was real. Jeanie was really here, sleeping beside him with his marks on her neck and her blood coursing through his body. He wanted this night to last forever and dared not pinch himself to see if this were some lovesick dream. That would be too much to bear. No, this was definitely real and when tomorrow night came it would bring new wonders to behold.
Jeanie let out a soft contented sigh and snuggled closer, half her body lying over his, her hot breath tickling his chest. Fully embracing her, his hands touched her silky skin. It was easy not to notice the cool temperatures in the room, but for Jeanie’s sake he tried to find the quilt shoved to the foot of the bed.
Unable to reach it without disturbing her he managed to disengage his right leg from the sheet and with his foot he felt the bunched up cover. Frowning at the awkwardness of the situation and realizing there was only one recourse to provide Jeanie with the warmth she needed without disturbing her, he grabbed the coverlet with his toes and pulled it steadily upwards, careful not to release it, until he could grab it with his hand. She stirred slightly as he covered her with the quilt.
This is what he wanted to do. He wanted to take care of her forever. For her to always be with him. He wondered if all people in love felt this way, and especially if Jeanie felt the same. But what was forever to her? She already said she could not imagine living to fifty. That was a sobering thought. Forever meant two very different things. One was her mortal lifetime, the other, his immortal life. If she hoped for marriage and children she would be torn to hear that he could not give her such a life.
Marriage between Chosen and mortal, though not unheard of, was extremely rare and equally dangerous. And what of Notus? What would he think about this when he learns of it? That was easy. Notus would be ill pleased, possibly angry to hear of the whole situation. Notus never condoned his affair with Tarian’s granddaughter. The monk must have thought at some point in their long relationship something like this would happen and together they would work it out, but not tonight, maybe never.
He groaned and felt his chest tighten and his eyes burn. The thought of losing the two last dearest people in his world pained him more than any previous loss. Auntie and Geraint’s deaths were not his fault, a realization that took many centuries to accept. Yong Zheng Ru’s death, still fresh and surprisingly on an equal level, filled him with guilt.
He had killed so many countless others because they needed the Angel to take away their pain and rarely had he batted an eye, steeling away his emotions, distancing himself. A hunter killing prey that needed killing, culling the weak from the strong. It hurt him to take the children as their parents knew of no other way, but it was his life, and these people held very little meaning in it. He was their merciful Angel of Death and he tried to take comfort in their solace as he took their lives into his own and knew it for an illusion.
Blinking back tears, the standard rationalizations of what he had done to that wonderful old man, and suddenly to those numerous others, did not stop the pain and remorse he felt at the old man’s loss. It was easier to explain away the guilt of killing ruffians and cut throats if they approached first or were hurting others. He even made peace with himself as he took their lives, a predator preying upon predator as if it somehow made things more equal. But there was no rationalization over what had become of Notus and what might become of them all if he lost this game.
Notus had never done anything to another Chosen to remotely deserve such adverse attention. The Mistress could have selected another than he or even asked! There was no need to hostage for his help. And if he lost Notus…it was a thought he could not bear to consider. Notus was his life. Without him he would be totally alone in the world. He had done that before and he knew that he could not bear such an existence again.
And what of Jeanie? He dared not contemplate it.
Tears rolled off his cheeks onto the pillow. He had not such an overwhelming sense of melancholy since Notus decided they would be returning to London. Maybe it was the city. He had experienced more death and destruction here than in any part of the world, it seemed. Whenever they returned something bad always happened.
The last time was the Great Fire and then the plague, before that was the Crusade and before that was his own induction into the Family. Granted, the time he first met Fernando was not all that bad, except if he counted meeting Fernando as bad. If they all managed to survive, he would take Jeanie and Notus away, never to return to this accursed place. Right now it was a monumental if.
The Gods definitely had a funny way of controlling people’s lives.
Wiping the wetness away with the back of his hand he realized the pattern of Jeanie’s breathing had changed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He tried to hide the pathos from his voice, attempting to regain control of his wild emotions.
Chin propped on her hands, Jeanie saw without seeing the anguish in his face. “’Tis fine. But what of you? What’s the matter?” Worry filled her words. “Ye were so happy earlier.”
He held her close in the dark, and gradually, after a considerable time, he won his internal fight. “What is to become of us?” he whispered into the darkness.
“I’m no sure what ye mean.” She hunkered down under the covers, laying her head on his shoulder. If only she could light a candle to see what was truly going on. She had understood the question because it was the last thing on her mind before she had fallen asleep.
