Incendiary (The Premonition Series (Volume 4))

by Amy A. Bartol

  “How about two?” Reed asks.

  “Four,” Brennus returns.

  “Done,” Reed replies.

  Brennus reaches out and tries to stroke my cheek, but his hand slips right through me. “Do na go somewhere I can na ever find ye, Genevieve,” he says, his eyes softening.

  “Don’t make me,” I murmur.

  Leaning near my ear, Brennus whispers, “I did na understand how love can haunt...ye keep teaching me new tings.” Pulling back, his light green eyes infiltrate mine.

  “I wish I could teach you to let me go before you get burned,” I whisper back.

  “I’m already burning,” he says, before falling away in a dark, shadowy swirl of smoke.

  My breath exhales in a rush. “He’s going to make the Fallen leave!” I hiss. I turn in agitation to Reed.

  A small smile forms on Reed’s lips. “No, he won’t. He was just buying time to work out another plan. He’s too far gone to let you go now, but you rattled him with your suicide pact.” Reed walks to my side to cup my cheek. “He’ll counter quickly. We need to be prepared for an onslaught. I think he’ll try to come in en masse.”

  “You do?” I ask, feeling my stomach swirl with conflicting emotions.

  Before Reed can reply, a howling wind streams in through the opening from the street, bringing with it swirling, drifting snow. “Hooo, it is gettin’ nasty out there,” Russell shivers. “I bet the fallen aren’t used to this kind of cold.”

  “It’s cover,” Reed murmurs, nearing the entrance of the pub.

  “Huh?” Russell asks, following Reed.

  “We can’t wage this kind of war in the open, and yet, we have no choice,” Reed explains, taking a position by the staircase.

  “We…you mean angels?” Russell asks, taking a position on the adjacent wall, looking up the staircase.

  “Yes, I mean angels. The Fallen are being overt. The weather has turned to cover the fact that they’re here. It will drive the humans from the streets, create whiteout conditions so that we have a chance of keeping this from them,” he replies, glancing at Russell.

  “Who’s controllin’ the weather?” Russell asks Reed. Not smiling, Reed uses his index finger to point up.

  “Will it tip off our enemies to the fact that something is about to happen?” I ask, joining them and scanning the top of the stairs.

  “Yes,” Reed replies. “When Brennus can’t change it, he’ll understand and then he’ll be even more desperate to get in here and extract you.”

  A screeching noise from a truck’s squeaky brakes sounds from the street above, causing Reed’s hand to wrap around my upper arm and push me back behind him. Scraping and mumbling voices issue as truck doors slam shut. I tense, knowing that something is coming and a bead of sweat slides down the side of my face despite the cold. And then, like someone turning on a hose in a slaughterhouse, blood begins cascading down the staircase like a scarlet fountain.

  “Is that blood?” Russell asks grimly.

  “Yes,” Reed answers, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

  “Why?” I ask, feeling my knees growing weak.

  “Scare tactic?” Russell asks hopefully.

  “Brennus is too practical for that,” Reed replies, sounding calm.

  “Marking his territory?” Russell tries again.

  “Bait,” Reed offers.

  “Bait…bait for what?” Russell asks.

  The truck doors open and slam again before the whine of an engine revving away quickly makes every hair on my arms stand on end.

  “That is the question,” Reed replies, evaluating everything in the room. He speaks to Anya in Angel and she collects her bow and quiver from the sofa, strapping them on her body.

  THUMP.

  “What the hell was that?” Russell asks with his eyes wide as streams of dust fall from the beams of the ceiling. We all take several collective steps back from the entrance, while looking up at the ceiling.

  Reed says, “I don’t—”

  THUMP.

  The ceiling bows and cracks split the stone in web-like patterns, while pieces of mortar fall to the floor, breaking like plaster. Feeling my heart lodge somewhere in my throat, my hand shoots out to Reed’s arm, pulling him back with me. Russell, staring at the ceiling, says, “That’s not good—”

  THUMP.

