Iniquity (The Premonition Series Book 5)

by Amy A. Bartol

  Emil approaches me with a vulture stare. He puts his hand on Other Brennus’ shoulder, pushing him away from me. The faerie soul moves back, complying with Emil’s will. Emil embraces me, pressing his face to my hair and inhaling my scent. “Ah,” he says at last, “I have missed you. I keep telling myself that you’re the thorn in my side and I’d like to smash your head in, and that’s true, but it’s also true that when you’re at my mercy, like this, I feel as though I cannot live without you.”

  “That’s because you’re a psycho,” I reply. “You started a war, and then you ran back here to hide like a coward while other beings fight it for you.”

  “I see that you have forgotten just how bad your life can be when you anger me, Simone.” He puts his arm around my shoulders, leading me across the marble floor to a set of doors below his balcony. Behind us, all of the faeries follow along, bringing Reed with them. Emil opens the door and we enter a darkened room. Soft light from wall sconces make the room feel ritualistic.

  A huge slab, altar-like table resides in the center of the room, but it’s partly blocked by a Seraph who has his back to us. I shudder. I don’t need to see his dark brown eyes to recognize Byzantyne. His wings spread wide as he bends over the altar. I watch his arm pull back, as if he’s wrenching something away. I catch sight of what it is when he moves to the side a little. He has just sawed the wing off of another angel. Fear clenches my stomach and I retch. Byzantyne rests the severed wing on the ground, leaning it against the side of the altar. I turn my head and vomit, unable to stop my violent reaction.

  Byzantyne turns and faces me at the sound. His hands are red from blood and gore. He steps aside for me to see his victim on the table. My heart turns black and dies in my chest. It’s Xavier. My knees weaken, and if it were not for Emil’s arm around me, I’d crumble to the floor. “Simone,” Byzantyne’s smile is crushing. “There you are. You’re late. I’ve already started. I couldn’t wait. I know you’ll forgive me my impatience. I’ve waited so long for this moment.”

  Emil tries to bring me closer to the altar, but I resist him, fighting to stay away. I can’t see this. I’ll go mad if I see this. Xavier!

  “There, there, Simone. This is what you need. You have to see this to remember who we are. You need to know that I am your master and you will never be anything but my slave.”

  Emil drags me to the altar. I shut my eyes, unwilling to look upon the carnage that is Xavier. A hand presses to my forehead, pinning me to Emil’s chest. “Look at him, Simone. Look at him, or I kill Reed now!” I open my eyes. I have seen torture before—have experienced it myself in many, many lifetimes. All of that past experience still leaves me unprepared for this. Byzantyne has stripped off the skin from half of Xavier’s face and body. My guardian angel is still alive, but it can’t be long before shock and trauma render him unable to survive. Xavier’s eyes open, he stares at me as if he’s seeing a vision before him. There is no fear on his face, only acceptance. “He was willing to die for you,” Emil taunts. “He came here to save you only you weren’t here, were you? He’s always too late. He never helped you much before and now he has failed you again.”

  The faerie souls move in closer, wanting to see the torture of a Seraph. Other Brennus stands next to me, his white eyes are almost unblinking. Byzantyne lifts another saw in his hand. I flinch and a moan escapes me as I tremble with wracking shakes. Emil lets go of my forehead. I turn my head, trying to think of a way to drown out the sound of the saw. I begin to hum; I don’t even know what the tune is until another soft voice joins mine. The humming comes from Other Brennus. It’s the melody that his battle-axe sings to me whenever I touch it. Other Brennus’ eyes are on me and they’re no longer white, but iridescent green with flecks of black in them. I turn my head, seeing Other Finn on my left side. His milky eyes stare straight ahead. In my mind, I think, Sing your song softly to Finn.

  The hammer in Finn’s soul’s hand begins to sing at a whispery volume. His eyes change suddenly to bright green. He blinks, and then his eyes connect with mine. “Help me,” I mouth the words.

  Other Finn looks beyond me to his brother. Other Brennus slips the soul slayer dagger from the sheath on Emil’s belt. The two faerie souls stare at one another, until Other Brennus signals his brother with a nod. In unison, they both attack Emil, stabbing and beating him with vicious thrusts. Emil crashes to the floor behind me, his body being quickly transformed into a bloody pulp. Emil’s soul rises up from his decapitated angelic body. Other Brennus growls at it. Raising the dagger that was made to kill me, Other Brennus stabs it into Emil’s soul. His lazy eyes register agony as his image turns black and explodes in a swirl of ebony smoke. Other Finn faces me, looking at me for his next order. The ropes that bind me fall away as Other Brennus uses Emil’s soul slayer to slice through them.

