Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles

by Karen Dales

  Chapter XXVII

  Pain.

  It was the first sensation that returned to his rising consciousness. Each muscle, each tendon, was a pale reflection to the deep bone-burning ache that sent him gasping for relief. Even the act of breathing sent his head spinning with the rise and fall of his chest. Heart hammering in his ears, he dared not open his eyes. He did not know if he could. The only succour was the soft bedding and the goose down pillow, and even then he felt that he was lying on stone.

  His shallow breathing had loosened the tense band around his ribcage. He attempted a deep breath and felt it catch as the effervescent scent slammed into his body, pulling a groan through his rough, dry lips. A deep, gut-wrenching hunger shuddered through him, sending a stunning pain through his head.

  Licking his lips in the attempt to moisten them, the fragrance escalated. He could almost taste the blood in the air. It drew him to take deeper inhalations in the attempt to feast upon the bouquet. The scent was not enough. He needed more. He needed to fill his mouth with the luxuriant taste, to feel its hot liquid burning his throat to ignite the centre of his being.

  Hunting the source of his desires, his eyes fluttered open and instantly regretting the action. Bright candle flame glittered off the canopy like a million suns. He squinted into the reflected light and attempted to raise his hand to hide his face. The weight of his body made it near next to impossible.

  A scuffle across the room poured the blood scent closer to him. It drove him to find its source so that he could drink from its magnificent font. With a groan of effort he shifted onto his side, waited for the room to cease spinning, and on shaking arms, lifted to sit. Muscles cried out in protest, making it clear that their choice would be to lay in the bed, but the intoxicating scent drove his hunger into action.

  Looking through tousled locks he witnessed Jeanie’s relieved approach with growing horror. It was her that he smelled, desiring to drain to her precious last drop. It was her that he wanted to rend apart with his teeth with animal ferocity. It was the woman he loved that forced his lips back over his sharp teeth, shuddering in the constrained attempt not to leap and devour her. Every fibre in his being called out to be satiated by her blood.

  “Get out,” he growled, trembling in anticipation and restraint.

  Jeanie halted in her joyous approach, the blood draining from her pale, drawn face. Fear and anguish turned her eyes liquid and set her chin quivering.

  He despised himself for the misery he evoked in her, but he had to save her from himself.

  “Go!” he roared.

  His heart broke as tears spilled down her beautiful face.

  Turning on her heel, Jeanie fled the bedroom, her sobs filling the suite.

  Wretched, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Placing elbows on knees, he hunched over, head in his hands. Dishevelled locks cloaked his face. Daring to breathe deeply, he was rewarded with the retreat of Jeanie’s scent, if not the sound of her sorrow. The terrible hunger still ached, demanding succour and he closed his eyes in an attempt to gain control.

  The sound of a pop brought up his attention and he lifted his head. Fernando stood stoically before him, a green wine bottle in hand. A strange scent flitted up from the opened neck and he wrinkled his nose as his hunger flared to life. Taking the proffered bottle, he found his hands violently shook and was surprised when the Noble steadied his hands with his own. Together they lifted the bottle to his lips.

  Inhuman blood ran thickly down his throat. The texture and temperature forcing a shudder while his body greedily grasped for more.

  “Slowly,” whispered Fernando, and he listened.

  His mind reeled at why the Noble was helping him. Such compassion seemed incongruous to the Chosen’s previous nature. The slaking of his thirst with the strange blood stilled the tremors enough for Fernando to release his hands. Gripping the bottle as if a lifeline, he pulled another room temperature draught into his greedy body.

  Each mouthful sent shivers down his spine. Never before had blood tasted this divine. Lifting his lips from the kiss of the bottle, he held it slack in his hand.

  “What is it?” he asked, lifting it once more to his lips.

  “Pig,” replied the Noble matter-of-factly.

  He halted the progression of the bottle to his lips in surprise and then noted it was empty. Dropping his hand, he placed the bottle on the night table next to the candle.

