Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles (50 page)

Rewarded with the smile he loved to see, Bridget placed her hands on either side of his head and stared deep into his eyes. Uncomfortable with the intensity of the gaze he knew he had to match it. His eyes bore into hers. He did not want this to happen and resisted out of habit. The pressure grew causing his temples to throb in time with his quickening heart.

It was not a matter of being able to read her. He could do that if he wanted. He chose not to. It was the matter of letting Bridget in. For centuries the wall that he had built to keep her out had remained impregnable, now he had to let her in. That was something he did not know how to do. The pressure built and he groaned. He could see the strain on Bridget’s face and then quite suddenly, as if an audible pop rang through the room, the pressure was gone.

Can you hear me?

Fernando inhaled a shuddering breath.

Yes,
he replied. He hated this. He hated being so open.

I know, love.
Bridget smiled warmly. She knew what caused him to shut himself off from her, from everyone.

“Stop Bridget.” Fernando lowered his head, covering his eyes with his hand.
I can’t go there again.
He felt her sweep his dark curls aside.

“Alright.” She lifted his chin and took away his hand. “I have what I want. Maybe when this is all over you will realize that this is what you want too.” She leaned forward and kissed him deeply.

The sense of her passion swept through him, threatening to overload him. Under it, buoying the physicality of her desire was what he knew was there for so long but was afraid to acknowledge, or even allow for its return.

Breaking the embrace, he leaned back. “I have to go now.”

“I know,” she said sadly. “Just promise me something else.”

“What now, Bridget?” Exasperated and shaken, Fernando stood and walked to the skewed door hanging limply in the frame.

“Come back to me alive.”

Fernando turned to face his sire. Concern fought with fear for prominence on her beautiful pale face, and in her heart. “I will,” he nodded.

Picking up the suitcase sitting on the stoop, Fernando stepped into the night. Bridget’s touch on his body, mind and soul still lingered.

S
ide by side they walked down the street. The beautiful day had turned into a jewelled night that brought with it the cold kiss of winter to come. Jeanie’s breath steadily puffed light clouds as her shoes clicked quickly along the cobbles.

He slowed the pace. They had plenty of time to reach the ship and it was too easy for him to forget that his strides, even at a mortal pace, could leave many a person running behind. Even Notus would complain on occasion.

Shifting his grips on the suitcases, he bumped his sword strapped to his hip under the cloak. They had not conversed much since they had left the restaurant. Then again he had hardly said a word over dinner, allowing Jeanie to divulge the secrets of her life in Scotland. It was nice hearing her stories as he twirled the wine glass half full of Merlot between his hands. Every so often he would fake a sip and place it back down. He could not understand what was so appealing of the dark red liquid. It would have been nicer had he been able to wear his cloak.

He was sure that Jeanie was aware of the stares he received even if she could not hear the comments that his sensitive ears picked up. He had wanted to look up and gaze into eyes the colour of new growth, but he dared not lest he see the looks on the other patrons.

Jeanie had talked and enjoyed and tried her best to make him feel as if they were the only two in the restaurant and he deeply appreciated her attempt, but it was when she clasped her hand over his and said that they could go if he wanted that he released the anxious breath he had been harbouring. Noticing her mostly eaten plate and her empty wine glass, he had matched her eyes and nodded. Fishing out what he figured was more than enough, he dropped the notes on the table and they left. He had never felt so grateful for the camouflage of his long black cloak.

The special something Jeanie had bought had stunned him when she had come out of the bathroom wearing the forest green dress he had dreamed her in. Even down to how she arranged her hair under the lace and green hat held with a long dangerous looking pin. She looked the Lady. No evidence of her housekeeper self remained. And then she did the unexpected – she smiled at his reaction. Every part of her glowed and it was all he could do to stop himself from devouring her right then and there. He had to satisfy himself with a deep lingering kiss that stole her breath away.

Noticing that Jeanie had fallen back, he halted at the turn that would take them to the harbour.

A frown pouted Jeanie’s lips. “I’m sorry. I dinna realize that it would be that bad.”

His thin sculpted brows drew together, not understanding what she was referring to.

“It’s just that I guess I dinna see what the other’s see,” explained Jeanie, reading the question on his shadowed face. “I just see you.”

Finally comprehending what Jeanie was alluding to, he sighed and placed the suitcases down. Relieved of his burden, he took the couple of strides to stand before her. Taking her green velvet gloved hands in his, Jeanie looked up. “You and a very small number,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting subtly in a sad smile.

“But how can ye stand it?” implored Jeanie. A tear escaped, leaving a glittering trail in its wake. “I couldna hear all that was whispered, but…”

“You knew,” he finished with a sigh. He had heard every word, from the malicious and cruel to the curious and dubious.

Jeanie nodded.

He gazed over her head into the night unable to match her forlorn expression on his behalf. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I never have and, most probably, never will.” He returned his view to her beatific face and hitched a shoulder. “Why do you think I wear this cloak? I learned long before I was Chosen how different my appearance is and the reactions it creates in others. It’s safer this way. It’s okay.”

