by Karen Dales
“Can you hear them, us, as well?” asked Bridget, tentatively.
“No,” he whispered.
“And you’ve always been able to do this?” Bridget’s voice grew stronger, more confident and full of awe.
“No,” he sighed. “It started after.”
Silence crashed down after he heard her say, “Oh.”
This new development was clearly too much for Bridget. His obvious differences from other Chosen had become even more pronounced and he realized that he probably had sealed his doom to be Destroyed. He doubted that Bridget would accept this as well as the other differences.
Bridget came before him and knelt down to look at him, as if sensing his disquiet and shook her head. Self-loathing broiled up at the pity on her face and he tried to look away but her hand caught his cheek forcing him to keep eye contact.
“Tell me the truth. Fernando believes you were never human. Jeanie says you are Fay. There are rumours to that effect. What do you say?” Her voice was rock steady as her blue eyes bore into his.
All breath left him in a huff. It was the same thing over and over and over again. “I don’t know.” His voice strained even to his ears.
Bridget’s hand fell from his face as she stood up, a sad smile on her face. “I was once human but for a long time I lost my humanity until Fernando brought you into our lives. Even Fernando wasn’t immune. He is not the same as he once was. There is more to him, me, us, now. I don’t believe he expected this, but there you have it.” She turned to click her wooden box closed and held it against her chest. “I guess he and I have a lot to learn from our friend.”
She turned towards the door, a hand falling onto the crystal knob. “I’ll send Jeanie down. She’s been sick with worry since they brought you here.” Bridget turned around, her visage suddenly serious. “I’ve never seen such devotion and love from a mortal towards a Chosen in my lifetime that was not Pushed into them. Jeanie has a fiery spark that makes her fiercely loyal to those she cares about. If you love her as much as she loves you, Choose her. The Chosen may have a lot to learn from her as well.”
Without waiting for a response, Bridget opened the door and left him alone in her room. He sat stunned by the admission and the suggestion. It was not that he had not contemplated it before, but to have it endorsed by another Chosen seemed surreal. Before their excursion to France he dared not to even consider the possibility for fear of driving Jeanie away. Now, after everything she had done for him, protecting his secrets from Fernando and saving him from Violet, all in the name of her love for him, he knew he could not live without her. Yet he found he was fearful to ask. If she said yes, it would drive Notus out of his life. If she said no - he did not want to contemplate that. All he knew was that he could not continue in this broken body without her. He could not live past her death and he could not allow Notus to wipe away her feelings towards him as he did to Tarian’s granddaughter so long ago. It would be a torture beyond what Violet had done.
He glanced up at the sound of Jeanie entering the room, halting just before the door. The bruise on her face had faded to yellow, but the redness that rimmed her eyes foretold of a mixture of fatigue and worry. It was the dark circles around her eyes that stabbed at his heart and he knew she was afraid to come closer. Painfully, he lifted his left arm in an effort to beckon her over and immediately winced at the half made action. It was enough of an offering that Jeanie immediately flew towards him, halting before she could embrace him, her hands outstretched as if she did not know what to do with them.
It was not what he wanted. He needed to feel the reality of her. Without a care for the potential of another seizure he awkwardly pulled her closer with his good arm, ignoring the pulling of the stitches in his wrist or the twinges up and down his back and chest.
She came willingly, yet tentatively, afraid her touch would cause him pain, but he did not care.
Breathing in her soft clean scent, he could smell lavender and rose as he leaned his head against her breast and sighed. Whatever tension Jeanie held, melted away as she stepped closer into the embrace and her hands came up to stroke his head. All he wanted was to feel her warmth and sigh into her chest, luxuriating in the sound of her steady heartbeat.
After an eternity, Jeanie gently pulled away yet kept touching him, his face, his hair, his shoulders, ever so careful not to come into contact with his wounds. He basked in her attention and her touch, yet did not attempt to do the same. He knew he could not without eliciting more pain.