  “It wasn’t hard to find a butcher who slaughtered his animals by bleeding them,” stated Fernando, noting the Angel’s inquisitive look.

  From behind his back, Fernando offered a second green bottle filled to the neck. Gently easing out the cork with a second pop, he offered it.

  This time his hands did not shake as he brought the contents to his lips.

  “I figured that if you survived, you’d need to feed,” continued the Noble. “Having a Chosen in the throes of the hunger would be detrimental.”

  He frowned at the half filled bottle in his hand. “What happened?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  Fernando’s incredulous tone lifted his gaze to meet brown eyes and he shook his head, frowning.

  “It seems that your mortal lover unknowingly ate something with the herbal mixture and when you bit her she inadvertently poisoned you.”

  His eyes went wide and then guilt pounded into him. It was no wonder Jeanie was in the other room sobbing. She probably believed he was furious at her.

  Closing his eyes with a groan, he rubbed his face with his free hand. “How long was I unconscious?”

  “Three nights.” He could feel Fernando’s angry glare but refused to look up. “Three nights lost.”

  Shame and guilt poured into him. So much time lost to one day’s momentary joy. The only recompense was that Jeanie knew where the office was and he frowned. Even while he fought the poison in his system Fernando and Jeanie should have gone there.

  “Did Jeanie take you to the shipping house?” he asked.

  “No,” stated Fernando, tersely, obviously annoyed. “She said she wanted to wait until you recovered. She wouldn’t even tell me where it was so I could go alone.” He let out a huff. “Did you know she’s immune to our Charms?”

  He frowned. He had thought it was just he. Notus seemed to have no issue in mesmerizing Jeanie. His jaw tightened and he closed his eyes at how stupid he had been. Of course! Notus made sure she was insusceptible so as to protect her from other Chosen.

  Dispirited, he nodded.

  “Phag,” spat the Noble, clearly disgusted. “That is not helpful.”

  “What time is it?” he asked, desiring to change the topic away from Jeanie for the moment.

  “An hour before sunset or thereabouts.”

  He caught the Noble’s eyes with his own. “We’ll go tonight once the sun is down.”

  Fernando’s eyes lowered suspiciously. “Do you think you’re up for it?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “I need to feed, and I’ve wasted too much time lying in bed.”

  A hungry grin spread over the Noble’s features. Turning, Fernando walked to the door.

  “One other thing.” He saw the Noble pause at the door. “Would you mind sending Jeanie in?”

  Relief washed over Fernando’s features. “Oh God yes. Anything to get her to stop crying.”

  Surprised at the compliance and the help he had received he stared at the floor in front of his bare feet.

  “Thank you, Fernando,” he said solemnly.

  “You’re welcome, Gwyn,” replied the Noble.

  The sound of the name spoken by Fernando’s lips stunned him to the quick and his snapped his head up to find the Noble had left. Eyes wide with foreboding he stared at the bottle in his hand. Finishing the tepid liquid in one final chug, he placed it next to the other empty one and wiped his mouth along his arm leaving a red streak against white.

  The commotion arising from the other room caused him to lift his head. He could hear
Jeanie’s reticence to enter into their room, sobbing her denial that he would want to see her was incongruous to Fernando’s demands. It took the Noble’s bellowed order to send Jeanie scurrying to stand by the opened door.

  Afraid to enter, she hugged the frame in an attempt to gain succour, her eyes red and swollen from crying. He could tell she wanted to come to him, but feared his reaction. Seeing all this on her usually soft features broke his heart and he went to stand so as to go to her but found the ache in his muscles, no matter how much decreased by the pig’s blood, still hampered him.

  It was his groan at the sensation of his feet painfully taking his weight that sent Jeanie flying into the room to land on the floor before him on her knees, shoulders hunched and shuddering with new wracks of sobs. Over the din, he could hear her mumbling over and over how sorry she was and that if he sent her away she would understand.

