Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles

by Karen Dales

  Frustrated beyond belief, he stood and glared down at the Noble studying his nails, and then turned on his heel to walk to the front closet. He halted with his hand on the knob and swung around. It was fine if Fernando knew about his Choosing. It was fine if Fernando knew about Tarian. It was fine if Fernando knew about the other one, the one he had to give up, Tarian’s granddaughter. To even think of her name would be unbearable, but the thought of her took the fight right out of him.

  “What do you want of me?” His voice was strained, tired.

  Fernando lifted his head and stood a victorious smile awash over his face as he turned to face his reluctant host. “Why nothing less than to know you, and nothing more than to get my possessions back from Katherine.”

  The realisation stunned him, and he stared at the Noble across the room. No one had ever wanted this from him. All that anyone had wanted from him was to be left alone or permission to approach Notus. Suspiciously he eyed the Noble. “Why?”

  “Curiosity,” shrugged Fernando. “What reason need I have?”

  “No. That is not it.” He did not believe this man.

  “I want to know if the rumours about you are true,” smiled Fernando, triumphantly. He had not expected to get this far with the Angel so soon. Something had unbalanced the Angel to reveal this vulnerability and he was reaping the rewards.

  Closing his eyes, he sighed. The rumours. The gossip. The fiction others made up to explain his existence. He had lived with them since before he was Chosen. They would always follow him. “No, they are not true. No, I was not born a Chosen.”

  “And what of the rumour that you were never human,” pushed Fernando.

  Never been human? He opened his eyes. Yes, this one floated down the centuries, popping up occasionally among the mortals to explain the Angel. He had never heard such talk from the Chosen. Fernando could have gotten this impression from what little he read in the journal, but even still, this speculation was dangerous.

  He could not lie. He was a horrible liar and Fernando was sure to pick it up. Notus would be able to dissuade such prying; his Chooser was a master at bending the truth and diverting attention from dangerous topics. The look on Fernando’s face expected an answer. Precarious speculation was better than to have the Fernando think the opposite of a lie.

  “What do you think?” he stated coolly.

  Fernando stood stunned, confusion written on his dark features. This was not the answer he was expecting. “What do you mean ‘What do I think?’”

  “Can you not leave it at that?” he asked the Noble. The inquisition had gone on far too long. If Notus had been here none of this would have occurred.

  A dark brow lifted in interest. Fernando was not about to leave it at this, not when the conversation was just getting interesting. If he was going to work with this strange, tall young man, he damned well wanted to know everything he could so as to keep his own rear out of the sun. Not to mention the prestige he would receive in disclosing the enigma to the rest of the community. Even Bridget’s adoration at the new information would be well worth it.

  “Can you really expect anyone in my position to leave it at that?” he stated, approaching the Angel. “No. I didn’t think so, therefore I’ll ask you again. What do you mean, ‘what do I think?’”

  Intense brown eyes bore deep into his, searching for an answer, but what he met was a wall so strong that Fernando was forced back a step, almost believing the blood red eyes flashed with their own inner light.

  Straightening to his full height, he continued to glare at the Noble and coldly stated, “Do I look like I was ever human?”

  The sound of a nervous cough was the only reply. What was Fernando to say? Every instinct in him pointed to the fact that the person before him was something more – or is that less? – than a Chosen. An image of angry ruby eyes flashed forward from some distant memory. No, not human. Not Chosen, but what? He shook his head, clearing the speculations. Now was not the time. Later. There would be time later to uncover the truth and evidence of the fact.

  Momentarily glancing up at the Angel, Fernando turned and paced a few steps. “Any thoughts of where to begin?” He hoped the change of conversation would relax the atmosphere that had turned hostile. There would be more time to find out the truth.

  “I thought that you might,” he replied, relaxing his stance to comfortably observe the Noble. He was glad that Fernando had not answered his question, but the Noble’s brown eyes could not hide the uncertainty that he also felt.