  “Kill him,” I order, pointing at Byzantyne. The faerie brothers turn their attention to the barbaric Seraph.

  Byzantyne has a stricken look on his face. He stumbles back from the altar, dropping the bone saw. His mouth opens in shock as he sees the mess that was Emil on the ground at my feet. I look away from him to Other Lachlan. I hum Lachlan’s song. The faerie soul’s eyes turn blue and he blinks, as if he’s waking up from a nightmare. I change my tune to Faolan’s song. Faolan’s soul becomes lucid.

  “Set down the net and free the angel inside it,” I order the souls of Faolan and Lachlan. They cut the netting off Reed. He springs free of the snare. Pulling the ring from his finger, he becomes visible once more. He drops the ring on the floor as he extracts his spade blades from his wrist holsters.

  Reed comes to me, checking quickly to see if I’m okay. Then he crouches down and examines Emil’s dead corpse for a moment. When he rises again, he pulls the chain of the boatswain from beneath his armor. He lifts it over his head, transferring it to me. The key to Sheol settles around my neck.

  “Why are you giving this to me,” I try to take it off.

  Reed stays my hand, covering it with his own.

  “The faerie souls annihilated Emil’s soul, love,” Reed replies. “You’ll need a way out of here no matter what happens.”

  “Reed,” I say his name in shock.

  He lets go of my hand. “I will always love you, Evie. Always.” He presses his lips to my forehead, and then he turns and joins Other Brennus and Other Finn in stalking Byzantine. The cornered wicked Seraph pulls a dagger from a sheath attached to his waist, while adopting a defensive crouch. Every time the faerie souls try to get near him, Byzantyne strikes out, nearly decapitating them. Reed moves in. He’s so fast that Byzantyne hardly knows he’s been cut before he’s sliced open again. Reed is killing him slowly and by degrees. His black armor is covered with the arterial spray of Byzantyne’s blood.

  Aodh’s soul sees what’s happening and tries to leave, but the souls of Lachlan and Faolan are on him, seizing his arms and binding them with rope. Tearing off his shirt, Faolan’s soul stuffs it in Aodh’s mouth so no one will hear him scream.

  Xavier moans in agony. The sight of his blood running in rivers off the sides of the altar makes me blanch. I go to him, my hand hesitating above his flesh, not knowing where I can put it that will not cause him excruciating pain. I find his hand and hold it. Lifting his fingers to my lips I kiss them while tears roll down my cheeks. “I’m sorry, Xavier,” I whisper.

  He opens his mismatched eyes and looks at me. “Now,” his feeble voice whispers, “you know how I feel every time I watch you suffer—every time I watch you die.” The agony in my chest won’t subside. I feel as though I can’t breathe.

  “I have the advantage here,” I reply, wiping my nose with my sleeve, “because I can do something about it. I can take your pain from you.”

  “Do not, Evie,” Xavier groans, his pain nearly unbearable.

  “I can’t let you die, Xavier.”

  “You have to,” he growls.

  “No, I don’t.” I lay my hand on his chest, urging it to turn golden so that I can take
away his pain. Seconds pass and nothing happens. Xavier’s breath becomes thready. He sounds as if he’s dying. Panic makes me press my palm to him in a different place on his chest, concentrating on taking his wounds into me, but the light that would do it doesn’t glow. My ability to heal is gone, or it just doesn’t work in this horrible place. I clench my fists again, trying to make it work, but nothing happens. I can’t take his wounds from him. I choke. Fresh, hot tears rush to my eyes. “I SURRENDER! DO YOU HEAR ME?” I yell. I look upward. “I surrender! I give up my stipulation in the contract! I forfeit my choice! Do you hear me? Please take Xavier back to Paradise! Don’t let him die! Please!” My face reddens and my eyes burn. I lay my forehead on Xavier’s chest and I cry my heart out.