  The harrowing sound makes us all jump and Anya is beside Russell in an instant, holding on to him like I’m holding on to Reed. A wrenching sound like the roof being torn away emits from above, causing tables and chairs to rattle and the glasses on the bar shelves to tumble and shatter. Pulling Reed with me, I crouch down on one knee, holding my arm over my head as my wings try to umbrella the rest of me.

  “Damn, that’s freaky,” Russell says under his breath, staring at the stone ceiling from his crouched position near the floor.

  The pounding crash of falling debris hitting the floor above our heads, makes my hands tremble. Glancing at me, Reed grasps my hand, holding it in his before bringing my cold fingers to his lips and kissing them. “I’m here, love,” he breathes, reassuring me.

  I grit my teeth and duck my head reflexively as a THUMP comes from above us, like something really heavy just fell on the ceiling. Reed lets go of my hand, jetting to the bar and coming back with an armload of expensive liquor.

  “Thanks,” Russell says, uncapping a bottle of brown liquor and taking a huge gulp of it.

  “Don’t drink it, Russell,” Reed says tersely. “Tear up some pieces of that table cloth and stick one in the bottle like a wick.”

  “That’s alcohol abuse,” Russell mutters, before complying with Reed’s order. “You know I can conjure fire, right?” he asks Reed with a quirk of his brow.

  “Yes, but some of us have to do it the old-fashioned way,” Reed replies, looking annoyed as he grabs the bottle back from Russell to store it with the ones he has already made.

  “Reed, I got your back,” Russell says with zero humor in his tone.

  “I know,” Reed replies. “And I have yours.”

  “Well, shoot, we should be just fine then,” Russell says seriously, holding Anya to his side.

  “Here.” I hand Russell some strips of tablecloth. “Wrap Anya’s skin wherever you can, so the Gancanagh cannot make her their slave. Using a cloth napkin, I wrap it around Reed’s face, tying it behind his head so that he looks like a train robber.

  When I finish, I stare into his perfect eyes, feeling fear that I’ll never see them again. I pull the cloth down, pressing my lips to his in a passionate kiss.

  The stone ceiling caves in then; beams and rubble fall down everywhere, collapsing tables and shattering mirrors. Choking rock dust and a foul odor permeates the air, causing us all to cough and hack. In the darkness I hear something moving toward us from the staircase. Low, throaty snickering-laughter, like the sound a hyena would make, pushes through the dust clouds surrounding us.

  Paralyzed by the sound, I search for what could’ve made it. The hair on my neck rises as several sets of eyes shine reflective as dark shapes descend the staircase. The click of claws scratching against the stone steps causes my jaw to clench.

  Another terrorizing THUMP comes from above us. Whatever’s up there wants its shot at us, too.

  The shiny sets of eyes near the stairs snicker again. “What are they?” I ask Reed.

  “Risers,” Reed says, looking around and grasping a broken chair leg.

  A shiver cuts through Russell. “Why’re they laughin’?” Russell asks next to me.

  “They aren’t. They’re arguing over who is the most dominate. The pitch of the voice determines who is the Alpha,” Reed states.

  "Why’s that important?" Russell asks in a low tone.

  “Because in Sheol, like every place else, the alpha gets to eat first,” Reed replies.

  A riser staggers forward to the bottom step, and as I look it over, I exhale a breath. Its head is canine with leather-like flesh pulled tightly over bone. It has ears, but they’re paper-
thin and ragged, like something bigger has gnawed them off. Roughly the size of a normal dog, the Riser resembles a greyhound, skinny to the point of being emaciated.

  “We can’t let them feed on the blood or they’ll grow,” Reed says in a low tone. He pulls a lighter from his pocket, igniting the homemade wick in one of the bottles. He heaves it towards the stairs. The bottle shatters and ignites the pool of blood, showering fire. I watch the smoke rise and with it, the shadows on the staircase become more prominent as five more sets of eyes gaze back at me. They’re already lapping at the pools of blood on the steps.

  “Ahh, hell! They’re feedin’!” Russell points out agitatedly.

