Iniquity (The Premonition Series Book 5) (32 page)

“Is that good or bad?” I ask.

“Both. Ye need ta rest now. Can I help ye wi’ yer armor?” I nod, presenting my back to him. He brushes my hair from my nape, causing goose bumps to rise on my flesh. Magic glows from his hand as he runs his finger down the spine of my armor. It opens, revealing my skin beneath.

I shy away. Facing him, I say, “Thank you. I can manage the rest.”

He nods, my awkwardness making him smile. “As ye wish. Dere is a shower tru dere.” He indicates a door attached to the room. “’Tis a lot like Ireland.”

“It is,” I agree. I know he means the room, but I mean it all.

“Me room is next ta yers. We share dis wall,” he indicates the wall behind my headboard. “If ye need me, ye jus need ta call for me.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, holding the front of my armor. He nods. Without a word, he crosses the room to the door and leaves me alone. I walk to the bathroom. Peeling the black armor from me, clods of dirt fall off of it, scattering mud on the white tiles and bathmats. I leave it in a heap on the floor. I don’t cry when the water hits me. I’m too numb to think. Standing for what must be an hour under the shower, I let it keep the thoughts of Hell and loss from me. When the water starts to get cold, I shut it off. Finding a towel, I move back to the bedroom. The pajamas on the bed are perfect. I dry off quickly, and don them.

Sitting at the small vanity, I brush my hair. My hand stills with my brush in mid-stroke. I gaze at my reflection in the mirror. The low neckline of my cami-style top reveals my skin over my heart. Reed’s charcoal-colored wings are gone. My binding mark has been stripped from my flesh, leaving behind no indication that it ever happened—that Reed ever loved me. I set down the brush and rise from the vanity. Crawling into the enormous bed, I curl up in a ball and I grieve.

I
wake
up after only a few hours of sleep. My eyes are swollen from crying. At first, I don’t know where I am. Everything is dark. Everything is unfamiliar. I dare not breathe. Then I remember where I am and why. Overwhelming fear and sorrow crashes in on me. Cold desperation makes it feel as if the earth is shaking, but I realize it’s just me trembling in my bed. I pull the blanket up to my chin.

“Do ye need anyting?” Brennus’ voice comes from the chair by the fireplace. He has pulled his wings into him, so he looks like the Brennus I know. I didn’t think I could be more scared than I was a second ago, but I was wrong.

I sit up in bed and reach for the lamp next to it. A soft glow illuminates the room. It shines on his skin, showing the vibrant color of his handsome face. He is extremely beautiful as a faerie, even more attractive than when he was a Gancanagh. I turn the light off again. Somehow the dark feels safer. I can see Brennus just fine with my angel vision and I know he can see me too. “Why are you here?” My voice sounds like someone else’s.

“Ye were screamin’. I tought ye needed me, but when I came in here, I found ye asleep.”

My dreams have turned against me. I’d had a nightmare of angels tearing the skin from Xavier—I couldn’t find Reed. He was gone—he
is
gone. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“In a very real way ye died yesterday. Ye’ll never be da same. Do na try ta be.”

He’s right. The life that I knew, the one I wanted, was slaughtered in Sheol. Emil may be dead, but he’s still inescapable. I’ll carry him around inside of me forever. The pain in my chest is unbearable and it only grows.

“What do I do?” I ask. Anguish is the bitterest poison beneath my skin.

“Ye go on from here. Ye learn from da past, but ye try na ta live in it. ’Tis gone and ye can change none of it.”

My heart aches. The thread that Reed held has unraveled me. I panic. Without Reed, I’m vulnerable to the darkness. He always kept me from thinking of all the creatures that would like nothing better than to bring me to my knees. My teeth chatter. I’m chilled to the marrow of my bones.

Brennus comes to me. He sits upon the bed, taking me into his arms. “Hush now, mo chroí. Lay yer head here.” He lets me rest my cheek on his chest. “Ye’re in shock.”

“I’m so lost,” I whisper. I have no guard to put up. I’m defenseless.

