Iniquity (The Premonition Series Book 5) (12 page)

“Yes,” Zephyr growls.

“Meet Djet the incest-lovin’-royal-pain-in-my-ass who hunted us down and killed Evie and me for tryin’ to be together.”

Djet’s ivory skin shines bright, far from a rottin’ king wrapped in decayin’ linens and sealed away in a stone coffin. I’d much prefer him buried in a tomb. “I have had many names,” Djet says casually.

“So ya have. I probably know most of them, don’t I?”

“As I know yours,
Nicolas
. Where have the Seraphim hidden Simone?”

I stiffen. “How do you know her as Simone?” I growl. “I don’t remember you in our last lifetime.”

“Who do you think murdered her? You want to know how I did it?” he baits me. I want to grab his knotted scarf from around his neck and choke him with it.

“I’m gonna rip your ugly head off!” I lose my mind and claw at my own magic to get to him, but Zephyr has his arms ‘round me from behind, pullin’ me back from the barrier. I point at him, “You touch her again and you’re dead!”

“There is no saving her, Iah. You couldn’t do it when she was Zahra or Simone, shall I go on?” he asks with a smug smile.

“My name is Russell now, not Iah, and I whooped your
ass
in most of our lifetimes—even when I was the girl! You think I don’t know you? You think I don’t remember them all?” I smile back. He looks like what I just said threw him off his game.
Was he expectin’ me not to remember everythin’?

“You get lucky,” he says, but his smile is gone. “Your luck is played out. She made a deal. There is nothing left to chance. She’s at my mercy...and she’ll suffer.” A vein pulses in his neck and the house creaks like he’s squeezin’ it in his fist.

I ignore the oppressive shift in the air. “You know what I remember the most about ya, Djet? You’re a confident liar.”

“Why would I lie when the truth is so much more devastating? And why are you here? You weren’t supposed to be. It wasn’t what was agreed upon.”

“I wasn’t ready to leave,” I shrug like his words don’t affect me even though I feel a chill creepin’ down my spine.

“I’m glad you decided to stay. She wouldn’t agree to you as part of our deal—so nice of you to insert yourself into our game on your own. Your soul won’t survive it,” he promises.

“You’re graceless, Djet. I get it now. It
finally
all makes sense to me. She came back for you, didn’t she? She came to make you cease to be. I’d bet everythin’ on it. She wants us to be free of you once and for all.”

“She’s here because I demanded that she be here and for no other reason!” he spits out with venom, losin’ his cool. “She never gets to walk away from me.”

“Yeah? Well ya gotta go through me first to get to her.”

“How about if I go through her first?” he asks as his attention shifts to Anya. The barrier I erected bows inward toward us, visibly shimmerin’ with a surge of power. Djet taps on it with his index finger:
WHAM, WHAM, WHAM
—the deafenin’ sounds it makes shakes books from the shelves as figurines crash and shatter on the floor. I cover my ears to block it out.

With my heart beatin’ in my throat, Djet walks right through my magic. An army of beefy-lookin’ Power angels follow him in. They all look as if they could snatch the pitchfork from the devil. Zephyr advances toward Djet, but pauses when Anya gasps and starts to slide across the floor like she’s bein’ reeled in on an invisible hook. The Fallen advance on Zee and me at the same time. Anya skids over the dark threads in the Persian rug. Her black wings beat the air in hard thrusts in an attempt to stop her progression. By the look on her face, it’s at the expense of pain.

Rage builds inside me. A howl sticks in my throat. I conjure barbed razor wire and use it like whips, lashing out at Djet. His evil bodyguards save him by steppin’ in front of him. Hard metal wires twist like serpents around them, tearin’ their skin to shreds as the fallin’ angels try to dislodge from it.

I lurch toward Anya, tryin’ to grab her and stop her from being pulled into Djet’s arms. My fingertips reach for her. Djet raises his hand in my direction, sending out a burst of magic. As I step onto the Persian rug, I sink down into it as if it’s water. The carpet swallows me whole until I swim upward through the tangle of fabric. My arms flail as my head surfaces from the wool. The threads unravel, wrappin’ ‘round my arms and body in a spool of crimson and black.

With a roar, I flex hard, exudin’ energy. I tear through the magic entwinin’ me. Gettin’ to my feet and breathin’ hard, I’m ready to pull the arms off Djet and feed ‘em to him. My stomach churns as I try to advance upon him, only to find that my feet have grown into the floor.

“Such a beautiful face,” Djet murmurs, while rubbin’ his fingers over Anya’s cheek. She struggles to pull away from him, her face a mask of loathin’.