  Heart wrenched at the dejection she poured forth, he painfully lowered to one knee before her. He could not stand being the source of her misery. Brushing back tangled curls he lifted her sorrowful face by the chin. Red rimmed her vibrant green eyes and he shook his head. Jeanie should never have to suffer like this and he hated himself to be the cause. Wiping the tears from her face with his hand, he followed the softness of her cheek to the side of her head where he cradled her in his hand. Even through the salt scent the smell of her blood jumped his hunger, but this time it was much easier to restrain.

  “I’m so sorry,” spluttered Jeanie between sobs, new tears streaming down. “I dinna realize that…that –” She collapsed against him, his bare chest soaking in refreshed tears.

  “Shush,” he whispered over her cries. He held her to him, feeling her warmth, petting her hair in an attempt to calm her. He could feel his eyes welling with unshed tears, having hurt her so. “It’s not your fault.”

  Jeanie pulled away just enough to look up at him, sniffing. “Then why did ye yell at me to leave if yer no mad at me?”

  He brushed an errant lock from obscuring her face and tilted his head to hide his sudden sense of self-disgust. “I’m not mad at you. I had to save you.” Her eyes questioned him, encouraging him to continue. “If you had stayed,” he glanced down at the floor suddenly ashamed. “I would have killed you. I had to save you from myself.”

  “But why?” He could hear her plaintive tones.

  “I have never felt such a driving hunger before,” he tried to explain. “I was barely able to control it. Had you stayed any longer…” He shook his head.

  He watched her eyes go round in understanding. “But I nearly killed ye.”

  “I don’t have much of a memory of what happened. Fernando told me, albeit briefly, but I can’t blame you, Jeanie. How were you to know that the herbal mixture was in the food you had eaten?”

  It was Jeanie’s turn to look away as if unable to relinquish her responsibility of his current state. He brought her head up to gaze into her eyes.

  “I love you, Jeanie. Nothing ever can change that.”

  The fierceness of her embrace nearly toppled him over and he felt her mumble her love against his chest before pulling away.

  “Do you think we can get off this floor?” he asked, managing a gentle smile and was rewarded with one in kind.

  Groaning with the exertion to stand, he gratefully sat back down on the bed with a sigh, Jeanie beside him. “Yer still in pain?”

  “I’ll be fine once I properly feed,” he explained with his eyes closed, willing his aching muscles to relax. “You’ll be fine to take us to the shipping house tonight?”

  “Aye,” she nodded, sniffing back the remnants of her weeping. “But maybe we should wait ‘till yer better?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve wasted too much time. We’ll go once the sun is down. Until then -” a smile lit his eyes “- I am sorely in need of a nice hot bath and if memory serves, the tub in the ensuite is more than large enough.”

  The red sadness swept away, leaving green eyes sparkling as she stood up. On stiff legs, he followed Jeanie into the bathroom, never relinquishing his grip on her hand.

  Chapter XXVIII

  Every jostle of the wheels against the cobbles sent stabs through his legs and up his spine to pound painfully in his head. He tried to relax against the leather padded backing of the coach, but it only increased the rattles and bobs. Eyes closed and jaw clenched he prayed to whatever Old Gods remained that they would arrive soon at the office.

  He could feel Jeanie’s warmth sitting beside him, her bouquet perfuming the air, driving his hunger to be released from its taught leash. He had hoped the bath they had shared would have relinquished some of the ache the poison had left in his body, but it was blood he needed, not hot water.

  Even Jeanie’s gentle ministrations with the soapy water to ease the spasms did little to offer relief. What he needed was to feed and for the first time he was afraid to do so. Having seen his fear reflected in her eyes, he knew that she did not want to chance sending him back into that paroxysm of pain. They had touched each other, washing off days of pain both physical and emotional, with chaste tentativeness.

  “We’re here,” said Jeanie, her voice loud in the sudden silence.

  Opening his eyes in relief he saw the Noble in the seat across from him shift to leave the coach. Fernando’s unexpected help was still mystifying, as was the Noble’s grin when both he and Jeanie had exited the bedroom. There had definitely been satisfaction on the Noble’s face, but there had also been something more sinister behind the smile. Despite the return to the cool façade of the Angel a sense of growing dread took hold, making him wonder how much besides the name, Fernando had heard.

