Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles by Karen Dales Read Free Book Online Page A

fathom the reason for this gradual decline of such a noble race to one of degenerates.
    Notus had prophesied this decline during the Plague. Somehow his Chooser had seen it, but it still did not ease the pain of having Notus ripped from him. Nor did it justify the abduction. Then again nothing could justify such an act. Never before had he heard of any Mistress or Master, of any country, kidnapping one of their own to get the attention of another. Had respect and common decency between them been tossed out? It appeared so.

Chapter IV

    H e halted at the base of a short set of concrete stairs. At the top large black double doors served as the entrance to the new Court in the disused old theatre. On either side of the massive doors two huddled forms sat wrapped in torn and threadbare blankets. At first glance one would take them for nothing more than two unfortunates forced to live on the street. They did not move. If not for the slight rise and fall of their chests and the occasional blink they would have easily been passed over as statues. He knew otherwise. They were two mortals kept under the power of the Mistress to do her bidding. They were nothing more than automatons. It was another piece of evidence of how far the Chosen had fallen.
    With nothing left to lose and so much more to gain, he took a deep steadying breath and ascended the stairs two at a time.
    The man crouched to the right of the doors, stood at his approach. No longer the grubby street urchin, he stood tall and broad. Clearly he had been picked for his strength and not for his mind. Vacant hazel eyes focused on him and in a monotone spoke, “Who goes there?”
    “I have been summoned by the Mistress,” he replied, searching for any sign of intelligent free will.
    “Who goes there?” repeated the servant. Obviously the answer was not the appropriate one.
    A click and a snap drew his attention to the other servant now standing, making bookends of the doorframe, but holding a loaded pistol cocked and aimed.
    If it were to be that way, then he would play the little games so long as it served his purpose. Catching the vacant eyes with his own, he spoke softly, intently, and in rhythm with the guard’s beating heart and Pushed. “ Let me in.”
    The guard nodded as the order plucked an unknown string in his soul. Placing a thick muscled hand on the large brass door handle, the door opened with a click and a scrape.
    The reception hall was dimly lit to take into account the sensitive eyes of the Chosen. Small lamps illuminated fine art interspersed along walls papered in red velvet patterned into blossoming roses. A large silver candelabrum hung in the middle, alight with more than a dozen fine beeswax candles. If he did not know any better he would have thought he was in the middle of an art gallery.
    The doors closed behind him, shutting out all sound from the outside world and he glanced around the audacious room. Even the large heavy oak doors leading to the theatre were lavish in their workmanship. It was more ostentatious than the last, but then again the last Court hall was devastated by the Fire and he had never set foot in it until it was nothing more than a charred ruin holding the bones and ashes of the Chosen who had hid there.
    His eyes widened in realization of which Court hall he was comparing it to. Had it been that long? He ran his hand through his long thick white hair, pushing back the hood of his cloak. An involuntary shudder ran through him as he remembered the Roman built manse Master Antonius and his Lady Julia used. Visions of mosaic floors crowded by people in togas and the more common dress of the era made him cringe. There had been too many people, too close together.
    He shook himself out of the past and realized he was gratefully alone.
    Along the wall near the front entrance a grandfather clock, standing taller than he, indicated that he was five minutes early. Deciding to look around while he waited, he went from painting to