Iniquity (The Premonition Series Book 5) (13 page)

Brennus directs his magical power at me, strikin’ me with the force of a movin’ car. The shock of electricity surges through my bones. I lift my arm and point my hand at Anya, redirectin’ some of the power to her as I cast a spell.

Emil’s grip on his knife tightens before he swipes the serrated points of the wing-shaped dagger across Anya’s neck. The expected gush of blood doesn’t happen, instead, a grindin’ sound of a blade being honed by a stone emits from Anya as tiny sparks fly from the surface of her throat. Emil lifts the blade away. There’s nothin’ more than a scratch on Anya. The relief I feel is short-lived. She’s uncut, but she’s also unable to breathe. Clutchin’ her stony neck, Anya’s eyes shutter in anguish.

Wall-shakin’ crashes fracture every corner of the room. Gancanagh spill inside to clash with evil angels. I grasp the hand of the Power angel holdin’ me hostage. His flesh turns to water and he plunges to the floor, becomin’ just a puddle on the carpet. Liftin’ both of my hands, I direct them towards Anya. Whisperin’ a spell, I snatch her away from Emil just as Brennus pounces on him. She skids across the floor to me, landin’ straight in my arms. She rests against my chest as my hands glide down her back, relievin’ the enchantment I’d placed upon her. Her mouth gapes with a huge intake of breath as her throat opens enough to accept air.

Brennus lurches toward Emil, knockin’ him into the air and across the room with a magical blast of energy. Emil smashes into the desk, flippin’ over it. He comes to rest in the corner of the room. Instantly, he’s on his feet again, strikin’ Brennus with magic of his own. Brennus’ skin melts. Thorns push out from his face, neck, and arms. Placing his hand to his cheek, Brennus’ fingers glow with a green light, He reverses Emil’s spell, eradicatin’ the thorns.

To my left, Zee is covered in his own blood, stabbin’ to death the evil, white-winged Archangel that had held him hostage. His wings look broken and I doubt he’s able to fly right now. Zephyr notices us. He flips the portal urn off the table towards us. As the urn arcs in the air, I whisper to Anya, “Go now!”

“No! Not without you,” she whispers in my ear. Grittin’ my teeth, I decide not to give her the choice. My hands move up her spine, infusin’ magic into her. She shimmers golden. Light pours from her body, as she becomes a fiery Phoenix.

The urn portal opens, I twist my finger like a corkscrew and the vase mimics the action; it spins like a top in front of us. Anya rises into the air, the embers of her Phoenix feathers sparkle down as her hawkish wings spread wide. She’s can’t resist the force that draws her to the portal. In a flash, she’s sucked into it and is gone from my sight.

Relief washes over me that she’s safe. I assess the fury surroundin’ me. It’s unclear just who’s winnin’ this fight. Pieces of undead Gancanagh lie next to pieces of very dead angels. Brennus and Emil are fightin’ all ‘round the room, throwin’ magic at each other. Bursts of colorful light-energy explode, killin’ angels and fellas as it’s deflected. Debris and leafs of paper float down from above in wintery gales.

Emil disappears into thin air. He leaves behind a smoky vapor trail where he had been in front of Brennus only to reappear behind Brennus with the same smoky essence swirlin’ ‘round him. Emil’s wicked grin is only there for a moment before Brennus elbows him in the mouth. Blood squirts into the air as his lip explodes. Brennus pivots and his green eyes glow in the growin’ darkness surroundin’ us.

The warm forearm of an angel wraps ‘round my neck from behind me. I grasp it, and leanin’ forward, I flip the rancid, brown-winged bugger over the top of me. When he’s on the ground at my feet, I step on his neck, crushin’ his larynx. Energy is freely flowin’ to me once more. I use it to crush fallen angels near me.

Brennus backs nearer to me, struck by a whip-like current of energy from Emil. Black blood seeps from his left ear, coursing down over the glowin’ tattoo of the axe I saw earlier. He stumbles to the left a step, his fingers comin’ up to touch his ear. His other hand grips a chair as he tries to stay on his feet. The action draws Emil closer. Brennus whirls with his own whiplash of light, hittin’ Emil with a lightnin’ bolt. It singes the flesh from Emil’s face. The lightning branches out to the evil angels near Emil, cookin’ them alive.

Emil struggles for breath for a moment before he weakly raises his winged-dagger, holdin’ it aloft. His lips move and I strain to hear what he’s sayin’. It eludes me, but I feel no less damned by it. The blade glows red; he slashes the air with it, cuttin’ the room open, like he’s tearin’ away the shroud of wrappin’ paper. Another world beyond this one reveals itself. An intense reek hits me like a punch to the gut, and suddenly I understand what I’m seein’. We’re exposed to the reekin’ pit of Sheol.

