Shadow of Death: Book Two of the Chosen Chronicles

by Karen Dales

  “Are you angry at me?” queried Vee, her voice wary over the speaker.

  Releasing his grip he stared at all the cars lined up with their left signal lights on. With the parked cars taking up the right lane there was nothing to do but wait. “No, I’m not angry at you,” he replied. He wished the girl would settle into quietness, but that afternoon, hearing her monopolize the telephone, he knew that was beyond her ken.

  “Are you angry at Mom?”

  The question surprised him and he shook his head. It was not Elizabeth’s fault that his sword was in the hands of Vampires and he was now mortal. That was all his doing.

  “Then why won’t you talk to me?” Hurt filled her tones.

  The traffic moved ahead a few car lengths and he gentled the beast to glide into its next waiting position.

  “It’s because of how I stared at you at breakfast? Isn’t it?” reasoned Vee. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just that I never saw anyone with so many–”

  “Stop,” he ordered, gritting his teeth.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” babbled the girl as if she had not heard him. “It’s just that you’re so different than anyone I’ve seen before and–”

  “Vee, just stop.” He relaxed his jaw and opened his eyes. He had not realized he had closed them. The girl was too accurate in her observations and he did not need to be reminded of things that had attracted too much attention to him, good and ill.

  “Sorry.” Her voice was small in the headset. “You probably don’t want be with me and are upset that mom made you come with me.”

  The traffic inched ahead and he followed, wishing that the road would open up and he could put some speed on. It was better when she was afraid. She was quiet.

  “If I tell you why you couldn’t stay at the house, will you stop being angry at me?”

  “I’m not angry at you,” he stated unable to keep the coldness from his voice.

  “Mom’s a witch,” bluntly stated Vee.

  The declaration stunned him. “What?” Witches were both medieval women and men who were killed because they were singled out as scapegoats or for land grabs during a time of superstitiousness and idiocy, or they were Hollywood inventions to amuse the masses. To hear Vee talk about her mother that way was shocking.

  “Actually, she’s a Wiccan High Priestess and her coven is coming over tonight for one of their Circles,” expounded Vee. “That’s why we couldn’t be there. I used to go to my father’s before he got sick, but now I usually go over to a friend’s or go out.”

  The revelation surprised him and it took the car behind him honking before he popped the motorcycle in gear and finally cut through the intersection. He had heard of this new religion when he returned back to London. It was all over the press with photos of naked women and ominous looking men. Notus just shook his head, ignoring it, but many of the principles of belief that he read about in the interviews were very similar to the ones taught to him as a child.

  Moving past cars as he came closer to the centre of the city he caught the reflection of the full moon off of one of the glass covered buildings. Memories of a childhood with Auntie pouring libations and leaving offerings at the full moon flooded back, as well as times when he would wake afterwards to find the old woman not on her pallet but outside speaking the old words in ceremonies he was not allowed to participate in. She had never fully trained him in the religion of the Goddess Danu and Her Children. If this Wicca was some sort of recreation of that, then it made sense why he and Vee could not be in the house, but Vee should not have told him. That was for Elizabeth to do if she deemed fit, and he told Vee so. “Don’t you think that if Elizabeth wanted me to know that about her she would have told me herself?”

  Chagrined, Vee offered a hasty apology before uttering a squeak as he gunned the engine. The tightness returned around his waist as well as blissful silence. He would not tell Elizabeth what Vee had revealed, but it did explain her expertise in Celtic archaeology and the figurines and paintings adorning her walls.

  Once past Spadina Avenue, Vee indicated where they were to stop. Pulling the Y2K into an open parking space on the street he shut off the engine and gave Vee a hand off the bike. She passed him her helmet, freeing her head with a savage shake of her head. Turning off the headset in the second helmet he dismounted, hauled the motorcycle up on its kickstand and turned as someone shouted the girl’s name.