  The music of Angelic voices echoes around me, calling Xavier’s name. Opening my eyes, I don’t see them, but I feel Xavier’s chest fall. I lift my head from my crossed arms. He has become paper-thin, flickering with bursts of light. I lift my arms from his chest. He loses his features as they become dark. A galaxy of stars replaces them. The stars turn shadowy; it shrinks in size until it is just a pinpoint of light, and then Xavier is gone.

  Among the blood and guts on the table, I find his ring—the one with the shield and sword on it. I pick it up and slip it into the knife holster on the side of my combat armor. Tilting my face upward, I strain to get the words, “Thank you,” past the constriction in my throat.

  A scream of pain jolts me from my thoughts. Byzantyne falls to his knees, at least I think he’s Byzantyne. The wicked angel is slick with blood and so cut up that he’s unrecognizable, except for his hair and what is left of his wings. His head slumps forward on his chest. Reed walks behind him grasping Byzantyne’s head by the ear, he wraps his forearm around the evil Seraph’s forehead and jerks it to the side, breaking his neck and crushing in his skull.

  Reed straightens and looks at me with sorrow in his green eyes. “I can hear them, Evie. They’re calling me.”

  Tears spring to my eyes again. I hear them too, the whispering voices of a multitude of angels. “Then you have to go,” I whisper, because I know he can’t fight the call of Heaven.

  “You could choose me, Evie. You can choose me as your love,” he says desperately, looking up at the ceiling as if something is there.

  “I do choose you, Reed. I will always choose you as my love.” The most beautiful smile I have ever seen passes over his lips.

  Reed’s body begins to flicker as if he’s a piece of film on a screen that isn’t threaded properly. His smile fades. “Say it again, Evie.”

  I take a step closer, saying to him, “I choose you, Reed. You are my love.”

  Reed’s body flashes with light, fading more and more each time. “No!” Reed cries. He becomes flat—two-dimensional. His features fade so that he is no more than a silhouette filled with stars that transforms to just a shadow, fading until he’s gone in a pinpoint of light.

  “Reed!” I sob. I don’t move for a moment. I can’t move. Something shines on the floor beside me. I go to it. Crouching down, I pick up Reed’s ring and ball it in my fist. The faerie souls come to stand before me, waiting for me to give them an order. They’re all awake now, having freed one another from the curse that was on them. When I still don’t move, Other Finn approaches me. He crouches down to my eye level and touches my wing reverently. I glance at him. He extends my battle hammer to me. “Dis belongs ta me queen.” He speaks in Faerie to the weapon, it become small once more. He reaches out and puts it on my back. It clings there, singing its melody, trying in its own way to cheer me. I look down at the floor again, lost in sorrow—tristitiae.

  Other Brennus comes to stand in front of me. He crouches down so that we’re face to face. His hand lifts to my cheek; he runs the back of his fingers over it, wiping away my tears. “Ye’re me queen. Tell me whah ye need and I will do it for ye.”

  I lift my eyes to his. “I want to go home,” I whisper.

  “Show me da way,” he replies.

  I touch the boatswain around my neck. Putting it to my lips, I play the tones that I used the first time I touched it. In front of us, a doorway to Earth opens up. Other Brennus picks me up off my feet, holding me in his arms as he straightens to full height. Dazzling sunlight shines in on us. The faerie souls shield their eyes from it, unaccustomed to the glare. Other Brennus doesn’t flinch, he faces it as if it was an answer to a prayer and carries me into the daylight on the other side.

  Other Brennus strides out of Sheol with me in his arms. Crossing the threshold into my world, he becomes a ghostly soul without substance. No longer able to hold me up, I drop through his arms, landing on the frozen ground that once had snow, but now is charred with only a few grassy areas to cover the mud. Brennus’ soul spirits away from me, as if he’s an overfilled balloon that’s untied and let go. He disappears through a crowd of monsters still fighting on the battlefield where I’d left them. I watch him go, a shiny light in the growing darkness. The ground beneath me shakes from a tremendous explosion. My ears ring at the noise it makes. Dirt rains on me. Screams of anger and anguish fill the air as pieces of angels fall from the sky.