“Ye will find yer way. I will help ye. Ye will never be alone. I promise ye.” His deep voice speaks in some language long forgotten. I know it. I don’t know how I know it, but I do. It calms me. The backs of his fingers are golden upon my cheek. “We’ll heal our scars one day and be who we are.” He enchants me. I close my eyes. In my dreams I run and scream with peals of laughter. Brennus dances with me through fields of green, under the fairest sun.

T
he first few
weeks after our return from Sheol are a blur. I have days where I cannot get out of bed, even when I don’t sleep. I squander those days. I count the cracks in the ceiling, listening to whispered notes of a piano played by one of the faeries somewhere in the house. In many ways I’m very much in the company of strangers. The faeries who were killed and had no Gancanagh bodies to return to, like Declan and Eion, do not remember their time on Earth as undead creatures. They only remember Sheol and their lives as faeries before Aodh. Brennus and Finn remember it all.

Nightmares plague me, but I don’t sleep very long, so my torture becomes less and less. I focus on creating a routine. I try to do all the things that will break me out of the enslavement of sorrow. The one thing I find that helps most is work. The job I’ve come here to do, hunting down Gancanagh and freeing their faerie souls from Sheol, becomes my new obsession, something to live for.

Time passes quickly with so much to do. I rise every morning and dress in black leggings and a black t-shirt, which will easily allow me to slip into combat armor later if needed. I wrestle my long hair into a ponytail at the crown of my head and jog downstairs to have breakfast with the fellas. I know they’re technically no longer “fellas,” but I can’t stop myself from thinking of them that way. In the kitchen, I take a seat beside Finn who has set a place for me. I smile at him; it’s automatic. He smiles back, chewing his pancakes. He hands me a dossier of our next client. I scan the file as I pour syrup on my pancakes. “Ohh…Bruno’s bio reads like a terrorist’s resume. Do you think he can be saved?”

Finn shrugs. “He’s a demon, but I try na ta judge. Most o’ da vilest Gancanagh I know weep at da sight of ye, but others dat I tink will be easy conversions end up makin’ us send deir souls back ta Sheol.”

I nod, knowing exactly what he means. “Is there any news on the other?” I ask. It’s a delicate subject; one I usually don’t broach this early in the morning.

Finn stiffens. “Dere has been no sign o’ her. I may have taught Molly too well. I should’ve been less comprehensive on how ta avoid Brennus and da fellas.”

“We’ll find her. She has to agree to everything before we can hunt for her soul in Sheol.”

“A contract must be made wi’ her. I know da rules.”

“Sorry,” I murmur, “I know you do.”

Brennus walks into the kitchen. He selects an orange from the giant bowl of them on the stone island. Tossing it in the air, he catches it. Walking behind my chair, his hand rests on my shoulder. He squeezes it. I tip my face up at him and smile. “Good morning,” I say.

He leans down and kisses my cheek. “Good morning,” he replies.

He looks over at the file in front of me. “Bruno Sarcasey?” He frowns. “Is he yer client today, mo chroí?”

“He is up to bat.” I say, looking at my plate. I butter my toast.

“I should take dis one.” Brennus picks up Bruno’s dossier.

“Drop it, faerie. He’s moin.” I smirk, using his accent to humor him and ease his anxiety. He worries too much about me. If anyone should be worried, it should be me. I listen to him in the next room every night while he tries to sleep. He has terrible nightmares, too. Whenever I go to him, he’s drenched in sweat and pawing at the air, fighting unseen demons. He tries to hide it during the day, but he’s tortured, just like the rest of us. “Anyway, don’t you have that thing with Atwater?”

“Whah ting?”

“That thing…the meeting?”

“Oh, dat.” He gives an irritated shrug. “I can put dat off. He hasn’t even said why he wants ta see me.”

“Then you should seriously take the meeting. If he didn’t say, it’s bad.”

“’Tis always bad. He’s an aingeal,” he replies.

“I resemble that comment.” I feign outrage.

He waves his hand dismissively. “Ye’re na one of dem. Ye’re one o’ us. Da queen.”

I smile and rise from my chair, taking my empty plate. I slip the file from his grasp. “You’re forgiven. Eat your orange. I’m going to go give Bruno a look see.” I walk toward the sink.