More tears spilled down Jeanie’s freckled face and she threw herself onto him with a fierce hug.

“Oh Gwyn, I wilna let that happen again. Ye dinna hae t’come with me.” Startled at the low rumble of a chuckle, Jeanie pulled back to stare up into his crimson eyes alight with amusement.

“Jeanie, you have to eat,” he smiled, wiping away the tears from her face. “I’m not going to let you go and enjoy a nice dinner while I lurk outside. I’ve tolerated this and much worse over the centuries, I think I can endure the glares and comments if it means I spend time with you.”

Sniffing away her tears, Jeanie’s eyes grew serious. “But ye need to eat too, aye?”

The seriousness of her question made the air heavy between them and he nodded.

“I do, but not as often as when I was first Chosen. In any case, if I do have to feed, you’ll be the first to know.” He trailed his hand down the side of her face to her neck until his fingers thrilled at the rhythmic dance beneath them. Feeling her pulse shoot up, he saw in her eyes the same need that pulled at him and he bent down to find her mouth inviting him to discover more had they not been in the middle of the walkway.

“Great. I did not need to see this.”

A deep accented voice broke the mood, tearing them apart from one another still unsatisfied. Turning they witnessed Fernando striding towards them, his dark cape fluttering back from his broad shoulders.

“Then ye dinna hae t’look,” snapped Jeanie, rounding on the Noble’s intrusion.

Fernando came to an abrupt halt at the vehemence in her voice and raised his brows in annoyance before darkening with fury. “I thought you were going to keep her under control.”

“I’m not her master,” whispered the Angel, not hiding the acrimony in his inflections. “I believe I made that clear.”

Clenching his jaw, Fernando glared at each before stepping forward to the turn that would take them down to the harbour and the ship.

“It’s almost half past nine,” growled the Noble. “If you want this partnership to end sooner rather than latter, we’d best get moving.”

Shaking his head at the audacity of the Noble, the Angel picked up the two suitcases and followed with Jeanie beside him.

“I dinna like him,” she hissed, staring at the fluttering cape before her.

“He can hear you, Jeanie.” He did not bother to lower his voice.

“I dinna care.” She looked up at her lover and then at the Noble, their footpads ringing in the clear night. “I dinna like how he treats me, or ye for that matter.”

He let out a slow breath. “I don’t like it either, but for now we have to put up with each other.”

“Yes we do.” Fernando halted and spun around to face them. “And if you don’t mind, if you have something to say to me, say it to my face rather than my back.” Answered only by stone silence, he turned around and took the steps down to the harbour that he had left not twenty-four hours earlier.

Picking up the pace, they followed him down the stone steps.

“Arse,” said Jeanie under her breath and then squeaked in surprise when the Noble was suddenly before her, his hand on her throat, squeezing.

“Let her go, Fernando.” Menace filled the Angel’s voice.

The Noble realized the metallic ring echoing in the night belonged to the sword under his chin ready to decapitate him with any wrong utterance. He felt the Angel’s strong presence behind him and swallowed his shock. He had moved with vampiric speed, but even he had not seen the Angel move. Opening his hand, Fernando released Jeanie who stumbled and coughed before she caught herself.

Furious, the Angel removed the sword from the Noble’s neck and sheathed it as fast as he had drawn it.

“Don’t ever touch her, Fernando.” The promise of what would happen did not need to be uttered and Fernando backed away under the red glare.

Turning his attention to Jeanie, the Angel’s face was taught with cold fury. He did not like being placed in the position of referee.

“Jeanie, if you have something to say to Fernando, you say it to his face.” Her shocked expression at him seemingly taking the Noble’s side pushed him to add, “You’d expect the same courtesy from anyone.

“I’m not a peacemaker. That’s Notus’ talent. I am sick of this fighting. It’s this attitude that will see us fail.” Ignoring the two of them, he picked up the luggage and continued down to the water’s edge hoping that Fernando and Jeanie would not kill each other.

“I’m no gonna apologize,” he heard Jeanie say to Fernando. “And I’m no afraid of ye.”

“And I am certainly not going to apologize to a mortal, one that should be very much afraid,” pronounced Fernando.

Hearing no bloodshed or further name-calling, he was relieved to watch Fernando walk right by him onto the wooden planks over the languid waves. It seemed that the Noble knew which way to go.

Staring at the slowly rotting wood ahead of him, he swallowed. A knot in the pit of his stomach started to form, accentuated by the soughing of the surf. He had not put much speculation into what he was about to endure tonight. The whole concept made his blood run cold.

When he agreed to come back to England, Notus promised him they would stay for at least a century before he would have to endure another crossing. Now, having been on the island for only five years, he was going to undergo the torturous voyage again.

“I hate that man,” he heard Jeanie proclaim. She stood at his side watching the fluttering cloak grow smaller.

Breaking his gaze from the boardwalk and what was underneath, he quietly said, “You and he have made it abundantly clear of your dislike of each other.”

“Ye dinna like him either.” Jeanie stepped onto the wooden planks and pivoted to gaze up at him.