Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles (43 page)

He was certain that these barrels contained the deadly herbs but he needed to know where they were from and where they were going. Fernando decided that when the workers returned to the hold of the ship he would check out the invoice attached to one of the barrels. He perked up as he watched the four men return up the gangboard and found it strange that the last one up, one he thought he recognized, a heavy set man, halted way to sniff the breeze a moment before continuing on.

Out of sight, this was Fernando’s chance. Moving with preternatural speed, he stood over the spice barrels. The invoices were nearly identical to the ones he had safely in his inner breast pocket. The only difference was that this ship came from Calais, France and was now onto LaCoruna, Spain and other distant ports.

This was better than he had hoped. Now he had the next piece of the puzzle. Maybe if he was feeling magnanimous he would allow the Angel to come along if only to show him how this investigation is to be done right. A smile crossed his lips and then a crushing pain. Stars littered the blackness behind his eyelids.

Fernando fell unconscious onto the dock.

The heavyset man stood over the supine form of the Noble, bloodied crowbar still poised to give another skull crushing blow. Reluctantly, he lowered the makeshift weapon as his companions approached to stand impassively around the body.

“I see you got him,” commented the man across from the heavy set one.

“You did nail him good,” added another, smaller than the two.

“How long will he be out?” asked the fourth.

“I don’t know,” replied the heavyset man. “I crushed his skull.”

The others nodded thoughtfully.

The fourth man bent down to gaze on the near shattered face. “Isn’t he one of the two sent out after us?”

“I believe he is,” replied the second man. “She will be pleased to hear of this, but what should we do with him.”

They all looked at the fifth, the one Fernando had not seen, the one who gave the orders. “Let’s make her happier, shall we? Dawn’s only a few hours away; throw him into the Thames and let the sun finish what Mr. Haskel started.”

The other men nodded at the order and lifted Fernando by each appendage. On the count of three they heaved the limp body into the water.

A splash was their only reward.

The fifth man watched the body slowly float away. A sinister smile crept onto his thin lips. “That's one down, one to go.”

Turning back to the men, Corbie Vale snapped, “Back to work! Those spices won't ship themselves!”

“Yes, Mr. Vale,” they chorused.

T
he lone candle on the night stand guttered out, propelling the two lovers into utter darkness, which was perfectly well since Jeanie had long since fallen asleep, head pillowed on the crook of his shoulder. The absence of light did not hamper his ability to admire her beauty, though the light from the candle had lit her fiery hair aflame. Now he could be content with what the darkness supplied. Her pale skin glowed with a vitality that betrayed her youth and spoke well of her recuperative powers. He did not need to see the ugly bruising around the fading puncture marks on her neck. They would be mostly healed by tomorrow night. He would have to be careful lest he turn her neck into a well used pin cushion.

He had not meant to drink from her a second time, only to please her. He came so incredibly close to losing what little control he maintained and he silently thanked Notus for every bit of training he received. Never before had he felt such intense pleasure in the act. It did explain Bridget’s chosen profession and why so many of the Chosen seduced their prey. It made the feeding so much more intoxicating, more satisfying. Feeding off fear had its own pleasurable taste, one that he appreciated and hungered for, but the taste of pleasure shared was candy, having its own dangerously addictive qualities. He could still taste Jeanie’s excited blood and though his hunger for blood was well satiated there was still part of him that wanted to devour her, to make her completely his.

Brushing a long, thick lock of copper hair out of Jeanie’s sleeping face, he held her close. He could not recall how long he desired this with Jeanie. Fantasy made it seem from the first time he had seen her in this very bed those short years ago. In actuality he had slowly grown accustomed to her presence until he could not wait to see her and before the awkwardness between them would drive him into the night.

He had loved her even then, and now he felt as if his chest would burst from undeserved joy. Jeanie not only loved him but also completely accepted him as no other ever had. This was beyond all hope, and yet it was real. Jeanie was really here, sleeping beside him with his marks on her neck and her blood coursing through his body. He wanted this night to last forever and dared not pinch himself to see if this were some lovesick dream. That would be too much to bear. No, this was definitely real and when tomorrow night came it would bring new wonders to behold.

Jeanie let out a soft contented sigh and snuggled closer, half her body lying over his, her hot breath tickling his chest. Fully embracing her, his hands touched her silky skin. It was easy not to notice the cool temperatures in the room, but for Jeanie’s sake he tried to find the quilt shoved to the foot of the bed.

Unable to reach it without disturbing her he managed to disengage his right leg from the sheet and with his foot he felt the bunched up cover. Frowning at the awkwardness of the situation and realizing there was only one recourse to provide Jeanie with the warmth she needed without disturbing her, he grabbed the coverlet with his toes and pulled it steadily upwards, careful not to release it, until he could grab it with his hand. She stirred slightly as he covered her with the quilt.

This is what he wanted to do. He wanted to take care of her forever. For her to always be with him. He wondered if all people in love felt this way, and especially if Jeanie felt the same. But what was forever to her? She already said she could not imagine living to fifty. That was a sobering thought. Forever meant two very different things. One was her mortal lifetime, the other, his immortal life. If she hoped for marriage and children she would be torn to hear that he could not give her such a life.