“I don’t think I can bear the thought of loosing you. Not after this.” The touch of her face against his
hands and her lips against his own were wonderfully reassuring. “I have waited so incredibly long.”
“I’m no goin’ anywhere,” she whispered in his ear. “This is where I wanna be.”
“But –”
“Hush.” Jeanie kissed him again.
After a long moment, she drew back, taking in a gulp of air. The answer, though sweet, did not satisfy the sense of security he so desperately needed to remove the fear entrapping his soul.
“Jeanie…oh Gods, I don’t know how to say this.”
“Just say it.” She gazed at him, green eyes full of concern and care.
Her soothing words encouraged him to continue in a way that bespoke of the trust he could now place in her. Hesitantly at first, grateful for the cloaking darkness of the room, he whispered, “I…I’m afraid, Jeanie. For the first time in a very long time, I am filled with fear.” Exhaling his apprehension in a puff, he silently waited for her to interject.
Instead Jeanie was strangely quiet, staring at him in blind seriousness and worry. He could almost hear her thoughts asking, What are you so afraid of?
“I don’t know,” he replied. “No, that’s not true. I’m…I’m afraid…” he closed his eyes willing down the rising panic. “I’m afraid of losing you. I thought that I could handle having you along in this quest, but now…I can’t bear the thought of you coming to harm because of me.”
“What are ye sayin’?” Her voice was oddly calm.
He opened his eyes, almost unable to meet her gaze. “I know that I gave you my word that you could help, but that was before.” His words tumbled out unevenly. “I know I also swore an oath to keep you from harm. But I can’t have you in this when one step too slow could cost you your life. I’m neither strong enough nor powerful enough to fight off both our enemies and other Chosen who may have their own ideas about a mortal with a Chosen, especially one such as I. If that happened I…I would die.”
“Nothin’ is goin’ t’ happen t’ me while I’m with ye.” She embraced him, feeling his fear returned in her own heart. “Don’t ye think I have the same feelin’s? I do. I’m terrified. That cell sobered me well, as well as knowin’ the truth of what ye are and what yer fightin’ for. It explains so much of the danger I was in and the words I heard, especially comin’ from Fernando. I ken he’d rather see me dead. I ken now what he meant the first time I met him.” She felt him involuntarily cringe. “But I’m no goin’ t’ let it stop me from bein’ with ye. If I must I can take care of us both. I love ye. I’m no goin’ anywhere. D’ye believe me?”
“Yes. Yes I do.” The words exploded in a rush. He felt a little better, more positive and more than a little ashamed. He had not expected such strength in her. They would have the time together to figure out what the future truly held for them. Right now he was content to know that she would be with him. After all, if he broke his word it would mean that he was dead, and he was damned to let that happen.
“I love you, Jeanie Stuart.” He smiled and kissed her gently, tasting the sweetness of her lips. Oh how he could drink from those lips, her kiss as potent to his soul as her blood to his body.
Jeanie smiled; relieved to hear the sadness lifted and returned the embrace. “I love ye, too.”
Snuggling closer, wrapping her leg over his, a frown tugged at her delicately featured face. “What am I t’call ye? Ye dinna seem to like it when I call ye by the name the Good Father uses, and calling ye the Angel seems so….” She let the thought hang in the darkness.
The question surprised him, and he halted his tracing of lazy circles on her back. He had not thought about it. Notus used that name sparingly, usually to get his attention more than anything else. It had been a title, a description, in the past when people believed him to be the Welsh God of the Hunt. Everywhere they went in the world he was more titled than named. Even Yong Zheng had called him Xiao Gui, which was more of an affectionate descriptive than a name. To hear the name being used by Jeanie had struck him hard because she had never used it before and because he was now no longer the Angel to her, but something more.
“Do you remember when I told you that the woman who helped heal me after my first wounding gave me that name and that it was because they thought I was Gwyn ap Nudd?” he ventured cautiously.
He felt Jeanie’s head nod against his chest, intrigued.
“That’s not precisely true. Auntie didn’t name me because she believed me Fay and that one day I’d discover my true name. It was the villagers who foolishly believed their God had returned when, on occasion, one of them would see me hunting the woods at night. Having no other name and being presumed to be this Fairy Lord, the name unfortunately stuck.”
Jeanie lay quietly for a moment, his words sinking in until she quietly asked, “If ye could choose a name for yerself, what would it be?”
