by T. G. Ayer
"I haven't done anything with them. The Seals have chosen the new Ruler of the Underworld all by themselves."
"Really? I don't think I believe you, my dear. You cannot think I'm that gullible. Do you really think I will listen to you prattle and leave that easily?"
Evie tugged her sleeve up and thrust her forearm at Marcellus. His eyes widened and he double-stepped backward to avoid being punched. The script on her arm began to glow, iridescent gold. At the same time, the faint chimes of the Seals rang around the chamber, racing down the tunnels and returning on the echoes.
Marcellus straightened in shock, his face eked of all blood. "What have you done?" His entire body vibrated with fury. Marcellus roared, spittle flying from his mouth as he closed in on her. His rage contained a volatile violence that made her shiver. "You have no idea what you have done.... What you've done to me." Marcellus, his fury taking control, lunged for Evie.
He hadn't planned his strategy well and Evie saw her opportunity and swung backward, side-swiping him across his face with the hilt of her sword. The short man went sprawling and sliding across the stone floor coming to a stop in an undignified heap against the far wall.
He lifted his head, putting his hand to his lip and staring furiously at the blood. "Get her, you imbeciles!" He screamed at his guards, who were still standing and watching, not interfering in the least.
Now, they advanced in unison, their swords at the ready. Evie sank lower on her knees, finding her center of gravity, weighing the sword within her hand. She waited. Six against one was not an even fight. But Evie had been trained well. They were clumsy and afraid. Easy pickings.
Because even six human Irin Warriors against one Nephilim was a fight favoring the Nephilim.
Although she knew she was taking a huge chance, Evie let her wings burst through. White and silver feathers flapped out behind her and filled the room. Silver dust floated daintily to the ground every time her wings shuddered behind her. Evie's wingspan rose twice her height and just a flick of a single wing sent two of Marcellus' guards tumbling into the stone walls, out like the proverbial light.
Two down, four to go.
They circled, their eyes hard and predatory, while Marcellus sat back and wiped more blood from his lip. His face was filled with malice and an expression of victory he was likely to regret soon. Perhaps it was her youthful looks and demeanor that made him forget her experience in combat. She preferred to leave him to his ignorance.
They came again in one wave and Evie was forced to launch herself into the air. She hovered above them for a moment, watching them, feeling her skin tingle, knowing the tattoos would be glowing golden. She could see the fear in their eyes.
Most humans feared or revered the Nephilim and Marcellus' lackeys stank of fear. Evie drew her sword as she hovered over them. A sword-wielding angel would be a terrifying sight. She smiled coldly as all four guards fled to the sound of their master's curses.
Evie turned to Marcellus who had risen, his hand fisted, his anger still almost palpable, his diminutive state even more prominent from her height.
"Marcellus, you have done enough damage to the Brotherhood." Evie advanced on him and he backed away.
Marcellus turned and raced down the tunnel directly behind him with Evie close on his heels. He was so predictable. She had known he would run.
Evie guided his flight down long passages until he almost reached his destination. She kept a bead on him up ahead as he almost entered an empty cave on his left. Marcellus stared inside the room, then sent a furtive look back down the passage in Evie's direction, a deer-in-the-headlights expression paralyzing the muscles of his face.
She wasn't going anywhere, and he knew it. He turned and gave her one last desperate glance before stumbling into the next cave entrance.
Evie heard the groan and sneeze of the disturbed creature within the darkness. The chimera must have been close to the entrance, clearly visible to Marcellus. The back of his head and coat came into view as he began to edge out slowly, dragging in his next breath. Then he stopped dead.
She heard the silence which followed in which she imagined Marcellus and his executioner staring each other down, one in fear, the other in lip-smacking anticipation. Then she heard Marcellus' fear-filled scream. She listened with a hardened heart to the sounds emanating from the cave as the chimera tore him to pieces.
And while she listened, her eyes filled with tears as her life with Patrick played before her eyes, as his love filled her heart. As she remembered his hand in her life, his guidance and the years of training and teaching he had invested in her.
She still had to find a way out of Hades, still had to figure out how to restore Julian's immortality.
And then there was Daniel.
And not forgetting the whole Ruler-of-the-Underworld thing—no way could she accept that role, which meant finding a way to reverse it.
But for now, she was at peace.
~ TO BE CONTINUED ~
Want to read what's next in the Irin Chronicles series?
Requiem
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RETRIBUTION
THE IRIN CHRONICLES BOOK 1
Copyright © 2014 by T.G. Ayer
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Eduardo Priego
Cover art © T.G. Ayer. All rights reserved.
Edited by Tracy Riva
Kindle Edition, License Notes
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
The Irin Chronicles #2 - Requiem
Chapter 1
Evie stared at her hands and wondered, not for the first time, why they didn't shine with the blood she'd spilled a few days ago. She flexed her fingers, turning her hands over to study them in the light of the blazing fire. Long lean fingers, neatly manicured nails. Elegant hands for a cold-blooded killer. Only the slightly darker calluses on the inside of her fingers hinted at the hours of weapons-practice, hours of using weapons to kill.
