Shadow of Death: Book Two of the Chosen Chronicles (36 page)

It should have been like that.

It should have been like that with Jeanie.

Releasing a shuddering sigh, he swept his long white hair back and attempted to remember he was in the twenty-first century, not the late Victorian Age. What he had with Jeanie was something he never had with another and a part of him would always mourn her. Now he was a guest in Elizabeth

s home, and though she stated there would be no repercussions to their lovemaking, he could not deny the impact the act had wielded upon him.

It was an act of compassion and succour the like of which he had never experienced before. There was no love, not like what he had with Jeanie, but what was there was enough to take away the raw edges caused by Notus

abandonment.  Closing his eyes he took a deep cleansing breath. Here he was, Chosen no longer, awake in the day, with a yawning abyss of his past behind him, and for the first time in a very long time, an unknown future was set before him. The question as to what to do made him frown. No longer the Angel and his sword in Vampire hands, the
question he had denied himself for ages flourished in the absence of other persons perceptions. Who was he? And more importantly, what was h
e? Opening his eyes he knew one thing, he would not find the answers sitting naked on a bed.

Rising from the bed he went to the opened closet and knelt before his suitcase on the floor.
Other luggage was tucked further in as well as a box or two. He wondered when Notus had arranged
all this and shook his head, dismissing the thought. Lifting the lid he was surprised to find only the white tank top undershirt and a pair of black jeans he wore yesterday. The rest were gone. Taken aback at the missing clothes, he slipped on the shirt and pants, closed the suitcase lid and pulled the smaller case forward. He did not need to open it to know it too was empty. Disconcerted and with no other recourse he left the room, the cream coloured broadloom soft beneath his bare feet, and he went down stairs.

The scent of cooking became stronger as he touched the cool Spanish floor tiling. Unknowing of what to expect he nearly fell over the short haired grey cat that appeared out of nowhere to rub against his legs. Lest he trip, hurting it or him, he scooped the cat up into his arms and cradled the purring ball of fur against his chest, absently scratching it behind its ear as he walked to the kitchen

Standing at the gas stove, dressed in blue jeans and a purple t-shirt, Elizabeth flipped pancakes on the griddle. In the centre of the kitchen a table was decked out for a breakfast feast.
With the bounty of eggs, bacon and juice, his mouth flooded and his stomach roared
. Called to the table by his visceral needs, he was unaware of Elizabeth opening the curtain over the kitchen window. Sunlight splashed across the room, ending its spill just before his feet. Eyes burning at the sudden brightness, the cat yowled and fell as his hands lifted to shade his eyes to diminish the throbbing headache that exploded.

“Grimalkin, what are–”
Elizabeth halted her spin around, her eyes wide at the sight of her guest standing just inside the kitchen wearing only black denim and a white shirt that exhibited the scars on his arms and shoulders.

Oh I didn

t know you were up.

Blinking through tearing eyes he could only see Elizabeth as a dark blurry shadow.

Could you please
…”
He waved his hand at the offending window.

“What? Oh! Of course!” Without further direction, Elizabeth closed the blinds. “I’m so sorry.” She turned back to her guest who stood with eyes closed, a slight green tinge to his fair skin. “After yesterday, I should have known better.” She walked over to him and placed a hand on his arm. “Come on. Sit down before you fall down.”

Swallowing the gorge that rose, he let Elizabeth guide him to take a seat in the colonial style chair. Head in hands it took several deep steady breaths before the nausea and the pounding migraine dissipated enough for him to open his eyes.

“You really are that light sensitive, aren’t you?” Surprise widened Elizabeth’s blue eyes.

With a sigh he closed his eyes and nodded.

“And it’s always been like this?” she queried.

“It’s much better than it’s been in a long time,” he replied, unable to keep the harsh irony from his voice.

Elizabeth sat straight and blinked several times before closing her mouth, surprise slowly turning to revelation. “That explains why Paul works at night. He does it because of you.”

The mention of the Chosen who had been with him than more mortal lifetimes than he could count caused him to grimace. Let her believe what she might. It was usually close enough to the lie of convenience that Notus tended to spin that it was best not to contradict Elizabeth’s conjecture.

“Oh dear, I did it again, didn’t I?” Elizabeth laid a hand on his upper arm. “I seem to be making things worse for you, rather than better.”

“It’s okay,” he lied, shaking his head. Lifting his head from his hands, he sat straight. “I appreciate everything you have done for me. I truly do. There’s nothing for you to apologise for.”

A frown touched Elizabeth’s full lips and she leaned forward, raising her hand to his shoulder. It felt odd to have another touch his scarred skin, yet at the same time it was comforting. “You are most welcome to stay as long as you need,” she said solemnly. “Our home is yours.”

Sincerity wrapped her words, piercing him with their strength, surprising him and filling him with a sense of unworthiness of her generosity. “Thank you,” he said breathlessly.

Elizabeth smiled warmly. “Now, is there anything I can get you?”

His white brows furrowed. “Actually there is. I was wondering
where the rest of my clothes are.”

Surprise alighted Elizabeth’s blue eyes before she let out a laugh. “You didn’t look in the dresser, did you?”

Comprehension took hold and he groaned. No, he had not.

