“Why does it do that?” I ask, as my heart sinks.
“Me soul is dere,” he admits. “Dis realm keeps me out so dat I can na rescue me soul. I’d hoped dat because me body is different now, ’twould let me in.”
“I have to go.” I do. If I don’t leave now, I may lose my courage and cross back into our world. I have to find Reed. I have to help him end this. I turn away from them.
“Genevieve, wait! Are ye still here?” Brennus asks.
“Yes,” I answer, hesitating.
“Remember whah me soul said. He’ll know ye by note!”
“Okay. I’ll remember,” I reply. “And, Brennus?”
“Whah?”
“I will find your soul and return him to you.”
He looks as if I just broke his heart into a million pieces. “Jus come back. Dat is all I want.”
Lifting my hammer as a light in the darkness, I turn away from Brennus and Finn and face a ghoulish city in the distance. The spires of the buildings appear to dance amid the fiery sky. I fly toward them in search of my angel and the one being who, for me, has always been inescapable.
Following the butterflies in my belly to search for Reed, I come to an elegant stone bridge. I’ve been taking a break from flying, choosing to run instead so I can rest my wings. I hesitate on the path. The bridge spans the twisting red river and is covered in a fine layer of ash that floats everywhere here. The stone road over it has the perfection of glass. Every brick is set at exactly the precise height. On the other side, in the distance, towering spires and graceful domes raise up to stab the scarlet sky. My hammer glows brighter, tugging me toward the bridge. I know you want to cross the water; I talk to it in my mind. But I don’t need a bridge to do it. I can fly.
It tugs me harder toward the bridge. I stumble forward. You indicated earlier that I should go to the city to find Emil. The city is that way. If I fly across the river, it’s a more direct route. It tugs me again in the direction of the bridge. Okay… I trudge on cautiously.
I’m not alone here. The harrowing creatures around me are real. They’re not ghostly or made of light, like souls are when they emerged from Sheol to Earth. Here, they’re one hundred percent solid—flesh, bone, sinew, scales, claws, and teeth. Because of the weapon I carry and the fact that I’m camouflaged with invisibility, they all avoid my path. Whenever they get too close, they veer away, feeling the sting of the aura my hammer gives off. They’re also avoiding the bridge ahead, choosing to wade into the blood-red water rather than take the beautiful stone path. That means something.
Continuing on toward the bridge and the river, I pass a naked man with a robin’s head. He pecks at the abdomen of a frogman, eating his entrails. I have to swallow back the bile in my mouth. It’s not even just the sight of them that turns my blood to ice, it’s the shrill sounds they make. Some bray like goats or snort like swine. It makes my flesh run with goose bumps.
I feel another tug urging me forward, but this one is a different kind. This one comes from my abdomen. Butterflies. Scanning the area, I don’t see Reed; he’s still invisible to me in this realm while he wears his ring, but he has to be extremely close. I would call out to him, but I think that would make me too stupid to live.
Cinders fall from the sky, blown by the malodorous breeze. I hear a giggle near the bridge and have to quell the urge to crouch down. I know I’m invisible, but the creatures here are terrifying and my instinct to run from them is powerful.
Creeping forward, I find a little girl of five or six years old frolicking on the bridge. She has an enormous head that’s twice as big as it should be to be in proportion with her torso and legs. Skipping from side to side on the bridge, she leans over the parapet, her pigtails falling toward the red flow. A ripple of chilling giggles emits from her at the writhing corpse-like creatures dangling from hooks on its keystones. I recoil from the scene and almost scream when someone grasps my hand. Reed pulls me down in a crouch near the abutment of the bridge, hugging me. “Werree,” he whispers in my ear, pointing to the little girl-monster.
Now that our skin is in contact, I can see him. I throw my arms around him as best I can, considering I have a huge weapon in my grasp. “Reed,” I whisper.
“You’re so reckless!” Reed says, kissing me like he might die if he doesn’t. “Why did you come? You were supposed to stay with the army.” His lips tangle with mine again. His arms around me are almost unbearably tight.
“I’m your champion,” I murmur. I pull back to look into his lovely green eyes. “Stop trying to leave me out of this.”
