Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles (44 page)

“Nothin’ is goin’ t’ happen t’ me while I’m with ye.” She embraced him, feeling his fear returned in her own heart. “Don’t ye think I have the same feelin’s? I do. I’m terrified. That cell sobered me well, as well as knowin’ the truth of what ye are and what yer fightin’ for. It explains so much of the danger I was in and the words I heard, especially comin’ from Fernando. I ken he’d rather see me dead. I ken now what he meant the first time I met him.” She felt him involuntarily cringe. “But I’m no goin’ t’ let it stop me from bein’ with ye. If I must I can take care of us both. I love ye. I’m no goin’ anywhere. D’ye believe me?”

“Yes. Yes I do.” The words exploded in a rush. He felt a little better, more positive and more than a little ashamed. He had not expected such strength in her. They would have the time together to figure out what the future truly held for them. Right now he was content to know that she would be with him. After all, if he broke his word it would mean that he was dead, and he was damned to let that happen.

“I love you, Jeanie Stuart.” He smiled and kissed her gently, tasting the sweetness of her lips. Oh how he could drink from those lips, her kiss as potent to his soul as her blood to his body.

Jeanie smiled; relieved to hear the sadness lifted and returned the embrace. “I love ye, too.”

Snuggling closer, wrapping her leg over his, a frown tugged at her delicately featured face. “What am I t’call ye? Ye dinna seem to like it when I call ye by the name the Good Father uses, and calling ye the Angel seems so….” She let the thought hang in the darkness.

The question surprised him, and he halted his tracing of lazy circles on her back. He had not thought about it. Notus used that name sparingly, usually to get his attention more than anything else. It had been a title, a description, in the past when people believed him to be the Welsh God of the Hunt. Everywhere they went in the world he was more titled than named. Even Yong Zheng had called him Xiao Gui, which was more of an affectionate descriptive than a name. To hear the name being used by Jeanie had struck him hard because she had never used it before and because he was now no longer the Angel to her, but something more.

“Do you remember when I told you that the woman who helped heal me after my first wounding gave me that name and that it was because they thought I was Gwyn ap Nudd?” he ventured cautiously.

He felt Jeanie’s head nod against his chest, intrigued.

“That’s not precisely true. Auntie didn’t name me because she believed me Fay and that one day I’d discover my true name. It was the villagers who foolishly believed their God had returned when, on occasion, one of them would see me hunting the woods at night. Having no other name and being presumed to be this Fairy Lord, the name unfortunately stuck.”

Jeanie lay quietly for a moment, his words sinking in until she quietly asked, “If ye could choose a name for yerself, what would it be?”

The question was completely unexpected and caught him off guard. Even Notus had never been so presumptuous. Without thought the answer came unbidden to his lips, “Gwyn,” and stared at the darkened canopy in stunned silence. It was the first time he thought of himself by this name. It had always been there, but never before had he claimed ownership of it.

“Gwyn,” he heard her test the name on her lips. “What does it mean?”

“White,” he said, flatly.

He had expected a response, but the reaction he received made him scowl. Jeanie’s titillating laughter filled the dark room. Once she was calm again, he realized that tears of mirth dampened his chest.

“Oh that’s just perfect,” cried Jeanie as she lifted her head to face him.

“You think it’s funny?”

Hearing the hurt in his voice, Jeanie shook her head, sending dishevelled hair flying. “No, but it make’s so much sense.” Before he could utter a word of protest Jeanie found his mouth with hers. Pulling back she whispered, “I love ye, Gwyn.”

He smiled, accepting the truth to her words.

They lay together drinking in the feel of each other as they languidly explored one another. Not for the sexual pleasure they had consumed earlier, but for the pure delight in being in each other’s presence. Jeanie had long since dozed off, purring to his gentle tracing of circles and other patterns on her back as she sprawled beside him.

Suddenly a loud banging at the front door broke the fragile silence and tore apart the precious moment. Anger at the intrusion welled within only to be quickly placed under tight control.

Jeanie rolled onto her side, her voice sleepy. “Who could that be?”

He shook his head and closed his eyes. A few deep breaths extended his perceptions beyond the sturdy walls to discover the subtle shift in the air – the slow warming of predawn. Whoever was at the door had better have a damned good reason to be disturbing them at this dangerous hour.

“Stay here,” he ordered, slipping back into his cool calm exterior as easily as he pulled on his trousers and shirt.

Closing the bedroom door behind before Jeanie could think of protesting, he walked to the front door, the hardwood floor cold against his bare feet. Something did not smell right. Literally. Again the knocking, this time more enthusiastic than before and a turn of the knob revealed a sight he never expected to see. Only his eyes expressed the shock he felt, his features otherwise back under tight reign.

“Are you going to let me in or are you going to wait to see the sun bake me dry?”

He could only blink in astonishment. Standing on his doorstep stood the Noble appearing not so noble. In fact he was downright atrocious. Looking past the fact that Fernando was drenched through and through with disgusting smelling water, he was also covered in filth and a massive bloodstain covered his neck, shoulders and a bit of his chest. By the sunken grey flesh on Fernando’s face, he quickly gathered it was the Noble’s blood.

For a moment he considered closing the door on the man, leaving him to the brightening sky, but stepped back, allowing Fernando to enter just before dawn break. Quickly, he shut the door, closing out the deadly rays. It looked like it was going to be another glorious day.