  Finn’s soul enters Earth’s realm, crossing the threshold from Sheol. The same thing happens to him. He loses his Sheol body and his ghost snaps away into the crowd. I rise from the ground, numb and disoriented. I walk without thought of destination. “I’m wi’ ye, aingeal,” a voice says next to me. I glance beside me, but don’t stop walking. It’s Declan, but not the Declan I know. He’s not Gancanagh; he’s Faerie. He pats my wing, his eyes surveying the buzzing swarm of killers surrounding us. “Dey’ve given me a second chance—a new body—’tis like me old one—da one I had before Aodh…” he doesn’t finish.

  “Who has given you a second chance?” I ask.

  “Heaven,” Declan replies, “and ye. I will na fail ye, me queen.”

  Declan snatches up a discarded sword next to a dead angel. A troll runs toward me with his arms raised above his head. The blade of his hatchet is poised to cleave me in two. I stare at the bald creature, numb, wondering what it will feel like to be cut down by him. Declan raises his sword to block the hatchet, but the troll bursts into flames from an elf dart thrown at him by Eion. Faolan and Lachlan run on ahead of me, blocking clashing demons from getting too close.

  “I hate trolls,” Eion grumbles beside me, while scanning the sky to make sure nothing is targeting me from above, “dey smell like arse.”

  My sense of déjà vu is not helping with my sense of unreality. I keep walking, but everything is a violent blur. Ogres clash with angels and Werree pick through the abandoned flesh of corpses. More faeries join us, spreading out around me: Goban, Alastar, Cavan, Eibhear, Torin, Lonan, and Ninian. I stumble when Keegan moves beside me. He has a dagger. The blade reflects the color of his red hair right before he plunges it into the skull of the fallen angel who tries to reach me in the center of their circle.

  “Keegan,” his name falls from my lips. He was the first being I ever killed. I slaughtered his Gancanagh counterpart in the copper mines in Houghton when I had to fight him. Keegan yanks his dagger from the angel’s forehead as the Power crashes to the ground. He glances at me, concern in his eyes. “Me queen, are ye well? Do ye need me ta carry ye?” My world spins. I’m dizzy. My hand rests on his shoulder. His arm goes around my back, supporting me.

  “You’re alive,” I breathe. I touch his face as tears well up and spill down my cheeks. “I didn’t want to kill you. I didn’t…”

  “Ye did na kill me. Aodh did. Ye saved me from Sheol.” I nod my head stroking his face. I can hardly breathe. “We have ta go. We have ta get ye ta safety.”

  I nod again, too overwhelmed to be able to speak. A series of explosions rock the ground. Keegan and I are both knocked sideways. My fingers trip over the silky softness of my feathers. The acrid smell of smoke is all around me as my head lies against the grassy ground. Above me, angels are flying, moving chaotically.

  Fire rains acro
ss the dusky skyline, turning what is left of the blue filament to red and orange as giant rockets burst and riot. The explosions make the ground tremble. There is a pain in my belly; fear twists it. A shrill roar causes all the hairs on my body to stand up at once. I’ve never heard its like and I dread seeing what is capable of making such a sound.

  As I sit up, my head throbs painfully. Using my trembling hands, I rest my head in them, hoping that the world will stop spinning. From the corner of my eye, I see an armored-clad Power angel flying low to the ground near me. His forward trajectory switches in the sky as a hulking Seraph broadsides him. They rapidly lose altitude, plummeting towards me.

  When the warring angels tumble to the ground only a few feet away, my hands go up to cover my head and I brace myself for their impact. Rather than being crushed by them, I’m scooped up and thrown over someone’s shoulder. My cheek rests against his strong, blood-colored wing. Yelling in Angel echoes in the air as carnage from the war waging around me litters the ground.

  From my position, I see my faeries rise from the ground as well. They chase after us, hacking at attacking beasts that try to stop them from getting to me. There’s a small clearing where divine angels stand guard. We land there and the Seraph puts me on my feet. I straighten, noticing the red armor of my father’s army. I’m disappointed to see gray eyes instead of brown and auburn hair instead of tawny. Tau waits for me to speak, scanning me with critical eyes. I glance down at myself. My black armor is covered with mud and blood. My hair is caked with dirt and tangled in knots. I must look like hell.

  “Do you have the boatswain?” Tau asks in a voice one would use when speaking to a frightened child.

  “Yes,” I answer blankly.

  “Can you do something for us?” he asks. The feathers of his red wings are stirred by the wind

  “Who’s us?”

  “All the divine angels fighting on this battlefield right now.”