“
But why do you need my boy?
”
Notus
’
anxiety geared up several notches. For his son to stand before so many Masters and Mistresses when he was still recovering from his wounds would instantly mean Destruction regardless of what promises Fernando and Bridget had made to the contrary.
“
Because he
’
s the only one they will believe,
”
stated Bridget, calmly.
“
He
’
s also the only one who can tell the difference between who is Chosen and who is not. Already incidences are arising and we are woefully lacking in our knowledge about our Vampire enemies, even if we try and read all the pulp that is published.
”
“
No. No. No,
”
Notus shook his head, brushed past Bridget and began to pace.
“
I won
’
t allow it.
”
“
It
’
s not for you to decide,
”
replied the Master, succinctly, bringing Notus to a halt.
He could not believe what they were asking of his boy.
“
You
’
re asking him to place his neck on the chopping block for you.
”
“
Not for me.
”
Fernando frowned, huffing his exasperation.
“
For the Chosen.
”
“
You want him to die.
”
Notus
’
eyes widened further.
“
Never that.
”
Bridget came to her Chosen
’
s rescue.
“
Paul, the Angel can do things we can
’
t.
”
She placed her hand on the monk
’
s rough spun woollen robe.
“
We need his help.
”
“
Let him decide for himself.
”
Fernando stood, the chair grinding into ancient floorboards.
“
If he chooses to stay in seclusion, hiding from the world and his responsibilities, then we will leave, but it will be on his head if this war against the Vampires sours terribly and all that remains of the Chosen is left in this cottage.
”
“
We are already at a great disadvantage,
”
continued Bridget.
“
Though we have halted some of the supply of the spice, it is still being imported across Europe. Chosen are still dying. In some areas there already has been open fighting between Vampires and Chosen, with us losing badly because of their infiltration into our societies.
”
“
The Angel and I only took out the head of the snake,
”
said Fernando.
“
The rest is still thrashing. We need to kill the rest before more heads grow.
”
Hating the truth of their words, Notus slumped onto the couch and rubbed his face before glancing at Bridget and Fernando in turn. He did not know what his boy could do, but they believed he could help save the Chosen. Maybe it was true. Maybe not. It was the boy
’
s decision. He nodded his head.
“
You may ask him.
”
Smiling sadly at the defeat written over Notus
’
visage, Bridget asked,
“
Where is he?
”
“
He
’
s out back.
”
Notus stared at the flickering fireplace.
“
He
’
s training.
”
Confused and intrigued, Fernando walked over to the window and looked out upon a winter wonderland and gasped.
The snow landed upon the Angel’s bare shoulders as he stood with closed eyes facing the waterfall. Each clump of snow was noted as it touched his silver striped skin. The ice crystals did not hold its integrity for long. His slight body heat was enough to destroy the perfect little stars, forming them into trickles of water that ran down his back, chest and arms. The snow that touched his hair merged and disappeared into the white silk of the strands. If they melted, he took no note.
Standing statuesque, he slowly inhaled the cold night air, feeling the freshness fill his lungs before he exhaled a gradual cloud warmed by his body. Again and again he did this, taking in the night and releasing it as the sound of the waterfall rushed over him.
Clad only in black trousers, he felt the cold of the snow under his bare feet and the smooth wood grain of the
naginata
in his grip. The muscles in his wrists jumped at the painful position and he quelled it with another breath. Standing posed, ready to strike, was excruciating to his healing body, but the physical pain of practice was easier to endure than the tight band forged around his heart.
He could not stay in their cabin doing nothing while his Chooser dealt with his grief through artistry. The image Notus rendered from paint and brush was too painful a memory of what he had lost, and so he would come outside with
bokken
or
naginata
in hand, to force his healing body into exercises that over four months ago would have been child
’
s play. Now, just holding the
naginata
his muscles trembled, threatening his body into a seizure that came only when he pushed himself too far.