Marriage between Chosen and mortal, though not unheard of, was extremely rare and equally dangerous. And what of Notus? What would he think about this when he learns of it? That was easy. Notus would be ill pleased, possibly angry to hear of the whole situation. Notus never condoned his affair with Tarian’s granddaughter. The monk must have thought at some point in their long relationship something like this would happen and together they would work it out, but not tonight, maybe never.

He groaned and felt his chest tighten and his eyes burn. The thought of losing the two last dearest people in his world pained him more than any previous loss. Auntie and Geraint’s deaths were not his fault, a realization that took many centuries to accept. Yong Zheng Ru’s death, still fresh and surprisingly on an equal level, filled him with guilt.

He had killed so many countless others because they needed the Angel to take away their pain and rarely had he batted an eye, steeling away his emotions, distancing himself. A hunter killing prey that needed killing, culling the weak from the strong. It hurt him to take the children as their parents knew of no other way, but it was his life, and these people held very little meaning in it. He was their merciful Angel of Death and he tried to take comfort in their solace as he took their lives into his own and knew it for an illusion.

Blinking back tears, the standard rationalizations of what he had done to that wonderful old man, and suddenly to those numerous others, did not stop the pain and remorse he felt at the old man’s loss. It was easier to explain away the guilt of killing ruffians and cut throats if they approached first or were hurting others. He even made peace with himself as he took their lives, a predator preying upon predator as if it somehow made things more equal. But there was no rationalization over what had become of Notus and what might become of them all if he lost this game.

Notus had never done anything to another Chosen to remotely deserve such adverse attention. The Mistress could have selected another than he or even asked! There was no need to hostage for his help. And if he lost Notus…it was a thought he could not bear to consider. Notus was his life. Without him he would be totally alone in the world. He had done that before and he knew that he could not bear such an existence again.

And what of Jeanie? He dared not contemplate it.

Tears rolled off his cheeks onto the pillow. He had not such an overwhelming sense of melancholy since Notus decided they would be returning to London. Maybe it was the city. He had experienced more death and destruction here than in any part of the world, it seemed. Whenever they returned something bad always happened.

The last time was the Great Fire and then the plague, before that was the Crusade and before that was his own induction into the Family. Granted, the time he first met Fernando was not all that bad, except if he counted meeting Fernando as bad. If they all managed to survive, he would take Jeanie and Notus away, never to return to this accursed place. Right now it was a monumental if.

The Gods definitely had a funny way of controlling people’s lives.

Wiping the wetness away with the back of his hand he realized the pattern of Jeanie’s breathing had changed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He tried to hide the pathos from his voice, attempting to regain control of his wild emotions.

Chin propped on her hands, Jeanie saw without seeing the anguish in his face. “’Tis fine. But what of you? What’s the matter?” Worry filled her words. “Ye were so happy earlier.”

He held her close in the dark, and gradually, after a considerable time, he won his internal fight. “What is to become of us?” he whispered into the darkness.

“I’m no sure what ye mean.” She hunkered down under the covers, laying her head on his shoulder. If only she could light a candle to see what was truly going on. She had understood the question because it was the last thing on her mind before she had fallen asleep.

“I don’t think I can bear the thought of loosing you. Not after this.” The touch of her face against his hands and her lips against his own were wonderfully reassuring. “I have waited so incredibly long.”

“I’m no goin’ anywhere,” she whispered in his ear. “This is where I wanna be.”

“But –”

“Hush.” Jeanie kissed him again.

After a long moment, she drew back, taking in a gulp of air. The answer, though sweet, did not satisfy the sense of security he so desperately needed to remove the fear entrapping his soul.

“Jeanie…oh Gods, I don’t know how to say this.”

“Just say it.” She gazed at him, green eyes full of concern and care.

Her soothing words encouraged him to continue in a way that bespoke of the trust he could now place in her. Hesitantly at first, grateful for the cloaking darkness of the room, he whispered, “I…I’m afraid, Jeanie. For the first time in a very long time, I am filled with fear.” Exhaling his apprehension in a puff, he silently waited for her to interject.

Instead Jeanie was strangely quiet, staring at him in blind seriousness and worry. He could almost hear her thoughts asking,
What are you so afraid of?

“I don’t know,” he replied. “No, that’s not true. I’m…I’m afraid…” he closed his eyes willing down the rising panic. “I’m afraid of losing you. I thought that I could handle having you along in this quest, but now…I can’t bear the thought of you coming to harm
because
of me.”

“What are ye sayin’?” Her voice was oddly calm.

He opened his eyes, almost unable to meet her gaze. “I know that I gave you my word that you could help, but that was before.” His words tumbled out unevenly. “I know I also swore an oath to keep you from harm. But I can’t have you in this when one step too slow could cost you your life. I’m neither strong enough nor powerful enough to fight off both our enemies and other Chosen who may have their own ideas about a mortal with a Chosen, especially one such as I. If that happened I…I would die.”