Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles (100 page)

It was too bad that Corbie and Violet were the only two of Bastia’s coterie left, but it had its own benefits. Now Corbie was Master of a strong line of Vampires beholden only to him. Of course he was upset at first by Bastia’s untimely death, but it did also release him to act completely autonomously from any other Vampire. As far as he knew he was now the oldest Vampire and he planned on using it.

Did he see the earth shift? He peered closer, tapping his upper lip in expectation. A birth of a new Vampire was a remarkable thing and this one was going to be special. If everything went accordingly then his vendetta against the Angel would begin.

Oh how he despised that creature. He hated the Angel with every ounce of his being. Bastia had been in awe of the Angel, but she had been also fearful. It made perfect sense why she chose him for the quest and why she led him to Violet in France. What Corbie could not understand was why, at the last moment, she sent notification that the Angel was not to be harmed. Granted it came too late. Corbie doubted that Bastia ever knew that.

Yes. The earth did shift! Little brown lumps teetered before falling to the side. Revenge was at hand. It was a small measure to what was unleashed three nights ago. Vampires in the city were nervous and Corbie had received word that those in other countries were now under scrutiny by the Chosen. Some managed to flee while others were killed. Many others remained hidden awaiting instructions.

The war he and Bastia had hoped to win through cunning was coming to the forefront and he was ill equipped to handle this. It was not Corbie’s way. Subterfuge was his speciality, but he would manage.

The earth tumbled as if pressed from beneath and he leaned forward expectantly.
Come, my flower. Grow.

“Mr. Vale, should I bring the boy now?” asked the man standing behind Corbie.

Corbie nodded without turning to face the head of his coterie. “Yes, Brian. Bring the urchin. I don’t want my new flower to wither before the moonlight touches her.”

“Yes, sir.” Brian walked a few yards away and lifted a boy of about six off the ground. His dark head lolling, the boy was unconscious. With a little shake the boy’s blue eyes rolled in an attempt to awaken. His dirty clothes were torn and badly mended in places. Corbie knew the child would not be missed.

Brian came to stand beside his Master, holding the child at arm’s length. It was clear he had done this before.

The land shifted again, this time exposing pale white worms working their way skyward. Corbie pushed down his excitement to watch the birthing.

Slowly, hands emerged, flailing in their effort to free themselves and found purchase against the ground. A sudden tremulous heave and the body of a young woman in nothing but a white shift lay on the ground. Her cinnamon curls were littered with brown dirt that rained down as she staggered to her bare feet. Startling green eyes shifted from each of them to settle upon the boy’s dangling form.

Corbie smiled to see her lick her lips. “Feed, my beautiful flower.”

The young woman pounced upon the boy who had just awoken.

A shrill scream cut through the cemetery, widening Corbie’s grin. “Rose. Your name is Rose.”

Karen Dales is the author of the widely acclaimed
The Chosen Chronicles
. Which include
Changeling: Prelude to the Chosen Chronicles, Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles
and
Shadow of Death: Book Two of the Chosen Chronicles.
 

She is currently at work researching and writing the next book in
The Chosen Chronicles
-
Thanatos: Book Three of the Chosen Chronicles
as well as a historical fiction novel.

Born in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, she shares her life with her two cats, one son and husband.

Visit her website at
www.karendales.com