Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles (5 page)

Watching him leave, Jeanie snuggled down, knowing that her life had finally changed for the better.

Jeanie fluffed the pillow and sat down on Notus’ lumpy bed, smiling in amusement with the memory of her first meeting with the Angel. He seemed to accept her as an integral part to the workings of the home, but he always shied away from her.

She did find it odd that she, as their housekeeper, lived at a nearby inn and worked only at the night except for the occasional errand that had to be done during the day. The Good Father’s explanation made some sort of sense. The Angel, he explained, had no choice in the matter. His skin was far too fair for the sun.

The Angel
, she thought, running her hands along his shirt she now wore, the shirttails tickling her knees. She did not understand why he avoided her. Yet when he was home, she felt his eyes on her as she worked, only to look away when she caught him staring. He even shied away from her touch. Oh, how she longed for him. Even from the first night so far in the distant past.

She lay down on the lumpy mattress, wondering how in heavens name Father Paul could sleep on it. Unable to get comfortable she sat up and sighed. Her neighbour who rented the room next to hers had tried to give her advice on matters to do with men. Nervously, Jeanie decided that the opportunity finally presented itself to follow her friend’s advice. Worrying her lower lip, she stood and with trembling steps left the Good Father's room.

L
ights flitted past at remarkable speeds, creating blurring streaks of yellow in the brightly lit night. A gibbous moon shone
high above, adding blue to the mixture, outshining the immediate stars.

Somewhere far below, he felt, rather than heard, the breaks grip steel as the train glided into the station, its dark structure blocking out all light. Cut off from the view he turned his attention to the cabin. Sitting back into the plush velvet seat he was riveted onto eyes the colour of spring.

She smiled, flashing perfect white teeth that sent his heart hammering in his ears. Long wavy copper hair was pulled up into a beautiful arrangement that was held in place with a small straw hat and pin. The forest green dress dignified her voluptuous body.

Shocked to hear her speak, asking his destination, he tried to reply but found he could not utter a single word. He did not know where he was going but he wanted to go with her. Gracefully, she stood and sat again beside him, bringing her slender arms up to release fiery hair to spill down over her shoulders and to land on the tops of her breasts.

Somewhere between the seat across to the one beside him, her clothing changed into a simple brown wool robe. Turning her face away from his to laugh, brown seeped into her hair turning it first to chestnut and then to a dark golden brown. He caught his breath at the recognition of the young woman next to him, now wearing a gown of white and blue.

Tilting her face to gaze up at him, her smile intact, she exposed her perfect white neck.

He clenched his teeth, forcing back the flickering hunger and his desire as she slowly undid the top two buttons of the blouse she now wore. Fiery hair curled and tickled the sides of her neck. Her pulse jumped and throbbed in time to the sound of her quickening heartbeat until it was all that he could hear, all that he could see.

Soft ambrosial lips encased his own and he responded equally. Quickly undoing the laces of the bodice of her gown, he slipped his hand in and cradled a full heavy breast. Gently caressing the nipple, she gasped, urging him on. Ravenously he sucked and nibbled, working his way down to the tantalizing throbbing vessel, his own body hard with need. She moaned and then cried out as his sharp teeth pierced her tender flesh…

He woke with a start, her heartbeat thundering in his ears. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and the dream fog over his mind lifted enough to realize that the heartbeat continued.

Bolting too fast out of bed, he cracked his head against the lip of the wood canopy and landed hard on the bed with his head in his hands. Long hair spilled around his face. Lifting a hand away from his forehead he stared at the streak of blood in a star filled background. He pressed his hand back on the quickly healing wound and groaned.

Gradually the flecks of starlight dissipated until he was aware of movement on the bed. The sound, smell and light of the match being struck brought him back to why he had recklessly leapt out of bed.

“Blow it out,” he ordered. The sound of her gasp confirmed it and he repeated his demand through clenched teeth, anger filling his voice.

It was the sight of the wide parallel silver scars on his back that caught her off guard. Jeanie had never seen anything so gruesome and to see them bisecting his muscular back shocked her. It took the second issue of the order before she realized that he had spoken and hastily blew on the wick, cancelling all light in the room.

She made a move towards where he ought to be, concerned about his wellbeing, but found him gone. She had heard him hit his head and then fall back to the bed. Worried that she was the cause of his suffering and injury, she spoke into the darkness. “Are ye all right?”

“What are you doing here?” he demanded angrily, rising from the bed. He found his pants where he left them on the floor and hastily pulled them on. He could see her sitting on his bed clad only in his white shirt, frowning into the darkness. He was furious, both at himself and at her.
I could have killed her!
The thought made him tremble as he slipped on a shirt, leaving it unbuttoned.

“I couldna sleep,” she spoke blindly. She could hear him moving easily about, but she could not see an inch in front of her face. “The Good Father’s bed has lumps and…and…” she broke off, almost afraid to admit the truth that she wanted to be near him.

“And you had to come in here?” He picked up the box of matches on the side table and lit the candle.

Surprised at his sudden proximity, Jeanie jumped and gave a squeak.

He sighed at her reaction, his anger dissipating. “If you wanted my bed so much you could have woken me. I would have left it for you.”
And painfully endured that couch.