  The high-pitched giggles from before begin to come in a lower frequency. As one Riser lifts its head from the blood, it begins to change; it jerks and pops as it rises up on its hind legs and it’s spine straightens. The canine-like muzzle it used to possess flattens to become less dog-like, more human, no...more demon.

  Russell conjures an elf dart in his hand, throwing it at a Riser. He hits the target square in the chest. The flames cover the demon, but it doesn’t move; it doesn’t even flinch. Instead, it giggles again, thereby calling its brethren to it.

  “When they’re risen like this, Russell, they’re almost impervious to magic,” Reed says with a frown.

  “How am I supposed to kill it?” Russell asks in frustration.

  “You kill them with brute strength. Pierce the heart or cut off the head,” Reed advises.

  “With what?” Russell scoffs. “I don’t have any weapons.”

  “Improvise, Russell, anything can be a weapon. Stay behind me,” Reed says, not looking at Russell but keeping his eyes locked on the demons that are beginning to creep further into the room.

  A sweet, musical voice comes from the top of the stairs, “Don’t touch the little female Seraph,” she calls to the Riser below. In the darkness, I can just make out the delicate features of a lovely angel in the snowy doorway. Her hair is pulled back in a long, immaculate ponytail. I can’t decipher its color because everything is shades of gray. If I were to guess, I would say she could be Seraphim; it’s something in the shape of her wings, they’re almost regal. The fur-fringed collar stirs against her cheek in the stormy air.

  A low growl resonates from Reed as he follows my gaze up to the Fallen watching us.

  “Your pets know what to do, Larken,” the powerful angel next to Larken states as he crosses his arms over his chest and observes us from his stadium position above. A frown forms as his eyebrows draw together. “She does look very fragile, though...too fragile...I should go down and—”

  “Hail”" Larken barks his name as she reaches out and pulls him back to her side. “She’s stronger than she appears. Let Valerius subdue her first...we promised him...”

  Anything else that Larken says is drowned out by the clownish-laughter coming from the Risers. They’ve grown into massive, powerful beasts in a matter of moments, with claws that are meant for shredding and jaws that drip saliva in anticipation of a meal. They spread out and seem to be pushing us back nearer to the hole in the ceiling at the center of the room.

  Reed tenses; his muscles flex in his arms. “Please stay behind me, Evie,” Reed says in a low tone, glancing at me to see my reaction.

  “I promise,” I nod.

  Reed’s wings spread wide, and for a moment, all I can see are his dark feathers as they serrate at the edges. With a leg from a chair grasped firmly in his hand, Reed leaps up and is across the room in half a second. He drives the stake downward, plunging it into a monster’s neck thereby severing the nape like a matador kills a bull. The Riser in front topples to the ground. Reed breaks its paw off and uses the claws to slash the Riser on his left. Saliva spews from the creature’s mouth, burning everything it touches like acid. Hackles elevate on the Riser nearest Reed; it grabs him in its powerful arms, squeezing Reed as its jaws latch onto Reed’s wing.

  My heart lurches into my throat. I pick up a broken bottle from the floor as Reed drives his head back into the face of the Riser, forcing the monster to unclench its teeth and free his wing. The demon continues trying to crush Reed, its laughter becoming high-pitched as Reed struggles to get free. I run at the Riser, using a chair as a springboard to propel me to them. Driving the bottle in my hand forward, I embed it in the Riser’s temple, continuing on to sever its skullcap.

  Immediately, Reed is released from the cage of arms as the Riser falls to the floor. Reed shoves me back as another Riser rushes forward, pouncing on him. I sprawl on the floor. As I sit up, I draw energy to me and channel it all at the Riser, letting it pulse out of my outstretched hand. The Riser absorbs the power surge from me; it only seems to grow larger as it tears at Reed.

  I glance around for help, but Russell and Anya are under attack, attempting to fend off two Risers who are circling them. Russell is keeping Anya near his side, always pivoting and slashing at the Risers to keep himself between the Riser and Anya.