“Ye’re takin’ da fellas wi’ ye, are ye na?”

“I am not. I’m just going to get eyes on him. I won’t approach him yet.”

“Dat was na a request,” Brennus says scornfully. “Ye do na go anywhere wi’out protection.”

I rinse my plate, before sliding it in the dishwasher. “Keegan,” I say, speaking to the redheaded faerie near Brennus. “What are you doing in an hour?”

“I’m going wi’ ye ta get eyes on Bruno.”

“Happy?” I ask Brennus.

“Na even close.”

I sigh. “Declan, Lachlan, and Faolan, can you come with me in an hour?”

“Aye,” they all say in unison, while continuing to eat.

I give Brennus a there-you-go gesture. “Happy now?”

“Trilled,” he says with a sarcastic smile.

B
runo
, it turns out, is a wan-loving playboy with poor business practices and a really scary sense of style. From our position in the abandoned building across the street from his warehouse, I have an unfettered view of our target and his over-sized lapels.

“He’s an arms dealer,” I murmur.

“He is,” Declan growls. “He recently sold me a chillax charm dat jus about blew me face off. I say we end him on principle.”

“Why were you buying a chillax charm from him?” I ask.

“Never ye mind,” Declan replies. “Have ye seen enough yet? I have some personal tings I want ta take care of today.”

“What things?”

“Personal. Tings,” Declan replies. “I agreed ta stay longer wi’ ye while da other fellas followed Bruno’s connection ta da freight yards. Ye could say tanks.”

“Tanks. I guess I’ve seen enough.” I pack up my stuff, shoving it in my backpack. My battle hammer sings when I touch it, it makes me smile. “Shh, little brudder!” I say to it before closing the bag. “I know what will make you happy, Deck. We could stop and get those paczki you like in Poletown.”

“Da ones wi’ da butter cream?” he asks.

“Uh-huh and coffee.” Now that Declan eats real food, we have so much more in common.

“’Tis on da way ta one of me errands.”

“Oh,” I ask, “what do you have to do?” We walk through the dilapidated building to the windows on the other side. We jump five stories to the ground, landing on our feet.

“I have ta pick up me lucky shirt from da cleaners.”

I wrinkle my nose. “That’s why we have to leave.”

“Genevieve, I have a date.”

“Shut. Yer. Gob!” I get into his nineteen-seventies black Cadillac. The white leather of the seat squeaks as I slide over and close the door. I open the window because it’s grown hot in the sun. It’s been a warm spring. “Who is she? He?”

“She. And ye do na know her.”

“When do I get to meet her?”

“I will let ye know.”

“Please do!” I smile. I catch Declan smiling, too.

He drives through town to the dry cleaner. I get out with him and say, “I’ll meet you at the paczki place. I’ll get a dozen of the kind you like.”

“Get two. Eion will eat a dozen by himself.” I nod and walk in the direction of the bakery. I cross the street and jog down the sidewalk. I’m almost to the corner when someone grabs me by the throat and drags me into the alley.

Bruno lifts me off the ground and bashes me into the side of the building. I wince as pieces of the brick wall crumbles to the pavement. “Who are ye?” he snarls. He has one of his Gancanagh crew with him. The thug is rummaging through my bag.

“You don’t want to do that,” I mutter to the undead faerie with the eyebrow piercings holding my bag.

“Whah have we here?” piercings asks with avarice in his tone.

“That’s little brudder, and he hates it when undead faeries mess with him.”

Something stirs in my belly. It feels like butterflies. My eyes widen. Bruno punches me hard in the stomach. The air in my lungs is forced from me. I gasp. Without speaking, I give my hammer a command,
Fly to me, little brudder.
My weapon is in my hand in less than an instant. Swinging it at Bruno’s head, I crack his skull and knock him sideways. I gaze down at him sprawled on the ground, holding his head. “If you would just listen to me for a moment, I will explain
why
I’m here and
why
you want me here. I have a proposition for—” Before I can finish, there’s a blur of charcoal-colored wings. Bruno and his piercing associate are nearly torn in half and their bodies thrown into a dumpster at the end of the alley. Reed drops a lighter into it. It ignites into flames.