Shadow of Death: Book Two of the Chosen Chronicles

by Karen Dales

  A pop, followed by a series of pops, filtered to his preternatural hearing and he lifted his head at the faint sound of screams. A sense of dread overwhelmed him and he cried out to Notus.

  Stay down stairs! Notus replied harshly. Panic and worry filled the monk’s emotions.

  What’s going on? sent the Angel. A couple more pops and then, closer than he would like, the sound of a girl struggling with someone.

  The party is being by robbed by a group of gun men, sent Notus. I’m fine. Just keep safe.

  I’m coming. He rose to leave the exhibit.

  No. A few of the guests have been shot. You are in no state to be around spilled blood.

  He frowned and knew the truth of the matter. He had nearly lost control with Vee. Going into a room where violence had already shed blood would be too much. What are you going to do?

  Whatever I can. Now stay safe.

  Groaning with the need to do something, he walked to the doors that acted as both exit and entrance and instantly pulled back into the shadows before his hand could alight on the bar.

  The door swung open. Vee stumbled in, a mask of terror on her face before a man all dressed in black, even to the balaclava covering his features, strode in training an UZI submachine gun upon the girl. His black gloved fingers held ready on the trigger.

  “Move it!” he ordered, nuzzling the barrel into the girl’s back. “Take me to it!”

  Whimpering, Vee shuffled forward, too scared to move.

  The prodding came again and she stumbled with a cry. Black streaks tarnished her pale face as paint coloured tears trailed down her cheeks.

  The Angel backed further into the darkness and watched as another, a woman, dressed and concealed like the male, followed.

  They have Vee, he Sent Notus, never relinquishing his sight of the thieves.

  Shock came as his reply. Do whatever you can, my son. Memories can be dealt with afterwards.

  He slipped further into the darkness, keeping his eyes trained upon the criminals and their hostage. They did not appear to notice him as they followed Vee through the maze of artefacts. It did not make any sense as to why they were ignoring so many priceless items until they halted before the case that held his sword.

  Cold dread filled him as he watched the two study the design of the case. Vee’s fear spiced blood could not elicit the hunger he had felt moments ago. The realization that it was his sword that they had come to steal set his heart hammering in his ears. There was no way he was going to allow anyone to take his sword without his permission.

  Relinquishing the shadow, he stepped into the light. “You do not want to do that,” he stated, his quiet command filling the exhibit area.

  Vee spun around, eyes holding fear and hope in equal measure, before the man yanked her into an awkward embrace. His strong arm held her tightly around the midsection while the UZI’s nozzle dug into her ribs. The woman looked up long enough to take note of the situation before returning to the quandary of how to get the case open. A smile lit her full lips as she drew back her fist and hit the thick glass square on.

  The sound of shattering glass mingled with the panicked breathing of the girl. It was then the Angel realized he could hear no heartbeat from the perpetrators. Despite how famished he was, there was no choice but to rescue Vee from the Vampire’s clutches.

  “Uh, uh, uh,” tisked the man, digging the UZI into Vee’s chest. “You don’t want to do that, Angel, or your little girlfriend is going to become an early evening snack.” He tossed the submachine gun over his shoulder by its strap and grabbed the sobbing girl by the throat, exposing her neck with his grasp of her hair. Exposed, the vessel danced a frantic beat beneath pale skin.

  Gritting his teeth, he began the Summoning. He would feed, but not from the girl.

  The male caught sight of a wisp of white oozing across the floor. Anger and fear mingled in his blue eyes as he clutched the mortal girl closer, forcing her head back onto his shoulder. When he spoke again, the glistening of white fangs were now the deadly threat.

  “Call it off, Angel, or she dies now,” he ordered. The girl sobbed louder as he shook her in a demonstration of ownership.

  The Angel cut off the spell that would bring forth the White Faced demons. His hands locked into fists. It would not take much. He was faster than a Vampire, but the female now held his sword, twisting and turning it to catch the light. He took another step forward.

