Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles (19 page)

Fernando sat uncharacteristically quiet on the couch, his back to his host, deeply absorbed with something on his lap. He was not aware of his host’s reappearance, or the incredulous look on the pale face.

Silently standing, watching the Noble, he wondered what had the man’s rapt attention, and then it came to him.
Oh dear Gods!
His ruby eyes widened in horror and he all but ran to yank Notus’ journal from prying eyes. He could not believe his own stupidity, leaving his Choosers private thoughts where Fernando, let along anyone for that matter, might pick it up and read it. Snapping the book shut, he hugged it, returning Fernando’s shocked expression with a livid glare.

Recovering his surprise, Fernando smiled and stood. “A beautiful book, it’s too bad I couldn’t finish it. Maybe I can borrow it –”

“No!” he barked. He shook with fury. How dare Fernando invade his life in such a manner! Too many secrets lay buried between those pages. To be exhumed twice in one day, and once by a stranger, it was all too much.

“You don’t have to get so hot under the collar,” said Fernando, nonchalantly. Fernando smiled knowing his shot hit its mark as his pale partner turned stiffly to place the journal back in the shelving. “After all, what secrets can it hide? We are all vampires here.”

“Chosen.” He swung around to stare down at the smug man.

“Chosen…Vampire…what difference does it make? We are the same by any other name and would still feed so sweetly. No secret to that fact.” Fernando waved his gloves, shooing the point away.

“What do you want?” Anger tight under control threatened to break free.

Brown eyes narrowed. “Why, the same as you, of course.”

“I do not think you want my Chooser back.” Ice flowed through his words.

The corners of Fernando’s mouth twitched into a smile, his brown eyes alighted mischievously. “But of course I do. I’d love to meet the Chosen” – he inclined his head – “who can create such beauty and write so exquisitely so as to bring alive a dead girl as delicious as her name. Tarian, I believe?”

“Get out.” The implicit threat of promised violence rang in the two words, his body tense and shaking for its release.

“Now, now, that isn’t any way to treat a guest,” chastised Fernando, enjoying how easily it seemed to get under the Angel’s skin tonight and sat down on the couch. “I was simply praising your sires creative abilities. I guess I cannot expect much from one who came from such an uncultured background.” Fernando sniffed. “And an accident no less. One would think that in all these centuries someone would have trained you in proper social etiquette.”

Frustrated beyond belief, he stood and glared down at the Noble studying his nails, and then turned on his heel to walk to the front closet. He halted with his hand on the knob and swung around. It was fine if Fernando knew about his Choosing. It was fine if Fernando knew about Tarian. It was fine if Fernando knew about the other one, the one he had to give up, Tarian’s granddaughter. To even think of her name would be unbearable, but the thought of her took the fight right out of him.

“What do you want of me?” His voice was strained, tired.

Fernando lifted his head and stood a victorious smile awash over his face as he turned to face his reluctant host. “Why nothing less than to know you, and nothing more than to get my possessions back from Katherine.”

The realisation stunned him, and he stared at the Noble across the room. No one had ever wanted this from him. All that anyone had wanted from him was to be left alone or permission to approach Notus. Suspiciously he eyed the Noble. “Why?”

“Curiosity,” shrugged Fernando. “What reason need I have?”

“No. That is not it.” He did not believe this man.

“I want to know if the rumours about you are true,” smiled Fernando, triumphantly. He had not expected to get this far with the Angel so soon. Something had unbalanced the Angel to reveal this vulnerability and he was reaping the rewards.

Closing his eyes, he sighed. The rumours. The gossip. The fiction others made up to explain his existence. He had lived with them since before he was Chosen. They would always follow him. “No, they are not true. No, I was not born a Chosen.”

“And what of the rumour that you were never human,” pushed Fernando.

Never been human?
He opened his eyes. Yes, this one floated down the centuries, popping up occasionally among the mortals to explain the Angel. He had never heard such talk from the Chosen. Fernando could have gotten this impression from what little he read in the journal, but even still, this speculation was dangerous.

He could not lie. He was a horrible liar and Fernando was sure to pick it up. Notus would be able to dissuade such prying; his Chooser was a master at bending the truth and diverting attention from dangerous topics. The look on Fernando’s face expected an answer. Precarious speculation was better than to have the Fernando think the opposite of a lie.

“What do you think?” he stated coolly.

Fernando stood stunned, confusion written on his dark features. This was not the answer he was expecting. “What do you mean ‘What do I think?’”

“Can you not leave it at that?” he asked the Noble. The inquisition had gone on far too long. If Notus had been here none of this would have occurred.

A dark brow lifted in interest. Fernando was not about to leave it at this, not when the conversation was just getting interesting. If he was going to work with this strange, tall young man, he damned well wanted to know everything he could so as to keep his own rear out of the sun. Not to mention the prestige he would receive in disclosing the enigma to the rest of the community. Even Bridget’s adoration at the new information would be well worth it.

“Can you really expect anyone in my position to leave it at that?” he stated, approaching the Angel. “No. I didn’t think so, therefore I’ll ask you again. What do you mean, ‘what do I think?’”

Intense brown eyes bore deep into his, searching for an answer, but what he met was a wall so strong that Fernando was forced back a step, almost believing the blood red eyes flashed with their own inner light.

