Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles (70 page)

The young monk cleared his throat, turning his eyes from her and back to setting the desk to a dining table. “You’re in the Monastery of St. Martin’s.”

“How – how did I get here?” Jeanie frowned. The last thing she remembered was the strange fog lifting as the freezing rain pelted down. She shuddered at the memory, glad that the rain had come to banish the gruesome figures swirling in the mist.

“The Angel brought you here.” The young monk turned to exit the room. “You were half frozen and near death. Brother Absolom has given orders for plain and simple foods until you recover.”

So many questions swirled in Jeanie’s mind. Placing a hand to her forehead in an attempt to halt the spinning, one question floated to the surface, breaking away from the others in evidence to its importance. “Where’s the Angel?”

The monk glanced down at the floor next to her bed and quickly left the room.

Jeanie peered over and smiled. His tousled white locks whispered across his face and the arm flung over his head as he lay on his back. White against white, his other hand splayed against his chest as it slowly rose and descended in deep sleep. A thin linen sheet covered by a simple woven brown wool blanket tucked around his lower body. It had been so long since she had seen him so peaceful.

Carefully, so not as to wake him, Jeanie pushed down her covers and swung her bare legs over the other side of the bed. It was then that she realized she was naked. Blushing furiously at what she must have displayed to the monk, Jeanie glanced around and found her shift hanging over the footboard.

Once dressed, she followed the delicious scent of hot food and found a bowl of chicken broth steaming in unison with the small loaf of bread. A growl responded and without further ado, Jeanie sat down and ate, dunking in ripped pieces of fluffy bread into the soup and puffing over the spoon.

The questions she had left unspoken arose, slowing her consumption of breakfast. One answer was self-evident. The Angel slept on the floor because the bed was too small for two, let alone someone of his height. It warmed her immensely that he did manage to sleep beside her. The other points that filled her mind remained unanswered and would have to wait until the Angel awoke.

Jeanie glanced to the small draped window near her bed and frowned at the diffuse light filtering in at the edges. She had no sense of what time it could be. Only the light indicated that it was day. How many more hours would it be before the Angel awoke remained as mysterious as to how long she had slept.

A whimper sounded from across the room snapping Jeanie’s attention from the broth sodden bread in her fingers to the figure sleeping next to her bed.

It came again, followed by a sob.

Placing down the wooden spoon with a clatter, Jeanie rushed over to his side chewing on the last morsel. Worry and dread filled her.

White brows drawn together over closed eyes, scrunched in pain. Jeanie anxiously watched glittering tears gather at the distant corners and then trail down. Incomprehensible words mumbled from his pale lips. It was clear to Jeanie that the Angel was in the throes of a nightmare he could not wake from.

Swallowing down her own concern and the bread, she brushed his silken strands away from his face. She wanted to wake him, to free him of whatever past memories grasped at him, and find comfort with her.

Placing her hand on his shoulder, she gave him a little shake in the hopes that would break him from his slumber. Instead he thrashed in his sleep and cried out. His fear and torment tore at her heart. She had to wake him. With more force, she shook him and called his name.

Crimson eyes snapped open. He gasped for breath, sat up, and scrabbled away until he hit the wall.

He could still feel Them, grasping at him with putrescent skeletal hands, their execrable mouths clambering to gain purchase on his body. Shuddering, he knew the threat was now a promise made and he did not know why. Nausea threatened to overpower him but he managed to swallow it down. He felt sullied and marked. Leaning his head against the cool stone, he closed his eyes as he failed to get his breathing under control. It was now a matter of time before They reaped their reward from his flesh, bone and soul, and a terrible premonition filled him.

Light headed, he knew that had he not awoken he would be forever with the white- faced demons. He trembled at the thought.

“Gwyn, are you alright?”

Jeanie’s distressed tones added to his turbulent mind and found he could not answer as he hugged himself in a vain attempt to get his shaking under control.

A hot touch alighted on his shoulder catching him unawares. Instinctively, he pushed the offending touch away. It was too cloying, too demanding of his flesh, too reminiscent of cold dead hands clambering to use and abuse him. It was too real of the reminder of a promise yet unfulfilled.

It was only when he heard Jeanie’s gasp of shock and a thump as she tottered over onto her rump from the force of his action, that he realized she was not part of the dream. Opening his eyes, he saw her beside him, green eyes staring up at him with surprised hurt that swept his breath away, leaving guilt to enter into the mix of obstreperous emotions.

He could not let her know about the dreams that were not dreams. Not even Notus knew about them. He swallowed down a dry gullet. “Just a nightmare.”

Jeanie just stared at him, disbelieving the lie because of the truth it hid. She had never seen anyone react like that from a nightmare and massaged the feeling back into her hand from his blow. “That weren’t no ordinary nightmare.”

Abashed, he lowered his eyes, the dream and its effects diminishing but not forgotten. “I’m sorry.” He took a deep shaking breath, let it out slowly and felt control returning.

Jeanie moved closer and tentatively placed her hand on his forearm that hugged his chest. This time he did not shove her away, but rather glanced up at her. Jeanie could feel him trembling beneath her fingers.

“Do ye wish t’ tell me about it?” she offered, her voice soft and soothing.