  The male Vampire growled, licking the girl’s neck but never breaking his gaze with the Angel. The promise was sincere and no matter how fast the Angel could move he could not move fast enough to halt the Vampire from ripping Vee’s throat apart.

  Impotent to help and incapable of stopping them from taking his beloved sword, he followed them, always keeping his distance, as the Vampire carefully backed away.

  Chosen and Vampire, their eyes locked on each other. The male carefully followed his female partner, never relinquishing the girl. It was when the female opened the door to allow her and her partner out that the Angel knew it was now or never. Silently, he leapt forward only to find Vee stumbling into his arms. Stabilizing her, he watched in growing horror as the Vampires bounded up the stairs, his sword in their possession.

  Setting the girl aside without a thought of her well being, the Angel sped to follow the two Vampires. There was no way in hell he was going to allow them to steal his only true possession. Up he followed, past the glittering rocks, the feathered birds, and other artefacts that bequeathed the stairwell its wondrous name. He heard a door opening and came upon it before it was closed half way. Glancing to his right, it was the fast footpads to his left that told him in which direction to follow. Turning down the hallway he ran from the Crystal and into the second floor of the Hillary and Galen Weston Wing.

  Ignoring the glassed in displays, he could see the Vampire ahead turn right. The sound of ringing steps told him that he was on the Rotunda’s stairs, the same stairwell that Vee had descended from earlier. Turning to follow, he halted at the stone landing to listen before sprinting up the steps three at a time.

  The third story was as far up as the stairs would manage, but there was another level above, one that could only be accessed by an elevator. He got to the lift just as the doors closed and in his frustration he punched the metal door, denting it. It felt like a century had passed before the door opened at the button’s call and he rode it to the top. It was then he realized he had done something completely stupid – he had allowed himself to be boxed in.

  Glancing up, he saw the escape hatch and knocked it open in time to jump through the hole as a rain of bullets peppered the car.

  As suddenly as the UZI fire started it halted. The Vampire who had held Vee hostage carefully entered, checking for wounded. The female was nowhere to be seen. With preternatural speed the Angel slipped through the hatch, swinging with enough force to expel the creature from the car as his feet caught the Vampire square in the chest with a sickening crunch.

  Dropping down, the Angel followed the path of destruction the Vampire’s flight had caused and swore when he could not find the man. The smoking UZI was left in the litter of destruction of broken glass and slivered wood.

  A shadow shifted on the floor of the RBC Glass Room. Instinct and centuries of training took over. Spinning around he blocked the round-house kick, curling his arm around the limb while his other hand struck the knee. The Vampire howled in pain as the kneecap was shattered. He twisted around to yank his leg out of the Angel’s grip. Once out of reach of the Angel, the Vampire fled across the room, his knee cap almost healed.

  The Angel gave chase. He needed to capture this Vampire to find out where his female accomplice had disappeared to, taking his sword with her. Through the fire doors and onto the rooftop he was surprised at the vicious storm that pelted rain and marble sized hail. Screaming wind whipped his white locks, obscuring his view.

  Squinting into the tempest, he caught sight of the Vampire on top of the wing they had just o
ccupied, running north along the roof. The Angel followed with a running jump that landed him on the slippery stones that covered the flat roof. Lightning flared overhead, followed directly by a crashing boom that cancelled out all sound for a brief moment. With his balanced restored he sped after the Vampire through the curtain of rain and ice.

  Lightning halted as he moved with preternatural speed. He could see the Vampire glance back at him before racing over the peaked roof in the centre of the Wing. For a moment the Angel lost sight of his quarry as he too scurried over the glistening shingles.

  The storm lashed him with its full fury as he halted for a fraction of a moment before continuing his pursuit along the west side of the wing. Again the storm paused as he ran to catch the Vampire that now stood motionless at the edge of the roof.

  Turning to face his hunter, the Vampire pulled off the balaclava, his dark blond hair plastered to his head. A smile crossed his ruggedly handsome face. “And let the games begin!” he shouted above the storm. With a salute the Vampire jumped over the edge.

