Intuition: The Premonition Series

by Amy A. Bartol

  Trembling overcomes me when the knowledge that Keegan isn’t playing games begins to take root in my mind…he isn’t trying to train me, or show me how to perfect a move. He doesn’t care that I feel weak, terrified, and broken inside. He doesn’t mind that my de-cision to be brave is deserting me as the state of hypervigilance that I have been in is now breaking me down. It doesn’t bother him that I just spent days on the cold, hard floor, while mired in dehydration, in a place that is as close to Hell as I have ever been. In fact, he would probably enjoy knowing that and he isn’t going to pull up, if I slip or falter. He is going to come at me with everything that he has and he will kill me if Brennus allows him to, but if he doesn’t, Keegan will settle for just hurting me really, really bad.

  Keegan doesn’t change his tactic the next time he charges me. So, instead of leaping back as before, I became pliant, folding backward so that he charges right over me. Using his force to thrust him past me, I score my blades across his left side, tearing nice sized jagged lines into him. He bleeds, but I wonder if it’s truly his blood, or Lynnette’s blood as I crouch to defend myself, watching for him to come back at me.

  He loses some of his arrogance and swagger, seeing that he, too, is bleeding. He replaces the swagger with brutality. Trying to use terror to throw me off, Keegan licks his own blood off his fingers, letting it smear on his face repulsively. I’m trying really hard not to let it get to me, but he’s just so freaking terrifying as he stalks me, looking for a weakness to exploit, that I want to cry, to plead for help, but I know I will get none. No one will help me here, I think, cringing as Keegan begins talking to me.

  “Do ye know whah I’m goin’ ta do ta yer soul mate when I find him?” Keegan asks me with a harsh sneer, coming at me from the right side and piercing the air with his knife, making me lurch back from him. “I’m goin’ to take me knife and split him down his middle, so dat everyting inside of him jus slides out,” he says, sounding deranged, and the image of what he just says causes something to shift inside me.

  I stop retreating. He will never get Russell because I will not allow him to live long enough to find him. All of the terror that has made my heart race in my chest is now being pushed back. Fear is melting away as I’m zeroing in on my prey. Engaging in the fight, I begin to stalk Keegan, circling him and picking out all of the subtle imperfections in his form. He is strong and fast, but he lacks finesse, I surmise, watching him swing uselessly at the air. His knives whistle wickedly, but they are not getting near enough to me to cut me.

  Seeing an opening in his defenses, I sprint to the column nearest to me. Leaping at it in a fraction of a second, I use my right foot to spring off of it, propelling me toward the column next to it. Landing lightly with my left foot higher on this column, I immediately push off of it, effectively reversing my momentum. This is allowing me to spring back to the first column. Landing higher still with my right foot, I’m ricocheting back and forth between the two columns. Almost to the top now, I tower several feet above Keegan’s head. The next time I make contact with the neighboring column, I use it as a springboard. Pitching myself toward Keegan at an arcing angle, I drive my knives downward. Keegan, seeing me coming, pivots his body at the last possible instant. He avoids being impaled by my knives, but he is still too slow to avoid having his chest slashed open.

  I tumble hard onto the ground and allow my momentum to roll me safely back from any counterattack Keegan might mount. When I bounce up, Keegan stands watching me, panting and clutching his chest in disbelief. “I’m goin’ to cut yer wings off and mount dem on me wall,” he says as his teeth grind with menace. Instantly, he throws a knife to the right of me while simultaneously diving to my left. He plans for me to go left, to avoid the knife on my right, where he will be waiting to carve me up. But, I’m faster than he expects. Dodging to the right, I manage to avoid his trap, while only getting a small nick on my upper arm as his knife spirals past me.

  In a millisecond, I run to the column in front of me, using my momentum to scale it easily. Reaching the top, I spring from it, planting my feet and pushing off hard against the stone, launching with ease to an adjacent column. Catching the column and wrapping my arm around it, I begin spiraling down around the column. I drop to the ground, landing just behind Keegan. Leaping up on his back before he can react, I coil my legs around his waist, crossing my arms in front of his neck. I pull back hard, drawing the blades of my knives across his neck in an X, cutting him open and allowing his blood to seep out of his body unchecked. His legs crumple beneath him as I unwind myself from him before he hits the floor, landing on my feet. Not pausing to see if he is dead, I spin and throw both of my knives at Alfred. His screams of anguish come to me from across the room as the blades embed in him, impaling him to the chair he is seated in.

