Angel's Assassin (8 page)

The servant girl Marie.

He knew he had seen someone else in the
hallway with her earlier. That shadowy shape. He had to find Marie.
He had to discover who the other assassin was and eliminate him. He
couldn’t allow anyone to threaten Aurora’s life. No other assassin
would be allowed to jeopardize his freedom. He moved to the door,
pausing for a long moment to look back at Aurora. Right now, he
could do nothing for her. The herbalist was her only hope.

Damien slipped out of the room.

Damien merged with the shadows as he moved
through the castle corridors, making his way toward the kitchens.
The meal was at an end and the servants were cleaning up the Great
Hall. Damien scanned the large area, but Marie was not in the room.
He walked to the door near the rear wall and stood in the doorway
of the kitchen for a moment, his gaze moving through the dark room.
A bright fire lit the hearth at the far end, and deep patches of
shadows spotted the walls.

Damien smiled grimly. Darkness was his
friend. Darkness always hid him. He slid into the room unnoticed by
the two women near the fire. One stoked the flames, adding wood to
the fire. The other stirred a kettle above the burning, crackling
wood, humming softly to herself.

Another doorway nearby was open, giving
Damien a glimpse of stairs leading down. Damien walked silently
toward the open doorway keeping himself safely hidden within the
flickering shadows of darkness. He reached the entryway.

The woman attending the kettle suddenly
stopped humming.

Damien cast a glance over his shoulder, but
the women were still busy near the hearth, neither one looking in
his direction. Silence trailed him as he descended the curved
stairway. He took each step soundlessly, moving with fluid
grace.

A shadow shifted in front of the light from a
torch at the bottom of the stairs. Someone was coming up the
stairs.

Damien’s hand moved to his sword handle.

A large man rounded the curved staircase. He
bridled at seeing Damien, stepping back, his hand moving to the
dagger in his belt. He sighed and a small grin formed across his
lips. “Beggin’ yer pardon,” the large man said.

It was hard to see the man in the darkness,
but the torchlight glinted off his bald head. He was half a head
taller than Damien. Despite Damien’s limited view of him, there was
something about the man that set his nerves on edge. Something very
familiar. “Where is Marie?” Damien wondered.

“She’s down there,” the man answered, jerking
a thumb down the stairway.

Damien hesitated a moment longer, his fingers
rubbing the hilt of his weapon.

The man smiled. He was missing two front
teeth.

Tingles shot across Damien’s shoulders. God’s
blood, he thought. I know this man. But from where? As the man
moved by, the smell of ale and vomit wafted from him. The stench
set off alarms inside Damien. Cautiously, he watched the man
continue up the stairs until he disappeared into the kitchen. Only
then did Damien guardedly move down to the bottom of the stairs.
“Marie?” he called.

There was no answer.

Damien stepped into the room. Crates filled
with potatoes and bags of spices were stacked against one wall,
some ten high. He did not see anyone. Had the man lied? And if so,
why?

Damien walked to the back of the room. It was
empty. Marie was not there. He turned around…

…and saw why Marie had not answered.

She lay on the floor, her body hidden by a
row of crates, her head twisted grotesquely to the side, her eyes
wide and vacant.

L
ight burned
against Aurora’s inner eyelids, bringing her back to consciousness.
She opened her eyes slightly. A small face with a crooked nose
leaned into her blurry vision, bright light splashing across the
back of his head and his shoulders. His lips moved, but her muddled
mind could not understand his words. Panic began to fester inside
her.

Another face appeared. A handsome face. A
familiar face. A face she knew to be safe and protecting. The panic
washed away, replaced with comforting warmth. She relaxed with a
sigh. Damien. His dark eyes looked at her with heated intensity, a
troubled frown marring his brow. She wanted to touch him, to soothe
his worry. It took all her strength to lift her hand and brush it
across his forehead, as if a simple swipe of her fingertips could
erase his concern. Her lips turned up at the corners.

Then, blackness descended like night,
blanketing her.