Fallen angels swarm us. Zephyr immediately cuts down the first wave of them with his drawn sword. Blood spatters the walls and ceilin’ in deep rollin’ patterns. I dislodge my feet from the floor and join him in dispatchin’ the mob with my knives that I pull from the holsters on my thighs, but there are more angels than we can possibly handle. As I glace toward Zephyr, his skin is sliced open with a thousand different cuts. He resembles someone who has been thrown through the windshield of a car. I probably look the same, my forearms, face, and sides receivin’ cut after cut from daggers and swords meant to torment, not kill. They’re murderin’ us slowly, deliberately, and for effect. I try to pull energy to me, but it has disappeared, leavin’ me fightin’ for air. A vicious stab to my abdomen drops me to my knees as my sword slips from my fingers.

One of the evil angels grabs me from behind by my blood-soaked hair while pressin’ his dagger to my throat. Zephyr is next to me in a similar position, completely at the mercy of the Fallen and a gloatin’ Djet. My eyes are forced to look into Djet’s as he holds Anya in his arms with a dagger to her throat.

“We’ve been here before, have we not, Iah? And it’s always about her—the one you call your soul mate. Aren’t you tired of her, the little bitch? Where is she? Why are you here without her, protecting her like always? Help me find her—get rid of her. Tell me where she is—who is the Seraph with her?”

“Don’t tell him anything, Russell,” Anya growls.

“If he tells me, I’ll kill you quickly. Otherwise, I’ll give you to the angels here and you will die...slowly—all but you, Iah. I want to kill you in front of her. I want her to watch.”

Hopelessness tightens my throat, as it had when he’d killed Evie when she was Zahra all those years ago. This time it will be Anya,
my
angel, who dies and it’ll be forever—and she won’t be comin’ back.

“I don’t—” I begin, but stop when I catch the sweet, cloyin’ scent of—

The doors of the library swing open behind me. “Aww, whah’s dis?” Brennus’ smooth voice asks. “’Tis aingeals, Finn.”

“’Tis.” Finn agrees.

Brennus makes a rude sound, “and da other.”

“Brennus,” I hiss.

“Why are ye lettin’ dem have da pretty dark-winged aingeal, da other?” he asks me conversationally, as he walks into my line of sight. He looks at the Power angel holdin’ me hostage by my throat. His eyes shift to Djet and Anya. “Hallo, pretty aingeal,” he says to Anya, “I’ve missed ye.” Her eyes widen as her hands grip Djet’s hand that holds the sharp dagger just below her chin. Brennus’ eyes shift again to Zephyr. “And Genevieve’s aingeal mentor! Zephyr, is it?” he asks. Zephyr doesn’t answer him; he just stares back at Brennus with a blank expression.

“What are you doin’ here?” I growl at Brennus.

He moves in front of me and bends down to my eye level, studyin’ me. It’s shockin’ to see his black wings beyond the unbuttoned collar of his stark-white dress shirt. They’re almost like an elegant accessory to complete his ensemble of tailored black trousers and expensive shoes. His meticulous well-kept black hair doesn’t even move as he leans near me. Faerie writin’ scrawls in intricate tattoos over Brennus’ neck. Behind his ear, there’s somethin’ I’d never noticed there before; it’s a glowin’ tattoo on his not so pale flesh—one that looks like the battle axe I’d seen back at his castle.

“I came ta retrieve da portrait of me queen dat da Reapers stole from me castle,” he nods toward his brother Finn on the other side of me. Finn demonstratively holds up a rolled up canvas; his iridescent green eyes twinkle like this is all very amusin’. “Nasty wee craiturs, dose Reaper aingeals—tink dey can reap everyting, but dat’s moin—given ta me in trade by a Fallen one.”

“Ahh, who are ya tryin’ to kid? You killed Freddie and kept it.”

“I did na say ’twas a good trade for him.”

“You must be Brennus,” Djet says behind him. Brennus’ eyes narrow as he straightens to face Djet.

“If I must,” Brennus says pleasantly enough, but his anger is recognizable to me. “And ye must be Emil.” Fallen angels move in closer, surroundin’ Djet, while their eyes focus on the back of the room by the doors. Behind me I hear
click, click, click, click, click, click
...hundreds of fangs engagin’ at once.

“How do you know that name?” he asks Brennus.

“Ye’re Emil. Yer last lifetime was in Lille, France was it na? About a century ago,” he states, exudin’ confidence. “And like a coward, ye enjoyed frightenin’ wee lasses den.” Judgin’ by the look on Djet’s face, I should start referrin’ to him as Emil.

Emil goes rigid. He looks bitter as he assesses the threat in the room. “To whom have you been speaking? Casimir? Where is he? Do you have him?”

