“What is our next move?” Zephyr asks. I lean back in my chair. “When the sun comes up, we meet Brennus, find the magical Faerie weapon, and collect our undead army for war.
The sun rises, shining light through the restaurant window. I didn’t sleep, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not tired. My body is changing, becoming more and more angelic as time goes on. After our discussion last night, everyone found his or her own places to sit and talk. Reed and I gravitated to a corner near the back. We’re sharing the same side of a large booth. His back is to the wall and I’m propped against his chest. He strokes my hair, occasionally wrapping it around his finger.
“We should probably go,” I whisper to Reed. His arm around my waist tightens. Pressing his lips to my hair, he shows no sign of letting me go.
“Just a few more minutes.” The deep resonance of his voice rumbles through me. I relent, easing my head back against his chest. We both know that once we leave here, it’s the end of us. My lips take an ugly shape as I try to come to terms with that fact. I’m not going to cry, though. I don’t want that to be what he remembers about our time here.
Phaedrus opens the front door and walks outside without his coat on, into the falling snow. He sits in the snow bank by the street, scrubbing his face with icy handfuls of it. Zephyr walks over to us with his eyes on the window. “We have to go before Phaedrus melts.”
I make a sound that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Okay,” I agree. Reed says nothing. Zephyr nods and walks away, rousing the others to action as he goes. I lift my head from Reed’s chest and scoot to the end of the bench seat. Standing, I look back at my angel. I’ve only seen that look on his face one time before, it was when he knew Simone was dying and there was nothing he could do to save her—to save me. I try to smile, but I can’t. I hold out my hand to him. He takes it in his and presses it to his lips. He says in Angel, “I’ll fight for you and with you until my last breath.” It’s a vow he has made to me before, just days ago in Crestwood.
I speak in Angel, “Whatever comes we face it together—as one.”
“As one,” he agrees. He gets to his feet. With his hand in mine, I lead the way to the door. I don’t have a coat and neither does Reed, but it’s a short dash to Xavier’s SUV still parked outside. Reed holds the door open for me and I climb into the vehicle. He turns it on. Russell opens the door of a black SUV for Anya before he goes to collect Phaedrus from the snowdrift. He pauses at my window. I open it. “I got the Heat Miser,” he says, indicating Phaedrus with the point of his chin. “Do you know where to go?”
“Yes, you can follow us if Phaedrus lets you.”
“Okay. I’ll tell Buns to follow me.”
Zephyr, Preben, Buns, and Brownie get into the Golden Goose. Russell runs back to them, relaying the message, and then he gets into his black vehicle.
Reed pulls away from the curb. We resemble a small funeral procession as I direct Reed to drive to the shadier part of town. Passing rows of abandoned houses and buildings, we’re getting close. I know it because there’s no one on the streets for a couple of blocks. Then, I feel them. The coldness I associated with the Gancanagh when I first met them no longer exists for me. Since Brennus bit me, the awareness is more of a familiar tingle raising the hair on the back of my neck. Fellas watch us move closer to the seminary they inhabit. I don’t see them, but I know they’re there. That means they’re either under orders not to approach me, or they are afraid of me. Either way suits me just fine at the moment. I don’t plan to cajole them into fighting for me. I plan to lead from a position of power.
Reed pulls up and parks in the circular drive in front of the defunct seminary. He turns off the car. The view of the building from the passenger side window is gorgeous. The structure is old and gothic—something out of a fairytale. The fellas have been working hard to return it to its former glory. Snow has been cleared away from the cobblestone walk and the grand staircase in front. Intricate wrought-iron handrails lead up to heavy wooden doors. One of the doors opens. Brennus emerges from the shadowy foyer. He looks every inch a king in a dark suit and an exquisite black coat. Finn follows him. He’s similarly attired, a slightly paler version of his older brother. As they walk toward our car, wind stirs their black hair, causing it to fall and play on their foreheads.
When Brennus reaches us, he opens my door for me. Extending his gloved hand, he says, “Welcome home,” and waits for me to take it. I place my hand in his and allow him to help me. As soon as I’m out of the car, I let go of him. Standing beside Brennus and Finn in the cold, I wait for Reed to join us. Snow floats in the gray, overcast sky, making everything appear magical. Brennus takes off his coat and drapes it around my shoulders. The heavy fabric is warm from his body heat, which surprises me a little. He’s different, physically anyway.
