Iniquity (The Premonition Series Book 5)

by Amy A. Bartol

  The cat-like eyes of the Cherub stare at Reed as he speaks in Angel, “Are you responsible for the death of this human?” He indicates Emil’s broken body on the cobbled stone beneath them.

  “I am,” Reed admits.

  “You have violated Angel law.”

  “I have.”

  “The penalty of that is death. This is not unknown to you.”

  “I understand the consequences of my actions.”

  “Why would you surrender your life so foolishly?”

  “Was it foolish to intervene? I don’t see it anymore.” His eyes hold centuries of weariness. “I’m divine. It’s my duty to fight Sheol…and they’re winning. You need only step outside to know that. Innocence is slaughtered in the most horrific ways imaginable.”

  “You cannot change the laws!”

  “Why not? What are they for if they don’t protect the innocent?”

  “All you have done is create a debt to iniquity!”

  “That’s not all I’ve done. I gave Simone a few lasts breaths of peace in this world.”

  “Why would you do that? She was dying anyway! She was going home.”

  “I’ve watched her as I’ve stalked my prey—Byzantyne—his evil guardian angel.” Reed gestures toward Emil’s lifeless body. “She’s worth saving. This world needs her. My only regret is that I failed! I’m too late.”

  “Why would you keep her here? Why would you change her destiny?”

  Reed hesitates. He looks in my direction. His jaw sets. “I…needed her here.”

  “You needed…you love the soul?” The Cherub asks incredulously. “You wanted her to stay with you!”

  “Love? What do I know of love? I’m merely a Power, isn’t that right?” Reed asks. His eyebrows draw together. “But I’d gladly give up my life to save her an instant of pain. So you tell me, what is that?”

  “Not your job.”

  “It should be.”

  “A payment to Sheol must be rendered for this divine breech of Angel law. You will pay the debt when the Thermopylae delegates arrive. We will end you in front of them.” Reed is stoic, accepting his fate and facing death as if it were a foregone conclusion. Divine angels swarm him, preparing to tear him apart the moment the order is given. He glances in my direction once more. Our eyes lock on one another’s.

  I raise Reed’s crushed, gray feather into the air. With my dying breath, I utter a single word in Angel, “Champion.”

  My spirit lifts from my body. I gaze back at the beaten shell of a crushed young woman, lifeless upon a bed of straw. Reed’s feather is still clutched in her gnarled fingers. Surprise shows on some of the angel faces at my ability to liberate myself from my body so quickly without the assistance of a Reaper.

  The air grows denser with the swirl of a storm and the heaviness of unspent electricity. Crackling thunder cuts the air outside. A black booted figure emerges from the darkness. Steam rises off the rain-sodden head of the Seraph. I cannot smell him, but if the wrinkled noses of the divine angels are any indication, then he must reek. Even so, he’s brutally handsome with his slicked-back black hair and dark brown eyes. Bare-chested, his crimson wings rest behind him in a casual mien, as if he hadn’t just walked into a nest of killers who’d be only too happy to end him in the most painful way possible. He extracts a handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers. I recognize his attire as being part of a British officer’s uniform — similar to what Xavier wears. I try to stifle the need to ask him where he procured the uniform.

  Wiping beads of water from his face, Byzantyne peers up at me. He shakes the water from his wings as he lofts into the air. “Simone,” he says as he approaches me. “You look divine.” His smile is rueful.

  I feel the need to shiver, even though I don’t possess a body at the moment. “Byzantyne, forgot your umbrella?”

  “I was in a hurry. I wasn’t expecting this summons. Something went awry, did it?”

  “Depends on how you look at it.”

  “This is, indeed, interesting timing. I just left Xavier. He isn’t faring well, I fear. I daresay he won’t be joining you. Ever.”

  “You know what I remember the most about all of my afterlives, Byzantyne?” I ask.

  “That I nearly always win?”

  “That you enjoy lying to me.”

  “I would never lie to you. I have only the utmost respect for you. I always tell you that one day I will possess your soul.”

  “Why am I so important to you?”

  “Because you’re important to Xavier…or at least you were. Sorry he couldn’t meet you at your rendezvous at the bridge. He was otherwise engaged.”

