by Karen Dales
Turning from the three Chosen, Jeanie fled through the doors, down the hall, to will the elevator to rise faster than its worn mechanisms could function. She would have barred the door once she had opened it with a key in a trembling hand, but she knew either Fernando or the Angel would have no trouble against it.
Pulling the abandoned hair from the brush, Jeanie felt a tear trickle down her cheek. She had never imagined that her love would be so confused with terror.
The sound of the lock in the front door turning the tumblers shot Jeanie straight up. She had not expected them back so soon, but glancing over her shoulder to the clock sitting on the writing desk told her that dawn was not that far away. So much time had passed since she had closed the door behind her to seek the refuge of a hot bath.
A mumbling and the sound of a door closing shut precipitated footsteps leading away from her room. Releasing a tension filled sigh, Jeanie felt almost relieved that it was Fernando going to his room, but it begged the question as to where the Angel was. Shoulders slumping, she found that a part of her did not want to confront the Angel despite how much she longed to be held in his strong embrace.
She continued to sit motionless on the bed, waiting for the inevitable to come. The sound of the table clock ticking grew louder with each passing second. Fear welled and she hated the feeling. It almost came as a relief when she heard the front door open and admit the suite’s final occupant. She heard him shuffle around the main room, opening and closing the closet before heading down to the room they shared.
When his tall, slender form appeared in the doorway, Jeanie’s eyes went wide. In the substantial gaslight she could see the speckles of rust coloured dried blood on his beautiful face and hair, marring his perfect whiteness. Despite the lack of his long black cloak, he still stood as the Angel until understanding flared hurt in his crimson eyes.
Breaking eye contact, he sighed and walked into the room to deposit an armload of groceries onto the writing desk. Grapes, a couple of apples, a small wedge of yellow cheese, bread and a bottle of wine sat on a table meant for study.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he murmured, not daring to glance in her direction.
Although she knew she should not have been surprised at his obvious thoughtfulness, Jeanie watched in dumb silence as he stepped down the hall that led to the bathroom. It was when the sound of rushing water flowing from the taps filtered to her ears that she realized she had not said anything, not even a thank you. Despite his deplorable appearance, Jeanie could not deny that he was still the same man she fell in love with. The only problem was reconciling that fact with the horror she had witnessed that night.
Taking a shuddering breath, Jeanie knew that he had been right; that she was acting in the way that he had always expected of her right from the first night they had spent together. She recalled her strength of determination in the face of her ignorance, but now she could not deny the truth of his actions, nor his words. It came down to the final question – could she fully accept him?
Tonight he had made her an accomplice not only to murder, but also to theft and arson. It seemed to Jeanie that he held no remorse in his actions and it was hard to imagine him to be so cold when he was so warm and considerate. He was the Angel and Gwyn, and it was Gwyn she had always loved. If she wanted that love to continue, Jeanie knew that she had to become strong and accept the Angel.
Determined to accept what she could not change and finding strength in what she could, Jeanie stood and walked over to the hallway to find Gwyn standing, dripping wet with a towel wrapped around his hips. The whiteness of the towel only accentuated the paleness of his lean trim figure. His eyes flickered momentarily on Jeanie before quickly taking in the untouched food and the uncovered windows. The first lightening of dawns approach forced him to squint.
His long strides brought him to the cord where he hastily pulled, forcing the thick brocade drapes closed. The heavy fabric swished with the speed of its movement across the rail. Without a word, he walked over to the bed and sat down.
She knew it was now or never. “Gwyn, I –”
“I’m so –”
Their eyes caught each other and Jeanie’s heart soared at the slight smile on his face with the realization that they had both spoken at the same time.
“Ye go first,” she offered, sitting down on the bed opposite him.
Wet white strands swung clear beads of water onto the bed. “No. You go first.”
Jeanie caught the serious tone that extinguished the ruby glitter of his eyes. Summoning up her waning resolve, she took a deep breath. “Ye were right.” She waited for a response and receiving none Jeanie continued. “I said that I could handle the fact that ye were a vamp – Chosen – and all that entails, but I was wrong.”
She watched as he broke eye contact to frown at the space between them.
“What are you saying, Jeanie?” he asked, his tone full of the expectation of pain.
Shifting closer, Jeanie ducked her head so that he would be forced to look at her. “I love ye. That isna gonna change.” He lifted his head, his frown turning to one of confusion. “I also ken that ye are who ye are and that canna change either, tis I that has t’ change. I’ve seen more than I care to admit, but I hae to accept it or I dinna think I can be with ye.”
“Do you think you really can when even I cannot?” he implored. Pain coloured his visage.
“I dinna said that I like it,” Jeanie shook her head. “And I must say I’m happy to hear that ye dinna like it either. But answer me one question.”
“What?”
“Why did ye kill the warehouse manager when ye told me ye dinna hae t' kill to get what ye need?”
His eyes went wide at the unexpected query before the frown returned. His voice fell to a near whisper. “I didn’t plan on it, but the poisoning had left me so starved that I couldn’t control myself. I had never felt that before and it was so incredibly difficult to keep control when you always smell so intoxicating.”