Reed approaches us. Brennus hardly gives Reed a second look as he says, “We have a truce until dis is over, aingeal.”
“The moment that it is, you should worry,” Reed replies. He stands beside me. I look over at him and try to reassure him with a smile that falls flat.
Russell and Anya join us on the walkway. Russell doesn’t look happy to be here. He stands rigidly in front of Anya, ready to defend her at any hint of trouble. Anya reaches out and touches his side. Russell wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her beside him. Brennus’ sea foam-colored eyes rest on Russell. “Da other, I see dat ye’ve recovered from yer wounds. Ye and yer aingeal look grand.”
“It didn’t take me long to heal after I pulled your knife from my belly. But I guess I gotta thank you for savin’ us.”
“Consider it a debt paid for healing me queen.” He looks past Russell and Anya to Buns and Brownie. “Ah, da Reapers have arrived—and more Powers—yer entourage is growing, mo chroí.” He smiles at me, indicating Zephyr and Preben, but then his eyes darken and his eyebrows clash together. Without warning, his fangs engage with a click. Stepping in front of me, he growls, “Someting is wrong.” His back is to me. Finn gets in front of me as well, ready to defend me from whatever Brennus senses. I can’t see around the wall of Faerie.
Reed remains relaxed beside me. He takes my hand in his, trying not to laugh. “What you sense is Phaedrus. He’s a Virtue. He came with us to help us locate something.”
Brennus relaxes, turning to look at Reed. “Ye couldn’t have mentioned dat before I sensed da Virtue?”
It suddenly occurs to me that Virtue angels are invisible to most beings. It’s only because I’m part angel that I can see him. “Wait. You can’t see Phaedrus?” I ask.
Brennus retracts his fangs. “I can na see him, but I can feel him. At da moment, da Virtue is radiating enough heat to burn da place down.”
Phaedrus strips off his shirt, exposing his skin to the icy air. He wraps his shirt in his hands. “He’s right. I need to get inside and locate the item we came here to collect.”
“Can you hear him?” I ask.
“No,” Brennus replies.
“You can’t even see his clothes?” I press on, still hung up on the notion.
“Na if he’s touching dem. He has a magic of his own,” Brennus replies. He makes a gesture with his arm, “Shall we go in and find whah ye’ve come here ta collect? I do na tink I can bear da suspense much longer.” He leads the way to the doors. He’s beside me after I enter the foyer. The inside is breathtaking. It’s so much crisper though through my own eyes than through the eyes of my clone.
This is the cathedral part of the seminary. Intricately crafted wooden pews flank a long marble floor. The aisle leads to an apse. Instead of an altar there are two enormous thrones. I face Phaedrus. “Where are you being pulled?” I ask.
He walks up the aisle. “This way,” he replies over his shoulder. His owlish wings eject from his back and unfurl. I follow him. His wings stretch out wide as he approaches the apse and stands under the colorful light from the stained-glass window. He takes flight, soaring around the carved stone images of saints recessed into the walls
. He lingers near the back wall. “It’s somewhere…” He lands back on his feet. He drops to one knee, feeling the marble floor. His deft fingers search for a crease.
Brennus clears his throat. Is dere someting wrong?” he asks me.
“What’s beneath the apse?” I ask.
“Dat would be me archive. Would ye like ta see it?”
Phaedrus scrapes the floor with his fingernails. “Tell him yes.”
“Yes,” I relay to Brennus. The Gancanagh king waves his gloved hand in a graceful gesture. The floor beneath Phaedrus moves. The Virtue flies upward as a passage in the floor unfolds to reveal a set of descending stairs.
“You do love your tunnels,” I murmur.