  Fear makes my glowing light pulse in thumping beats. I try to control it. The light from me strobes Byzantyne’s face, making his features more pronounced, and then deeply shadowed. “I never made it to the bridge.”

  “I can see that,” Byzantyne replies. He turns in circles, assessing the holy host of angels before him.

  “Xavier had become more and more predictable the longer he stayed with you. He allowed us to kill your soul mate right away in this round. It wasn’t even fun for us. Casimir just let the chlorine gas take Nicolas. You should’ve seen it though, Simone—Nicolas clutching your picture as he struggled to take his last breath. In that way, it was an exquisite death.”

  I try to ignore the gruesome images that evokes. “I know Xavier is alive. I would feel it if he weren’t.”

  “Would you? I wonder how long it will take me to inspire such loyalty in you when you become mine.”

  “I’ll never be yours.”

  “That sounds like a challenge.” Without looking away from me, Byzantyne barks out, “Why has no one released my property from his meat sack?” he indicates Emil’s dead body on the ground.

  A Throne responds, “That’s not our concern. It can rot in there for all we care.”

  Byzantyne’s eyelids hood, and then he gazes at me. “It’s a little embarrassing that you can transition so easily, Simone, and Emil cannot. But,” he sighs, “Emil makes up for his shortcomings in sheer brutality, wouldn’t you agree?” He’s playing with me. He’s in a cheerful mood, as if he has a horrible secret that he just can’t wait for me to find out. I feel like I’m melting. What if what he said about Xavier is true?

  Byzantyne directs his attention at the divine angels. “Which one of you has stolen this life from Sheol?” he demands.

  “I am responsible for sending your killer home early,” Reed replies without emotion.

  “A Power has gone rogue! What has this world come to when you cannot trust a divine Power to play by the rules?” Byzantyne shrugs. “Alfred!”

  A very slight Reaper angel slips in from the darkness outside. He’s maybe the scrawniest angel I’ve ever seen. Condescending laughter comes from the divine angels when they see him slink in with rounded shoulders, clearly terrified to be there. Byzantyne gives him a haughty look. “Transition the soul from his prison.”

  Alfred’s translucent dragonfly wings buzz in agitation. He runs a hand through his wet, blond hair. Rainwater drips from his pale, pointed chin. He moves to Emil. Wielding his scythe with the flair of a Samurai, he cuts through Emil’s aura to split it wide open. Most souls, when they emerge from their bodies, are luminous, the brighter the light, the more vibrant the soul. There’s an absence of illumination from Emil as he claws his way from his corpse. He’s a black hole devouring radiance.

  Humiliation and rage ravage Emil’s features. He turns these emotions on Alfred. “WHERE WERE YOU? I HAVE BEEN DEAD FOR HOURS!” This is a blatant exaggeration. It has been less than one hour. In the old days, it could take days of languishing in rotting flesh before being emancipated. It speaks to his Sheol status that an hour now seems an eternity to him. He must be very important to them—especially high on the evil food chain.

  Alfred doesn’t cower from Emil. His vindictive glare and pinched mouth promise retaliation. The Reaper raises his scythe, spinning it around with deadly precision. “Al
fred,” Byzantyne’s contempt for the Reaper is in his tone. “Do not threaten my protégé.” Alfred’s head tilts forward with involuntary submission, but his blue eyes still stare unblinking at Emil.

  Emil shifts his blind animal fury to me. “You were mine! I had you this time! You would’ve fallen! It was inevitable!” I don’t find this a bit amusing, but I force a smile as I extend a luminous limb, turning my arm over in front of me to assess its shine.

  “I don’t think that’s quite true. I seem to be lighting up the room.”

  “You will dim when I play with you in Sheol,” Emil rages.

  “If I ever fell from grace, I don’t believe Byzantyne would allow you near me. I’d replace you as his favorite.” I force another smile. “Maybe you shouldn’t try so hard to make me fall.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t try so hard to stop me. Byzantyne is much more powerful than Xavier.”