  Turning and running as fast as I can to the entrance of the cave, I feel my blood pounding in my veins. Leaping to the closest handhold in the rock face, I pull myself up the wall, scaling it without faltering. A pursuit is being mounted behind me, but I know I can reach the top of the cave before any of them can get to me. My elation with that fact is short lived, however, because as I reach the top of the wall, a face of a Gancanagh that I don’t recognize looks down at me. He is some kind of sentry for the entrance to the cave. He is not alone either. There are two more who are smiling at me. One of them says, “Well, hallo, aingeal.”

  I’m dead, I think. The guard that spoke to me encircles me in his arms, jumping back into the hole of the cave with me in tow.

  Raw, agonizing fear hits me in waves when I see the menacing faces of the Gancanagh. The guard releases me immediately when we land. Alfred is still screaming as someone is prying the knives out of his shoulders to release him from the chair. I want to cry because I haven’t managed to kill him. If I had killed him, it may have all been worth it. Now, the Gancanagh will kill me and this will be over, I think, feeling terror and relief at the same time. I want desperately for this to be over.

  I glance over to where I had left Keegan on the floor of the hall. He is still there, lying unmoving in a pool of blood. My entire body is shaking as I stand listless, staring at Keegan, unable to speak. I did that…I made him cease to be…I murdered him, I think as my brain slows down. I should fight the fellas that are gathering around me, or I should try to run again, but I can’t. I’m disconnecting from them all.

  Staring as the crowd parts for Brennus, I watch him approaching me. I can’t read his face. The fellas are all talking around me and I’m catching a few phrases that aren’t making any sense to me. “Shell shock,” “thousand-yard stare,” and “battle fatigue” rattle around in the air from the Gancanagh nearest me.

  When Brennus comes close enough to me, I reach out, clutching the front of his shirt. But, my grip is so weak that I can hardly hold on to it. As I look up into his eyes, I murmur to him, “Help me… please.”

  His eyes soften. “I will…mo chroí,” my enemy answers me as he pulls me into his arms. He whispers words in my ear that I don’t know, “muirnin” and “a ghra,” as he nuzzles my neck with his cold lips. I want to push him away, but I’m so weak that I know he is the only thing holding me up. Numbly, I hear something click. Before I can react at all, Brennus pierces my skin with his powerful jaws. A soft whimper escapes me as my legs buckle beneath me. Brennus holds me tight to him as he drains my blood. Everything begins to grow dark. I’m not struggling because he is setting me free… I’m dying, and when it’s over I will be free of this place, and the Gancanagh, forever.

  CHAPTER 13

  Bloodlust

  I’m not dead, I think as crushing reality begins slamming me in the chest. I’m still very much a prisoner of the Gancanagh. Lifting my head off the silken pillow of Brennus’ enormous bed, my head starts pounding. I feel faint, so I rest my head on the pillow again, gazing at the ceiling until the room stops spinning. There is something different about the room. Lying in the soft, seductive warmth of the bed, I try to figure out what it is
and it finally comes to me. The cloying smell that clings to everything is—not gone—but it doesn’t smell so repulsive to me anymore. In fact, it smells almost pleasant.

  My heartbeat speeds up. He bit me! I growl as a pulse of anger and loathing sweeps through me. My enemy made a snack out of me and I let him! The blood within me rushes to my face and a deep blush stains my cheeks. I run my hand over the marks he made on my neck. Pulling my hand back, I look at my fingertips. They have blood on them. I’m still bleeding from the wound he left. How could I have allowed that to happen? Do you never want to see Reed again… or Russell? I ask myself harshly. If I become a Gancanagh, then I can never see either one of them again. I have to fight harder. I just moved into check and I have to get out of it or checkmate is the next move, and then it’s game over. I’ll be a monster, too—or am I one already? I wonder as I slowly sit up in the bed.