  A group of teens dressed in black garb, some of it reminiscent of Victorian England, descended upon Vee who happily ate up the attention of her friends. One girl in particular leaned to whisper something in Vee’s ear, her soft blue-grey eyes on him. A bright smile split Vee’s black painted lips. Slipping her arm through her friends, she turned towards him. Wishing he could remain hidden under his helmet he knew he could not and proceeded to remove the black head protection.

  “This is my best friend,” Vee announced as an introduction. “Shell, this is—”

  A gasp from Shell cut off the rest as she saw him reveal himself.

  Placing the helmet next to the other on the seat of the motorcycle he suppressed a sigh of annoyance and freed his queued hair from the inside of his black leather jacket to the widening of Shell’s eyes. Vee’s other friends shared Shell’s surprise. Some even mingled their shock with longing. He knew that look. It was one that tended to get him into more trouble than those who gazed at him with fear and horror.

  “You’re the guy that saved Vee.” Shell’s question was more of a statement, her eyes wide in awe.

  He scanned the group of five girls and two boys. One thing struck him. They all appeared so young despite their adult costuming and make-up. The sense of his own years overwhelmed him, making him feel very old.

  His gaze descended lastly onto Vee’s friend. Dressed in a black silk blouse cinched by a black vinyl corset, the ends draped over a black layered skirt that hinted at the knee high laced boots. If it were not for her hair being light brown with purple streaks Shell’s appearance was almost identical to Vee’s. The only thing out of place was the glasses sitting on the girl’s small nose. There was no doubt that Vee and Shell were thick as thieves.

  Knowing that Vee and her friends were expecting an answer he crouched down, turning his back on them as he proceeded to lock the two helmets to the motorcycle. “It could be said,” he replied, quietly.

  “Ooooh, he’s got an accent,” remarked one of the other girls.

  He immediately closed his eyes and inwardly groaned, thankful he faced the Y2K. He used the seat to assist him to stand once the expensive helmets were locked into place. Not knowing who made the juvenile comment he looked down at Vee. Smiling, and with a better sense of decorum, Vee ignored the comment and introduced her friends. Each quickly met his gaze before sliding away. Once the introductions were made one of the boy’s announced that they should head over to the club and the gaggle proceeded down the sidewalk.

  He hung back and went to the parking slip dispenser to pay for the spot. Taking the white and green slip he turned to the motorcycle only to find one of Vee’s friends waiting for him.

  “Vee asked me to make sure you know where you’re going,” remarked the slender boy. “She noticed you hadn’t followed.”

  Placing the slip onto the dash so as to be seen through the tiny windshield and still protected from blowing away he dismissed the comment until he witnessed the boy caress the tail of the Y2K. A sudden sense of territorial proprietorship filled him and he turned to glower at the lad.

  “Sorry, man,” placated the boy with raised hands. “Didn’t mean to dis your lady. She must be a sweet ride,” he said, and added as an afterthought. “I’m Justin.” The boy held out a black nailed hand.

  It was a gesture of friendship that he was not expecting. Quickly he reassessed the teen all dressed in black leathers. His black hair, painted almond eyes and soft features were enough to declare Justin’s Oriental roots. Slipping his hand into the teen’s they briefly shook.

  “We should get going,”
suggested Justin. “Vee’ll bite my head off if she starts to worry where I am.” He gave a grunted laugh and turned to take the same route the others had gone.

  He fell in beside Justin, silently impressed that the boy easily kept up with his long strides. He was also appreciative that the boy did not succumb to idyll chatter. It was also clear that Justin enjoyed the ominous appearance the two of them made. Several passers-by stared wide-eyed. Only those similarly dressed to Vee and her friends smiled appreciatively as they passed.

  It did not take long to arrive at the entrance to what could only be their destination. Black painted doors and frontage gave the false appearance of an abandoned building. Only the pounding music sliding out of the open doors and the small black and red Gothically painted sign above were proof of the building’s true purpose. In front, a group of handsomely black clad individuals waited patiently to pass the large security guards checking identification. Their black t-shirts sported the club’s name, Beyond The Veil, across their muscular chests. Frowning, he followed Justin to the group of friends. Unhappy with the prospect of being in a crowded group of youngsters, he slid his hands into his pockets and gazed at the ground.