A ghostly tingling danced across Damien’s
forehead where Aurora’s fingertips had moved. It was an odd
feeling, one he had never experienced before, as if she were still
touching him even though it was hours later. He had to admit he did
not want the feeling to fade.

The chill of the shadows he stood in brought
him back to reality. His place was in the dark, separated from the
rest of the world, not pining for the ethereal touch of a woman who
would soon be dead.

He shouldn’t even be in this room. It wasn’t
his place. Aurora’s welfare shouldn’t be his concern. He looked at
her, resting comfortably in her bed. Her lids were closed,
concealing those wondrous blue eyes. Her lips glistened in the
candlelight. He didn’t want her to die. Not like this. Poison, he
thought with distaste. Poison was so cowardly. She had the right to
face her assassin, to look into his eyes.

The herbalist said she would survive. But
Damien knew without a doubt the assassin would try again. His jaw
clenched. After he discovered Marie, he asked Lord Gabriel if he
could remain with Aurora. She was vulnerable to attacks and no one
was going to take his freedom away from him. Not this time. Not
when he was so close. Gabriel agreed, as long as Rupert remained
with her as well.

Damien looked at Rupert who sat against the
wall near the door. The knight’s head drooped to his shoulder. A
moment later, soft snores came from the sleeping guard. Damien
snorted. Not a very effective deterrent against an assassin.

Damien approached Aurora. He stood over her,
staring down. Her long lashes rested against her pale cheek. His
gaze moved over her face, lingering on her lips, lips slightly
parted in rest. A longing to taste those lips overcame him, to
caress the smooth skin of her cheeks. He could do it now. Rupert
was asleep, Aurora would make no sound. How simple it would be.

Finish it, a voice inside him demanded. Claim
what is rightfully yours. Damien’s hand dropped to the dagger
tucked in his belt.

She slept, innocently, unaware of the danger
hovering over her. Innocently. So damned innocent. And she trusted
him. Her father trusted him enough to leave him at her side. The
notion was ridiculous, outrageous! He was dangerous. He lifted his
hands, moving them toward her neck. He could do this without a
dagger. He would finally be free.

She sighed softly, drawing his gaze again to
her lips. They were parted and moist. His hands stopped inches
before his fingers touched her neck.

How could he do it without tasting her?

He straightened, moving his hands to his
side. No one would take his freedom from him. She would live for
three more days. Plenty of time to be with her, to enjoy her
company, before he had to claim his freedom.

He pulled back from her, withdrawing into the
sanctity of the shadows.

Darkness. Blood. A flash of silver. She knew
what would come next. She knew. She groaned and tossed her head.
The eyes. Black orbs that led straight to a world of death. She
could see them in the darkness, watching, waiting.

She gasped and opened her eyes.

“Shhh.” Her father sat on the side of the
bed, stroking her hair. “You are safe.”

But she knew she wasn’t safe. The assassin
was out there, waiting for her. “Father,” she whispered, the
remnants of the nightmare still foggy in her mind.

“Rest,” he advised.

Her gaze scanned the room, the dark corners,
the blackness at the edge of her bed. “Where is Damien?”

“He stepped out for a moment. He’ll be back.”
He rubbed her hair soothingly.

Aurora caught his hand. “He saved my life
again. He was right.”

“Yes,” her father agreed with a solemn
nod.

“Damien should be my bodyguard.”

His brows came together. “We know nothing
about him,” Gabriel whispered. “He is not from Acquitaine.”

Fatigue made her lids heavy. “He saved my
life twice. What more is there to know?”

“Shh, child. Rest. I will take care of
you.”

“I want Damien…” she whispered, but the pull
of sleep urged her deeper into darkness. She shook herself, opening
her eyes stubbornly. Her fingers held tight to her father’s hand.
“Please, Father. He’s the only one who makes me feel safe.”

Her father nodded in supplication. “Just
sleep.”

She answered him by closing her eyes and
settling beneath the covers.

Damien entered the room. He had wandered
through the castle, looking for the assassin, but he knew he
wouldn’t find him. Not now. Not after Marie’s death. The killer had
surely vanished and would now bide his time, preparing for the next
strike.