  “Xavier will crush him one day and you’ll be left all alone to fend for yourself in Sheol.” My words elicit fear in Emil; it comes off of him as black smoke. My attention draws away from him as someone comes through the door below us.

  Two figures emerge from the shadows: one is a Cherub and the other is a Seraph. The Cherub’s blond hair plasters to his head. Rainwater and a thick cake of mud soak his British uniform trousers. Robin-egg blue wings spread wide behind him. In his arms is the nearly lifeless body of my guardian angel. Xavier is a mess; cut up and broken, blood pours from a multitude of wounds. The blue-winged angel takes a few steps nearer and nearly collapses. Other Cherubim are upon them, lifting Xavier from him and laying my wounded angel on the ground where they work to save his life. I want to go to him, but I find that I’m unable to move. Fear has me rooted were I am. He cannot die. Not Xavier. Not like this!

  “You were saying, Simone?” Emil chuckles. The coldness of his soul reaches out to me, trying to pull some of the heat of my being to him. “I don’t think Byzantyne is too worried about Xavier ever defeating him.”

  Byzantyne isn’t paying any attention to either of us. He’s flying toward Reed in the center of the room. The evil Seraph stops right in front of the Power angel, wearing the most ferocious snarl that I’ve ever seen from him. “I will eviscerate you, Power! You have robbed me of the one thing that has meant anything to me!” Normally, he’s unemotional except for an occasional look of disdain. This uncharacteristic display of feeling has me reeling.

  Reed tilts his head to the side, studying Byzantyne. “You didn’t get to finish your kill.” Reed gestures to where Xavier lies writhing in agony, his beautiful red wings nearly shredded from him. “You were called away—called here. You couldn’t linger over the Seraph like you wanted—and a quick death was out of the question for him, not after the length of time you’ve been stalking one another. You wanted a sweeter revenge for your prey. You thought you’d be able to come back for him—after you took care of whatever you were being summoned to do.”

  Byzantyne’s face turns a startling shade of red. “This is your fault!” Spittle from his mouth flies in every direction as he shouts and points his finger at Reed. “You brought me here!”

  Reed is calm. “You couldn’t ignore the summons. You had to come because I killed the malevolent soul you were charged with protecting when you weren’t looking. How does that make you feel…having your prey snatched away from you at the last possible moment?” Reed taunts.

  “You will know! I will make you feel every second of torment that I can wring from you!” I’ve never seen Byzantyne so angry in all of my lifetimes. The realization dawns on me that Reed has done more than just spare me pain, he has inadvertently saved Xavier’s life, too.

  “You won’t.” I try to control my fear so that no one sees it. “You won’t hurt him.”

  Byzantyne swings around, pinning me where I am with a horrible sneer. “Will I not?” How do you propose to stop me? It’s a debt and I intend to exact more than just a pound of flesh!” To the angels holding Reed, he says, “You can leave him to me. I plan to take my time making him cease to be.”

  “You can’t kill him.” Serenity eludes me, so I pretend to be calm.

  Byzantyne’s hand forms a claw. With his back to me, unwilling as he is to look away from Reed, he pushes his claw out in my direction. “Do not think to interfere, Simone. There’s nothing you can do. His fate is sealed!”

  I glance at Reed. He’s watching me. He shakes his head almost unperceptively, warning me not to speak. I ignore him. Instead, my eyes return to look at the back of Byzantyne’s head. I call out in Angel, “CHAMPION!”

  Byzantyne, who has been bent toward Reed, slowly straightens. I can’t see his expression until he looks over his shoulder at me. He’s stunned. The entire room quiets. “What did you say?” he growls.

  “I challenge you for this angel’s life. I will be his champion.”

  A laugh of disbelief escapes from Byzantyne. “You challenge me? For this.” He waves his hand in front of Reed with a scornful look.

  “No!” Reed’s jaw clenches as he throws a ferocious look in my direction.

  “Yes,” I reply simply.

  “You. Challenge. Me?” Byzantyne asks as he turns toward me and stabs his chest with his finger. His exquisite Seraphim wings become almost heart-shaped for a moment.

  “That’s right,” I affirm.