  Stumbling out of the bed, I have to wait for the room to stop spinning before I lurch to the adjoining bathroom. The full-length mirror reflects my image as I approach it. I open my mouth, tilting my head back to see if I have acquired the fangs of the Gancanagh. Finding nothing out of the ordinary about my appearance, except for the marks on my neck where their leader has marked me as his, I feel relief.

  I’m also grateful to find that I’m still wearing the torn, black nightgown and boxer shorts that I had on before everything had gone black. I look wild in my torn clothing that still has Keegan’s blood on it. Nausea rolls in me and I have to swallow hard so that I won’t vomit on the floor. Not that there is much to vomit, judging by the hunger that is wracking my body with pain, the likes of which I have never felt so intensely in my life.

  I stagger to the old-fashion pitcher and water basin that rests on top of the cabinet. Pouring water into the basin, I splash my face and arms repeatedly with the cold water. I strip the ruined nightgown off me, along with the boxers. Finding the sponge in the cabinet, beneath the basin, I use it to remove Keegan’s blood from me. When I am done, I retrieve a towel from the cabinet, and seeing the straight razor sitting on the shelf, I pause. My fingers trembling, I pick it up and open it, revealing the blade. A weapon, I think as I close the razor, grasping it tight in my fist. Rummaging through the cabinet for anything that can be used to aid in my escape, I find nothing else.

  Closing the cabinet, I clean up the area so that nothing looks out of place, before I walk back into the bedroom to look for new clothes to wear. Wrapped in a towel, I begin to pass by the bed. I stumble to a halt at the foot of it, feeling cold, prickly air. Glancing over at it, I see Brennus lying against the pillow I had just vacated, with his arms casually crossed behind his head. My heartbeat slows down, and then bolts as a kick of adrenaline launches into my bloodstream. I hadn’t heard him come in! And, where is that smell that always makes me want to stick my fingers in my nose to gain relief from it?

  “Brennus! Don’t do that! You make me want to jump out of my skin,” I scold him in anger, because I had jumped in fright at the sight of him. He may look beautifully angelic, but he has no heart— well, not one that beats anyway.

  “Whah did I do, mo chroí?” he asks, grinning at me as his black hair falls artfully over his forehead like a supermodel.

  “Don’t sneak up on me. It’s not nice,” I say, continuing to the wardrobe and gritting my teeth as I listen to him laugh at me.

  “Whah did ye jus say?” he asks incredulously, because we both know it is a ridiculous thing to have said. There is nothing nice about him. Nothing.

  “You know what I mean,” I reply over my shoulder, rummaging through the wardrobe, looking for anything that does not resemble lingerie. Finding a form fitting white cami and a short, black leather skirt, I frown. This is the closest I’m going to get to “real” clothing. I also find some sexy underwear and a pair of black suede boots that will go clear up to my mid thigh. I put the underwear and skirt on underneath my towel, and then I use the straight razor to cut the back of the cami, so that it will accommodate my wings better. Brennus has already seen the weapon in my hand, so I have to show him a good reason for having it.

  “I jus came up here ta see if ye were hungry,” he says, playing along and acting like he is innocent of any other motive. He seems pleased by the nice comment. I bet no one ever implied that he should be nice in his undead life.

  “I am hungry…starving,” I say absently, as I finish fixing the cami. Turning away from him, I drop the towel and put the top on.

  His eyes are shiny with humor when I turn back around to face him. I amuse him…like a pet, I observe, picking up the boots and going to the bed. Sitting on the edge of it, I bend down to put on the ridiculously long footwear. “How come there aren’t jeans in there, or running shoes?” I ask Brennus with a sullen expression, pulling on the other boot.

  Brennus’ smile is sublime. “Whah is sexy about denim and trainers?” Brennus asks with humor in his voice.

  “Ugh!” I reply, slipping the razor in the top of my right boot as covertly as possible. “I should’ve known.”

  “I had one other reason for coming up here,” he reveals cryptically.