“Are you alright,” they asked at the same instant.
It seemed so natural to speak their shared thoughts at the same time that he smiled softly when Jeanie chuckled.
“I’m alright,” offered Jeanie, knowing he would want to hear about her first. “Bridget and the others hae been verra kind t’me, lettin’ me stay here.” A blush rose to her cheeks and flushed down to the top of her chest. Lowering her eyes, her lips twitched in an effort to hide a smile.
“What is it?” Genuine concern warmed him, but was dampened by the strange reaction.
She bowed her head as if ashamed and huffed out a nervous breath. “It seems I’ve become a bit of a celebrity here.”
He could tell she was reluctant to explain and a frown knitted his fine white brows together. “Celebrity?”
“Aye,” said Jeanie, demurely. Her blush grew darker. “It seems that being the paramour of the Angel has its own, um, complications, aye?”
He blinked dumbly at her until the comprehension of what she was referring to widened his eyes and slackened his jaw. He wanted to be angry at Bridget’s whores but realized he could not find the energy. He remembered how they had reacted when he first arrived with Fernando in what seemed years ago. The Chosen ladies had seemed greatly interested in him and after what Bridget spoke in passing only moments ago he sighed. It was the same thing over again. It was the same reasons why Violet had wanted him and abused him. His stomach turned and he frowned.
“Don’t fash yerself about it,” rushed Jeanie, witnessing the realization dawn upon him and then turn sour. “I used to be able to turn Violet’s attention away from ye when -” She halted, stunned at the reaction of what she had stated.
The use of Violet’s name stole the breath from his body. He had known Jeanie had talked to the Vampire about him and had done so for years. Violet had made it perfectly clear what they had discussed and how it had enamoured the Vampire to possess him, body and soul. Shaking his head, he tried to deny how such speculation had led him to such abuse, and it was starting again. Jeanie could try and divert their queries about him, but it would only heighten their desire to learn more. It was that potential that sent shivers up his spine.
Witnessing the panic in his wide crimson eyes, Jeanie realized her mistake too late. “Oh Gwyn, I’m so sorry.” She fell to her knees before him. “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t ever talked with Violet -” He winced at the name. “- about ye she wouldna hae wanted ye.”
Shame filled him and he squinted his stinging eyes closed, pushing down the panic. “No, Jeanie. She still would have done what she did.” He opened his eyes and gazed into her watery green depths. “She was a Vampire set out to destroy every Chosen. The Angel would have still been her target regardless of what you may or may not have told her. The Angel - I - I’ve always been set apart. To many - Chosen, mortal or Vampire - it is enough to create a desire of possession. A person can believe they have the right to possess, or destroy, another if that other is different.”
He took a shuddering breath at the sudden realization his own words brought him. “I have always been dehumanized by those around me and by those who believe they love me.”
Jeanie’s soft warm hand reached up to caress his face. “Never. Never by me, my love.”
The desire to cover her hand with his was overpowering, but to lift his arm to do so would invite agony. Instead his basked in this simple touch of affection and knew the depth of Jeanie’s love for him. He wondered if it would b
e enough.
“I know, cariad,” he whispered the lie as he turned his face into her hand to kiss her palm.
He knew what had initially drawn Jeanie to him. It was the same as Violet, Fernando and all the others, the mysterious Angel, and he did not know who that was anymore. One thing he clung to was Jeanie’s love and his for her. It was the only genuinely real thing because he was no longer the Angel to her and he knew he could not lose that. The thought of having been so desperately alone for most of his life and having to go back to that desolate life stilled his breath. He knew what he needed to do and damned the consequences. Bridget’s words carried a weight that brought fear to tickle his awareness and he lifted his gaze to Jeanie.
“What is it?” asked Jeanie, her voice catching at the sudden mixture of sadness and fear in his eyes.