Surprise caught Jeanie and she smiled. It seemed that he always knew the right thing to say. She knew she had to be stronger than she had been before. Leaning over, she kissed him long and deep. Cool arms encircled her as he drew her into his embrace. The dampness of his strong body soaked through her shift.
Hungrily she loosened his towel, all the while opening herself to his delectable kisses. She had not realized that he had gently laid her down until she felt him sheath himself in her, sending her body into throbbing need.
Their lovemaking was furious. Her need to have him fill her completely drove all other thoughts from her mind. It was when his sharpened teeth cautiously slipped through the sensitive skin of her neck, sending a shock of ecstasy that ran from throat to groin, that caused her to cry out as her body convulsed its release.
The rich scent of horse filled his nostrils. Standing beside the large black charger, his fingers absently scratched behind the velvety twitching ear. The sharp contrast between his colouring and the dark soft hairs stood out beneath the gaslight emitting from the tall posts besides the entrance to the hotel. It was only when his hand brushed over the white blaze on the horse’s forehead did his fingers seemed to disappear. He tried to ignore the shaking of his hand.
The horse, enjoying the attention, pressed into the caress with a snicker of satisfaction while the two other horses snuffled in jealousy. It was the tall black that received the affection from the dark cloaked figure.
He had come down to the lobby well before sunset, staying to the shadows, enjoying the anonymity his cloak provided. Jeanie’s acceptance of what happened and their fervent lovemaking provided a short-lived solace. Falling asleep entangled in each other’s arms and legs should have been enough, and it was, until They came back into his dreams.
He shuddered in remembrance of Their claims upon him and a sob tore from his throat at the left over sensations of Their mouths ripping into him, feeding off his fear and his essence. It was happening again and there was
nothing he could do to stop it. Only this time the white-faced demon was bent upon his torturous destruction rather than to give in to something else. Whatever it was that drove Its fear fed Its anger, and he was Its unwilling victim, unable to free himself except through wakefulness. The memories of their putrescence and their vile touch on his skin sent him trembling.
The horse turned her head and pressed against his chest as if to console. He brought his limp arms around the black’s neck and laid his head against the horse. The blood scent exploded through him but he found he did not want to taste. He could not do that to the innocent beast. Just feeling the heat and presence of a living creature gave him some sense of stability.
Ignoring the stares of the people exiting and entering the building, he and the horse stood together, his hands absently petting and scratching.
“I’d wondered where’d ye gone.” Jeanie’s voice was tinged with concern as she and the Noble walked out of the hotel. Each held their suitcases ready for the next leg of their journey.
Straightening up, he walked to the side of his horse and checked that his bag was firmly attached to the saddle. He could not match Jeanie’s eyes right now and Fernando’s probing expression made him even more uncomfortable.
Taking in the sight of the three horses, Fernando frowned. “Horses? You hired horses?”
“How else do you expect to get to Balinghem?” he countered, refusing to look at the Noble.
Fernando walked to the dun gelding and studied it for a moment. “If we didn’t have the girl we’d be able to get there in no time.”
He closed his eyes and sighed. It was the same old argument.
Jeanie stared nervously up at the chestnut. Her saddle was markedly different from the other two. “Ye expect me t’ride that?”
“Well, if you don’t want to come along –“ Fernando let the sentence hang.
Jeanie turned to face the Noble, dropped her bag and placed her gloved hands on hips covered by her green coat. “I’m coming and ye canna stop me.”
“Heaven forefend,” feigned Fernando, his hand to his breast. “Who else will warm the Angel’s bed?”
The slap resounded in the cold damp air. Fernando lifted his hand to the side of his mouth and brought away a finger coloured with blood. Raising a brow at the sight, he tested his jaw and smiled.
Jeanie’s eyes went round at the Chosen’s expression. She had not expected to hit him, but he had it coming for so long. Now her blood ran cold at the realization of whom she had slapped and noticed that Fernando stood between her and the Angel.
From beneath the darkness of his hood, the Angel watched the growing tension between the two, his own thoughts muddied by his daytime hauntings. Absently his left hand fell onto the pommel of his sword.
Slowly turning on his heel, Fernando walked over to the saddle strap to fasten his bag. He would remember this insolence, despite the fact that had he said similar to Bridget or any of her girls they would have hauled off one as well. It was the ominous threat of the Angel and his near mythical use of his blade that halted the Noble in any retaliation. Last night’s slaughter astounded him and added an extra notch to his fear of the Angel. It was a feeling Fernando attempted to squash with bravado.
Swinging up onto the saddle, Fernando enjoyed the greater height. It had been a very long time since he had horseflesh between his legs and taking the reins he hoped he remembered how to ride. “Are we going to stand here all night?”
Jeanie tried to hide her relief by picking up her bag. She had no idea how to ride a horse.
Taking a look into the deep brown eyes of the chestnut she murmured, “Nice horsey,” and patted it on the nose.
It seemed friendly enough but her experiences with horses in the past had always been with her being in a cart or coach. Her nervousness increased by the Noble’s annoyed grumble.