  Last out of the coach, he stood to his full height under his cloak, feeling the pops along his spine as they protested the stretch. The pressure of the sword belt ached across his hips as the ancient blade tipped his balance. He needed to feed, and soon. He could not continue feeling this way.

  He caught Jeanie’s concerned gaze and smiled briefly at her as the driver clicked his tongue, sending the coach rattling away. Bringing his attention to the white rimmed red lettering of the office sign, the whole building seemed to shimmer a sense of menace. This was the place they should have attended three nights ago and he hoped that the answers they sought were still there. He walked up to the black painted door.

  “I doubt that you had noticed,” said the Noble as he strode over to him. Dark eyes shifted to glance into the night as he hugged his cape closed. “But we’ve been tailed since leaving the hotel.”

  Turning to look in the direction Fernando had indicated, he could see a dark shape flit from one shadow to the next. The figure seemed to move too fast for a mortal and knew how use the darkness to make himself invisible. A sense of recognition flitted through his mind but he shrugged it off. If it was someone involved with the poisoning of the Chosen then he would be hunted down once they got their answers from behind this door.

  “You’re not remotely interested in finding out who that is?” asked Fernando, incredulous that the Angel seemed disinterested in their tail. Ever since he had indicated that he knew the Angel’s name after providing the bottles of pig’s blood, the Angel seemed confused, even concerned, in how to relate to Fernando. The discomfiture had continued, shutting the Angel down to nary a word spoken. The only indication of thought or feeling was the pained expression the Angel displayed on their journey and the smile he gave to the girl.

  “They’ll be time after,” stated the Angel, noticing Fernando’s growing anger. Glancing over to Jeanie, she huddled against the chill night air with her hands in her coat pockets. He knew she too was hungry; Jeanie had refused to stop for a quick bite. Not to make sure they got back on track with their investigation, but because she was afraid to eat anything with the spice. It was a fear he understood now all too well.

  Turning the brass doorknob, the loud crunching click of the door lock being busted resonated into the quiet night, making Jeanie jump. It was the tinkling of the chimes as
the door swung open that sent Fernando swearing under his breath.

  “You could have mentioned those,” hissed the Noble.

  “I forgot,” replied Jeanie, hotly. “In any case, what could ye hae done about it?”

  Scowling, Fernando shook his head.

  Ignoring them both, the Angel stepped into the small front office. A single oil lamp burned brightly on the desk sitting in the centre, illuminating stacked papers against the litter of individual sheets lining the wood. An elaborately decorated silver fountain pen lay on its side over top a single white sheet. It was clear that someone was staying late to finish some work.

  Fernando entered, followed closely by Jeanie. The door closed with another jostling of chimes, sending Fernando’s eyes rolling in exasperation. Jeanie flashed him an angry look to which the Angel sighed and shook his head. A sound from behind the inner office door caught his attention and he raised his hand to quiet any voice from his partners. They stood silently awaiting the entrance of the office worker.

  “I thought I had locked that door,” came the aggravated French from behind the door. The handle turned and the bald headed manager halted in mid-step to stare at the three intruders to his solitude. “We are closed for the day, come back tomorrow,” he said, tersely.

  Stepping forward, Fernando flourished a bow that seemed both insulting yet respectful. “I do apologize for our late arrival, but my colleagues and I have some questions about your business that must be answered. We cannot brook any more delays.”

  Closing the door behind him, the middle-aged man straightened his tie and buttoned his jacket. “I’m sorry, sir, but we are closed.”

  He walked around the desk, wary of the tall, cloaked figure on the other side and halted to stare at Jeanie. An angry frown pulled at his lips as he went to open the door to let his unwelcomed guests out. “Now if you please.”

  He stumbled back as the cloaked figure seemed to magically appear before him. Fear widened his grey eyes and he crossed himself.