Humor enters Brennus’ green eyes, turnin’ them even lighter. “No one is talkin’ ta Casimir. Genevieve’s aingeal shredded him na long ago. Ahh, but ye do na know her as Genevieve, do ye? Ta ye, she’s still Simone. Isn’t dat right, Emil? She’s still da weak lass ye tortured in da war.”

“Tell me who killed my mentor!” Emil demands. He’s torn up about it.

“Casimir? Was he yer mentor?” Brennus asks, toyin’ with Emil. “Ye should tank da aingeal who did it. Casimir wanted Genevieve for himself. He planned ta use her ta gain power in Sheol.”

“He’d never betray me.” Emil’s anger is a tangible thing.

Brennus shrugs. “He did. Maybe ye’re na dat important after all, Emil. Dey’ve probably been feeding ye dat nonsense since ye were born. Finn, whah’s worse dan an evil aingeal?”

Finn grins. “A
spoiled
evil half-aingeal?”

Brennus grins as well. “Och, ye have ta luv me brudder; he’s so cheeky. He was always da favourite.”

Emil isn’t amused. “You’ve kept Simone from me.”

Brennus’ expression becomes serious; his fangs engage,
click
. “She’s Genevieve, and she’s moin.”

“You don’t
know
her like I do. She’s not worth it!”

“If dat were true, ye’d na be here. Ye burn for her.”

“I’m here to make sure that there will be nothing left of her. What will it take for you to walk away?” Emil asks. “I could find your soul—release it back to you. You can be whole once more—”

Brennus laughs with derision. “Listen ta him try ta negotiate for me queen, Finn. ’Tis fair disgustin’.”

“Or I could find your faerie soul in Sheol and make things a bit more difficult for him.”

“He has been dere for a while. He can take care of himself,” Brennus replies.

“Think what it would mean to have him back with you. You’d be more powerful—”

“I do na negotiate for whah’s moin. Genevieve is moin,” Brennus states with a deadly glint in his eye. “Let me tell ye whah’s gonna happen here. We’re gonna have a mill, and den whoever wins our fight—me or yous—will be da one left ta try ta win Genevieve for his own.”

“I don’t intend to win her. I intend to crush her. You’ve tasted her blood, haven’t you?” Emil accuses. “You’re infected with her.”

“Her blood has awakened me ta whah I’ve been missing. I feel her heart beat inside me.”

“She’s a killer drug, isn’t she? Enough is never quite enough. You’ll always need more of her. I was once like you, pathetic, Brennus. Lifetime after lifetime spent begging her to join me—the sun to my moon—the light to my dark.”

“Grow old, did it? Or did she tire of ye? She did, didn’t she?”

“I can kill you any time I want, Gancanagh!”

Brennus’ eyes turn hunter; they stalk Emil. I look toward Emil, too. He has to feel the power in the room has long ago shifted to Brennus. Maybe Brennus is doin’ somethin’ to blind Emil from that fact, breakin’ him down in a silent fashion. I don’t know, but Emil appears oblivious to it.
I have to get Anya away from Emil before things turn apocalyptic.

Brennus smiles. “Genevieve is never coming back ta ye, Emil—”

“Ahh, you’re wrong. She can never truly leave me, Gancanagh.”

“Why is dat? Why are ye in so many of her lifetimes?”

His face distorts with rage. “She’s always in
my
lifetimes—she’s always screwing them up! She’s a thorn in my side! I’m going to enjoy smashing her face in until the only thing left of her is me.”

“Has she been sent ta banjax all yer lifetimes? ”

“He may be her soul mate—” Emil looks directly at me with disgust twistin’ his lips, “—but he has always been the weaker of the two, just as my soul mate was the weaker of us. I made my soul mate fall with me…it was so simple. No fight in her—she blindly followed me into hell.” Emil points his chin at me. “He’s Simone’s mate, but I’m Simone’s complement—I made her stronger. I made her the perfect adversary. I’m the Yin to her Yang. She’s the light that cannot exist without my darkness.”

Goose bumps rise on my flesh and I suppress the urge to shiver. A part of me rebels at what he says. My hard-faced look is met by the coldness of his lazy stare. I stare back at him and wonder what’s buried underneath those eyes.

From the other side of the room, Finn says, “I did na see dat coming, Brenn.”

“Nor I,” Brennus agrees. “If Emil here is ta be believed, den he’s her evil da other.”

Emil scowls. “She’s not my soul mate! She follows me through eternity! We move through time in elliptical patterns—the two of us folding back on one another. She’s always in my next life, trying to subdue me, trying to stop me from achieving any kind of power in this world. She’s the bane of my existence! I’ll enjoy watching her soul mate suffer before I annihilate him in front of my relentless, divine stalker.” His lips turn sinister while his fingers tense on the shiny blood-red handle of the wing-shaped dagger in his grip. “But first, this thorn gets to watch me wipe this Throne from existence.”