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.”
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 winni
n’ 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 b
e 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.
EVIE
Xavier 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?”
Iniquity (The Premonition Series Book 5) Page 12
