Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles (34 page)

“What I want is you,” she stated matter-of-factly.

It was Fernando’s turn to laugh. “I have met many a woman who wanted such, yet none so brazen as to come right out and say it. Unfortunately, you are out of luck for I am in a rare mood not to wish for such lovely company for the night. Now if you will excuse me.” He tried to move past her and stopped as her hand grasped around his bicep in an iron grip. He glared down at the whore, anger growing and vying with pleasant amazement.

She met his glare. “You misunderstand,
monsieur.
I have a proposition for you.”

“And that is?” He tried to pry her fingers from his arm but could not budge the delicate digits.

“What I offer is not meant to be heard by mere mortals.” She dragged him off, ignoring his protests, only to let go when they entered a poor hovel not far away.

“
Sue foda duma puta, eu vou te-matar por isto!
” shouted Fernando, rubbing his bruised arm.

“
Assis-toi!
” Her command rang hypnotically and she instantly realized why he did not comply. In a softer tone she said, “Sit.”

Strangely unable to resist, Fernando sat down on the cot, mesmerized.

“Ah, now you will listen,
n’est-ce-pas
?” She began to pace, her cool veneer slipping into obvious nervousness, all the while keeping an eye on the Noble.

“You have something I want and in exchange I will give you what you want.” Disregarding his confusion, she continued, “I noticed that you have a lot of money, money that I need to get myself out of this stink hole and into a place where I can run my own business. Normally I would have just killed you and taken your money, but I see that, even though you are mortal, you have a blood lust that makes me offer you this. In exchange for your money – think of it as an investment in which you may be a silent partner – I will give you immortality.”

Clearly this woman was crazy. “And if I refuse?” he asked, playing along with her madness. Investing in a whorehouse would bring new purpose into his life and generate revenue, not to mention the women, but what she offered in exchange was ludicrous.

She turned to face him. “You die.”

Fernando blinked at the blatant answer. For one so small she had a lot of strength. Hoping to end the insanity he calmly stated, “Then I guess my answer is yes.”

Her smile lit up her face and she slowly approached, sitting on the cot beside him. “You made a wise decision.”

Her kisses were soft. Maybe he could use some company, and he kissed back. The only type of immortality he knew was begetting a child and at this point he could not care less. Her soft lips caressed his cheek, moving to his ear where she gently sucked, sending shocks of pleasure through his body. She worked down to his neck, kissing, licking and sucking. He moaned in delicious contentment, running one hand to cup a breast while the other held the embrace.
Yes, this could do nicely.
Her lips felt cool against his hot flesh and then he felt searing white pain as she bit deep, furiously sucking his blood into her being.

Fernando awoke to find that he sat in a large bed. Everything seemed alien until he realized that he was in his home near Hyde Park. Running his hand through his hair, he remembered the date and that the Angel and the housekeeper were his guests. He had no understanding why he had dreamt of that time so long ago. Fernando was used to not remembering his dreams, but this was so accurate, so disturbing, bringing back with it all the emotions of that time.

Getting out of bed, he knew that the sun was still up but he could not go back to sleep. Maybe the Angel would wake in a little while so that they could get an early start as soon as the sun set.

He stood in front of the mirror, gazing at his reflection and gasped in shock. Spinning around to face the door, he realized that the red eyes of the devil so long ago had belonged to the Angel. The Angel was at that disastrous wedding feast. It was the Angel who his father had mentioned. It was the Angel who knew of the disgraceful behaviour that Fernando could not remember.

Oh dear God, he knows.

T
he dark haired man stood at the top of the stairs, glaring down
at the richly carpeted steps that would take him to Bastia. He despised the notion of standing before her explaining how he had captured and then lost the Chosen he was charged to dispose of. Never mind that it was Violet’s obsession with the Angel that ruined his plans. He knew that Bastia would punish him. Violet was his underling, as he was Bastia‘s.

His shoes barely made a dent in the plush carpeting as he took to the stairs, his back rigid, head held high. He would tell her and accept what would come, but he would have his revenge on Violet, if he were allowed.

The carpet runner ended where a marble tiled floor began. Red and black veins ran through the white stone lending an air of an ostentatious hecatomb and he smiled. His shoes staccato filled and echoed along the hallway that led him to his Lady. He knew she would be there. She was always there at this time of day and most times she was happy to see him and hear his reports on the systematic genocide of the Chosen. Tonight she would be displeased.

Laying a broad hand on the fine-grained door, he knocked and turned the knob, entering into her sanctuary. Candles brilliantly lit the room. He knew how many there were, he counted them himself when he restocked them every night – one hundred and forty-six. He would light each one before she woke, and by the time she retired only one would remain lit to light his Lady back to her bed. Now there were less than a third aflame, but their light did not diminish the richness of the room.

Gold and red themed the chamber as he stepped onto lush red carpeting that stretched from one end to the other. A candelabrum hung from a vaulted ceiling, gently cradling the guttering remains of the beeswax candles. In the hearth, a fire glowed brightly, its smoke staining the white mantle. Along the walls, sconces, some still alive with light, many others dead in darkness ran the room, leaving only enough space for astounding masterpieces of artwork framed in lavish gold. She would not be here, but in the room off to the right.