  “Isn’t this exciting?” asked Vee. She pounded up to Justin and gave the boy a fierce hug. It was obvious that the two were an item. It also offered more clarity why Elizabeth had wanted him to go with Vee rather than going out on his own.

  He did not know if Vee’s excitement was directed at him or Justin but was glad when the boy replied with a smile and nod. “You have your I.D. ready?” asked the boy, pulling out a card from his front jacket pocket. He gave Vee a wink and she answered with a smile.

  The subtleties between the youngsters were not lost on him as they moved up the line. He kept quiet as one by one the teens flashed forged identification and entered The Veil until he looked down on the burly security guard. The man gazed up at him, seeing him for the first time, and the guard’s stoic visage broke into surprise.

  “I.D?” the man requested his voice gruff.

  “I’m well over the legal age,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the man. It was not that he was trying to Push the man, but centuries old instincts still governed him. He only realized the futility of his action when the guard broke eye contact to give him the once over.

  “You’ll do,” stated the guard.

  Passing the threshold into the noise infested venue, he did not see the guard speak into the tiny earphone.

  The first thing that struck him as he ascended the worn black linoleum stairs was the incredible loudness of the pounding music and how it was accentuated with the buzz of voices. Once at the top of the stairs he was in the club proper. Before him a bar, attended by exotically black clad women, served an extensive array of alcohol to clientele and wait staff. Despite the very low light the multi-coloured pot lights added enough to throw everything into shadow. He exploded a breath of irritation that his now mortal sight could not penetrate the darkness as his Chosen vision had. He heard a familiar voice call out to him through the cacophony and turned towards it.

  To the left, booths of black vinyl seats and square marble tables lined the sides of the area. In between, black metallic bistro tables peppered the space. Repressing a shudder, he stepped into the crowd and walked over to Vee and her friends who had pulled together a row of tables.

  “I’m going to dance,” announced Shell. Grabbing two other girls, they got up. “Maybe I’ll see Brian again,” she said hopefully before she and her friends were swallowed up by the crowd.

  He watched them until they disappeared on a dance floor framed with nearly nude dancers in brass cages and flashing lights. A sudden sinking feeling gripped him as he sat in the vacated chair. He ignored the idyll chatter that screamed back and forth over the table and watched the crowd.

  Never at ease in a large group, or even a small one, he was surprisingly grateful to be inconspicuous among the men and women dressed in Gothic fashion. The only accentuating colour seemed to be red. Many outfits were elaborate in their stylings. Some brought back memories of times he wished had never occurred. Uncomfortable at the clash between old and modern, he redirected his attention to the fantastical metal artwork and statuary that gave the night club a futuristic quality. Unease grew in him with the realization that this was his first time in a night club.

  His musings came to a halt with the sudden silence around the table. Glancing from one astonished teen to the next, he realized they were not staring at him but rather at someone at his side. Swivelling in his seat he turned to find a very attractive woman standing beside him.

  Smiling blue eyes were given greater prominence with her blonde curling hair pulled away from her face to play seductively on her pale shoulders. Dressed in a low cut black peasant blouse, the tops of her breasts prominently showed. The knee length layered skirt accentuated her perfect figure and shapely legs.

  “My name is Orchid.” She offered her black netted hand to him. The blood red of her fingernail polish momentarily caught the light from a flashing strobe. “You’re new here.”

  He briefly took her hand in his, noting its chill.

  “I’d like you to buy me a drink,” she smiled, flashing the whites of her teeth.

  He frowned at the sight of her elongated canines. A tingling spread up his back, forcing him to sit straighter. “No thank you,” he replied over the music.

  “Are you sure?” she purred, coming closer to him. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “I said, no.” Ice froze his tones as he gazed into her eyes.