“Dat is someting da religious clergy and I have in common. Maybe na da only ting.” Phaedrus does not ask for an invitation to the world below. He lands in front of the stairs and descends. We follow him down into an elaborate round stone chamber connected to several hallways that lead away from it in a sunburst pattern. Thousands of magical Faerie weapons line the walls of this room. Gleaming glass cases, like coffins, display shiny metal daggers, swords, and axes. They’re masterpieces that have forgotten how to sing. In the center of the circular room, I recognize Brennus’ Faerie armor; it holds the long battle-axe that he gave to me. I walk to the armor and touch it. It feels cold and lonely—the most extraordinary things usually are. It’s the consequence of being timeless.
Finn is beside me. On my other side, Phaedrus passes his hands over the armor next to Brennus’ armor. I grasp the etched silver and gold shaft of the battle-axe Brennus made so long ago. The metal vibrates and comes to life. Its music whispers to me a concerto of hope.
“This.” Phaedrus sighs with relief as sweat falls from his brow. He holds a battle hammer that has two faces. One side is a hammerhead; the other is sharper and sickle-shaped. The Virtue extends the weapon for me to take. My eyes widen in surprise. It’s Finn’s. I glance at him. His pale-green eyes connect with mine and I know. It’s always been Finn. He’s here for a purpose and his brother wouldn’t let him fall alone. Brennus came to help him.
I touch the sculptured silver; it’s like the living dead. It has been waiting forever for me to be born—for me to come for them both. As my fingers move over it, the weapon begins to sing. It’s not the elegant song of Brennus’ weapon. No, this one has a beat meant for crushing. Finn’s eyes squeeze closed when he hears its music. He drops down to one knee in front of me, bowing his head. “Me queen,” he says in a reverent voice. “I am yours to command.”
“Finn.” I rest his battle hammer against his ancient armor. Placing my hand on Finn’s shoulder, the heavy fabric feels wet from melted snow. He looks up at me and I gesture for him to stand.
He does. Getting to his feet, he says, “I made dis for ye—many, many years ago, Genevieve, before ye were ever born.”
“Why?”
“Dere once was a young Faerie prince from a powerful family—he was a de Graham. At da time, dere were Faeries aplenty in da world and everyone knew da name. One day, an aingeal appeared ta dis prince. Da Cherub told da lad a tale of epic adventure. He said dis prince would face a terrible demon and fall to him. He told da lad he would suffer for his sacrifice, but in return, da demon would be slayed and his family would have peace. So dis prince agreed ta meet dis terrible demon, Aodh. He agreed ta sacrifice his life and da light of his soul for his family. Da aingeal told him dat one day a queen would come and she would rescue him from da horror of Sheol. Do ye know who dat lad was?”
“You.”
“Me. Da aingeal’s name was Atwater.”
“Atwater? Brennus’ guardian angel?”
“Da very same.”
“Why you?” I ask. “Why not Brennus?”
“Why me? Because I can make a wicked weapon, Genevieve. But, ye’re wrong about one ting. ’Tis Brennus, too. Atwater lied ta me. He told me dat me family would be safe. But dat didn’t happen. Instead, he recruited me brudder as well for dis mission.”
“How long have you waited for me?” I whisper in anguish.
“Too long,” Finn replies.
I look from Finn to Brennus. There is sorrow in the king of the Gancanagh’s eyes. I gaze at the battle hammer next to me. “Do you know what it can do?” I ask, running my hand over the metal again. It sings some more. I lift my hand and the melody stops.
“It can kill anyting ye swing it at,” Finn replies. “Anyting.”
Brennus comes closer to us. Finn growls a warning at him. Brennus stops. He’s stunned by the aggressive response from his brother. “Finn?”
“Ye’ll na interfere wi’ her mission. I’ll na allow it,” Finn responds, his body rigid, ready to strike at anyone who gets too close to me.
“’Tis na me intention ta interfere, Finn,” Brennus replies. “I’m here ta help as well. I want her ta live more dan anyone.”
“Evie,” Reed says softly, extending his hand to me in a nonthreatening way, indicating that I should move to him. He wants to extract me from in between them. Finn turns his attention to Reed and narrows his eyes, assessing his threat level. Finn growls at my aspire, apparently finding something amiss in Reed as well.
“Finn,” I say, touching his arm. “It’s okay. We’re all here for the same purpose.”
“I’m na all here,” he says, and the torturous depths in his eyes make my heart squeeze and ache for him. “Ye’ve come ta fix dat.” A shiver runs through me to my marrow.