  Fernando shook his head and puckered his lips. “You’re the one that took that hideous little bottle. Let’s start with that.”

  With a weary nod, he walked to the table under the rising sun and lifted the phial from the midst of his other items. The tension permeating the room slowly dissipated with the focus shifted away from him and back to why fate had flung he and the Noble together.

  “I managed to wash it off,” he explained, handing it to Fernando. “I would rather that you not open it here. I do not wish to be run out of my home because of the smell.”

  The cork, half out, was slammed tightly back in. Fernando contemplated opening it again, but held the little bottle between thumb and forefinger, eyeing the brownish green contents. “What do you think?”

  “I do not know.” Finding an unbroken chair, he turned it around and sat backwards on it, arms resting on the back, watching the Noble turn the bottle this way and that.

  Returning the conversation to the task at hand did not dissuade the suspicion or the mistrust he felt for the Noble. He was not about to let the intrusion into his personal life go from his mind. “I would imagine that it is some type of herbal combination,” he suggested, trying to keep the anger from his voice.

  “That would explain it,” nodded Fernando, studying the numbers. The Angel’s tone did not go unnoticed, and he allowed himself a small grin of victory. “And it would explain what is poisoning the humans to us, but how do they get it into the mortals, and what the bloody hell do these numbers represent?”

  A frown formed on his pale lips and he shrugged a shoulder. “I do not know what the numbers mean. It could be anything. As to the powders function, if it is poisoning the humans to us then it would have to be ingested either as some type of medicine or as a seasoning of some type that they place in their food. By our reaction to the smell I would count on it being the cause. Jeanie’s reaction, I think, would confirm the food theory.”

  The thought of Notus’ housekeeper bolted him upright. Turning to glance at the clock on Notus’ desk confirmed his concern. It was well past the time Jeanie should be here to help get his Chooser back, and he could not imagine that she would back out now. She was too intent on pushing herself into the cause. A flicker of worry flashed in his mind. Rising from his seat, he strode past a puzzled Fernando, to take his black cloak from the closet.

  “What is it?” demanded Fernando, trying to put indignation into his confused tones as he stood. One moment his host was making perfect sense and the next…Fernando shook his head at how much more he had to learn about his partner.

  “Jeanie should have been here by now,” he replied, draping his cloak over his shoulders and clasping it in place with the ancient broach. The feeling that something was wrong tugged harder. Grabbing keys and pocket watch, he stuffed them into his trousers pocket and headed to the door. Fernando did not follow; a disbelieving look on his face.

  “Let’s go,” he stated, maybe a little too anxiously.

  Fernando’s brows shot up and he inclined his head momentarily before walking ever so slowly towards the now opened door and his tall pale companion. “I’ve met many a trollop and all could fend for themselves very well. I will not allow this investigation to be deterred for an incompetent whore.”

  For a brief time they had been civil to each other, now his jaw tightened again in anger. “She is no whore,” he stated coldly, “and I do not wish to delay getting my Chooser back, but something is wrong. I mean to see th
at she is safe if she has decided not to help. We can continue the discussion about the powder along the way. If that is alright with you.”

  “It is,” sniffed the Noble, and walked out of his host’s home, his nose slightly up in the air and very aware of the Angel’s glare.

  The door shut with a thunk and locked with a jingle of keys that were silenced by being stuffed back into a pocket. A quick glance at the street reported that no one witnessed the exit or his hurried movements to cowl himself under the black cloak. Following the Noble, he fell in beside, walking at a casual pace to Fernando’s hurried steps.

  “You do look quite ominous like that,” remarked Fernando, nonchalantly, eyes intent on their immediate surroundings as a hunter in a forest of stone. This time he was hunting his partner as well as his property. He was in a unique position and he knew it. No other vampire had managed to get this close to the Angel, and reading the first few pages of that diary and the Angel’s reactions only fuelled Fernando’s curiosity. If he lost all his possessions to find the Angel’s secrets it would be a small price, but not a price he necessarily wanted to pay. A smile flickered momentarily across his lips. Despite the barriers, the Angel could possibly be tricked into revealing his sacred secrets and Fernando was determined to try.