He took a deep shuddering breath. “You know I love you.” She nodded. He could see the worry pinch her cinnamon brows and hated what he realized they needed to discuss. “I cannot give you a life where we will grow old together, where I can give you children and we can live a life that every mortal dreams of. It is not something I can give. I do not think it is something I was ever meant to have no matter how much I may dream of it.” His voice caught in a tight sob. “I do not have the strength to watch you grow old and die.”
Stricken by his words, Jeanie drew back. These were things she knew, but never gave any thought of for fear of what it would mean. Now that he had spoken them Jeanie realized what she had hoped for with the Angel had been dashed to scattered fragments when she discovered his true nature. Dreams of living a life together, growing old together, possibly having children together, they were only ever an illusion. She had not the time to properly understand what it would do to her desires to be with the Angel. Now he spoke them and she held her breath, waiting for the hammer to fall, suddenly afraid that despite their love he was going to end it.
Sensing her fear, he sighed as his surged upwards to meet it. When next he spoke he knew he leapt into the unknown more terrified than when succumbing to the Void and the demons that dwelled within. “I can only give you what I am - Chosen.”
Realization dawned on Jeanie’s face until she gasped.
Chapter XLII
It took a fine finesse of coercion, trickery and blatant manipulation to force Katherine into calling the Chosen to court without her or her lackeys discovering that I or the Angel are in town, let alone alive.” Fernando slouched in the single plush green chair that sat beside the roaring fireplace in Bridget’s room. He was dressed in his finest, a stylishly cut tux with an ebony walking stick with a round silver grip and footing that sat across his knees.
“But tonight?” countered Bridget. She sat at her dressing mirror pinning her golden tresses into an elegant fashion. Her royal blue gown trimmed with ivory lace accentuated her slim corseted waist and exposed the top of her chest quite magnificently. “You’ve hardly given us any time to prepare.”
From the bed, the Angel sat and watched the dynamics between the Noble and his Chooser, his head swimming with the emotions washing over him that were incongruous to what they were saying to one another. It was as if what they spoke to each other was a way to get a reaction that would ensure a fight, but their emotions were desirous for one another. It was like watching an old married couple nitpick at one another just to prove there was still love. A gentle scrape of the bristles of the brush against his bare back snapped his spine straight and caught his breath.
“Sorry,” stated Jeanie as she pulled the brush through the ends of his hair. She was already dressed in the green dress she had worn when they had crossed to France. This time her hair splayed loose around her shoulders, curling down her back.
Bridget and Fernando turned their attention at the indrawn breath. Concern and discomfort flowed from their relaxed postures.
“You could have tried to give the Angel more time to recover,” accused Bridget, turning to glare at her Chosen.
The Noble shot a non-committal apology at the Angel and turned his attention back to Bridget’s primping. “What did you expect me to do? Do you know how hard it was to track down Maurice? The old sod was so terrified about being dragged before Katherine and told that now that the Angel and I were dead and that it was his responsibility to continue in the search. If I hadn’t found him when I did, Maurice would have been on the next ship to the Americas.”
The Angel listened intently to Fernando’s tale while trying not to wince every time Jeanie pulled the brush through his tangled hair. He would have preferred to do it himself, with his fingers, but that seemed impossible now. He hated how he now relied upon others to help him even with the simplest of tasks. Jeanie relished in the caring of him and he felt even more embarrassed that Bridget and Fernando were in the room to witness his frailties.
Since having napped after his long discussion with Jeanie, his awareness of the other Chosen had come back. At first it overwhelmed him, causing a pounding headache. Jeanie had been concerned, rolling onto her side beside him, as he tried to catch his breath. He could not answer her. Gaining a sitting position had nearly caused him to tremble as if another fit would take him. It was when he tried to only focus upon his breathing that he found that the emotions of the other Chosen seemed to distance themselves. As he moved deeper into the meditation he found he was able to turn it into just an annoying buzzing sensation. Now that both Fernando and Bridget were in the room with him, he could feel every emotion they haphazardly threw out. It was distracting from the conversation.