She was used to being the executioner, although never guilty of ending an undeserving life. Not until the insidiously evil Marcellus Bactor had taken over as the Master of the Brotherhood of the Irin. As a warrior under the Brotherhood she'd performed missions of charity, missions of freedom, and of course missions of death. But under Marcellus death had become the sole function of the Irin.
Breakfast had not appealed to her at all. She hadn't expected to feel so strange after dispatching Marcellus. He'd been running the Brotherhood, his own needs more important than those of the humans whom they were all meant to protect. And, now she knew he'd killed her guardian, Patrick, and robbed her of the only father she'd ever known.
And yet here she was, feeling as though she ought to receive some sort of punishment for murdering the Master of the Irin. And for the first time she wondered what the Brotherhood and all her fellow Nephilim were doing right now. Choosing another Master? Perhaps Daniel? She shuddered at the thought. What was that saying? Frying pan and fire.
She sighed and shifted in the sofa, moving her cheek away from the warm flames of the fire. Julian's study was warm and cozy, and modern. Unlike anything she'd ever expected to see deep within the bowels of the earth. Dark wood shelves covered the walls filled to overflowing with books from every age, in every language. Comfortable sofas in earthy tones
were scattered around the space, convenient spots for curling up with an interesting read. She tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and away from the heat from the fireplace.
She smiled at the memory of Castor's reaction to Marcellus' death just hours ago. He'd barely blinked on seeing the bloody remains of their old Master. Not that she should have expected tears considering Castor had borne the brunt of Marcellus's fury when Evie had left Greylock Estate in search of the Underworld. Evie's stomach tightened when she thought of Castor's little home on the grounds of the estate. A place the half demon had loved, a place now burnt to ash. But Castor's woes didn't seem to worry him too much right now. He was being well entertained by Pollo and his eclectic band of servants.
Julian had gone off on an errand in a bit of a hurry; something about a volcanic eruption in the South Pacific. That left Evie to her own devices, which wouldn't have been so bad if she had not needed to worry about Persephone. Evie was constantly on guard where the cold-hearted goddess was concerned, what with Persephone having already tried once to kill her. But so far she didn't seem to want to repeat the attempt. Maybe she was concerned about what Julian would do to her should she succeed. Evie snorted. No chance she'd let her guard down though.
Evie's skin tingled and she glanced at the shifting letters tattooed into her skin. They seemed alive, twisting and writhing beneath the surface of her pale skin like living things. Something Evie was yet to get accustomed to. She studied the markings then returned her attention to the pages of the ancient book lying open on her lap.
A book of dead languages, scripts from a time long gone. Perhaps a source of information, perhaps a way to undo this curse that she'd brought upon herself. Twelve seals to make a god. Not a bad way to turn an angel into the King of the Underworld.
She suppressed another sigh and rubbed her forehead. Suddenly the room seemed to close in on her and she felt desperate to leave the confining comfort of the study. She'd been on edge for hours now. What she probably needed was a sparring session. Something she wasn't likely to get down here.
She shut the book and left it on the sofa, heading for the door on feet that seemed to think she was in a hurry to be somewhere. Outside, the cool air from the shadowed tunnels teased her overly warm cheeks. She glanced up and down the passage listening for the sounds of approaching feet or hooves. Nothing. Torches shone at both ends of the tunnel, their flickering yellow light dancing and reflecting against the ominous jagged black stone of the tunnel walls.
Evie let her feet guide her, although part of her knew exactly where they were leading her.
Chapter 2
Uneven black stone gave way to a carved lintel, the three sides engraved with glowing letters in a language similar to those that marked Evie's forearm. Blue flames flared at her feet as she paused in the doorway, flickering at her. She didn't fear them now, knowing she could walk through them at will. Yet she waited because they seemed to be a way for the angel to retain a little privacy, what with not even having a door to his cell.
She herself could not keep away. She was drawn to him, had to speak to Gavriel again despite his own reluctance to talk. Gabriel. Gavriel. The names were so close. Had Patrick made a mistake. Could the two possible be that same person?
A thousand questions contorted Evie's dreaming and waking thoughts and not even her post-murder mood had affected her need to see the angel again.
She watched him now. He knelt in the center of the circular cell, his hands hidden in his lap. He had his back to her, the muscles taut and wiry, revealing the strength he tried to hide. Tears pricked her eyes. The wounds were still red and gory. And white where splintered bone stuck out like icy thorns. Only a few hours had passed but already there were visible signs of healing. Congealed blood crusted the edges of the wounds surrounding the shattered bones where magnificent wings had once joined with his body. The tightening of his neck, the slight tilt of his head told her Gavriel knew she was there.
"Come inside, Evangeline." His voice was raspy, husky, as if he barely used it. "Walk right through. The fire is an illusion," he said and she could almost picture a smile on his face.