He touches his forehead to mine. “I never wanted you to see this place. I wanted to show you Paradise.”
I cup his cheek with my hand. “I’ve been there. When we’re done here, Reed, paradise will be wherever you are.”
Reed pulls away from my embrace, but he slips his hand in mine once more. Leaning near my ear, his voice is low, “I’ve been tracking Emil. He’s going to that city ahead of us.”
“That’s what my hammer says, too.”
“Is your hammer speaking to you?” Reed asks in surprise.
“Yes. It’s so much like Finn, Reed. It’s him in weapon form.”
“We should go.” He gets out of his crouch, taking the stairs from the abutment up to the bridge and entering from the side. The little skipping demon doesn’t even notice us when we’re right beside her. I realize that her head is from some other kind of being because it has black eyes the size of saucers. I shiver. I swing my hammer at its head. It knocks the Werree’s real shadowy body out of this scarecrow carcass. The lifeless Werree falls over the side of the bridge.
Reed glances at the pile of doughy flesh hanging on the stone parapet. “Nice one,” he whispers, squeezing my hand.
I stop, pulling Reed back to me. His gaze follows mine. On the other side of the bridge, Brennus’ soul stands in front of several scary-looking Faeries. His eyes are milk-white, as if a film covers them; I can just make out the green of his irises underneath. White wings rise out of his back and spike at sharp points. His skin is pallid and drawn, especially under his eyes, but his body is solid, like he toils with it daily. The ragged tunic-style clothes he’s wearing are from another realm and possibly another time, too. In his hands, he clutches a battle-axe similar to the one the king of the Gancanagh possesses on Earth, except this one glows with Faerie script the color of thistle.
Beside Brennus’ soul is the soul of his brother. My weapon tugs my arm, wanting to lead me to the fallen Finn. Behind the two brothers are the souls of other Faeries that I recognize. My heart breaks when I see Declan’s soul. He’s somewhat like his Gancanagh counterpart, a little older than the rest of them, but just as handsome, except now he has white wings—he never had those as a Gancanagh. I realize he’s not the Declan I know. He has never met me. He has no idea who I am, nor does the fair-haired Lachlan. I know him as the one who likes to play cards and teach me spells and who is best friends with Faolan, the dark-haired Faerie standing next to him. I went to Lachlan’s funeral on the cliffs. I watched his body burn.
A sinister growl comes from Brennus’ soul. It makes my eyes shift back to him. He see’s me. I know he sees me, I can feel it like a wolf howling inside my heart. All of their cataract-covered eyes home in on me. I look behind us; Eion’s soul is there with more fella souls. We killed most of their Gancanagh counterparts on Zee’s island and in Torun. Stupid Faerie weapon! I’m not invisible to them! It works on Gancanagh, but not Faerie souls!
Brennus’ soul swings his battle-axe menacingly. It arches in lethal patterns, slicing the air with unbelievable speed and deadly thrusts. I want to whimper.
“Keep his attention, Evie. I’ll cut them down from behind and we’ll escape to the city.”
I don’t let my eyes leave Brennus’ soul as I scowl. “No!” I whisper-shout. “He just doesn’t know who I am. I have to free him from here. It’s a promise I made.”
“The only promises we keep are the ones to destroy By
zantyne and Emil!” Reed retorts.
Brennus’ soul springs toward us. He swings his battle-axe so hard it creates wind that blows my hair back. I leap upward into the air to avoid his counter move. Reed flies with me, not letting go of my hand.
We land on the wall of the bridge. “Brennus,” I plead, “it’s me! It’s Genevieve. Your queen—” Brennus’ soul nearly takes my head off as his battle-axe comes within millimeters of my neck.
Reed takes to the air once more, hauling me with him. His charcoal-colored wings beating hard, flying toward the nightmarish city. The evil Faeries follow us, careening in and out of other malicious beings that get in their way. The weapon in my hand would like to go back to them, but Reed is so much faster than our pursuers. We fly over the river; bodies float in its current. Tortured souls are driven by pig-headed creatures to construct gorgeous, ornate structures on the outskirts of the city.