Our library crumbles away. The panorama of a dark night sky surrounds us. Beneath it, a Gothic cityscape lies like the chalky outline of a murder victim. This place is like nothin’ I’ve ever seen before. A blood red moon casts ripples of ruby light upon the river below as it twists a tangled spine for miles through the bones of the city. The beautifully gruesome buildings that line the pristine streets have an immense degree of detail. They have perfect symmetry; so perfect, in fact, that they look as if they’re monuments to worship. The stone-white spires are gargoyle-infested. Rosette windows, like a thousand eyes, glow in multicolored splendor. Gazing upon them, they take note of me and they gaze back.

I detect movement in the darkness between the buildings. The limestone figures come alive and loft into the air. Scaly white wings beat against one another in their frenzy to reach us, a tangle of frantic bodies converging. I take a step back. The threshold of Hell follows me, encroachin’ further into the library.

It’s as if I’m the light within a lantern, peerin’ out into the darkness beyond the dome of glass at the violent shapes of an army of evil moth men. My mind screams so loud it drowns out the frantic beat of my heart.
A spell! I need a spell!

Wintry cold wind wafts into what’s left of our fadin’ world. With the reek of unbridled evil upon us, I pray to Heaven to escape. Golden light breaks from above, on the opposite side from where Sheol is emergin’. Before I can take it all in, Brennus unleashes a silver ball of energy from his hand. It zips ‘round the perimeter of the room, Faerie dust fallin’ from its path as it coats the walls with shiny gray light that runs down in tears. The lustrous ball spirals up to the ceilin’. When it reaches the top, it explodes in a shower of silver sparks.

I grab the vase just as Brennus’ shimmerin’ dust distorts everythin’. Seein’ double, Hell fades, replaced by a black, white, and gray version of the library. The walls abandon their shape, bleedin’ into one another, formin’ indefinite lines and boundaries.

Before I can think, Brennus whirls on me with a look of frustration. “Whah were ye standin’ around for? When Hell opens up, ye use yer powers ta close it.” He motions to Finn to join him at his side. What’s left of his army of Gancanagh gather nearer, checkin’ their weapons and shakin’ off the battle, but none make a move to harm Zee or me.

“You givin’ me tips now?” I ask.

He stalks nearer, sayin’, “Do na even breathe when I’m speakin’, dat is da tip o’ da day.” He turns to his brother. “Finn, dey’re attemptin’ ta pull us back ta dem. Weave a stronger silver-linin’ spell.”

“What were those white creatures?” I blurt out, referrin’ to the albino moth men who just came at us from Sheol.

“Motes,” Brennus growls. “Dey consume fear. Stop feedin’ dem! Dey could smell it on ye da moment our world was ripped open ta dem. Ye need ta learn ta control it if ye want ta become invisible ta dem.”

“Why’d you save us from them?” I ask, indicatin’ Zee and me with a gesture of my hand.

“I need ye ta speak to Genevieve—she’s incapable of making a good decision lately—she only accepts me help when her circumstances are dire. I need ye ta convince her dat she needs me—dat we’re allies.”

I throw my head back and laugh. “You’ve been suckin’ on Evie’s blood again, haven’t you? Are ya buzzin’ or somethin’? ‘Cuz you know me well enough to know we’re not friends!”

“Have ye na assessed da situation?” Brennus asks in with a calculatin’ look. “’Twas
tousands of centuries o’
yer
past dat jus leaked out all over da room back dere.” He points his thumb over his shoulder to the world just beyond this one.

In the backdrop of this new dimension, shadows from the ashen Motes creep ‘round; their pensive movements stalkin’ the magic of this realm, lookin’ for a way in. The angels and Emil are there, too. Finn is holdin’ up his hands with his eyes closed, murmurin’ words that work to entwine silvery layers, creatin’ thicker walls. I turn away from him to focus on Brennus.

“Have you forgotten the past few months? You tried to enslave all of us!” I remind him.

“’Twas before Genevieve changed me. I was different den.”

I scoff. “You expect me to believe that after you just tried to possess her like a freakin’ demon? You wouldn’t hesitate to throw us all under the bus if it suited you!”

“I did na have ta save ye back dere. I could’ve jus left ye for Hell ta sort out, but Genevieve cares about ye. I do na want ta see her suffer.”

The thought of bein’ dragged to Sheol by the creatures I just saw makes my guts twist. “If that’s true, then leave her alone!”