“Here, let me help you,” offered the Angel. Taking Jeanie’s bag, he watched her face blossom into a radiant smile before twisting into concern at what she saw on his face.
Before she could ask, he turned away and focused his attention on firmly securing her suitcase. He knew he took overly long but he found the time necessary to compose himself enough to face her. Turning back, her head cocked to the side in study, she emitted a high-pitched squeak as his hands went around her waist and lifted her lightly into the saddle.
“Hook your leg around this,” he stated, helping Jeanie to position on the side-saddle. He did not look up until she had arranged her skirts to cover her legs and placed a warm hand on his face.
“Are ye alright?” she asked.
Removing her hand from his face, he collected the reigns and placed them in her hand. How could he tell her that he was not fine? He could not even tell Notus about the white-faced demons and what they have done to him through the ages. “You do know how to ride, right?”
Jeanie shook her head and frowned. The fact that he had not answered her question struck a chord. The last time she had seen him like this he had lied. Now he did not even attempt to explain.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” swore Fernando, rolling his eyes skyward.
Ignoring the Noble, the Angel took the lead rope from Jeanie’s hand and tied it to a loop on his saddle. With lithe grace he mounted the black, settled his cloak around him and the horse, and chucked the reigns while gently squeezing the black’s barrel.
Needing no more encouragement, the horse turned at the pull of her reigns and headed towards the road, Jeanie’s horse following closely.
It had been quite a while since he last rode a horse and it was one of the few pleasures in his long life, always bringing with it a sense of peace. Riding seemed to be the only time he felt free of the encumbrances of his existence, but this time it would not be the case.
He heard Fernando’s horse canter up beside him.
“Do you happen to know where we are going?” asked the Noble, enjoying the smooth muscles move between his legs.
“Yes,” he answered. He stared straight ahead refusing to look at Fernando. With an added pressure to the horse’s sides, he tried to break away from the Noble and failed.
Sensing the Angel’s gloomy disposition and knowing he would not receive more of an answer, Fernando frowned and fell back until his horse was behind the chestnut. A silent chuckle escaped his lips at seeing the mortal girl jiggling along, miserably trying to hold on to her horse. It was going to be a long, quiet, journey in the dark. Glancing up at the sky, the wind beginning to stir around them, Fernando’s smile slipped with a sigh. The night promised to be a cold and wet one as well.
The faint light reflecting off the fast moving clouds were the only indication that civilization still existed. Skeletal arms of sleeping trees reached out for the three as they followed the road away from Calais and into the barren lands between populaces. Their breath mingled with the soft mist undulating its growth along the road’s surface, deadening the solitary sound of regular footsteps of horses’ hooves on the hard packed road. The wind whipped up to suddenly die, only to be stirred again.
Tipping his hood lower over his face, he tried to ignore the memories and shuddered. He knew Jeanie watched him with worried interest, wishing for some word from him to alleviate her concern, but there was nothing he could say so he remained silently ensconced in his cloak, staring into the dark night ahead. A terrible sense of foreboding had filled him and if it were not for the gentle clop-clop of the horses he would almost believe he was entering into the world of the white faced demons.
He watched in growing dread as the mist grew thicker and higher around the horses’ legs, slinking further up along tree trunks and obscuring bushes and the road ahead. Swirling motions caused by the wind never forced the fog to relinquish its hold, but seemed only to froth it further.
His breath steamed out of him and fluttered down to merge with the thickening atmosphere as it reached up, trying to grab each exhalation to feed its growing form. A chill settled around his legs as the fog smouldered highe
r, leeching precious heat stolen from mortal blood.
Normally the cold would not be much of a bother, but the freezing mist sent a shiver up his spine and he pulled his cloak tighter around his body. Try as he may the fog seemed to draw out his precious heat from every part of his body. The renewed sensory memory of feasting mouths upon his body set his jaw and caused him to swallow hard in an attempt to abate his trembling.
Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned to peer into the darkness. The black whuffled her unease but continued on with her plodding pace. Ignoring the horse, he watched in chilling horror as a figure seen only in his nightmares momentarily pass before him.
Its great maw opened in a sharp-toothed grin. Its eyes burning red embers. Putrescence dripped from Its raggedly translucent form to merge with the swirling fog. Terror struck, he could only watch as other forms manifested. With the promise of a hunger yet to be satiated, their eyeless sockets peered at him through the mist.
Wrenching his gaze away, he stared at the obscured road ahead, his heart beating painfully in his ears. This can’t be happening. He dropped the reigns and rubbed his face with hands as white as the creatures around him. I must be going mad.
“Not mad.” Its deep voice hissed with the sound of a thousand deadfall leaves scrabbling the earth.
A tendril of wisping mist swirled up to his face. The touch was solid, a torturous promise that shocked an icy shiver down his back.
Please, no, he implored closing his eyes in denial of the manifested reality around him.
“You are mine,” Its voice purred through the darkness. “Never forget that you will die before I ever let them have you.”
The solid fog instantly evaporated as a mix of hard rain and sleet flooded from heavy silver touched clouds. Panicked, he took the opportunity to flee, kicking the horse into a reckless speed for the conditions.
