Iniquity (The Premonition Series Book 5)

by Amy A. Bartol

  “So, Emil was Djet, too?”

  “He was.”

  “Was he in every one of my lifetimes with me? Do you know?” My voice rises with sick desperation.

  “Shh, hush now,” Brennus soothes as he disengages his arm from mine. He wraps it around my shoulder, pulling me to his side. “’Tis difficult for ye ta hear dis, but ’tis yer past, na yer future.” We round another bend in the floor. The transparent walls disappear by falling into the ground—no longer playing out the salacious aspects of my former lifetime

  “Was he in all my lifetimes?” I ask again.

  “I tink it’s a distinct possibility...”

  “Why do you think that? He’s a monster.”

  “He is a monster. He convinced his soul mate ta fall wi’ him, den he figured out a way ta take her soul apart.” I stop where I am. I can’t take another step forward. Brennus bends so that his lips are close to my ear, so close they brush the top of it, causing me to shiver. He whispers, “I tink he did it so dat ye’d be forced ta follow him in every one of his lifetimes. Ye’d have ta always be wi’ him—ye always try ta stop him from doing evil. I tink he once believed dat he’d eventually win—dat ye’d lose yer soul ta him and be his forevermore. Now he knows. He understands dat ye’ll never agree ta be a part o’ him. Ye’ll never be his partner, or his slave. So he wants revenge. He wants ta snuff ye out.”

  My mind is numb. “Why me—”

  “Heaven does whah it wants. If ye want a confession or an apology from dem ye’ll be waitin’ for eternity. Emil fell. He was a part of da rebellion in Heaven. I tink dis is where yer turmoil began. Ye’re a part of da aingeals’ war now. We’re in it...and we play ta win.”

  “There is no winning this, Brennus! We both just lose!”

  “Na if we’re together.”

  “You believe that?”

  “I do. I can carry ye any distance dat I have ta. ’Tis different between us now—ye feel it, do ye na? Ye changed me and I’m in yer heart.”

  He’s right. My heart is still intact...and I feel Brennus there.

  “Listen to me, Brennus. You know I’m nothing but trouble. This war is eternal—”

  “We’ll all have ta choose a side soon. I’m only good when I’m wi’ ye. Wi’out ye, I can na say for certain upon which side I’d fall.”

  I know he’s right. He’s different when we’re together—still ruthless, but not to the same degree. With me around, he’s capable of mercy. It makes me wonder what he was like before he lost his soul. “I met an angel here,” I murmur.

  “Oh, aye?” he says with a sarcastic smirk on his lips, making me aware of the ridiculousness of my statement. There are literally thousands of angels here. “Anyone in particular?”

  “I knew him—this angel. I’d seen him before—after I’d escaped from your cave in Houghton. His name is Atwater. Do you know the name?”

  Brennus straightens, hit by a wave of recognition. “He’s here? In dis place?” I nod. “Did ye speak ta him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Whah did he have ta say?” Brennus asks with his back now ramrod straight.

  “When I first saw him in Houghton, after Russell came for me—I was delirious from the bites you gave me. Atwater told me then that you’d burn for me the way you’ve made the wans burn for you—that it was recompense. I’m bad Karma for you, Brennus.”

  “No, ye’re na. He’s knows ye’re more dan dat. He knows dat I’ve been waiting for ye ta come for as long as Finn has been a Gancanagh. As long as he divided me family—and he best continue ta hide from me—should I find him again he’ll know pain.”

  “You’ve been waiting for me?”

  “I have. I’ve been waiting for me queen. Dere are tings we need ta do.”

  “What things? What are you talking about?”

  “Whah else did Atwater tell ye?”

  “He said he was your guardian angel.”

  Brennus’ jaw hardens. “He’s nuting ta me.”

  “He’s something to you. What happened? He refused to help you...when Aodh took Finn?”

  “Heaven does na help. Dey negotiate, Genevieve.”

  “What did you negotiate with Atwater, Brennus?” Secrets shadow his eyes. “What is it?”

  “I was so young den—when I knew Atwater—immortal in youth, was I. When ye’re dat young, ye never know whah ye’re promisin’. I never wanted dis crown—ta be king. But ye do whah ye have ta do—even when it shakes ye ta da ground.”

  “What are you talking about, Brennus?” I whisper.