“’Tis impossible!” Brennus says with no small amount of disgust in his expression. “I’m incapable of leaving her alone! I’m always tinking of her! Hell is about ta rain down upon us all. I can na be more plain dan dat!”

I feel the need to refute what Emil said back there. “
I’m
her soul mate. I feel our connection!”

He sighs heavily. “I did na tink otherwise. Ye’re Emil in reverse—da good ta his bad. Talk ta Genevieve—see whah she remembers,” Brennus says in a quiet tone that I can’t just brush off and ignore.

“I have to find her first. It’s been a little harder than playin’ Where’s Waldo.”

“Eh? Why is it dat I never quite know whah ye’re saying?”

“Evie—I’ve been lookin’ for her but I can’t find her.”

A suppressed smile twitches at the corners of Brennus’ mouth. “I was jus wi’ her—in her past—she has returned once again. It should prove ta be far easier for ye ta locate her now.”

“I’m not even gonna ask you what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” I say as I shake my head.

“Good. Da less ye speak, da better. Find her, and take dis.” Brennus reaches down and pulls a dagger from a holster strapped to him beneath his pant leg. I recognize the knife; it’s the one Evie had on her when she came to Zee’s island—the one Brennus used to find her. He must have gotten it back from her bungalow before be blew the crap outta the island. “Yer blood on dat blade will summon me. ’Twill give me a way ta find ye when ye need me help.”

“You think I’m gonna ever use that, Brennus?” I ask incredulously.

The dagger flies from Brennus’ hand. Before I can move, it embeds in my side. I wince and look down at the hilt stickin’ outta me. It’s just a flesh wound, missin’ my vital organs, but it still hurts like hell.

“I was na askin’. Ye’ll use it so dat ye do na become a weapon dat Emil can wield against Genevieve. Either ye summon me for help wi’ dat knife, or ye end yerself wi’ it. I do na much care. Da choice is yers,” Brennus replies.

Brennus waves his hand at me and I’m whirlin’ away from the dimension the Gancanagh created as his magic shoves me into the vase portal.

X
avier
and I crash together onto a stone floor—me on top of him. My landing is probably gentler than his, but not by much because there’s nothing soft about him. He sits up, reaching beyond my shoulder. I clutch his chest as he catches a spinning, silver compact out of the air. Snapping the portal closed, he holds it. Its shape resembles a snowflake, etched in silver filigree.

The shiny metal disk jumps in Xavier’s palm. The lid dents from the inside out, lurching violently. Xavier’s eyebrows slash together. He growls and crushes the portal until it’s a silver pebble.

I let out a relieved breath. His eyes move to me, cataloging every scratch and bruise. He smoothes down my torn shirt. I hear a ragged sound—I’m breathing hard. My hair is in my eyes. He sweeps strands of it away and tucks them behind my ear. I stare at his colorful eyes. His thumb touches my bottom lip. I wince—it’s sore.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

I just stare are him.
I’m starting to hate that question.

The firelight casts waves of light over one side of his face, leaving the other side in shadow. His eyes almost appear equal for a moment. “Do you have internal injuries—broken bones?”

Xavier’s hands go to my sides where Emil had sunk his magical hooks into me. I flinch. I’m tender. This is how a fish must feel when it’s thrown back for being too small. “Illuminate room,” Xavier says. Teardrops of crystals that comprise the beautiful chandeliers overhead switch on. The white light sparkles over the slate floors, showing thick, white rugs.

He lifts my shirt. We both see giant bruises on my abdomen. He lets it drop, and then leans his ear against my chest and listens. Slowly, he lifts his ear from me and the smile he gives me is beyond intimate. I’m sure the look goes back hundreds of thousands of years. “Nothing sounds off.” His voice is a breathy sound.

I feel as though I can’t hold my head up. I lean my forehead against his chest. He threads his fingers in my hair, holding me. I shift, resting my cheek against his chest so I can see his face. “I killed a human,” I finally say numbly. “I tore his heart out. Owen—his name was Owen.” My hands are still bloody from it. I whisper a magic spell. It cleans the blood from my skin, but not the memory of it.

Xavier’s hand slips from my hair to my back. “I didn’t see a human—”

“Emil possessed him. I thought he was Emil, but it was Emil inside of Owen.”

“If Emil possessed him, then Owen allowed it.”

“And I murdered Owen for it.”

Xavier pauses, and then asks, “What do you think it’ll be like leading an army, Evie?” My mind lurches back to the murderous street I just escaped—a street lined with fallen angels. I shudder. “It’s what you said you want, isn’t it? An army? You’re going to make decisions that will
kill
angels, humans, and any other creature that chooses to join the fight. You’ve made your friends part of this—insisted they help you in a war they’re wholly unprepared to battle.”

