by Karen Dales
“The process took the rest of the night. Unlike today, there was more pomp and ceremony. In words ancient and unknown my Chooser beseeched the Old Ancient Gods whose names have been lost in the mists of time. The culmination of the ceremony was, of course, the exchange of blood. I do not need to convey to you the agony of my transformation, but I will state this – had my mentor not stayed by my side, lending his strength through his grasp of my cooling hand, I would not have survived the metamorphosis.
“When dawn approached he lifted me to stand and we entered the shelter he had constructed, there to spend my first day as Chosen. I had many questions and when I hungered he fed me from his body. Both he gave willingly, feeding my curiosity and satiating my physical being. The only answer he could not give was my burning desire to discover the fate of my beloved children and my darling wife. To that end I was forced to wait until the setting of the sun.
“I’m sure at some point I slept as memories of Rome’s assault awoke me with such a terror that I startled my Chooser. Despite the incessant need of my body for fresh living blood my desire to discover the fate of my family burned more brightly. Knowing I could not move forward in my new state of being without learning my past, my Chooser reluctantly returned me to the only home I had ever truly known.”
Notus closed his eyes with a shuddering breath as two thousand year old memories rushed forward, colliding with the present as if the occurrence happened just yesterday. Taking hold of the tumultuous emotions he opened his eyes, aware of his audiences’ expectation, and continued, “What can I say? Everything was lost. My Chooser and I walked through a field of slaughter. My newly Chosen senses fed me more than what daylight could have to mortal eyes and nostrils. Death and decay walked the land and we immortals could only weep. Bodies of our beloved Brotherhood littered the blood caked land in grim mocking sacrifice. Children lay slain with terror as their final emotion etched on their faces as they clutched at siblings, parents or dolls. Pregnant women with their unborn babes sliced from their wombs. Their only touch was of cold earth. It was horrific, but none more than when I found them.
“Bryn and Rhia were sliced near in twain in defence of their younger brother and mother. It was clear they died first, and it was a long and agonising death. Little Gareth was unrecognizable for the sword slash that split his beautiful face. But it was what they had done to Gwendolyn that finally made me wish I had refused the Astrologer’s Choice. In a fury of grief and despair I became senseless. I do not remember much after that except screams of terror, incomprehensible shouting, fire and the taste of human blood. It was the next night that sense returned to me and my Chooser informed me what I had done. I’m sure I do not need to spell it out to you.”
Bridget nodded. Her blue eyes bright with unshed tears while Fernando’s face darkened, hardening as if he knew all too well.
“My Chooser took me away from there. We travelled the land together as he taught me about what it meant to be Chosen and helped me in my mourning. Through the decades we watched our land invaded and transformed by foreign conquerors. I was introduced to the Master of the Chosen and was astonished at the immense reception and honour he did for my Chooser. I learned the Roman tongue and ciphers. In the process I was forced to leave behind my belief in the Old Gods, for fear of retribution.
“Oh how I hated to do that but to declare myself Druid would have been suicide. Regardless, my need to continue my knowledge of the spirit eternal led me to discover the teachings of a desert Jewish holy man sacrificed as the Son of God. Intrigued and desperate to find meaning in the suffering of mankind I eventually took up the mantle of Christian priesthood. It was at that time my Chooser left me, claiming that he would not continue as he was.
“You see, we had seen so much war, so much slaughter, my way of life was gone and all I loved had withered and died if not cut down before its time. My melancholy at being an immortal witness to such loss drove my Chooser from me. His parting words bid me to find solace in my immortality and a way to turn it to help others. As part of my Oath to follow this new Son of God I swore never to Choose another so as not to bestow upon another the misery of living past ones loved ones, ones people and oneself. It was an Oath that kept me sane so that I could help others in their short lives without allowing myself to become too attached to anyone that I may have wanted to Choose. It kept others safe from me.”
“But what of the Angel?” asked Bridget. “His Choosing was an accident.”
Notus nodded. “He was. He also never truly lived.” Their scowls encouraged him to explain. “On the night he was accidentally Chosen, I can only say that his appearance startled and evoked a fear in me the like I had never known. It was only after I had realized what had transpired that I decided to follow him as he succumbed to the transformation.
“I have never seen, before or since, someone go through what he did. I believed, nay prayed, he’d slip into death. Please don’t think me heartless. Between my Oath and his feral living I did not believe he should be Chosen. He was alone in the world. Abandoned and shunned because of prejudice. When I saw the elation in his soul that surviving the change had bestowed on him I knew I had failed to keep my Oath but I had to salvage what I could.
“He was terrified of me. I believe it was because of what I had inadvertently done, but no, his fear encompassed all people. It was difficult to bring him out of that existence.”
“What was he afraid of?” queried Fernando.
Taking a bracing breath, Notus placed his hands on his knees. “What does anyone fear? Rejection. Abandonment. Never to be loved.”
“Why?” frowned Bridget. “We all suffer from these fears from time to time.”
“His appearance,” stated Fernando matter-of-factly.
Notus silently nodded. “Chosen or mortal he has always been a target, either as a possession to be owned or controlled.”