  “It is better this way,” replied the Angel, his mask pack in place, firmly this time. He resolved that he would not let de Sagres get the better of him again. The extent of their relationship would be as partners to resolve the mystery, nothing more.

  To make this clear, more so to himself than to the Noble, he directed the conversation. He did not need to be told how foreboding he appeared. He already knew.

  “Tell me about Sebastian,” he asked.

  “What do you want to know?” The change of subject was not a surprise to Fernando, he was almost expecting it, but the subject itself caused him to raise a brow. “You already know everything,” he lied. “Sebastian is … was Bridget’s sire and died on the same search we are now on, if I hit my mark – which I usually do.”

  “Then does it not bother you how we came upon the bottle and its contents?” he asked coolly.

  Noticing where the Angel was possibly leading the conversation, Fernando worried the inside of his cheek. He had not realized it before, but having the instance placed before him as speculation, bothered him. “What are you implying?”

  “Who left us with this clue, if it is a clue?” he replied and shook his head. “Something about this does not seem congruous. Think about it. Not even a few hours of being sent on this mad hunt we are tossed Sebastian’s dismembered arm with the possible culprit to the poisoning clutched in his dead fingers. It seems too easy. Much too easy.”

  “What are you saying? That this is a set up?” He did not like the possibility at all. “Katherine may be a bitch and the Mistress of London, but she is one of us. Sebastian hated any type of responsibility, and I don’t think you’re the type to have people bow and scrape for you.”

  He shot Fernando a glance and nodded. No, he would never want to be Master of London. There would be too many prying eyes, especially when one pair was more than enough. “I do not know,” he said.

  They needed more, thought Fernando. “It is possible that those who threw Sebastian’s arm did not know that we are on the case but threw it at me because they know who Sebastian associated with.”

  “If you’re correct,” he countered, “then how did they know where to find you?”

  “Damn it, I wish I knew who they are,” exploded the Noble, realizing the Angel was right.

  Surprised at the Noble’s outburst, the Angel glanced down. He too wanted to know who they were, for it was very possible that they were the one’s poisoning the humans. The other issue he chose not to mention was who could have found out about the Chosen to issue such an attack? Other Chosen would not do such a thing. A group of humans might if they had found out about the Chosen, and with all the publications about vampires lately that made this seem most likely.

  “We will find out,” he said. Fernando glanced up wonderingly. “I will have Notus back.”

  “If that is the case, why then are we going to check on your housekeeper? We should be trying to follow this lead.”

  “And how do we do that? All we have is the powder and the numbers on the bottle.” The worry he felt over Jeanie’s absence bothered him more than it should.

  “We also have Sebastian,” added Fernando, very aware of the Angel’s evasion of the Jeanie question.

  “What about him?”

  “That whoever was able to do that to an eight hundred year old vampire means to see us and every other vampire dead. And they will,” explained the Noble. “As to the powder, we need to get it analyzed. Maybe then we will find out whether our theory is correct. The numbers themselves are going to be a problem.”

  The Angel nodded. “But where do we take it? Most places close when we wake. And I do not know of any scientists. Then again maybe we do not need to get it analyzed. If we run on the assumption that the powder is the source, then we can follow that line back.”

  “Which line,” eyed Fernando, suspiciously.

  “Where would one get herbs to make this powder?” His question was more statement than query. “Or more to the point, where do they come from?”

  A smile formed on the Noble’s face, brightening a dower look. “An apothecary,” he stated victoriously. The Angel nodded, encouraging Fernando to continue. “They are usually open later and could tell us about the powder itself. The problem is that unless you know of one that remains open after dark we’ll have a hard time finding one.”

  “I know of one; the one where Notus buys his herbs. Their stock is quite complete.”

  “What would a vampire need with herbs?” inquired Fernando.