  “Do ye remember when I told ye dat I saw me soul, Genevieve? Jus after ye changed me?”

  “Yeah, it was when I tried to kill you.”

  He grins. “Och, had ye tried ta kill me, I’d be gone. Ye wanted me ta change, and change I did,” Brennus says ruefully, and then he sobers. “I saw him again—me soul—after yer fire tore tru me.”

  “How?”

  “Me soul was ripped away from Sheol. He tried ta reunite wi’ me—become one once more, but I am still mostly undead, ye see?” I nod my head in understanding, and Brennus continues, “He gave me a message ta give ta ye.”

  “He did?” I ask, my eyes wide with surprise.

  “He did,” Brennus affirms with a nod. “He said ta say: ‘Tell her I’ve been waiting for her. Tell her I’ll know her by note.’”

  “He’ll know me by note? What does that mean?”

  Brennus shakes his head. “I do na know. He took some of me memories wi’ him ta Sheol. Finn speaks of tings in our past—sometimes I have no memory of dem. And now dat me soul and I are apart, I do na know whah he has experienced in Sheol. But I tink dat I made a deal wi’ Heaven before all o’ dis began.”

  “It’s the same with me. Russell remembers so much more than I do. For some reason, you and I are not meant to know.”

  “Ye see. We’re much da same,” he murmurs as he grasps my hand and tugs me along beside him once more, leading the way through the labyrinth. Neither one of us speaks for a long time, lost as we are in our own thoughts as much as in the twisting path. We reach the center of the maze where it opens into a small circle. Upon the floor, a majestic, tiled tree is spread out, it’s branches reaching in every direction, winding into the borders of the path from where we had just come and extending out to form other paths that were invisible to me when I’d been outside the circle.

  Brennus looks around at the floor. “We are both on da same path, Genevieve, precisely where we need to be.”

  “Precisely the right path for what?” I ask breathlessly.

  “For us,” Brennus says as he bends, kissing me tenderly on my forehead.

  Before he pulls away from me, his firm lips ease and become feather light. His presence wavers to transparency, a dark silhouette against the water falling over the walls surrounding us…and then he’s gone.

  Waking up from my all-encompassing dream with Brennus, I’m standing in the middle of the labyrinth. Xavier is in front of me. His mouth is white-lipped with anxiety. “Evie,” he sighs my name while gathering me to him. With my cheek resting against his chest, I watch water flow down the ice wall. It disappears into the grates in the floor, just beyond the Power angels who have stopped everything to watch me. Brennus is gone. I must’ve come here in my sleep, following him wherever he led me. “I’ll take you back to your room.”

  “Emil’s my evil soul mate—” I pull away from Xavier’s chest as I strain my neck to see his eyes, “and you knew—you’ve always known!”

  Xavier stiffens. “He’s not your soul mate, Evie. He’s your inescapable.”

  “My what?”

  “Your inescapable. You’ve sworn to protect the world from him. You fight him in every one of his lifetimes.”

  “Emil is my inescapable?”

  “Yes, but this time, I have to find a way to not only annihilate his body, but also destroy his malicious soul so that he cannot return. I know that now. It will be my mission, Evie,” Xavier answers, barely breathin
g. “I will eliminate him for you, and then we will be together for eternity.”

  BRENNUS

  Me eyes open ta a high ceiling above; exposed stone beams hold up a barrel-vaulted ceiling, shedding its discolored, crumbling plaster. Light from several half-boarded-over windows dispels da shadows from da room. I bring me hand ta da bridge of me nose, pinching it in an attempt ta ease da ache dere. I feel as if I’ve slept in da arms of an aingeal, only ta awake in Hell. Me head spins around as me blood jumps tru me. I’m na accustomed ta dat—me blood flowing freely in me veins—liquid and on fire. Me heart does na pump it; it still lies dormant in me chest. Nevertheless, blood is circulating tru out me body now, making me stronger dan ever before. ’Tis just one of da ways I’m different since Genevieve changed me.

  Rising upon me elbow, it sinks inta da soft mattress. One corner of da clean, linen sheet comes untucked; I ignore it. I wait until da pressure in my head eases, and den I drop me hand ta see Finn eyeing me from his poppy-colored, winged chair in a corner of da bedroom. Finn had located dis defunct seminary in a falling down part of Detroit—Genevieve’s city.