The question was completely unexpected and caught him off guard. Even Notus had never been so presumptuous. Without thought the answer came unbidden to his lips, “Gwyn,” and stared at the darkened canopy in stunned silence. It was the first time he thought of himself by this name. It had always been there, but never before had he claimed ownership of it.
“Gwyn,” he heard her test the name on her lips. “What does it mean?”
“White,” he said, flatly.
He had expected a response, but the reaction he received made him scowl. Jeanie’s titillating laughter filled the dark room. Once she was calm again, he realized that tears of mirth dampened his chest.
“Oh that’s just perfect,” cried Jeanie as she lifted her head to face him.
“You think it’s funny?”
Hearing the hurt in his voice, Jeanie shook her head, sending dishevelled hair flying. “No, but it make’s so much sense.” Before he could utter a word of protest Jeanie found his mouth with hers. Pulling back she whispered, “I love ye, Gwyn.”
He smiled, accepting the truth to her words.
They lay together drinking in the feel of each other as they languidly explored one another. Not for the sexual pleasure they had consumed earlier, but for the pure delight in being in each other’s presence. Jeanie had long since dozed off, purring to his gentle tracing of circles and other patterns on her back as she sprawled beside him.
Suddenly a loud banging at the front door broke the fragile silence and tore apart the precious moment. Anger at the intrusion welled within only to be quickly placed under tight control.
Jeanie rolled onto her side, her voice sleepy. “Who could that be?”
He shook his head and closed his eyes. A few deep breaths extended his perceptions beyond the sturdy walls to discover the subtle shift in the air – the slow warming of predawn. Whoever was at the door had better have a damned good reason to be disturbing them at this dangerous hour.
“Stay here,” he ordered, slipping back into his cool calm exterior as easily as he pulled on his trousers and shirt.
Closing the bedroom door behind before Jeanie could think of protesting, he walked to the front door, the hardwood floor cold against his bare feet. Something did not smell right. Literally. Again the knocking, this time more enthusiastic than before and a turn of the knob revealed a sight he never expected to see. Only his eyes expressed the shock he felt, his features otherwise back under tight reign.
“Are you going to let me in or are you going to wait to see the sun bake me dry?”
He could only blink in astonishment. Standing on his doorstep stood the Noble appearing not so noble. In fact he was downright atrocious. Looking past the fact that Fernando was drenched through and through with disgusting smelling water, he was also covered in filth and a massive bloodstain covered his neck, shoulders and a bit of his chest. By the sunken grey flesh on Fernando’s face, he quickly gathered it was the Noble’s blood.
For a moment he considered closing the door on the man, leaving him to the brightening sky, but stepped back, allowing Fernando to enter just before dawn break. Quickly, he shut the door, closing out the deadly rays. It looked
like it was going to be another glorious day.
Fernando leaned heavily against the closed door with a groan. Filthy water dripped onto the floor, filling the silence. The very act of putting his hand to his face bespoke of great pain.
“Oh to be mortal so I could have a shot of laudanum. Several shots.” He squinted up at the Angel. “Then I’d be dead.”
“What happened?” Curiosity won out. Something serious must have happened to make Fernando come here knowing he would have to spend the day.
Fernando dismissed the question with a wag of his limp hand. “I’ll tell you once the room stops spinning.”
“Do you want to sit?” he offered. He had not forgotten what Fernando had done earlier, but centuries of helping Notus help those in need brought about a customary, if non-caring, response.
“No, ye don’t. Ye stay right there!” Jeanie stood in the bedroom doorway dressed only in her shift, her arms crossed against her chest, face livid. At the sound of the dripping she glared at the puddle forming around the Noble’s feet. There was no way in God’s green earth that Fernando was going to ruin the floors she tried so hard to keep polished.
The Noble’s lips quirked into a painful smirk, “I see that my practical joke backfired on me.” He glanced up at his reluctant host. “And you reaped the benefits. Twice in one night, eh? She’s stronger than she looks.”
Noticing where his gaze landed, Jeanie slapped a hand against the remains of the marks on her neck. Eyes wide with embarrassment, her other hand tried in vain to cover herself before going back into the bedroom, slamming the door shut in her wake.
Fernando winced at the sudden noise, his face twisted with a grimace of pain as cold fury rained down on him from fiery eyes.
“I could demand you leave,” stated the Angel icily, and immediately thought about doing it.
“You could,” Fernando’s insufferable grin was back, in defiance to the tense situation, “but you would never find out what I have.”