“So you threatened and cajoled the man,” stated Bridget, flatly. Finished with her hair she opened up a box of cosmetics and brushes and began to expertly apply them.
“I did not.” Fernando feigned hurt, placing a bronze hand over his heart. “I would never do that to another Chosen.”
The Angel watched Bridget snort in disgust and shake her head. He knew, as well as Bridget, how Fernando would use whatever tactic necessary to get what he wanted, for the most part. He could feel the Noble’s satisfaction and a hint of childish glee at such behaviour. “Yes, you would,” he whispered. He felt Jeanie’s careful strokes halt and Fernando’s displeasure. “You did with me,” he said before he knew what he was saying.
“And look where it has all got us,” accused Bridget, turning around. “Oh don’t look at me like that Fernando.” Before the Noble could counter with a harsh word or two, Bridget raised her voice, cutting him off to sit and glower. “What did you do to make Maurice contact Katherine for another court?”
“Us?”
“Stop sulking,” demanded Bridget as she turned back to her mirror, “and tell us what you mean.”
Fernando picked the walking stick up off his knees and weighted the finely tooled wood in his hands. “I told Maurice that he would have the answers to Katherine’s demands and the evidence would be myself and the Angel.”
Bridget placed her lipstick brush down very precisely onto the table, straightened her back and turned around. The Angel did not need his new awareness to sense how angry she was. The room was thick with her disapproval and his head pounded anew.
“Did you not stop and think, Fernando?” she demanded.
The Angel winced at the sudden wave of raw emotion.
“The Angel is no state to stand before Katherine and the rest of the Chosen. You’re condemning him to be Destroyed. He hasn‘t had enough time to recover.”
Another wave from the other side of the room swelled and crashed into the Angel. “He’s had almost three fucking weeks. Katherine believes we are dead. Hell, Maurice nearly died of freight, if that’s at all possible, when I showed up at his home. He thought I was a ghost! The meeting is set for tonight. What was I supposed to tell him? Wait until the Angel is healed? That would be just brilliant.”
The fury that Chosen and Chooser sent outwards pounded into his head and he groaned, thankful that Jeanie had halted her brushing. He tried to focus on his breathing, but the pounding was too intense and every
breath made him nauseous.
“The two of ye stop it right now,” shouted Jeanie from behind him. She had watched the whole tirade in shock, and worse yet, how it affected the Angel. “What is it with ye Chosen that ye act like children? One would think that after living as long as ye have ye’d have grown up a tad.”
The Angel would have turned and kissed her right then and there had it been physically possible to do so. Instead he felt a surge of pride for Jeanie, as the anger the two other Chosen held suddenly collapsed into surprise, taking with it the pounding headache.
Bridget’s eyes went round before her whole face lit up in a smile. “You are quite right, my dear.” She turned to face her Chosen. Fernando glowered at the mortal. “Has she always been like this?”
“Yes. Unfortunately,” replied the Noble, gruffly, his arms crossed over his chest and the stick across the arms of the chair.
“How delightful that someone, especially a mortal, can put you in your place.”
“Both of your places,” quietly remarked the Angel and quickly regretted his words.
It was not like him to speak out of turn like this and he stared down at his bandaged wrists. Initially there had been some concern about what would happen if someone saw them beneath the cuffs of his shirt. It could draw undue attention. Instead he would wear an out of date shirt with frills on the cuffs that would cover most of his hands. He was just waiting for Anna and Beth to quickly make the shirt and wondered how Bridget had found two seamstresses willing to become Chosen prostitutes. At least the two were not brought into his deadly secret.
“Yes, well,” dismissed Bridget and turned the conversation back onto track. “So what are the arrangements that you made with Maurice?”
Fernando sat straighter and glared at each one in turn before continuing, lingering longer on Jeanie than the Angel liked. “He’s going to meet us outside of the building at a quarter to and then go in by himself. His audience is on the hour. He’s going to tell Katherine he’s made the discoveries that she wanted him to and then we’re to enter.”