  “Don’t tell me you missed me?” I ask, trying to sound like I haven’t just gotten doused in the black dread that accompanies all of his surprises.

  “I did, but dat is na it,” he replies with ease.

  “Maybe you can tell me after I’ve eaten,” I say, trying to postpone any ugly revelations he has planned for me.

  “If dat is whah ye wish,” he says with a small sigh. “Whah is da razor for?” he asks as I get up swiftly from the bed to face him.

  “Protection,” I reply, glaring at him with my hands on my hips.

  “No one will dare harm ye now, mo chroí. Ye do na need da razor… I will protect ye.”

  I frown. “Ha! You are the one I need protection from the most,” I reply, watching him for his reaction. “I don’t appreciate being anyone’s lunch, Brennus.”

  “I do na suppose dat ye do,” he replies. “Whah if I said dat I’ll let ye bite me back next time?” he asks, smiling.

  “I would say, ‘keep your fangs off me,’” I counter as a shiver of revulsion escapes me. He just chuckles and lifts his brow, but he doesn’t argue with me about the razor.

  “Come, let’s feed ye,” he says as he gets up off the bed, holding his hand out to me. I don’t take it, but walk ahead of him into the next room and out into the hallway that leads down to the main hall. The guards are waiting just outside the door for us. I recognize them now by name: Declan, Eion, Lachlan and Faolan.

  As we stroll down the stairs to the main hall, I detect a different kind of smell in the air that I’m unaccustomed to inhaling. Now that the scent of the skin of the Gancanagh has diminished for me, probably because I have been bitten and it has done something to me, I can now smell other things that the odor had masked. None of these odors are pleasant. I can’t name the scent until I reach the main floor and see the horror for myself. It’s the stench of dead bodies. The women who had been used for food are piled in a heap by one of the far fireplaces. Eibhear and Cavan are steadily throwing their ravaged bodies in the fire and burning them.

  What I had thought was a dramatic way to light the hall and give heat is turning out to have a more practical purpose for the Gancanagh: the disposal of dead bodies. This is truly a house of horrors, I grimace, averting my eyes from the face of a female corpse I had seen alive just days ago. Her face is frozen in a mask of pleasure.

  “There usually aren’t this many bodies, Evie,” Alfred says from the table where he is seated, dining on bread and soup. “It’s your fault they all bit it last night,” he continues, chewing his bread and laughing at his own pun. “After the show you put on for everyone, the bloodlust couldn’t be controlled and all those lovely women had to die…all because of you.”

  “How’s the shoulder, Alfred?” I ask, sitting in the chair that Brennus is holding out for me at the head of the table, next to his own chair. “Hurt much?” I ask,
trying to hide the stabbing pain his words cause me.

  “Just twinges… nothing to worry about,” he replies, but I know he is lying by the way he is having trouble lifting his spoon to his mouth.

  A bowl of chicken soup and some bread is placed on the table for me. I’m shocked and a little dismayed that I’m still hungry, even with the rancid smell and the sight of the carnage in the hall. I thank Lonan for bringing food to me, and then I begin eating it as fast as I can. The food doesn’t taste as good as it had yesterday. In fact, it tastes awful, but I’m so hungry, I almost can’t control myself as I eat it all. When I finish, I can tell that I’m full because my belly feels really full, but the hunger pains aren’t diminishing at all. In confusion, I think maybe I will have to wait a little bit for the food to digest before I feel better.

  Brennus watches me with a light of expectation in his pale green eyes, but I can’t decipher what it is he is waiting for me to do. “Would ye like some more soup?” he asks, raising his brow.

  “No, thank you,” I murmur, since I know if I eat more, I’ll end up vomiting because I will be too full. But, hunger is still a gnawing pain, making me sweat a little because of its intensity.

  “Are you sure, Evie? You look really hungry,” Alfred teases, and he smirks at me, enjoying the look of pain that is beginning to show on my face. “Maybe she wants something else to eat, Brennus?” Alfred asks with a laugh.

  “She is more den welcome ta whahever I have ta give,” Brennus replies, and he sounds so sincere that I look up at his face in confusion.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, because I’m smart enough to know they are playing with me.