He shook his head, sending his long hair brushing over his arms and her hand. He could not tell her. He could not tell a soul.

Made uncomfortable by her probing concern and her proximity, he stood, grabbing his trousers and quickly slipped them on.

A glance at the curtained window and the tingling along his skin told him it was still day, but any thought of sleep became its own dream.

Frowning, he realized that once the sun was down he and Fernando would be visiting
Le Jardin
. The sense of foreboding that had slowly relinquished its hold upon awakening slammed back into his gut, causing him to gasp.

“What is it?” Jeanie stood up and went to his side. His erratic behaviour since he awoke confused and confounded her. She had never seen him so out of sorts. It begged the question as to what had happened to him since they arrived at the Abbey.

A chill ran up his spine.

“You can’t come,” he whispered, refusing to look at her. He knew in some deep recess that tonight would change everything and he was impotent to stop it. The only thing he could do was to keep his oath to keep Jeanie safe.

“What are ye talkin’ about?” Confused, Jeanie tried to catch his distraught blood red eyes, but he only turned away from her.

He took a deep steadying breath and closed his eyes. To keep his oath he would have to break a promise. “Fernando found the whereabouts of
Le Jardin.
He and I are going there tonight.”

Jeanie could not believe what she was hearing. Events and facts seemed to be moving at lightning speed. One minute he was in the deep throws of a night terror and the next one he was informing her that they were further along in their quest than when they left Calais. Her mind reeling from the information, Jeanie did not know whether to be disconcerted or happy. “When do we leave?”

“You’re not coming.” He turned and found Jeanie’s shocked expression questioning him.

“What d’ye mean?” She shook her head in disbelief. He had promised her that she would go with him. The idea of being left behind rankled.

Shoulders slumping at the spark that flickered in her emerald eyes, he sat heavily on the bed and gazed at his hands on his lap. The cut that had appeared to be healing was now ringed in red. Closing his hands into fists he gazed into Jeanie’s eyes, hating what he had to do.

“I need you to stay here. I need to know that you are safe.”

“But I’m safe when I’m with you,” bemoaned Jeanie.

Unable to bear Jeanie’s stupefied expression, he flickered his gaze to the curtained window and then at his torturous bed and the promises that were made there. When he met Jeanie’s eyes again he knew that who she saw was the Angel returned.

“I need you here, where it is safe,” he reiterated. “If Fernando or I don’t make it back by dawn, you are to take the money I have in my suitcase and return to England. If Fernando is with you, go and try and free Notus with what you’ve learned. If you go alone, take what money is left and go back home to Scotland.”

Jeanie could not believe what she was hearing and shook her head in denial. “Ye sound as if yer never comin’ back.”

It was the flicker of admission in his ruby eyes that caught her breath and irked her. She could not let him go without her. “I’m goin’ with ye,” she stated plainly, her anger rising.

He had a feeling that this would happen, as it seemed to happen over and over throughout this horrid quest. This time he could not allow Jeanie to dissuade him. “Not this time,” he said, slowly rising to his feet to stare down at her, the full countenance of the Angel upon him.

“How dare ye? Ye said –”

“I know what I said and I know what I promised.” He countered her growing fury with cold control. Jeanie no longer rattled him. “I also know the Oath I swore on my sword.”

Jeanie’s head snapped back as if slapped.

Pressing his advantage, he stepped into the gap. Wide green eyes met his. “If I have to, I will tie you to this chair.”

“Ye wouldna dare,” hissed Jeanie.

He hated seeing such emotion on her beautiful face, but he had no choice and matched it with the full force of the Angel. “Try me.”

Jeanie’s choler fled at the presence of the Angel and for the first time fear of him grasped her innards, making her legs weak. Taking a step backwards, she turned and fled the small room they shared, sobbing as she slammed the door behind her.

The loud crash of the door making contact with the frame resonated through the room and shook his bones, leaving him weak and despondent. It was done and he hated how it had gone. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her and what that meant to him, but the chance was irrevocably gone.

Turning to his suitcase that sat on the floor against the wall, he knelt, opening the latches and lifted. Everything he needed was here except for the sword that lay on the floor beside the case.

Black leather boots, soft and supple in his hands were but a pale imitation of Jeanie’s touch. Slumping in self-defeated victory, he prayed that Jeanie would understand and forgive him if he survived.

S
ilently he slipped behind the sculpted coniferous hedge. Shadows engulfed him as a treacherous gibbous moon threw off her cloudy veils to the impassioned breath of the western wind. Crouched down, his hands sunk into the cold loam purchasing his balance. The only evidence of his presence was the slight wisp of breath that the wind whipped away.

A rustle of fabric and a scuttle of jostled deadfall behind and off to the right sagged his shoulders as he shook his head at the Noble’s noisy approach. He was starting to wonder if he should have left both Jeanie and Fernando behind and gone alone. Unfortunately, he could not tie Fernando to a chair.

The Noble hunkered down beside the Angel and noted the disgruntled expression. The Angel had seemed out of sorts since they had met up outside their rooms just after sundown, and Fernando did not need to be a genius to figure out why. The lack of Jeanie’s presence and the slamming that had awoken him was enough to tell him what he needed to know. It was the Angel’s raiment that was a surprise.