  The Angel slammed into the concrete edge of the guard and watched the Vampire slide down the outside of the Crystal. Lightning flashed as if the sky were taking photographs of the event, the thunderous booms were nature’s shutters.

  The Vampire landed without any mishap. The police that were called shouted to each other, pointing at the fleeing perpetrator with their guns and calling him to halt and put his hands up.

  Without a second thought, the Angel stood up on the concrete guard, preparing to follow. Everything moved so slowly, the sudden sense of static filled the air around him as he shifted to the balls of his feet to propel him forward, and then there was white brilliance.

  Chapter XIII

  Semi-automatic gunfire took everyone unaware. Many screamed and tried to flee only to find black clad gunmen blocking the exits. Other party goers ducked, hitting the deck to fearfully peer up at their assailants. The scent of terror and spilt blood filled the air as Notus crouched beside Elizabeth behind the dinner table he had thrown onto its side, the expensive china and crystal broken, lying mixed with silverware. Of course such a flimsy piece of metal would not stop a bullet, but it did help to provide a hiding space. He held onto Elizabeth, forcing her to stay hidden as she attempted to find her daughter in the chaos.

  Trying to still her shaking, he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her close. He had Pushed her to keep quiet, her rising panic would have been detrimental in finding her daughter, possibly getting one, if not both, killed. Risking a peek around the side of the table, Notus watched as four gunmen herded several partygoers into the Samuel Hall. A man dressed as a courtier clutched his arm as it dripped red jewels onto the ground. At gunpoint they were forced face down on the wooden floor to then have their valuables plucked from their persons. Shouts and cries resounded off the brick walls, occasionally punctuated by gunfire. So far only one or two had been hit.

  It was the sound of rubber soled feet that turned Notus to stare up the length of a barrel. Elizabeth began to sob. It was so tempting to just grab the barrel and rip the gun from the man but Notus stopped short, his eyes widening at the sight of the fanged smile on the Vampire’s face.

  “Looky here,” drawled the Vampire, his accent pure southern gold. “What do we have here?” He motioned with the nozzle of the UZI for Notus to stand.

  Ignoring Elizabeth, Notus slowly stood, never removing his eyes from the plain brown of the Vampire’s; the rest of the face hidden by the same styled black balaclava as all the others. There was no doubt in Notus’ mind that all the gunmen were Vampires and he was at a great disadvantage. Despite being able to heal from such things, the unloading of a clip from an UZI would leave him incapacitated to the whims of the Vampires. He wished he had not told the boy to stay away. For the first time Notus wanted to see those horrific ethereal creatures his son could call.

  Other Vampires turned, some smiling at the luck that befell them. To have captured the Angel’s Chooser was even better than what they were sent to do. Their predatory gazes would have sent a shudder up the monk’s spine had he not squashed it, returning tit for tat. The only thought that flickered into mind was that he should have agreed to let the boy train him in some basic self defence. That way he would be able to create some sort of distraction, allowing the mortals to flee.

  He was about to ask the Vampire what he and his cohorts wanted when another Vampire appeared from the Stair of Wonders waving his boy’s sword in triumph.

  “I’ve got it!” shouted the female thief. “Let’s get out of here!”

  The Vampire in front of Notus cocked his head to the side and gave a little nod, his gaze landing on Elizabeth. “Better luck next time. It’s too bad; she looks to be a delicious cow.” With that, he turned and followed the woman down into the Canadian Court. The four others turned in different directions and fled with their stolen treasures.

  It took but a moment before a new type of chaos to descend. The emergency doors in the Rotunda exploded open at the same time the main entrance and after hours doors opened to allow a stream of Emergency Task Force police in to secure the building. Regular uniformed officers followed, accompanied by blasts of cold damp wind.

  Notus helped Elizabeth to her feet, calming her with his preternatural abilities, wishing someone could do the same for him. When her tears ceased to flow, they turned as one as Vee came flying into her mother’s embrace. Standing back to give mother and daughter a moment, Notus realized that the boy had yet to make his entrance. He was about to say something when without warning the ROM’s lights blackened out, white light poured in the doors, and a crashing boom set the building to shudder as agony ripped through his body.