“What do you mean?”
“Me light—ye’re here ta free it.”
“Your light? I’m sorry—I don’t—”
“Me light is me soul. Whah was inside me was me light—most o’ whah was good and whah made me special—’tis Faerie. It has been gone ever since Aodh made me Gancanagh. I’ve been waitin’ for me queen ta arrive ta free me from dis and make me whole once more.”
“How do I do that, Finn?” I whisper, desperate for information.
“I do na know, but I know ye will na fail me.”
“How long have you known I was your queen?”
“I dared ta hope ’twas ye when Brennus touched ye at da library—dat night in Houghton. Ye did na lose ta us—ye did na become jus another wan. But ’twas when ye destroyed Keegan in da mines dat I truly began ta believe ’twas ye. I tought den dat if yer soul separated from ye, ’twould travel ta Sheol and free us.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all of this before?”
“I could na. Someting has always kept me from speaking of it—a magical force like da one we created wi’ yer contract. But ’tis gone now. I do na know how or why, but ’tis no longer a slipknot around me throat.”
Brennus speaks to Finn, “Atwater told me da only way ye’d survive, Finn, was if I went after ye. Ye’d already been made Gancanagh, but I didn’t know it. I went ta meet Aodh and yer whole crew had already been changed inta undead craiturs.
“I remember. I know whah ye did for me. Ye’re still me king, brudder,” Finn says, “but Genevieve is me queen. She’s da one I fight for now. She’s here ta dig up me soul and reunite it wi’ me bones.”
I look from Finn to Brennus. “We need to prepare for battle. We have to mobilize the fellas and get them to Crestwood—”
“’Tis done,” Finn says. “Most of our army is near dere already. We have a few hundred or so fellas here ta protect ye until we depart. Ye need ta prepare for da battle now. I’ve armor dat I made for ye.” I look at the medieval Faerie armor beside me. He catches me and smiles for the first time, “’Tis na like dat armor. Da armor I created for ye looks modern and will chafe ye less. His eyes travel over my entourage. “I have armor for all of ye and modern weapons charmed by our best spell crafters.”
“Thank you, Finn,” I murmur.
Brennus approaches me slowly, saying, “We stand little chance against all of da aingeals. We can fight da fallen or da divine, but we can na hold out against both of dem.”
“We won’t have to, Brennus. We’ll fight Emil.
Xavier and my father will bring their armies to help us.”
“Eh? Divine aingeals do na fight wi’ Gancanagh,” Brennus says in disbelief.
“They do now,” I reply.
“Emil will be hard ta kill, mo chroí. His brand of savagery is someting I’ve na seen in a long time. Do ye know whah he did when he found out da location of his soul mate on Earth in dis lifetime?” Brennus asks.
I pale, shaking my head. “No.” I glance at Russell to see that he’s listening. Russell’s mouth forms a grim line.
“When Emil was only fifteen, he went ta her home a few cities away. He knew who she was and whah she was because unlike ye, he had total recall of all of his previous lifetimes. His soul mate was still a little girl—only eleven. He found her and he butchered her. She was da other’s inescapable,” he gestures toward Russell, “but she does na exist anymore. Neither of ye will ever see her again in any lifetime. Emil used da weapon dat is meant ta kill ye, mo chroí, ta annihilate her soul as well as her angelic body.”
“Why would he do that?” I whisper.
“He does na want anyone ta be as powerful as him.”
I feel like I can’t breathe. Finn notices. He gestures to the hallway that leads from this room, “If you come dis way, I will get ye and yer friends outfitted wi’ whah ye’ll need ta face whah lies ahead.”
I nod. Finn picks up the battle hammer and ushers me to the adjacent corridor. We enter a room that has state-of-the-art weaponry and lightweight modern armor. “Dese weapons,” Finn says, spreading his arm wide, “have all been charmed. Da body armor has been enchanted ta repel other magic, but I do na know how ’twill fare against Emil. He’s exceptional when it comes ta conjuring energy. Ye have ta be spry and avoid his spells as much as possible.”
Iniquity (The Premonition Series Book 5) Page 26