  Byzantyne’s mood changes, he titters as if he’s heard the best joke of his life, but cannot believe it. He flies toward me. Reed wrenches his arms, attempting to free himself from the Cherubim holding him. They won’t let him go. Right before Byzantyne gets to me, the Cherub who brought Xavier in inserts himself between us. His blue feathers, spattered with mud, move to keep him in stasis in the air. He blocks my view of Byzantyne. Byzantyne growls at him. “I have negotiations with this soul!” he warns the Cherub.

  “I will mediate the terms,” the Cherub replies. I peek at Byzantyne from behind the angel.

  “And who are you?” Byzantyne looks down his nose at the blue-winged angel.

  “My name is Atwater.”

  “Move aside, Atwater. You interfere.”

  Atwater holds his ground. His wingspan widens to keep Byzantyne from seeing me. “There are no promises made from Paradise without me to mediate them. You either exact your vengeance on the Power or you allow me to agree to terms on behalf of Heaven. There are no other options. Choose.”

  “You would not last a moment in Sheol,” Byzantyne snarls.

  “We’re not in Sheol,” Atwater replies.

  “Let us discuss terms then. We can bury you in the weeds later.”

  “Excellent choice,” Atwater says. He moves so that he’s beside me. His blue wings flap effortlessly, keeping him beside me as if we were standing on the ground.

  Byzantyne has managed to squelch all emotion now. He’s every inch the horrifying, unfeeling monster that I remember from my past deaths. He’s always nearby when I’m killed—waiting, hoping that this time I’ll be his. Face to face with this ancient Seraph, I begin to doubt my every decision. What I’ve done hits me like a slow-moving bullet. I try to hide my growing terror at the cunning gleam in Byzantyne’s brown eyes as they devour me. He’s warming to the idea of having me at his mercy. He’ll enjoy this much more than destroying an anonymous Power angel. If there was ever a time to attack, it’s now. I have to set my trap just right. I need him to agree to every point I make. He needs to believe I’m caught up in his web.

  “So you’re offering your soul for his life?” Byzantyne’s low, menacing voice jolts me out of my thoughts. He indicates Reed with a gesture over his shoulder.

  My eyes lift to Reed’s green ones. He struggles to get loose from the Cherubim. “Do not do this! I am prepared to die!” Reed orders. His regal charcoal-colored wings flail with effort. He is maybe the most beautiful angel I’ve ever seen. Elegant and passionate in a way that Power angels almost never are. They’re normally robotic precision. Ready to do their duty—obsessed with killing—anxious to destroy anything the
y deem evil—drone-like, but not this one. He’s a knight.

  My attention turns back to Byzantyne. “Yes, I’ll champion this angel.”

  “You believe you’ll win!” Byzantyne’s eyes glisten with hunger. “Still so naïve, even after all of this time. You can’t possibly defeat me!” His enormous chest puffs as he hits his fist against it. The sound is a drumbeat.

  I raise my glowing chin. “Then you don’t mind if I ask for whatever I want should I win?”

  His eyebrows lower, settling at an arrogant angle. “Not at all. I’ll enjoy hearing what would make you do this, aside from ridiculous naiveté, I might add.”

  “Well, then…first, when I win, Reed will ascend to Paradise. He gets to go home.”

  Byzantyne’s eyes widen. He looks back at Reed. He did not see that coming. “I can only erase his debt. I cannot give you his ascension,” Byzantyne replies.

  “No, you can’t, but he can.” I look at Atwater next to me.

  “It will be done,” Atwater agrees immediately—maybe too quickly. I would step on his foot if I had a body and we weren’t hovering above the ground. I try not to look at Atwater. His easy response will make Byzantyne counter.

  Byzantine peers at me thoughtfully. “But if you lose, the Power ceases to be.”

  I want to dispute this, but it will only make the wicked Seraph dig in harder for it. Byzantyne looks baffled by my first point. I need to keep him unbalanced.

  “Second, I don’t ever want to have to return here to fight Emil.” I gesture toward him, watching his handsomely ugly face twist with rage once more. “He never gets to come back for any more lifetimes. He has to stay buried in Sheol.”

  “She can’t do that!” Emil lurches forward.