Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles (28 page)

“She is the Lady Maria Isabel de Leiora, and she is very dead,” explained Fernando with a finality that brooked no further comment. Seating himself on the opposite identical couch, he continued, “I brought you here because I figured we needed to have a little chat.” He reclined against the back of the couch, placing his feet on the low table between them.

The Noble’s condescending tone did not go unnoticed, and the Angel sat back. Whoever the Lady Maria Isabel de Leiora was would remain a mystery. He let his hands rest comfortably on his lap, ignoring the rising heat in his right. “What is it that you want to talk about?”

“A few things, in fact,” remarked Fernando.

He waited patiently for the Noble to continue.

“First and foremost, no matter the reason we are not going to run off on a wild goose chase any longer. I will only follow facts. They are more reliable; though I have to admit this time it paid off.” He began to empty his pockets of the different powders, careful not to mix them. Four neat piles of spices lined up on the table. Fernando continued, “Secondly, what are we going to do with her? I don’t need a liability in this venture, and if she is going to become one, take heed, I will eliminate the liability before any harm comes to me.”

Pale white features darkened at the veiled threat. “Pardon me?” he demanded, leaning forward.

“You heard.” Fernando tried to match the Angel’s glare but could not meet the smouldering ruby eyes.

“And so did I,” interjected Jeanie, the shocks of the night’s events threatened to repeat themselves.

Fernando raised a brow. “Ahh, so you’ve finally managed to find your tongue. I thought that it was lost forever. I so did miss it.”

“Fernando,” growled the Angel.

“Oh come now. If she’s going to help us – if she still wishes it.”

“I still wish,” blurted Jeanie, not at all appreciating the treatment. “I can take care of myself.”

“Like you did tonight?” pointed out Fernando. Jeanie closed her mouth without protest. “This one here,” he pointed to the Angel, “may accept your help in this matter, but that does not mean I have to. I have seen how you listen to orders. Well, little miss, I do not and will not go through rescuing the damsel in distress again. Understand? That means you will not only listen, but you will do as I say, because if you do not you will never be able to listen to anything again.” He ignored their glares, yet the Noble could see that the Angel recognized the sentiment in his words.

“Ye canna order me around,” yelled Jeanie. “I did nothin’ wrong. How dare ye –”

“Shut up, Jeanie,” The Angel's voice was tired yet pointed enough to halt the girl in mid sentence.

Astonished, Jeanie could only blink. Never had he spoken to her in this manner.

In amusement, Fernando’s eyes widened.

Taking a deep breath, he continued without meeting Jeanie’s shocked green eyes. “Somehow they know your connection to me and this has placed you in great danger, for possibly only one purpose: to get to us. We cannot have you place yourself in situations that could get us all killed. You have no idea what you are dealing with.”

“And ye do?” She shifted away from the Angel. She did not understand him. One moment he was kind and gentle to her and the next he was so cold and ruthless.

“To some extent, yes,” he responded. Who wanted he, Fernando and the rest of the Chosen dead was a mystery slowly unravelling itself, but he knew them to be cunning and extremely dangerous.

“Then tell me,” she implored.

“I cannot.”

“Why?”

“I cannot.” He paused a moment, the silence in the room overwhelming. “I have asked you to trust me, a task that is not easy, I know, but please try.”

A frown formed on Jeanie’s lips and her eyes fell to the intricate patterns of the rug. “Aye, I trust ye, but,” she sighed, she wanted to do more than just trust him and he was making it oh so difficult at this moment. “I feel so useless, like a dog on a leash, ye ken?”

He nodded. He felt exactly the same.

Unexpectedly a loud rumble exploded in the room and Jeanie blushed. Fernando could only shake his head in exasperation. “There’s food in the pantry.” He jerked a thumb behind him. “Go help yourself. I’m sure some of Bridget’s whores wouldn’t mind sharing.”

Standing up, Jeanie unwrapped herself from the Angel’s cloak, folded it and gave it to him. “Thank ye,” she said, blushing again as her stomach rumbled once more. Grabbing a solitary candlestick from the candelabra, Jeanie followed Fernando’s directions to the pantry.

Alone in the parlour, his pale features hardened on the Noble.

“What?” cried Fernando.

“If you ever raise even a finger to harm Jeanie in any way I will see you dead.” Crimson eyes flashed menacingly.

Surprisingly, Fernando chuckled before his face turned to stone. “Yes, I can see that you have it bad for that one, but let me point out one thing, you cannot be in all places at all times. If she does not follow orders, especially at a crucial moment, and the result is, how shall I say it, less than desirable, then she will wish that she had never been born. It is you who desires her presence, thus tying our hands to act in ways that are normal for us.”

He looked away, knowing the truth of the Noble’s words, but he would not allow Fernando to harm Jeanie. “If I have not said so before, I will say so now. I will take responsibility for any and all of Jeanie’s actions, and I will take the consequences that come with them.”

Tapping finger against his lips, Fernando quietly studied his partner. “Alright, then it’s settled.”

“What’s settled?” Jeanie walked into the room, her arms laden with an open bottle of wine, a little black jar, a hunk of cheese and a package of crackers. Setting the groceries down on the table she produced three wine glasses from her large skirt pockets and sat down.