“I didn’t kno—”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know.” Xavier straightens. “I told you. Get used to this feeling—it won’t go away. When one of them is killed—your
family
—it will be infinitely worse.”

No longer in the mood to comfort me, he slips me off his lap and stands. He walks past a low glass table and blue silk-covered chairs, to an elegant doorway on the far wall. Pausing, he says over his shoulder, “This is your room. You’ll be safe here.” He leaves me alone, closing the double doors behind him.

With my head in my hands, I come apart. I pull my knees to my chest to hold myself together as I sob. Emil plans to kill everyone I’ve ever loved just to make me watch. I wipe my face on my sleeve and look around my ornate room—a bedroom. There aren’t any windows, but that doesn’t make it any less angel-chic. The walls are stone. Rounded archways and pillars make it look like a palace, but the walls aren’t erected; they’re carved out of rock. The air is thick—entombed. It’s similar to what I experienced while in Brennus’ underground lair in Houghton.

Cool colors of ice blue, chocolate brown, and white soften the look of the room in a decidedly feminine way. A bed juts out from against the wall. Its tall bedposts and massive headboard are caved from alabaster and piled high with white pillows. The white fur-like coverlet looks soft and inviting. Directly across from it, the stone fireplace cradles aspen logs. They crackle with flames in the grate. The scrolling stone supports beneath the mantel are positioned well above my head—I could probably stand in the fireplace with no problem.

I get to my feet, wrapping my arms around me for comfort. There are four sets of doors. I try one set and find they open to a closet filled with my-sized clothes. I frown. The Seraphim intend for me to be here for more than a few days
. Good luck with that
, I think.
I’m outta here as soon as I find the exit
.

The next door I open contains an opulent bathroom tiled in a multitude of blue-glass hues. I use the sink and wash up as best as I can. Wiping my face on the towel, I leave it on the immaculate countertop. I close that door and move on to a pair of wooden doors on the far wall opposite from where Xavier exited. When I open them, I’m surprised to find a thick, metal door behind them. It has a hatch-like round lever. Using both hands, I have to throw my back into opening it. The metal is frigid and whines as it scrapes against the metal catch. Shoving the door open, my hair whips around me as the coldest air I’ve ever felt in my life blows it back with enough force to take my breath away.

Stepping outside onto an ice-covered veranda, I look over the frozen railing at the sheer drop that goes on for miles. The veranda is carved out of the side of a mountain, which faces several other rock formations covered by ice and snow. Looking skyward, more balconies pepper the cliff face. The whole side of the mountain has been carved to resemble an ornate fortress. Other than this mountain fortress, nothing exists for as far as I can see. It’s just barren snow-covered tundra and rock formations.

“I wouldn’t advise going far in this weather, not without proper clothing and an experienced guide. The tundra is unforgiving on its best days,” a voice from behind me says. Leonine features meet my stare when I turn.

Cherubim,
I think as I look at the angel’s face. His long, golden hair reaches to the top of his light blue wings. His eyes are that of a lion’s, amber irises frame diamond-shaped pupils. He’s wild. I take a step back from him, pressing against the frigid railing. He steps back from me, into my room. Lowering his chin, he almost looks tame. He extends his hand toward me. “Don’t jump. Please.”

“I can fly.”

“The wind here is deceptive. It could slam you into the side of the cliff.”

“How do I get out of here?” I ask, looking around at the bleak landscape.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere without angels.”

“Does a place like that exist?”

I sigh. “How about somewhere with people?”

“Xavier wants you here.”

“I don’t care what he wants.” I look the Cherub over again and have a nagging feeling. “Have we met? Do I know you?” The wind lifts my hair and blows it around, but I refuse to go back inside with him looming in the doorway.

“We’ve met—in a way. You were barely conscious the last time I saw you—Brennus was more than a little brutal to you in Houghton.”

Images of Cherubim flying alongside Reed’s car on the night Russell broke me out of Brennus’ cave come back to me. “It was you—outside the car that night—as Russell drove. I thought I was hallucinating—”

“I had to speak to you that evening. I wanted to make sure you escaped. I wanted you to know...”

“You wanted me to know what?”

“I wanted you to know that we were proud of you.”

“Who’s we?”

“Heaven,” he replies with a wary smile. Snow flurries around me. I quake from the cold. He sees it. “I don’t want you to freeze to death. Do you mind coming back inside?” He motions with his hand for me to come in.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

He says something in Angel.