He went to the door, making a mental note of how many candles he would have to order for the next week’s supply, and listened to the splashing of water mixed with musical humming. With a nock, he entered into his Lady’s bathroom tiled with the same white, black and red, from the hall. In the centre of the room stood a black claw footed tub filled with steaming water, bubbles and his Lady.

She turned at his entrance, a magnificent smile stretching her heart shaped face. Dark eyes met his and he could do nothing but return her infectious grin. Her long wavy hair was pulled straight with the weight of the water while the bubbles covered modestly. Languidly she lifted a supple leg out of the water and ran her hands down the length from ankle to knee, luxuriating in the feel of the water washing off her soft skin. Her smile broadened.

“It is good to see you, my little bird,” she chimed, lowering the leg to cause the bubbles to stir. “What is your report for today?”

“My Lady,” he began and then caught himself. Now was the moment and he was loath to turn her good humour into naught. “The plan went well -”

“Then the Angel is dead?” She perked up, sitting straight in the tub, causing the water to splash onto the tiled floor. The tops of her breasts floated high in the soapy bubbles.

He shook his head. “No, my Lady, it appears that the Angel and de Sagres have teamed up.”

“That is unfortunate news, very unfortunate.” She stared into the water, her arms rested on the sides, lazily swirling the bubbles with her fingers. “But you say the plan went well, but the Angel is not dead. Explain yourself.”

“Violet sent them too early. I wasn’t given enough time,” he stated emotionlessly.

Anger swelled her features. “She did what?”

“She sent them to the kitchen a day early.”

Dark eyes grew black. “Did she say why?”

“No, my Lady, she didn’t have to. She has been obsessed with the Angel for years. Something must have happened. She wants to possess the Angel for her own amusement.” He could not hide the disgust from his voice.

“I had thought Sebastian would have been enough to satiate her.”

“She moved too fast with him. I was going to give her de Sagres to play with, but it seems her heart is set on the Angel.”

The Lady in the water angrily pouted. “And you say that the Angel and de Sagres are working together.”

“Yes, my Lady.” He stood still waiting for her inevitable reaction. When it did not come, a frown pulled at his face. “My Lady?”

“Let her have the Angel, and de Sagres too.” Her dark piercing eyes bore into him and he recognized the inner spark of her unique genius.

“I don’t understand, my Lady. By giving Violet such responsibility, considering her new found obsession, it may end with our discovery.”

She shook her head, her long hair stirring the water causing bubbles to burst, exposing more of the Lady’s nudity. “I doubt it. One thing I can count on with Violet is her hunger to get what she wants and I would be a fool not to use that to our advantage.”

“She told me you gave her the next assignment.” Anger broiled within him. Something had changed for the Lady to elevate Violet, especially without telling him.

“Yes, my little bird,” she cooed, “She is going to lead them on a merry chase off of this God forsaken island, and you are going to help her.”

Stunned surprise turned immediately to exploding anger. “I will not.”

“You will!” Her hand came crashing down into the water, causing bubbles to fly out of the tub to mingle with the sparkling colours of the marble tiled floor. “Once the Chosen are on the Continent, and distracted, you will be able to proceed to the next step – the continued genocide of the Chosen by completing the distribution network for my lovely spice.”

The light of her logic touched the dark haired man, and he smiled. His Lady was right, as she always was, and this meant that they would be able to accelerate the process here and abroad. More eateries would be forced into using their herbal mixture and as word spread out more and more families would be fighting to buy the concoction to put in their own bland tasting food. More than three quarters of the population, rich and poor, would be poison to the Chosen of the British Islands. If Violet could keep the Chosen distracted, then the timetable would be cut in half, bringing the termination of all Chosen much closer to fruition.

“Are the letters written?” asked the Lady, leaning back against the side of the tub, relaxing at the plans coming to fruition.

“Yes, my Lady. I finished them tonight.” He stood watching her face relax into a smile.

“Wonderful, then this is what I want you to do,” she purred, reaching her arms upwards to stretch out the tension in her shoulders. “I want the herbs loaded and shipped tomorrow night with the appropriate letters going to our compatriots on the Continent. Spain, Portugal and Italy are quite eager to get started since they’ve seen our wonderful results here and in Germany, the Netherlands and Belgium. I’ve had missives from Austria and surprisingly, Russia, and now France wishes to join us since we have perfected the herbal mixture. I want Violet in charge of France.”

“What?” he spluttered, disbelieving his ears. How could the Lady do such a thing? Violet has done nothing but get in their way with her insatiable hunger for playing with the Chosen.

“I want Violet out of my sight,” explained the Lady. “She can prove herself by going to France and setting things in motion there, while making sure that de Sagres and the Angel follow. She has been a hindrance here. If she can prove herself there, then maybe I will reward her once the Chosen are exterminated. As for you, my little bird, you are my eyes and ears. You are to oversee the operations here and keep an eye on Violet, but more importantly I need you to make contact with the others in the eastern countries and follow up with the ones we have yet to hear from.”

The dark haired man smiled, his own position elevated. He did not mind the extra responsibilities, but relished in how he could effectively step up the one sided genocidal war against the Chosen.