Reed flies us to the rooftop of a building that would make the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris look quaint. He lands on the eave, holding his finger to his lips he walks with me, checking out the space to make sure nothing is sharing it with us. Finding nothing, he takes a deep breath, asking, “Did they hurt you? Did he cut you?” he holds me to him, gently rubbing my back. Ash falls around us like snow. I shake my head. “No. They didn’t hurt me. They didn’t use magic.” I whisper to my hammer, Be small. Hang on to me. Reaching over my left shoulder I place the small hammer on my back beneath my wing.
Reed sighs in relief, but then his eyes narrow, “Why didn’t they use magic?” he asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. They just didn’t.”
“Faeries always use magic. It’s their thing.”
“Maybe they thought it wouldn’t work on us because we’re angels?”
“Maybe. I’ve heard rumors...”
“What rumors?”
“I’ve heard that inside Sheol, not everything will work like it does on the surface of Earth. It’s mostly speculation; divine angels rarely have the opportunity to gain first-hand knowledge of this place. I’ve seen interrogations—torture. None of it was concrete for me until this moment.”
“This is all new to you?”
“Well, yes. Is it new to you?”
“Yeah,” I say it like that’s an understatement.
“When you promised earlier that we’d find a new city and make it our own, I’d like to go on record as passing on this one.”
An unexpected giggle tumbles from me. How he can make me laugh in this place at this moment is beyond my comprehension. “Not even a summer home?” I ask.
A bang rips between us, making me flinch. As I do, a net drops over Reed’s body, pinning him underneath it and making him visible by his silhouette. The rope is shiny and perfect, which makes me think its made of angel hair. I’m forced to let go of Reed’s hand when the souls of Lachlan, Faolan, and Declan tackle him. Another bang and I’m harpooned with a net as well; it wraps around my legs and arms, and goes all the way up to my shoulders. I fight against it, but it’s strong—angel hair.
Finn’s soul puts a knee in my back and twines rope around my wings through the large holes in the mesh. My hands and legs are bound with more rope. He unwraps me from the snare, but the other cords secure me as his prisoner. He hauls me up from the shingles of the rooftop. Slipping a knife to my throat, he pulls the hammer from my back. It goes to him as if it missed him. I become visible to all the demons of this place. Brennus’ soul moves out of the shadows, his white staring eyes are on me, but there is no recognition—no hint that he knows me. I move my fingers, whispering a quick spell to break through the binding, but it doesn’t work. I try again with a fire spell. Again nothing.
“Brennus,” I say in a tortured voice. “I know why you’re here. I’ve come to take you home. Please. Listen to me.”
He comes to stand a hair’s breadth away. His hand wrenches my chin up, his fingers bruising my flesh. Behind him, the other fellas have drawn their knives, preparing to stab Reed to death. Brennus’ soul leans his face down to mine. We’re almost nose-to-nose. He growls deep in his throat. My heart beats furiously. “I’m here to free you from Sheol—I have to kill Emil and Byzantyne—you said you’d know me by note! What does that mean?”
Another faerie creeps from the shadows. His voice is sexy and deep when he says something in a Faerie dialect that I understand, although I don’t know why. I think for a moment and I realize he said, “She is the one. Secure them. We deliver them to Byzantyne tonight.” Brennus’ soul lifts his head, complying with the other faerie’s orders like a good little drone.
“You must be Aodh,” I say in Faerie, watching the souls of Lachlan and Declan drag Reed from the ground, tying the net around him tighter. I can’t see his face; he’s just a lump in the net.
“I am. And who might ye be?” Aodh’s soul asks. He comes into the half-light. He’s strikingly handsome. His long black hair is pulled back from his face and tied behind his head. He has a strong jaw and a sharp chin, and his skin is smooth and pristine. His eyes glow with green fire. White faerie wings arch upward, forming sharp points above his head. I want to throat punch him. Something shifts in me. I become the hunter, picking out all of his weaknesses.
“Brennus sends his love,” I say with a smile. Aodh’s soul lunges toward me and hits me in the face. It doesn’t really hurt. He’s not that strong and I’m an angel. I laugh because I know it will enrage him. “Take me to Byzantyne. I dare you. I’ll slaughter all of you.”
“And ye’ll bathe in me blood,” he says in a bored tone.