  “Any problems?” I ask Finn, wondering why he’s here in me bedroom.

  “Plenty, but none pressing,” he replies, shooting out da white cuffs of his dress shirt from beneath his black suit jacket before smoothing his dark sleeve.

  “How far are we wi’ da move?”

  He smiles. “We’re better dan expected—’tis a sound location—easier ta keep hidden dan our place in Ireland.” I nod. Da six-story Norman Gothic Revival building Finn found for us is spacious, constructed of brown ledge stone wi’ smooth granite window sill courses. Me room is on the top floor of a turret of sorts wi’ a pointed copper roof. Finn chose the location because it has several attached buildings in da same style. Dey encompass a few city blocks. At da same time, da structures afford us a great deal of privacy in dis abandoned neighborhood.

  “Any complaints?” I ask.

  “Truth be told, dere were a few,” Finn says wi’ a barely suppressed grin.

  “Eh?” I respond with a raise of me eyebrow.

  Finn’s eyes twinkle. “Some o’ da neighbors took offense ta da paleness of me flesh.”

  Both of me eyebrows rise now. “Whah did ye say ta dat?” I smirk despite me aching head.

  Wi’ a cheeky grin, he replies, “I told dem ’tis difficult ta get a tan when one’s undead.”

  “How did dey take it?”

  “Och, Brady ate dem before dey could respond. He was leppin’ wi’ da hunger.”

  I shake me head. “Anyting else?”

  “I put Comgan in charge of da renovations. Da roof is sound, jus missing a wee bit o’ da slate. In all, ’twas a grand structure at one time: now ’tis a skeleton whose flesh has been ravished by poverty. Dermot has layered spells over da location. I had Erskine aid him. No craitur should be able ta detect our presence here. Since we bought da property straight out, na even da humans will bother us.”

  I rub me eyes and nod. “Dat’s good, Finn.”

  Finn studies me before he asks, “Do ye need anyting, Brenn? Is dere someting I can do for ye?”

  “How long have I been gone?”

  “Asleep?” He shrugs. “Na long—a few hours.” He leans back in his seat. His calm, regal eyes miss nuting.

  “Ye’ve been here da whole time?”

  “I have.” He nods as if he hasn’t anyting better ta do. His black hair falls forward onto his brow.

  “I can take care of meself, Finn,” I mutter, trying ta clear me head.

  “Even so.”

  “Ye plannin’ ta guard me forever, brudder?” I ask.

  “If need be.”

  “Ye worried one of da fellas will try ta kill me in me sleep?”

  “Ye do smell delicious—very much like Genevieve at da moment—ye may want ta go wash off her scent before someone decides ta make ye his queen. And ta yer point, ye resemble such a peaceful craitur when ye’re nappin’. ’Tis a wonder I do na end ye meself,” he says with a grin. His green eyes, so reminiscent of our family’s, glow wi’ humor. Dere’s na a bit o’ malice in his voice, jus mirth. In truth, he’d protect me at his own peril, and I’d protect him at moin.

  “Do ye plan ta be around whenever I close me eyes?”

  “Ye sleep too deeply. Ye’re like a wan,” he says critically.

  “Ye try sleepin’ lightly after all of dese centuries wi’out—’tis no easy task.”

  “Ye’re too auld, Brenn” he teases me.

  “I might be at dat.”

  “Will ye speak of Genevieve or no? I’ve a care ta know how our queen fairs.”

  “She’s grand.”

  “Is she now?”

  “Da divine aingeals have her in a wintry, mountain enclave—’tis very Palladian—ye’d approve.”

  “So Emil hasn’t taken her?”

  “Na for da moment.”

  “Shall we go and collect her den?” Finn asks, but he seems in no hurry ta move from where he is.

  “Dere’s more ta it. Atwater is dere wi’ her,” I say. Finn’s demeanor changes as if I had told him dat a fella had touched his Molly. Quick as a click, he’s on his feet by me side wi’ a killer-shine is his eyes.

  “Ye’re sure ’twas him?”

  “I did na see him wi’ me own eyes. Genevieve told me he sought her out.”

  Finn’s knuckles stand out on his fists, ready ta be bloodied. “Whah does da bugger want wi’ Genevieve? Does he have a plan for her as well?”

  “He’s an aingeal. Dey all have plans, one way or da other,” I say.

  “Except dat Atwater’s plans never come ta fruition.”