“It was only with you that the threats diminished,” observed Bridget.
“It was why Katherine kidnapped you,” stated Fernando. “To attack a Chosen of your reputation and age is unthinkable. The Angel protected you from harm as your renown kept him from being Destroyed.”
“And you became a buffer for him to function with others,” continued Bridget. “But that doesn’t explain why you won’t Choose him again. Oh I understand why you made the Oath that you did, but isn’t this different?”
Notus sighed and turned his hands over to look at his palms. “You only met him when you were thrown together to discover the subterfuge of the Vampires. You saw him like I had only ever seen him once, a very long time ago when he gave his heart to another, before and since he existed as the Angel. Societies through the ages never saw him as human. Can you dare say the same when you first met him, and even after? I know the rumours. I know the gossip. I also know that his detachment has kept him safe, at least until recently. Now we live in an age where his differences won’t mark him for destruction. Now he can have the mortal existence that includes a family that won’t abandon him and turn him out because of those differences. We live in an age where those who hopefully will share his blood won’t hide in plain sight and pretend to be strangers for fear of prejudice. He can finally start to truly live the life his sister has hoped he’d find.”
“What?”
Notus, Bridget and Fernando turned to see the Angel leaning against the threshold of the hallway. The pain lacerating his pale features turned the monk’s stomach to lead, his hazel eyes and mouth widening in realization of what he had said and what had been heard.
It was not the excruciating pain that made it next to impossible to breathe that woke him, and nor was it the throbbing headache that subordinated his hunger. It was the voices floating into the room that forced him to pry open his eyes.
In the shadowed darkness of the bedroom he managed to sit, his hand pressed against bandages that bound his broken ribs. With slow movements he carefully slipped on his black shirt and jacket that had been left at the foot of the bed. He n
oticed the bandage on his hand as it shook, working the buttons. He wanted to stop and rest but the familiar voices drew him to stand, slipping on his black leather boots. Carefully and quietly he made his way out of the room and came to a frozen stance at the end of the hall.
Notus was there!
And was telling Bridget and Fernando stories he had kept from him!
Jealousy thudded his heart. How could he? he silently wailed. Why had Notus never told him? And now the monk was revealing all to others rather than to him. The pain of Notus betrayal cut even deeper as he stood still, listening to what other secrets his former Chooser divulged about him.
Shame and hurt filled his eyes with tears as coldness constricted his heart. He had thought that Notus stayed with him for love but the discovery of that lie choked him on bitter bile. It explained so much as to why Notus refused to Choose him again. It was when the monk mentioned a sister that he found his breath, anger fuelling him as he stepped into the room.
“Sister?”
The sparsely lit room dimmed except for the light around the monk who slowly stood, his face blanched with shock.
“I had a–a sister?” He advanced, ignorant to the pain of his broken ribs.
Bridget and Fernando rose in unison. Her youthful beauty marred with sympathy as her Chosen’s twisted with wry amusement.
“You never told me,” he cried, dismissing the other Chosens presence. “Why?” He did not need Notus to tell him. A sinking weight nearly drove him to his knees. My mother had a son that died before the madness took her. I wish he could have been you. He heard Eira’s long deceased voice, the revelation driving the breath from his lungs in an exhalation of her name. He did not care that Notus winced at the utterance.
“I had a sister and you kept this from me?” Hurt and anger vied for supremacy.
“She swore me to secrecy,” implored the monk.
“What else have you kept from me?” he demanded. Bridget stepped towards him as he advanced on Notus. She quickly backed away from his angry glare. Returning his gaze on the man who he had loved as a father, he witnessed Notus wilt in defeat.
Disgust filled him. He wanted to scream, to shout, and to do anything to release the devastation and fury that clutched at his broken heart. Instead he made his usual decision. He raked his tear filled eyes over the immortals and fled, slamming the door behind him. The resonating sound boomed after him as he ran down the hall.
“Well that went brilliantly.” Fernando collapsed into the soft padded chair, an annoyed smirk warping his face.
Notus sat stiffly, as if his body betrayed great age, and rested his head in his hands, elbows braced upon his knees.
“I think that persuading you to Choose the Angel again is moot,” said Fernando sarcastically. “I doubt he’d even take the Choice again if offered. Well, monk, you got your wish. Your Oath is intact.”
“Fernando!” gasped Bridget in response to Notus’ pain ridden groan.
“What?” snapped the Noble. “What did you expect?”
Bridget frowned. “Fernando, go after him. Please.”
“What for?” he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. “I see no way to salvage this disaster.”
“Because he is our friend and he has the right to know that we have not abandoned him.”
The Noble closed his eyes to her worry and shook his head.
“Fernando,” she continued, coming to stand before him. “You are his friend.”
“And you think he’ll listen to me?” He opened his eyes to take in her beauty despite her concern.
“We can only hope,” she sighed.
“Fine,” Fernando stood and added with a twisted smirk, “but you’re putting too much faith in my powers of persuasion. They never really worked very well on the Angel.”
“He’s no longer the Angel,” she said sadly.