“Err...in English?”

“Atwater.” I move inside. He closes the metal door. I hurry across the room to the fireplace, extending my hands to it to warm them. “He’s my responsibility, you know?” I look over my shoulder at him. He leans against the doorframe and studies me, toying with the hilt of a long broadsword strapped in a sheath at his waist.

“Who?” I ask in surprise as I turn toward him.

“Brennus.” His eyes meet mine.

“What do you mean?”

“I was his guardian angel.”

I stiffen. “When? When he was a faerie?”

Atwater nods. “When he still had his soul.”

The ramifications of what he’s saying strike me. My hands ball into fists. “You let Aodh get him!” I accuse.

“I did.” There’s regret in his eyes. It does nothing to alleviate my anger.

“Finn, too?” I ask. I don’t care if he feels bad. He and Xavier should hang out. They both suck at their jobs.

“All of them,” he affirms.

“Why?”

“I’ve already said too much,” he replies. He moves to the door where he came in. “I’m glad to see that you’re okay.”

“He’s not okay!” I snarl.

“I know,” Atwater replies before he leaves my bedroom. I follow him. I want to know why he’s here and what he’s planning. It’s about Brennus. That makes it about me, too. We’re irreparably tied to one another by blood. By death. By love. By hate.

“Wait! Where’re you going?” I enter the next room. “I need to talk to you!”

I stop short, almost colliding with Xavier who’s covered by nothing more than a white towel around his hips. My face turns red. I crane my neck up to see his eyes. He blocks my way while he uses another towel to rub the water from the back of his neck. I quickly realize that this room is another bedroom, but decorated in masculine browns. Xavier’s bedroom—attached to mine—like his and hers! I frown at him.

I duck around his outstretched wings, moving past him, out the door and into a circular corridor that’s lined with clear glass pillars. They open into a rotunda—a hive-like arena. Angels of every type fly around in the middle of the open arena—the common space—moving from floor to floor without the need of elevators. No balustrades line the levels above or below, so either one uses one’s wings to fly when stepping off the edge, or it will be a very long way down. The floors above us climb toward a glass-domed sky. Sunlight filters down into the center of the hive, sparkling off the blue glass-tiled floor about a mile or so below us. Atwater blends into the swarm of angels and disappears.

Xavier leans against the doorframe, watching me. I hitch my thumb in the direction Atwater disappeared. “Do you know him? He’s Brennus’ guardian angel.”

Xavier nods. “He was, but the battle for that soul has been lost, hasn’t it?”

“Has it? Has it really?” I cross my arms. “Why would he tell me that then? Why would he seek me out?”

“Maybe he feels responsible for what’s been done to you by Brennus.”

“I want to talk to him.”

“I can arrange that, but later, after you’ve rested.”

“I’d rather talk to him now.”

“You’re tired.”

“I’m not.”

“You were attacked by Emil twice today. You’re cut up, bruised and beaten.” I ignore him. Clutching a glass pillar, I look over the edge at the crazy hoards of angels.

This whole place has been hollowed out of the interior of a mountain. I have a feeling I’m not even seeing a fraction of it. Across the rotunda enormous glass sculptures of angels hold scepters and spears, guarding the threshold to an elaborately carved entryway. A narthex stretches out beyond the rotunda. More hallways on other levels burrow through the rock. The floor that is far below has a maze-like pattern. Xavier joins me at the edge. “It’s a meditation labyrinth. When you walk it, you can feel the presence of God.”

“So this is the army?” I ask, watching a few angels below walk the maze in circular patterns.

“This is some of our army—the ones that follow me. Your father has more.”

“What does Tau plan to do? Will he bring Reed here? Will he attack Emil?” Xavier’s eyes hood before he turns away and moves back into his room. I follow him and close the door behind us. Xavier rummages through his clothes in his closet. I cross my arms, watching him.

“You’re safe here.” Xavier says. “Why don’t you go to your room and clean up—rest. Or we can eat, if you’re hungry—”

“Why won’t you answer my questions?” I retort. With his back to me, he drops his towel. My cheeks redden. “Xavier!” I turn my back to him. “It’s not going to work. I’m not staying here—”

“There’s nowhere for you to go, Evie. We’re surrounded by the harshest conditions on Earth.”

“You can’t keep me here.”

“Actually, I can,” Xavier says, as he walks past me into his room. Luckily, he has managed to dress himself in a long sleeved black thermal shirt. Long slits in the fabric allow for his red wings to be out. His black trousers are military in design. He goes to a side table and picks up a watch. Facing away from me, he straps it on his wrist.

“I don’t want to be here with you.”