  A flash anger flickered and then was gone, replaced by a fake smile. “It’s you’re loss,” said Orchid. With a dismissive wave of her hand she allowed the crowd to swallow her up.

  “Are you crazy?” demanded Vee, her eyes wide with shock. “Don’t you know who that was?”

  He did not care. He was more concerned with what she possibly could be and what the night club was really for. The Chosen had similar places where they could feed from mortals without the concern of discovery. If this place was something similar for Vampires, then he was in grave danger. Not risking an answer he stood, ignored Vee and her friends, and left the table. Descending the steps to exit the building he did not notice Orchid speaking to two men sitting at the bar, no drinks in their hands.

  Once outside the building he walked a few store fronts west before halting inside a laneway. Taking deep breaths he slowed his racing heart. One thing he did not need reminding of was now that he was mortal he could not defend himself as he used to when he was the Angel. There would be no preternatural speed and strength, and there would be no white-faced demons to call.

  The sound of people entering the alley lifted his head. Two men of nondescript colouring and average height stood smiling maliciously. He did not need to see their fangs to know that two Vampires approached.

  Standing away from the brick wall he glanced down to the other end of the alley and silently swore. He inadvertently boxed himself in a dead-end. The only thing he had in his favour was that if they knew him as the Angel then they would assume he was still Chosen. Then again, if that were the case then there would not be only two Vampires facing him. Regardless, he was in a fight for his life. If was extremely lucky he would come out of it alive, and with information about his sword’s whereabouts. He turned to face the two Vampires, settling into a loose and ready stance. He would wait until they made the first move.

  “You insulted our Lady,” said the one on the right.

  “She doesn’t usually interact with the patrons,” explained the other. A sneer twisted his plain face. “And you rejected the honour she was showing you.”

  He stood silently, not daring to reply. What was clear as they approached was that they did not know who he was. It also provided the explanation as to why only two Vampires sauntered towards him. They believed him to be mortal and thus had the advantage. In that they were right.

  The punch from the one on the right was easily blocked an
d redirected while at the same time he landed a blow to the Vampire’s nose. Cartilage imploded in a gush of blood and a yowl. The Vampire stopped to lick the blood from his lips and smiled, revealing extended canines. His partner shook out his hands in expectation as a sinister grin split his face revealing his elongated teeth.

  Taking a cleansing breath, he eased the growing panic and waited for the inevitable to come.

  The Vampires exploded into motion. Their speed was blurring as he tried to block their unschooled blows. Training and centuries of practice barely kept him apace in his mortal body. He met punches with blocks barely in place to be effectual and his strikes barely grazed their targets. His arms and legs ached with the impacts. It did not take long for one of the Vampires to slip past his defences.

  Pain blossomed in his chest as he felt his body leave the ground. Agony slammed into his back, his sight blacked out as skull met brick. Nauseous and tasting blood he slid to the rubbish strewn alley trying to regain his stolen breath. He had to move. He had to get to his feet and defend himself but as his sight returned so did sensation. Gasping in pain, he cut it short as a stabbing sensation burned across his ribs. Hand on the wall he spat out the blood and watched liquid threads hang from his mouth before he wiped them away on the back of his arm. The cool leather gave some relief from the split lip he had no memory receiving. He attempted to stand but felt his body forcibly spin around as one of the Vampires grabbed a hold of him. Knocked to his knees, stagnant water seeped through his denim. A hand yanked his hair, forcing him to expose his neck.

  He knew what they were about to do and long held memories surged forward from the time he had been a prisoner of a sadistic Vampiress. He tried to break free only to feel the connective tissue of his shoulder start to separate from the joint as his arm was pinned behind his back. He gasped and immediately regretted it for the renewed stab across his chest.

  Facing the entrance of the laneway he watched, immobilized as the other Vampire came into sight. Panic stirred his heart and he could not catch his breath. He had to break free but could only anticipate the inevitable.