“I unpacked for you after we came back yesterday. You were asleep.”

“Then where are the rest of the clothes I wore?”

“They’re in the laundry. I would have taken the shirt and pants too, but I didn’t have any more room.” Elizabeth’s laughter rang through the kitchen.

Chagrined, he was hesitant to ask his next question. “And my braces?”

“In the night table drawer,” smiled Elizabeth.

Groaning at his own stupidity, he leaned forward, elbows on the table, and rubbed his face before covering his mouth and nose with a shake of his head.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Elizabeth rose and went over to the stove, picked up the plate of pancakes and placed them on the table. “I should have told you, but I don’t think that was foremost on either of our minds at the time.” She walked out of the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs and hollered for Vee to come down to eat. Without waiting for a response, Elizabeth       re-entered the kitchen and sat down beside him.

It was not long before the sound of a rampaging elephant crashed down the stairs and thudded across tiling before skidding to a halt at a vacant kitchen chair. Dishevelled from having just woken Vee sported a knee length black t-shirt with a happy bunny with fangs on the front. Her black hair was a wild halo that now held purple streaks. Devoid of all make-up, she appeared younger, more innocent than the first time he had seen her at the
Royal Ontario Museum
. It was clear from the shocked look on her face that she had not expected company at the breakfast table. With a sharp intake of breath Vee crossed an arm over her chest while the other attempted to pull down the shirt past her knees. The sudden modesty surprised him as did her blue eyes as they widened at the sight of him. He did not have to follow her gaze to know that she stared at his scars. Mouth dry, he empathized with her need to cover up and not having anything with him to do so, he averted his eyes and clenched his jaw.

Recognizing the origins of the sudden tension in the kitchen, Elizabeth started piling her plate with food. “Vee, when have you ever been modest? Sit. Eat. No one here cares how you look. It’s breakfast.” Elizabeth took the bowl of scrambled eggs and began scooping some onto the plate next to hers. “What would you like with your eggs?”

Attention turning to the yellow clods being deposited on his plate, he was about to deny he that he was hungry when his stomach growled. Elizabeth smiled, traded serving dishes and added bacon to his plate and then a couple of pancakes. Across from him Vee attempted to flatten down her hair as she sat, filling her own plate with what her mother passed to her.

Returning his attention to the food before him, he took a shuddering breath. He could not deny what the mouth watering scent evoked in him but the idea of finally eating a real meal like a mortal still remained foreign as did the use of eating utensils. Lifting the fork, he surreptitiously glanced up at Vee watching how she held hers. It was awkward and his hands rebelled against the fine motor movements as he went to stab at the eggs with the fork. Releasing the cutlery, it clattered against the ceramic and he
placed his hands under the table clenching each wrist in an attempt
to ease the sudden spasm. It was too long since he wore the braces.

“Is everything okay?” Elizabeth’s gaze rose from his lap to his eyes.

“I’ll be fine in a minute,” he said. He watched a querulous brown brow rise. He did not want to explain so he picked up the fork again, scooping eggs onto it, only to watch them fall off as his hand shook.

Without a word Elizabeth rose, walked over to a drawer, pulled something out and gave it to him before she sat down. “Try that.”

Lifting the tablespoon he scooped up the eggs again, this time less of them spilled before he got them to his mouth. Their softness surprised him, as did their taste, as he chewed and swallowe
d. The effect of real food settling in his stomach erupted hunger in him and he scooped up more.

It was strange feeling the textures and tastes of food. A part of his mind rebelled against the reality, screaming at him that it was not what his body truly craved, but he could not deny the new instincts riding him to rapaciously dig into the breakfast Elizabeth laid before him. It was a different need that this nourishment fulfilled in him. Picking up the bacon in his fingers, after seeing Vee do the same, he bit into the salty crispness that was so different than the sustenance he had craved for centuries.

When he was Chosen he did not consider what he had left behind
. It was too easy to walk away from starvation and loneliness.
Now mortality brought new experiences, but despite the fact he sat with others he still felt alone. Placing the half eaten bacon back on the plate, he sat back, surprised and concerned at what he was doing. There was no blood lust driving his hunger, only the need to eat dead flesh and consume plant material. His body no longer subsisted on what living blood gave him. Experiences that once held a connection with the consumption of human blood
were now shed of that need, revealing to his senses other sensations.
The visceral needs of his body were different than what they once were and the realization that he was truly mortal was no longer a mental recognition, but now was forcibly internalized.  

“Is everything alright?” asked Elizabeth, placing her fork down on her plate.

Her concern was palpable and Vee’s querulous expression as she chewed her mouthful made him frown. Picking up his bacon,
he bit off another portion, chewing it slowly. No, he was not alright.

Silence descended upon the breakfast table.

“Vee, are you still going out with your friends tonight?” asked Elizabeth in an attempt to alleviate the tension around the table.

The girl nodded. “I’m meeting Shell at seven-thirty,” she said around a mouthful.

Elizabeth frowned in contemplation and turned to face him. “Do you have any plans tonight?”

The question surprised him and he laid the spoon down on the table as he shook his head, wariness tightening the corners of his mouth. After their encounter last night he did not know what to expect.

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