  “Do dey na? I seem ta recall dat we’re both of us Gancanagh and Aodh is no longer in charge.”

  “Dat is da deal ye made wi’ him—da one ta protect me. ’Twas na da deal I made wi’ him. And he should never have led ye ta us! Ye’d never have found me on yer own and ye would have been better off!”

  “I’d na be better off knowin’ dat me brudder was at da mercy of a sadistic monster. I could na live like dat.”

  “So ye did na live! Ye became undead. ’Tis na whah Atwater promised!”

  “How would I know da deal ye made wi’ him if ye never speak o’ it?”

  “Ye were never ta be a part of it!”

  “Again, Finn, a part of whah?”

  “It does na matter. He lied ta me,” Finn says bitterly.

  “How did he lie?”

  “He was supposed ta protect me family from Aodh and in exchange I’d...”

  “Ye’d whah? Whah happened between ye two?”

  “Ye want ta know whah happened? I lost me soul. Beyond dat, ye do na need ta know.” An invisible serpent has wound itself around his neck in a strangle hold. He’ll na say more. I know it well enough; we’ve had dis conversation a tousand times.

  “Foin. Do na tell me. I’ll jus say dis: Heaven knows all o’ yer weakness—dey know jus whah will make ye do deir bidding. ’Tis after ye agree dat dey cut all da ropes from beneath ye and let ye fall.”

  “Sometimes ye have ta do bad ta do good—hide a wave in da tide,” Finn says.

  “Did ye mean ta fall den?”

  “Did ye?” he counters.

  I shrug. “Dere was no help for it.”

  “Ye say dat Atwater is wi’ Genevieve?” He’s lookin’ right tru me now.

  “He is.”

  “When do we go?” Finn asks wi’ a new urgency.

  “Whah is yer plan?”

  He turns and walks ta da window, yanking away a board covering it. “I jus want ta have a chat wi’ Atwater when we collect our queen, ’tis all.” Cold air wafts inta da room. I rise from da bed and come ta stand next ta Finn. Outside, there are crumbling buildings painted a dull shade of gray tagged wi’ neon-colored graffiti. Nuting stirs wi’out, save da fellas. Da humans who resided nearby have either been instructed ta leave after being touched or dey’ve become food.

  “Whah do ye know a
bout our souls?”

  Finn shrugs. “Why would I know anyting about our souls? Dey’re in Sheol.”

  ’Tis true enough, whah Finn says, but I know me brudder; he keeps his own secrets. “I saw me soul once again, when Genevieve changed me.”

  Finn leans forward, his hands curl on the windowsill. “Why have ye na told me dis before?” He straightens and glares at me. “Did yer soul speak ta ye?”

  “He did.”

  “Whah did he say?” Finn asks almost breathlessly.

  “Whah deal did ye make wi’ Atwater?”

  Finn’s jaw tenses. He glances out da window once more. “I can na tell ye.”

  I nod. “So dere was a deal—signed in blood.”

  “Whah did yer soul say?” Finn asks again.

  “He had a message for me queen. He said to tell her dat he’d know her by note. Do ye know whah dat means?”

  “I do na,” he admits, but he can na hold back a smile as it spreads his lips.

  “Why are ye smilin’?”

  “Genevieve truly is da queen.”

  I grunt. “Did ye doubt it?”

  He shakes his head no. “I was sure she was da one da moment she killed Keegan—in da caves—’twas as if time stood still and da life dat I’d known for so long was no more.”

  “She gave ye a purpose again.”

  He stares at me before he says, “She did. Ye felt it, too?”

  “I did,” I say wi’ a perfunctory nod.

  “I was na sure. I tought maybe ye jus fell in love wi’ her.”

  “Is dere a difference?” I ask.

  “Dere is—she’s here ta do a job.”

  “Is she?” I ask wi’ a lift of me brow.

  “Ye know dat she is.”

  “And ye’re here ta help her wi’ dat?” I ask.

  “I am here, let us leave it at dat.”

  “Whah will ye discuss wi’ Atwater when ye see him?”

  “Maybe I jus want ta catch up. Have a cupper wi’ him.”

  “Ye do na drink tea,” I point out. “Is it revenge ye’re after?”

  “And if ’twas, would ye begrudge me it?”

  “I would na,” I admit. “I’d help ye, ye know dat.”