“That the Angel is going to take full responsibility for you.” Fernando ignored her dumb expression, took his feet off the table and lifted the wine bottle. “You have expensive tastes, my dear. I usually reserve this vintage for special guests.” He poured her a glass of the fine Beaujolais.

“It was all ye had.” She nodded her thanks and took a sip. Putting the glass down, Jeanie looked at the Angel who stared out into the hall. “Ye dinna hae t’ do that; take responsibility for me, ye ken.”

He turned to face her. “It was the only way.”

She let out a sigh and picked up the little black jar, trying to open it. “I’ve taken care of myself for as long as I remember. I can care for myself now.”

Noting her frustration over the little jar, he took it from her grasp and opened it. The angry expression on her face stopped him short from returning the jar. Snatching it back, Jeanie curtly offered her thanks and gazed into the contents, frowning. A dunk of her finger revealed tiny black pearls stuck together that shimmered wetly in the candlelight. “Wha - what is this?” She wiped her finger on the jars edge, removing the little globs, and tried to read the foreign language on the label.

“It is Russian caviar,” answered Fernando, dryly.

“I thought it was jam.” Her mystified expression deepened into a frown and she glanced up at the Noble. “What’s caviar?”

Fernando blanched noticeably at the revelation. Pursing his lips into a tight line, he replied, “Fish eggs.”

“Oh, that’s disgustin’.” She dropped the jar on the table, spilling some of the contents.

Picking up the jar, Fernando unceremoniously dolloped some of the caviar onto a cracker and shoved it towards Jeanie’s face. “You touched it, you eat it,” he stated matter-of-factly, holding his anger in check. “I paid a pretty penny for this and you will eat it.”

Jeanie made a face at the little black eggs glooped together on the wafer and took it from the Noble. Her sense of hunger abated at the sight and she glanced to the Angel hoping he would rescue her from this trap, but he seemed more intent on the Noble.

Cautiously, she took a bite. The salty round hardness exploded in her mouth. The taste was neither pleasant nor unpleasant and she took another bite. She could feel dark eyes intent on her as she washed down the mouthful with the Beaujolais.

“Aren’t ye gonna hae some?” She broke off a chunk of cheese and popped it into her mouth, relishing in the normalcy of the taste.

“No, that’s alright,” declined Fernando. “We’ve already eaten.”

Cautiously, Jeanie spooned some more caviar onto another cracker and popped it into her mouth. This time it was not so bad. It just took a bit of getting used to.

Nodding towards the four piles, her mouth still full, she asked, “Why d’ye take these?” She swallowed. “It dinna look to me like ye do much cookin’.”

“How very astute of you.” Fernando fingered the fine powder of the first pile. “I do tend to eat out quite often.” He flashed a full-toothed grin exposing his sharpened teeth and ignored the Angel’s disapproving glare. “The food is for my guests. As to these, I brought them on a hunch. The ambiguity of the contents of the barrels and this little bottle,” - he pulled out the phial -
 
“and a certain reaction, in the midst of other deciding factors, leads me to theorize that this is what will aid us in our search.” He placed the phial at the end of the row. “But do these equal that and if so, how?”

Licking her fingers clean of caviar and crumbs, Jeanie picked up the little bottle and read out the numbers. “D’ye ken the names of these?” she asked, indicating the piles of spices.

Fernando placed a finger to his lips. “There were no names given, even on the shipping order, only numbers. One, two, three and four,” he answered, mildly amused at the girl’s involvement. If she had any knowledge he would use her. Fernando was starting to see some benefit of keeping her around.

Her wine stained lips pouted in thought as she read the bottle again. Wiping out the lid of the caviar bottle with the hem of her skirt – she could not find anything else – she placed it lid side down on the table before the phial. “Which one is
one
?”

Interest aroused, Fernando pointed to the pile on his left. “I believe this is
one
, that is
two
, that
three
and this one is
four.
Why?”

Jeanie flashed a smile and measured
one
into the palm of her hand. Satisfied with the amount she dumped it into the lid, and began doing the same with the other powders.

Intrigued, the Angel brought his attention to the careful measuring and mixing of the herbs and watched as Jeanie dumped the last spice and stirred with her finger. The intensity of the smell exploded into the room, causing him to gag before his hands could cut the putrid smell from infecting his nostrils.

Through tearing eyes he witnessed Jeanie’s gasp as the Noble snatched the lid, ran to the door, arm covering his face, to hurl the contents and lid into the street. The door slammed shut, Fernando clearly shaken.

Reluctantly, the Noble lowered his arm, sniffing the air. The Angel followed Fernando’s example. The smell lingered, and to the bemusement of Jeanie, he covered his mouth and nose with his hand.

“This is wonderful, just wonderful,” muttered the Noble as he went about the room flinging heavy drapes aside and opening windows in an attempt to air the place out. “It’s going to take forever to get rid of the stench.”

A slight breeze stirred his long white hair and through the hand covering his mouth, he spoke, “At least we now know what those herbs are.”

“Yes, but is it the cause of the poisoning?” Fernando found his seat. Already the room smelled better.

“Poisoning?” exclaimed Jeanie, backing away from the powders. Her hand grabbed another cracker and dunked it into a surprisingly empty jar. The smell had made her ravenous and all that now remained were a few crackers.