Fernando leaned heavily against the closed door with a groan. Filthy water dripped onto the floor, filling the silence. The very act of putting his hand to his face bespoke of great pain.

“Oh to be mortal so I could have a shot of laudanum. Several shots.” He squinted up at the Angel. “Then I’d be dead.”

“What happened?” Curiosity won out. Something serious must have happened to make Fernando come here knowing he would have to spend the day.

Fernando dismissed the question with a wag of his limp hand. “I’ll tell you once the room stops spinning.”

“Do you want to sit?” he offered. He had not forgotten what Fernando had done earlier, but centuries of helping Notus help those in need brought about a customary, if non-caring, response.

“No, ye don’t. Ye stay right there!” Jeanie stood in the bedroom doorway dressed only in her shift, her arms crossed against her chest, face livid. At the sound of the dripping she glared at the puddle forming around the Noble’s feet. There was no way in God’s green earth that
Fernando
was going to ruin the floors she tried so hard to keep polished.

The Noble’s lips quirked into a painful smirk, “I see that my practical joke backfired on me.” He glanced up at his reluctant host. “And you reaped the benefits. Twice in one night, eh? She’s stronger than she looks.”

Noticing where his gaze landed, Jeanie slapped a hand against the remains of the marks on her neck. Eyes wide with embarrassment, her other hand tried in vain to cover herself before going back into the bedroom, slamming the door shut in her wake.

Fernando winced at the sudden noise, his face twisted with a grimace of pain as cold fury rained down on him from fiery eyes.

“I could demand you leave,” stated the Angel icily, and immediately thought about doing it.

“You could,” Fernando’s insufferable grin was back, in defiance to the tense situation, “but you would never find out what I have.”

The bedroom door opened and out stomped Jeanie in the borrowed, wrinkled green dress, fumbling with the top back clasps. She crossed the room in a huff and barged into Notus’ room, slamming the door behind. It was clear that Jeanie had taken the remark hard and that this was part of her revenge. If so, it was working beautifully as Fernando groaned at the sound.

“And what is that?” asked the Angel, returning his attention to the Noble. He was not going to let Fernando see how interested he was.

Notus’ door opened and Jeanie came out holding a bundle of brown woollen cloth that she promptly tossed to Fernando. “Here, see if ye laugh at this.”

Fernando unravelled the material. “A cassock?” Was there amusement in the Angel’s eyes? Fernando could not tell. “And you expect me to wear this?”

“Aye, I do.” Jeanie was not as skilled as the Angel in hiding her emotions. It was clear that her rage was barely held in check. “That is if ye want t’ get past the front door.”

Flabbergasted, Fernando demanded, “Are you going to take this from her? A mortal? She sounds as if she runs this place.”

“As Notus’ housekeeper she does,” he stated, coolly. He ignored Jeanie’s triumphant grin lest it become infectious. “I suggest you do as she bids or you can leave. I am quite sure the sun would do quick work cleaning you up.”

Fernando’s lips thinned into a scowl. He was caught between a rock and a hard place, and was beginning to regret coming here at all.

“When you are done changing,” continued the Angel, “you can have a bath –”

“— cold water,” interjected Jeanie. “I’m no starting a fire or wasting precious wood for the likes of him.”

“— then we can discuss what happened and what you found out.” Turning around, he grabbed Jeanie by the arm and led her back into his room. Fernando’s prolific and colourful cursing mingled with the sounds of him disrobing.

Behind the safety of his closed door, he put a hand across Jeanie’s mouth, stifling her laughter.

“Well done,” he whispered with a grin.

She smiled back, obviously pleased with herself.

“You could have at least let him change in the bathroom. But after what he did last night I don’t blame you for wanting this.”

“If it hadn’t been for Fernando we wouldna be here together like this. I just thought he needed t’ know what ‘tis like t’ be manipulated instead of being the manipulator.”

“If that is the case,” he stated in all seriousness, “then you are a far better teacher than I, but be careful, he is Chosen, and like most, are stuck in their pride. He looks upon you not as a person but as prey.”

Smile gone, Jeanie nodded. She would have to be more cautious in dealing with Fernando.

The sound of profanity ceased and they went back into the other room. Jeanie let out a bark of laughter before catching herself. The Angel raised a pale brow.

“Ye have lovely ankles,” grinned Jeanie.

The Noble scowled. The monks robe was obviously meant for a shorter man. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Right over there.” The Angel pointed in the direction and watched Fernando unsteadily make his way.

“I’ll be a moment getting’ yer soap and towels.” Jeanie turned to the Angel. “What d’ye want t’do about that?” She indicated the pile of filthy water logged clothing. “Burn it?”

“No!” came a shout from behind them. Fernando all but ran to the pile, lifted it up and revealed two identical sheathed blades. “Oh, I see. This is some big joke. Well, ha ha, you got me. Now if you wouldn’t mind I’d like that bath right now.” Taking the soaking bundle, he disappeared into the bathroom.

A half an hour later Fernando emerged from the bathtub, his hair finally clean and curling about his shoulders. Pulling on the cassock, he began the tedious job of washing his clothes. A messy job, usually left to lesser beings, but he had to do it if he wanted to wear something other than the smock. He seriously doubted that he could get that bitch to do the job.