Straightening to his full height, he continued to glare at the Noble and coldly stated, “Do I look like I was ever human?”

The sound of a nervous cough was the only reply. What was Fernando to say? Every instinct in him pointed to the fact that the person before him was something more – or is that less? – than a Chosen. An image of angry ruby eyes flashed forward from some distant memory. No, not human. Not Chosen, but what? He shook his head, clearing the speculations. Now was not the time. Later. There would be time later to uncover the truth and evidence of the fact.

Momentarily glancing up at the Angel, Fernando turned and paced a few steps. “Any thoughts of where to begin?” He hoped the change of conversation would relax the atmosphere that had turned hostile. There would be more time to find out the truth.

“I thought that you might,” he replied, relaxing his stance to comfortably observe the Noble. He was glad that Fernando had not answered his question, but the Noble’s brown eyes could not hide the uncertainty that he also felt.

Fernando shook his head and puckered his lips. “You’re the one that took that hideous little bottle. Let’s start with that.”

With a weary nod, he walked to the table under the rising sun and lifted the phial from the midst of his other items. The tension permeating the room slowly dissipated with the focus shifted away from him and back to why fate had flung he and the Noble together.

“I managed to wash it off,” he explained, handing it to Fernando. “I would rather that you not open it here. I do not wish to be run out of my home because of the smell.”

The cork, half out, was slammed tightly back in. Fernando contemplated opening it again, but held the little bottle between thumb and forefinger, eyeing the brownish green contents. “What do you think?”

“I do not know.” Finding an unbroken chair, he turned it around and sat backwards on it, arms resting on the back, watching the Noble turn the bottle this way and that.

Returning the conversation to the task at hand did not dissuade the suspicion or the mistrust he felt for the Noble. He was not about to let the intrusion into his personal life go from his mind. “I would imagine that it is some type of herbal combination,” he suggested, trying to keep the anger from his voice.

“That would explain it,” nodded Fernando, studying the numbers. The Angel’s tone did not go unnoticed, and he allowed himself a small grin of victory. “And it would explain what is poisoning the humans to us, but how do they get it into the mortals, and what the bloody hell do these numbers represent?”

A frown formed on his pale lips and he shrugged a shoulder. “I do not know what the numbers mean. It could be anything. As to the powders function, if it is poisoning the humans to us then it would have to be ingested either as some type of medicine or as a seasoning of some type that they place in their food. By our reaction to the smell I would count on it being the cause. Jeanie’s reaction, I think, would confirm the food theory.”

The thought of Notus’ housekeeper bolted him upright. Turning to glance at the clock on Notus’ desk confirmed his concern. It was well past the time Jeanie should be here to help get his Chooser back, and he could not imagine that she would back out now. She was too intent on pushing herself into the cause. A flicker of worry flashed in his mind. Rising from his seat, he strode past a puzzled Fernando, to take his black cloak from the closet.

“What is it?” demanded Fernando, trying to put indignation into his confused tones as he stood. One moment his host was making perfect sense and the next…Fernando shook his head at how much more he had to learn about his partner.

“Jeanie should have been here by now,” he replied, draping his cloak over his shoulders and clasping it in place with the ancient broach. The feeling that something was wrong tugged harder. Grabbing keys and pocket watch, he stuffed them into his trousers pocket and headed to the door. Fernando did not follow; a disbelieving look on his face.

“Let’s go,” he stated, maybe a little too anxiously.

Fernando’s brows shot up and he inclined his head momentarily before walking ever so slowly towards the now opened door and his tall pale companion. “I’ve met many a trollop and all could fend for themselves very well. I will not allow this investigation to be deterred for an incompetent whore.”

For a brief time they had been civil to each other, now his jaw tightened again in anger. “She is no whore,” he stated coldly, “and I do not wish to delay getting my Chooser back, but something is wrong. I mean to see that she is safe if she has decided not to help. We can continue the discussion about the powder along the way.
If
that is alright with you.”

“It is,” sniffed the Noble, and walked out of his host’s home, his nose slightly up in the air and very aware of the Angel’s glare.

The door shut with a thunk and locked with a jingle of keys that were silenced by being stuffed back into a pocket. A quick glance at the street reported that no one witnessed the exit or his hurried movements to cowl himself under the black cloak. Following the Noble, he fell in beside, walking at a casual pace to Fernando’s hurried steps.

“You do look quite ominous like that,” remarked Fernando, nonchalantly, eyes intent on their immediate surroundings as a hunter in a forest of stone. This time he was hunting his partner as well as his property. He was in a unique position and he knew it. No other vampire had managed to get this close to the Angel, and reading the first few pages of that diary and the Angel’s reactions only fuelled Fernando’s curiosity. If he lost all his possessions to find the Angel’s secrets it would be a small price, but not a price he necessarily wanted to pay. A smile flickered momentarily across his lips. Despite the barriers, the Angel could possibly be tricked into revealing his sacred secrets and Fernando was determined to try.

“It is better this way,” replied the Angel, his mask pack in place, firmly this time. He resolved that he would not let de Sagres get the better of him again. The extent of their relationship would be as partners to resolve the mystery, nothing more.