Lord Gabriel looked up at him from the
bedside.

Rupert sat up straight in his chair, stifling
a yawn. Damien was glad to see his eyes were open.

Gabriel stared down at Aurora before bending
to kiss her forehead. He turned and locked gazes with Damien. The
light of the candle beside the bed cast an aura of cold
consideration from the depths of his eyes.

Dread stirred inside Damien. Had Gabriel
found out who he was?

“Come. Walk with me,” Gabriel ordered and
moved out of the room.

Damien gave Rupert a stern glare as he moved
past him. “Stay awake,” he commanded and followed Lord Gabriel out
of the room.

They walked down the long, deserted hallway
in silence. Their footsteps echoed quietly. The castle still
slept.

Gabriel’s head softly nodded, the man deep in
thought, then he spoke more as if to himself than to Damien. “She
is strong. She will survive this.”

“I have no doubt,” Damien agreed.

Gabriel turned to regard him. “Who are
you?”

“My name is Damien.”

“From where do you hail?”

“I’m -- a traveler. I don’t have a land I
call my home.”

“A criminal?” Lord Gabriel wondered. “Or a
mercenary?”

Damien did not answer. From his prior
experiences, people drew their own opinions of him without his
help. They were usually much darker and more dangerous than
anything he could come up with. The less he spoke, the more respect
he was given.

Lord Gabriel stopped to face him. His sharp
blue eyes squinted in suspicion. “It would behoove you to tell me
the truth. I will find out eventually.”

Damien closed his mouth tightly. How long did
he have before Gabriel really did discover the truth about him? “I
was born in Meadowbrook. But I do not call that my home. I have no
family. My allegiance is to myself.”

Gabriel’s brow rose at the last. His gaze
swept Damien’s face, assessing him. “You seem to know much about
what is happening here, about the attempts on Aurora’s life.”

Again, Damien remained quiet.

“You believe there are other assassins?”

Damien nodded slowly. “One is still at large.
I believe whoever is behind the attempts on your daughter’s life
will not stop until she is dead.”

Gabriel pursed his lips, thoughtfully. “You
have saved Aurora’s life twice now. For that I am eternally
thankful.” Lord Gabriel paused, his focus on the floor, his lips
pursed deep in thought. “You seem to know about fighting and death.
What did you do before you were a traveler?”

“I have always been a traveler.”

“Where did you learn your skills?”

“I watch people. I watch how they move, how
they act, how they react. Most people react in the same manner to
the things happening around them. The people who react strangely or
differently draw my attention. That’s how I saw the assassin in the
village. That’s how I knew the servant girl had poisoned the ale.”
He shrugged. “I have no special skills.”

Lord Gabriel turned as if to continue down
the hall, but suddenly he drew his sword and swung at Damien.

Damien instinctively sidestepped the blow and
his sword was out instantly, parrying the next blow. The swords
crossed and the two men stood that way for a long moment, Damien’s
breathing coming evenly, his eyes dark and burning.

Lord Gabriel chuckled. “A man with your
instincts was trained. And trained well.” He straightened, drawing
his sword away from Damien. “Where were you trained?”

Damien clutched the handle of his weapon
tightly. For a moment, his tension refused to abate. He forced his
jaw and stance to relax. Some truth might pacify him. “I was
trained with others to become a knight.” That was partially the
truth. He was trained with others. But not to become a knight. “I
lacked the coin and sponsor to gain knighthood.”

Lord Gabriel nodded. “You trained under a
knight?”

“Many. I defeated all I stood against.” He
knew it was an arrogant boast, but he did not withdraw it. It was
simply the truth. “I have never fought a knight I could respect
enough to pledge my allegiance to.”

Lord Gabriel studied him, his scrutiny
reaching inside Damien, almost as though he were trying to touch
his soul.

Damien turned his gaze from Lord Gabriel. He
had no soul to touch.

Lord Gabriel sheathed his weapon. “Your
skills are admirable. Your instincts, impeccable.”

Damien bowed his head slightly in acceptance
of the compliment.