Evie stepped through the line of twisting fire, making it past the flames, still very impressed by the illusion.
"So what's the point of having it there if it isn't real?"
Gavriel turned to Evie, giving his bare shoulder a tiny shrug. She almost cringed thinking any movement of his shoulder must hurt like hell. "It keeps away the curious. Some of the inhabitants of Hades realm think I am an oddity." His mouth curved in a self-deprecating smile.
Evie bristled. "You're not a freak show," she said, biting the words out with tamped down fury. She was incensed at the thought that anybody would come here just to get a look at the tortured angel, as if he were in a circus or a zoo, to be stared at and pointed at. She shuddered at the thought.
"I am an angel, cast forth from the bosoms of Heaven, now suitably incarcerated in the realms of the Underworld where I belong," Gavriel said, scorn dripped from the words as he uttered them. His gaunt features seemed more sunken than the last time she'd seen him, his cheekbones two stark points on his face. Remarkable how good he looked for an unkempt prisoner. "Who would not be curious?" he asked, with a small tilt of an eyebrow. It galled her to think that he accepted the idea of such an audience.
Evie felt a stab of guilt. Wasn't she herself one of the gawkers he was referring to? Hadn't she been unable to control the unspoken need to keep coming back to see him? Was she just like the mindless masses here to see the freak?
"But you are different, are you not?" Gavriel's voice broke through her thoughts, as if he could hear her inner conflict.
"What do you mean?" she asked, glancing at the angel's shadowed features. The torches on the walls around them jittered on an unseen breeze and Evie wondered why they hadn't provided Gavriel with a little warmth at least. A fire maybe? Or clothing more suited to the temperature of the stone cell. Wasn't hell supposed to be all fire and flame anyway?
Gavriel's voice drew her attention back. "Until recently, I had assumed I was the only angel in this hellish place." He stared at her face, his pale grey eyes gleaming in the torchlight.
"You know?" The words came out in a soft whisper. She looked away, unable to hold his penetrating gaze. When she met his eyes again she saw no judgment. Not that it made her feel any better. "How?" she asked, curious how he'd found out about her true nature. Not even Julian knew what she really was and she wasn't looking forward to breaking the news to him.
Gavriel smiled, the expression almost fatherly. And a little indulgent. "Angels have a sense of smell that goes deeper than just the scent of the body. We can smell those just like us. And those not so much like us." He paused and gave Evie a smile. "And angels have the power to see through all glamor."
A chill slid through Evie and she stiffened. She'd thought her glamor protected her but she'd forgotten that angels had Sight. "I am not an angel. I am Nephilim." Evie lifted her chin as a rush on anger filtered through her. She felt slightly ashamed to admit her half-breed status to a full-blooded angel and she didn't like feeling that way. There wasn't anything about being Nephilim to be ashamed of. But though she knew it, she still felt the prickle of unease, the tiniest sense of being second rate.
Not good enough.
"Yes," said the angel, clearly unaware of her inner war. "That explains the strength of your scent and why I took that much longer to figure out what you were. What are you doing here?" He scanned her face as he posed the question. She returned his keen gaze accepting that lying to him was not an option.
"It was an accident." She gripped her hands before her, twisting her fingers together.
"And accident? What kind of accident results in an angel falling to hell?"
"An Alice in Wonderland type of accident?" she offered with a smile only moments before realizing he might not understand what she meant.
But he responded with a smile. "I see. So you fell through a hole in
the ground, and ended up in Hades."
"Something like that." Evie smiled at the analogy. The only difference was she had come willingly with both eyes open.
"And why are you still here?"
"Because Alice is stuck here until she can turn back into herself."
He regarded her, a quizzical smile plastered across his face.
"So how much time do you have left?"
"A couple of weeks. What about you? How long are you supposed to stay here for?" Evie was desperate to change the subject.
"Oh, let's see... eight centuries and ... well... forever." His expression was serious and Evie didn't like it one bit.
"Forever?" She frowned, finding herself slightly annoyed with him. She wouldn't appreciate it if he was being facetious, but his expression remained serious. "I still don't think the time fits the crime."
"Oh, it fits. The law is the law. And I broke the law." A strange sadness tinged his words and he looked off into the distance, perhaps all the way to the past.
"What law was that?" Evie snapped. "Just because you serve Heaven does that mean you are banned from loving? I thought love was the whole point to Heaven's purpose?"
The angel raised his hand. "You don't understand ..."
His expression was so sad Evie felt the physical pain of it course through her heart. "Then make me understand. Tell me." Evie's muscles stiffened with anger as she stared Gavriel down, waiting for an answer. How could he be accepting of such a punishment, despite being in such pain because of it?
The angel sighed, his shoulder bowing forward slightly. "I made the greatest mistake - to fall in love with a Human. Worse yet - our union produced a child." Evie heart lurched. Her own mother had been human, had died in childbirth as all human women do when birthing an angel's child.