  Collapsing to his hands and knees, Notus fought to regain his breath against the intense pressure on his chest, his heart beating erratically in his ears. The dark spots that littered his vision were made more pronounced once the lights flickered back on. He felt a hot hand on his shoulder and somewhere in the muffled sounds his ears picked up the slow speech of Elizabeth asking him what was wrong.

  He shook his head, trying to clear it and surprisingly the pain receded, as well as the spots and stuffy ears. Taking Elizabeth’s hand in his he stood, his body creaking and groaning like an old man’s.

  “I’m alright,” he lied, his voice quavering as he refused to look at Elizabeth’s mascara smeared face even as he dropped her hand. No, something was definitely wrong. Closing his eyes he Sent to his son and received – nothing. He shook his head at what that could possibly mean. He needed answers to the boy’s whereabouts and the only one who could know that was standing next to her mother.

  “What happened in the exhibit, Vivianne?” asked the monk, his voice shaking.

  Vee looked up to her mother. Elizabeth nodded and the girl matched worried gazes with Notus. “I went down to tell him that dinner was called, but he didn’t answer, so I left.”

  “What happened then?” pressed Notus, impatience tingeing and strengthening his tones.

  The girl, her face smudged as much as her mothers, told Notus what happened down in the exhibit, how the gunman called Notus’ friend “Angel” before the woman broke the glass case and they fled with the sword. Notus could tell that Vee omitted some details, but he did not feel the need to push right now. It was when Vee told him that the boy chased up the stairs after the male that he broke off listening, a new fear clutching his gut.

  Turning around, he made to go up the stairs only to be halted by talk meant for police ears. It seemed that someone had fallen from the roof, possibly struck by lightning, and that EMS personnel were onsite performing CPR. A pit of foreboding gripped Notus. Shaking his head in disbelief, Notus rushed through the throngs moving in and out of the main entrance to stop short in the slowing rain outside of the Crystal.

  There, under the protection provided from the protrusion of the structure, lay his son on damp concrete, his long white hair splayed on grey as paramedics worked to revive him. Not
us did not need to be told that the boy no longer breathed and that his heart no longer beat. The silence was deafening. Though a Chosen could consciously halt these functions without any detriment, Notus knew that this was not the cause. In a daze he stepped forward, watching as a paramedic pumped oxygen through a mask as the other compressed the boy’s chest. It was when they brought out the defibrillator, ripping the shirt and placing the pads on the scarred pale chest, that the reality of what he felt during the lightning strike, hit him

  Shaking his head, tears filling his eyes, Notus did not care about his preternatural speed or strength. Only one thought drove him forward, pushing him past frightened guests, police and reporters. In a haze he heard the paramedics call clear and watched the boy’s body jerk to the current. Notus should have felt something through their connection but there was nothing.

  He came to the ring of police providing a barrier to the onlookers, halting his mad rush on the hand now pressed against his shoulder. Breaking his gaze off the boy’s supine form, Notus looked up into the firm features of a police officer.

  “I’m sorry, sir. You are not allowed further.”

  “He’s my son.” Notus did not intend to Push. The weight of his need overrode the officer’s will. His glazed brown eyes proved no resistance as Notus slipped past him and into the circle provided for the paramedics.

  Notus arrived in time to watch the boy’s body lifted as another wave of electricity slammed through his body. This time it was rewarded with the jumpstarting heartbeat. The paramedic on bag duty quickly glanced up at the intruder before checking to see if his patient’s breathing became stabilized. “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “I’m the boy’s father.” The words slid out without a thought. The medic made a face as if he did not believe him. “Adoptive,” amended Notus.

  The medic nodded, returning to the care of his patient as his partner brought the gurney and lowered it as far as it would go. Notus did not require any other invitation to kneel at the boy’s side, taking his warm hand in his own.