Notus had begged for him to take it easy, to let the ravages of Violet
’
s torture with knife and steel scourge slowly mend, but he could not allow himself the luxury of contemplative penance for failing Jeanie so completely. Instead, each night, he would come out and force his damaged body into relearning what torture had taken away from it. At first holding a weapon was impossible. His hands and fingers convulsed with the simple exertion. In the early days, even that would lead him into paroxysms of pain that would send Notus running to his aid as his body betrayed him with pain-racked spasms. Notus would help him, bringing him in from the cold, to force him to sit before the fire and let its warmth relax muscles twitching in expectation for more agony.
Tonight he held the
naginata
, all seventy-six inches of it, and his muscles relaxed beneath his measuring breath. Taking the risk, he raised the bladed staff into a defensive block. Holding it there, he panted with exhilaration and opened his eyes.
The mist on the waters danced like fireflies, flitting around or blinking out as the snow gently descended. The muscles in his left hand twitched, threatening to release the weapon but he stilled it with an exhalation. Closing his eyes once more, he willed his shoulders to relax and decided it was worth the risk.
Slowly pivoting on his left foot, he began the
kata
. His muscles twitched at the movements, his fingers and wrists promising the
naginata
’
s
release, but he continued the flow, ever mindful of his breathing. He turned and spun, striking an imaginary foe before parrying and blocking. Each movement tortured his left leg and at one point he had to hop to his right, abruptly taking the pressure off that damaged limb lest it crumble beneath him. Hissing, he halted, the bright twenty-one inch blade on the end of the fifty-five inch handle gleamed above his head, holding the
naginata
straight up.
A few more regulated breaths quelled the tremors and allowed him to explode into action. This time he did not hold back. He led the deadly dance with the weapon, knowing he would pay dearly for this exertion. He did not care as he flowed from one move to the next, knowing the fluid grace that would normally be present was not evident to his tutored eye. Still he spun and moved each strike, each block, issuing from him an eruptive breath that rang off the cliff face.
Taken by the trance of the
kata
, he did not note the sense of awe that flowed towards him until the practice dance was ended and he held the
naginata
end down in the snow, the blade sparkling in level with his shoulder. Chest heaving in an effort to put down the tiny spasms trying to collate into a paroxysm, he turned to face Bridget and Fernando staring at him through the window.
He met their surprise with irritation and watched Bridget pull Fernando away from the window. Unable to fathom how they found him, he swept his long stray hairs from his face and sighed. He could feel their need pulsating towards him, beckoning him and he resented, again, this new ability to sense what other Chosen felt and for them to do the same with him. It presented an incredible lack of privacy and it was yet another reason for their retreat from London. No matter how much Bridget worried over him or Fernando
’
s irritation peaked, seeing his own pain reflected back at him in their faces was unfair to them. His mourning was his own, shared only with his Chooser because they had both loved Jeanie in their own ways.
Resigned that the Master and Mistress of Britain had discovered him, he knew no other recourse and went to meet them, feeling their need to talk with him.
The snow crunched under his bare feet as he walked around the cottage to the front door, using the
naginata
as a walking staff. His leg throbbed as he limped, protesting the abuse he had caused it. Thankful for the tight wrappings around his forearms and wrists, he managed to hold the shaft of the
naginata
, but his fingers twitched in rebellion for their misuse.
He opened the weather worn door, and ignoring Fernando
’
s annoyed expression and Bridget
’
s smile, he met Notus
’
eyes before giving him the weapon.
Why are they here?
he silently queried his Chooser.
They want you to come back to London to stand before a Grand Council of many of the Mistresses and Masters of Europe,
replied Notus. The monk took the
naginata
, the blade shimmering above his head, and placed it against the wall. Before his son could ask the next obvious question, he replied in the manner that all Choosers and Chosen benefit from.
They do not mean to see to your Destruction.
The idea of a Grand Council terrified him, but he still could not expect reassurances that he would not be taken captive, dismembered and left for the sun. He tried to repress a shudder and failed.
“
No,
”
he whispered without turning to face the Master and Mistress. Good intentions or not, he refused to go back to London. He stared at the fire, ignoring Bridget
’
s warning gasp or the flicker of anger the surged through the Noble.