Jeanie frowned. She had been afraid, but she had also wanted something more. Absently, she left the bed, pulling his shirt down so that it covered the top half of her thighs. His gaze descending to her legs did not go unnoticed by her and she tried not to smile. “I’m sorry, but ye were sleeping so soundly that I dinna want to wake ye. I guess I could have taken the sofa.”

Gods she looked beautiful wearing nothing but his shirt. Tearing his gaze off her well shaped legs, he felt the fool at her admission. Any embers of anger were doused. “No,” he sighed. “It’s alright. It’s just that you caught me off guard.”

“I do that a lot, don’t I?” she asked meekly, hearing his admission. This was the first real conversation they ever had and she wanted it to go on. In fact, tonight was the most he had ever talked with her and she wanted to know why. She did not think she was that horrid to be around otherwise Father Notus would not have hired her in the first place.

Quickly closing his slacked jaw, he wondered how she was able to catch so easily off guard and be so bloody accurate. Recovering himself, he simply stated, “I’ll go so that you can get dressed.”

“That’s no necessary.”

He released the doorknob and turned around, suddenly afraid to see her smiling eyes.

“My clothes are in the other room,” she added, picking up the candle. “Ye dinna mind if I take this, d’ye?”

He shook his head. He did not need it. Opening the door, he stepped out of her way and was surprised when she stopped before him.

“You’re head, how is it?” she inquired. She had heard the crash and his groan, but he seemed perfectly fine now, not a scratch could be seen.

“It’s fine.” He watched her frown as she left his room. Once past, he quickly closed the door knowing that at some point very soon he would have to acquire a lock.

Leaning his head against the wood, inhaling the scent of cleaner and varnish, he breathed a sigh of relief. After all these centuries, he preferred the anonymity and impersonality of a bloodied battlefield to the personal one on one contact with others, especially women, and especially after Notus told him how he was being used by them early on in his life. He had not wanted to believe it, and he turned a blind eye to it, but in the end he conceded the truth. What he was looking for he would not find. What the women he was with wanted they got – the Angel as their prize. He thought that having Jeanie around would help him overcome his reluctance. At least that was Notus’ reasoning, but after this, she made him even more uncomfortable and confused.
 

The thought of his Chooser brought his attention back to the summons from the Court. Guessing he had short time to prepare, he figured that he had best dress appropriately. He slipped out of his hastily thrown on clothing and picked out a fresh black suit and shirt, all the while continuously glancing to his unlocked door, unnerved by the idea that Jeanie might come in again. It took him a while to dress. His mind kept playing out different scenarios he might have to deal with.

Snapping on the jet cufflinks his eyes fell on his sword – Geraint’s sword – hanging on the wall. Oh how he wanted to don it like he used to, when wearing a sword was commonplace. Today men duelled with pistols. The smell, sounds and distance was such an impersonal way to hunt and kill. Resigned that it would be deemed improper at the least and at the most it could cost him not only his life but Notus’ life as well, he thought better of wearing the weaponry.

Jeanie did not know whether to smile or to frown as the door closed behind her. She was not sure how to take his reaction to her presence. She understood why he was angry at finding her there in his bed, but it did not seem to be completely the full reason either. Maybe he did care for her more than she knew; after all he did stare at her legs and seemed awkward when the candle was relit. A smile touched her lips. Maybe showing up in his bed had not been the disaster it could have turned out to be.

Walking around the living room, Jeanie lit the gas lamps. Satisfied with the nice bright yellow glow and the sight of the tidied place, she went into the cluttered room of the Good Father and shook her head at the mess. Her folded clothing on the stool was the only thing that was neat and organized. Deciding that she would break Father Paul’s rule never to clean his room, she quickly dressed, made the bed and began to tidy up. She wanted the Good Father to come home to a nice neat place once she and The Angel brought him back.

It was the sound of a door clicking shut that brought her attention from settling some loose papers into a stack on one of the dusty shelves. She would have to dust later. Leaving the small closet like room, she found the Angel searching around the living room, his black suit jacket over one arm. She smiled at the sight of him strikingly dressed in black vest and pants, his long white hair disappearing into the background of a pristine white linen shirt. She knew she was staring but could not bring herself to break off the gaze.

Glancing up from the end table to find Jeanie staring at him, he dismissed the intrusion and suppressed a flicker of irritation. She had done this before and he still found he had to get used to it. Then again, sometimes Jeanie would catch him staring at her, only to have him turn away embarrassed. “Have you seen my pocket watch?” he asked.

She nodded, sending untamed curls bouncing, and walked over to the tea table placed under a painting of a sunrise. Opening the engraved antique wooden box, she lifted it out. “I kenned this would be a safe place for it.”

“Thank you,” he said, their fingers slightly brushing. Flipping open the casing, he read the time and snapped it shut with a frown. There was not enough time to feed and get to the Court. Shoving the silver watch into a pocket, he took notice for the first time that the evidence of last night’s assault was gone.

“When did you do this?” He turned to Jeanie; a brilliant smile blossomed on her face.

“I cleaned after ye went t’ bed.” She was so happy that he noticed.

“I did not think—” he blinked back his surprise. She had been wounded, and when he left her she was the worse for wear. He never expected her to do this.