“No.” I wrinkle my nose. “Why would I do that? What’s wrong with you and your disgusting sense of hygiene?”
He doesn’t know how to take that, so he ignores me. “We have found Emil’s aingeal. Move dem. I want dis handled before darkness. Dis will earn me a new station in a higher city instead of dis hole we’ve been livin’ in.” Brennus’ soul takes me in his arms. It’s so familiar that I have a hard time remembering this is not the Brennus I know. This one has been in this nightmare for so long he may never remember anything else. I need to keep that in mind—to differentiate the Brennus I know from this Other Brennus.
The white wings of Other Brennus push downward, lifting us off the rooftop. The souls of Declan and Lachlan each take a side of Reed’s net, lofting into the red haze of sky with him. We fly between buildings that are a mishmash of styles. It appears that each has tried to outdo the other with ornate embellishment.
We approach a fantastical piece of architecture at the end of the city, near the red river. It hurts my stomach to look at it because it is everything I know about Emil. The building is Rococo, which means it’s supremely ornate. Made of stone, the structure soars into the red sky much higher than a stone building should, given its weight. On the façade over hanging the doors, is mounted Emil’s enormous carved face, also done in Rococo-style. It’s his hooded eyes staring blankly out for ten stories or more while a twisting, snake-like tongue crawls from his mouth. There are two smaller statues embedded on either side of Emil’s face. They’re identical, naked likenesses of Simone holding long metal pikes with heads of angels impaled upon them. One angel head is clearly Reed; the other one is that of Xavier.
We enter through the door below Emil’s vile stone head. It’s cavernous inside. Elegantly dressed angels mill around on plush furniture, sipping sparkling liquid from beautiful glasses. Everywhere I look there’s a statue of my inescapable or some carved tribute to him from a past lifetime. Our presence causes a stir—feathers ruffle, high-pitched guffaws pierce the air. The faeries souls don’t stop here, but merely cross the room to another one.
The next room we enter is asymmetrical, and heavily laden with ornamental carvings. Chandeliers hang low from the high ceiling. Brennus has to walk around them like trees. This is a type of throne room. There’s a balcony above our heads that Emil must use to look down on the peasants. Emil emerges from it. He has shed his golden armor. He stands at the railing attired in b
lack dress slacks, but his chest is bare and he has on a black, silk robe that is open. He doesn’t bother to tie it now as he leans his forearms on the railing and looks down at us.
“Simone,” he breathes the name, like it’s the most exquisite thing he’s ever heard. “You’ve finally come to visit me—after all this time. What do you think of my home?”
“I think it’s an ugly shrine to you.”
Emil laughs. “That isn’t a very nice thing to say, Simone. And if there’s one thing about you that I know, it’s that you always try to be nice.”
“I’m not Simone anymore, Emil.”
“Yes, you are. You’re still Simone and I’m still Emil and I still own you.” He leaps over the railing, falling a story to us. He lands on his feet. Shedding his robe, he unfurls his crimson Seraphim wings. They spread out around him, majestic and primal at the same time. He would be so beautiful to me if I didn’t know him, but I do. I know him almost as well as I know myself. He is evil incarnate. He is pretty pain.
Aodh’s soul interrupts Emil. “We have delivered her to you intact. We would have our reward.”
“DO NOT SPEAK!” Emil’s face twists in anger. He doesn’t look at Aodh’s soul. He only has eyes for me. “Cut her legs free.” Other Brennus complies with his order. My legs are unbound. “Have you brought Reed with you? Is that the divine Power, wiggling like a fish in a net?”
I try to distract him from my angel. “What’s that around your neck, Emil?”
The evil half Seraph looks down at his necklace, touching the shiny metal whistle that hangs from the chain. “It’s a boatswain. I’m sure you recognize it. I believe you have one too, but mine unlocks a much better place than yours will. I have the key to Heaven, my inescapable. I just need to clean up anything on Earth that could threaten our flank before we storm Paradise. That was the reason I invaded Earth today. I started a war. Once the earthbound divine and the Gancanagh are annihilated, there will be few left who will interfere with us as we advance to Paradise and take back our rightful place.”
Iniquity (The Premonition Series Book 5) Page 29