Bridget’s statement widened the Noble’s eyes, the full implication of his friend’s predicament finally driving home. It was Fernando’s last chance, not only to maintain the second longest connection he had with another, but a last chance to recover a valuable ally and weapon. Slipping past his Chooser he made a sound of disgust at the sight of the monk before grabbing his black leather jacket from the closet. Before reaching the door, he Sent, What are you going to do with him?
I’m going to take a chapter from you and read him the riot act, returned Bridget.
Too bad I can’t stay and watch. A glint of amusement lit his eyes. Opening the door Fernando followed his absent friend, not knowing what to say when he found the exAngel.
Emotions swirled in a convoluted mixture, picking at pieces of a distant puzzle that clicked quickly into place revealing a picture that had stared him in the face without its true meaning until now. With each added fact new tears of anger, frustration and hurt blurred the real world into which he fled. The one question that fuelled everything else was why no one had ever told him that he had a family.
He escaped down University Avenue, passing the precipice that had forever changed his life. Just a couple of short hours before dawn, the illuminated streets were virtually empty. He knew where his body went and left his mind and heart to piece together the truth about his past.
Eira was his sister!
That meant her children were his niece and nephew. She had also been in that grove when he was but a boy. Did that make his childhood tormentor and the others family? The thought made him sick, but it was the next piece that nearly felled him in the middle of the sidewalk.
If Eira was his sister then that meant Geraint was his father!
The realization stole a gasp as he bent over, clutching his burning ribs.
Geraint must have known but never told me. Why? he silently implored. Then another thought hit him. It was Geraint who had given him up to die that winter night when he was just a babe. Anger and hatred mingled with ancient feelings of love for the father of his mortal existence. Behind it all confusion reigned. Why was he abandoned? Why was he never claimed or recognized by them? He knew the answer as plainly as if he stood in front of a mirror. If they did not want him why did Geraint agree to teach him the warrior’s ways and why did Eira open her home to him and give him her father’s sword?
His father’s sword!
The sword that had trained him and had hung at his hip for centuries was his father’s sword. The same sword that the Vampires had stolen because Notus had insisted they come to these cursed lands. Notus had convinced him to give up the blade for the exhibit. Notus had known all along that it was originally Geraint’s and had kept secret the ties that bound him to a mortal life - that Geraint had been his father! The betrayal of both men, mortal and Chosen, burned but it was Notus’ that seared his soul and invoked more hurtful questions.
“Gwyn!”
The name that his father had warned him about and the name that his sister had bestowed upon him spun him around to face the Noble. He could not recall coming to stand beside the monument on the north end of Queen’s Park. Without a thought he wiped the tears away and demanded, “What do you want?”
Fernando halted, his eyes momentarily going wide before settling into a smoulder. “I want you to come back.”
“To what?” The ludicrous demand surprised him, especially coming from the Noble. He turned to walk away only to find Fernando standing before him, arms crossed in agitation.
“You’re being an ass,” sneered the Noble as he gave him the once over. “Come back now and—”
“Come back?!” he exploded, bearing down on the Noble. All the anger he felt had found a target. He savoured Fernando’s momentary flash of fear and stood to tower over him.
Recovering his composure Fernando matched his glare. “Back to the hotel, you idiot.”
“What for?” he spat the words at the Noble.
Fernando pursed his lips in an effort to keep his anger in check. “So you can talk–”
“Talk?” he yelled. “You want me to talk with that man. You want me to listen
to his lies? I lived with them for years and didn’t know it! Now I do. I won’t listen to his fucking excuses.” He tried to brush past the Noble only to find a bronze hand gripping his arm.
“Let. Go. Of. My. Arm,” he sneered through clenched teeth.
The threat hung in the suddenly chill air. When the cold hand released him he entered the treed park, leaving the Chosen behind him.
Chapter XXIX
Fernando took deep even breaths as he strode past the concierge and into an awaiting elevator. He did not even look at the tired bell hop that trundled a tray of breakfast edibles as they rose up the floors. It took all of his concentration to keep his rage under tight control. Fernando had expected a confrontation with the Angel, but he had wrongly assumed that he would win and the Angel would be with him now. He had also grossly underestimated the Angel since his new found mortality, yet it also proved another point. It was that fact that ignited fear in the Noble’s heart that transmuted into anger.
Impatiently tapping his foot, he realized he should have taken the stairs. He could have climbed them much faster than this mechanical device and would now be at his hotel suite, safely able to explode his anger. He almost sighed in relief as the doors opened to his floor. Ignoring the fact that a mortal shared the elevator Fernando disappeared out of the lift and down the hall with preternatural speed.
With emotions boiling, Fernando slammed the door open, ignoring Bridget’s cry of surprise as he easily picked the monk up off of the couch and slammed him into the wall, the wallpaper tearing as the drywall crumbled beneath. “You fucking selfish prig,” he sneered, enjoying the feel of his anger finally hitting a target. He ignored the fact that Notus pulled at his hand as he pinned the monk by the throat. Older or not, rage gave Fernando greater strength. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”