  Ignoring the Noble’s gaze, he stated, “He helps those who cannot afford a physician.”

  Blinking at the shocking revelation, Fernando tried to contemplate the motives of a vampire to help heal lowly mortals. He gave up, shaking his head in disgusted disbelief. “Why?”

  A quick glance reported what he expected; Fernando could not understand. Then again all Chosen seemed to either misunderstand the motives or gave up speculation because no reason could be reasonable enough. He had to try anyway. “Because they are –“

  The words died on his pale lips as he turned the last corner and halted. Fernando came to a stop beside him.

  The Rose and Thorn was engulfed in manic orange flames that flickered and licked, its clawing tendrils reaching out to consume the shops to either side, hunting for more to devour.

  People lined the street, watching in obscene fascination as the remains of the roof collapsed, forcing the charred timber frames of the front wall to come crashing down into the street, dashing dangerously glowing sparks into the cool night air. Shocked and fearful screams from the onlookers melded into the cacophony of destruction that was accentuated by the alarm bells of approaching fire trucks. It was too late for the Inn and maybe for the buildings on either side.

  Only one clustered group of people did not watch the spectacle as a source of entertainment. Huddled together in their blackened clothing they stared in dumb shock as their home and livelihood slowly disintegrated before their eyes. He barely recognized the plump proprietress for all the soot. Quickly scanning the small group, he recognized them all as employees and guests. Nowhere amongst them could he sight Jeanie. Worry turned to dread that tightened the knot in his gut and with a quick glance back at the blaze he rushed over to the group, Fernando hurrying to keep up.

  “Mistress Reiley?” He could not keep the worried tones out of his voice as he reached the group.

  All eyes turned upward, away from the fire, and some widened in surprise as others gasped their shock. Only Mistress Reiley reacted by breaking into more tears, staining her already wet chubby cheeks. One of the serving girls he could not name had to support the larger woman.

  “What happened?” he implored. “Where�
��s Miss Stuart?” Orange light cast an ominous glow on the group and he pulled his hood lower to shade his eyes.

  At the mention of Jeanie’s name the once strong Alice Reiley collapsed into a sobbing mass on the paving stone. The woman whose name he could not recall remained standing beside the older woman. Unshed tears threatened to spill yet her voice remained rock steady. He then remembered the woman to be Lily, Tom and Alice’s daughter.

  “Some men I’ve never seen before came to talk business with my father just after dusk,” explained Lily in a hardened voice, anger accentuating her words. “I only heard parts of the conversation, but I heard them threaten that if we did not agree to use their special spice in our food they would shut us down. My father, being a man not to cave into threats or pressure, ordered them to leave. They did not take the demand well and left, but not before crashing a couple of bottles onto the floor and starting the fire. It spread so fast. My son tried to get the guests out, even with the smoke so thick, until it overwhelmed him. My father had to take him to the hospital.”

  “What about Jeanie?” he demanded, staring into Lily’s hazel eyes that now overflowed. Oh Gods, no. The realization took his breath away. This was not happening. It could not.

  “I’m so sorry,” he heard through his rising panic and found he could not get a breath to reply. He spun around to face the fire, its glow painfully bright in his eyes. Lily’s words floated to disbelieving ears. “Tommy could not reach her door before the smoke and heat consumed him. He was only able to get Mr. Wilkes and the Abernathy’s out. He could not alert Mr. Simmons or Miss Flowers, either. I’m so sorry.”

  His mind raced. It was not possible. Jeanie must be alive. She could not be dead. She could not.

  Firefighters rushed with hoses and pumps, pouring gallons and gallons of water on a fire that seemed to feed on the cold liquid. The two buildings to either side were now fully ablaze and more bells signified the advance of reinforcements in the war against the blaze.

  A high pitched wail, coming from within the wreckage of the Inn, crescendoed. To his ears, and to those around him, it sounded like a woman screaming, but to his mind he heard Jeanie. She was still in there, somehow alive, and he had to get her out.