  Looking for another weapon to use, I step back and scan the floor. Reed pulls himself from beneath the Riser, thrusting it back and then diving forward to tackle it to the ground. In my next breath, I feel swirling heat and smell the scent that has every fiber of my being on point to run. Looking up at the hole in the ceiling, one enormous, deep brown eyeball stares down at me. I shudder, unable to move.

  The eyeball pulls back from the hole. “Russell,” I want to scream his name, but it won’t come out louder than a whisper as dread seeps through me.

  Russell must’ve heard me, but he just grunts a response as this momentary distraction allows the Riser’s claws to cut into his forearm.

  “I need you,” I beg, backing away from the hole on shaky legs.

  “WHAT?” Russell hisses, straining to avoid the swipe at his head.

  “MAGIC!” I find my voice, beginning to pull the energy in the room to me, but there isn’t much because something is pulling it away from me—probably the scores of Gancanagh hanging around outside—or maybe the Ifrit himself—now that he has spotted me. Trying hard to concentrate, I close my eyes and grit my teeth. “WE NEED MAGIC!”

  “IT DOESN’T WORK ON THEM! IT JUST MAKES THEM BIGGER!” Russell pants.

  “IFRIT!” I yell, opening my eyes and seeing Russell stumble back, falling to the floor with the Riser on top of him. Anya pounces on its leathery back, thrusting a gold tipped arrow through it like a dagger.

  The Ifrit squeezes himself through the hole in the ceiling. He’s just like a human in every way but for the fact that he’s currently a shrinking giant as he continues to reduce in size. “Valerius,” I whisper, looking back toward the stairs and seeing Larken and Hail still watching us with avid fascination.

  “You’ve heard of me,” Valerius’ cruel smile shows some of his perfectly straight teeth. “Did my brother, Valentine, mention me perhaps?” He’s billboard-size now, looking like he could’ve just stepped off an ad in Time Square. I’ve seen their ability to shapeshift before, but it still makes me shiver in fear.

  Ducking his head, Valerius reaches out and swipes me off my feet, crushing me in his fist like a paper doll. Reed, flying to my side, tries to pry the fingers of the Ifrit open to dislodge me from his grasp. Using his other hand, Valerius plucks Reed off his thumb, flinging him away so that Reed crashes into the wall by the bar.

  Beginning to grow again, Valerius and I immediately clear the basement, breaking the plane of the first floor that is completely torn apart. The crushing pressure from the Ifrit’s fist eases, probably because his hand is expanding rapidly. As he opens his fist, I rest against his palm and see that we’re level with the snow-covered rooftops. Fallen angels cover the sloping roofs, watching and waiting for events to unfold. Gancanagh have blocked off the entrances to this street with military vehicles. There are no cars or humans about that I can see, maybe because there is at least three feet of snow covering everything.

  The swirl of scorching breath burns the snow from the sky as Valerius snarls, �
�YOU ARE THE HALF-BREED WHO BARGAINED FOR VALENTINE’S DEATH.”

  My wing lifts up to shield my skin from the burning fire that passes from his lips. I smell the scent of my singed feathers as they smolder. “HE TORTURED MY FRIENDS!” I retort, lowering my wing a few inches to see his reaction.

  “HE WAS A PRINCE!” Valerius replies in outrage. My wing again takes the brunt of the heat.

  “HE WAS AN EVIL A-HOLE!” I shout, trying with no success to match his abrasive tone.

  Somewhere in the distance, the high-pitched trumpeting of horns sound. In the next instant, like crows on a wire, the Fallen that have been crouching on the pitched rooftops take flight. Their wings flap in panic, scattering them in confusion. When the horns sound again it’s like a signal for attention; the Fallen all hover in stasis, looking around at the skies above them with grim expressions.

  Peeking from beneath my wing, I look above me at Valerius’ face as he silently scans the skies above his head, too.

  Thunk—the sound comes from an arrow piercing the chest of a fallen angel flying near us. Bristling, red feathers of the arrow’s shaft protrude from him like a declaration of war. Then, thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk, several more arrows pepper his chest, causing blood to spew from his mouth while he freefalls through the air toward the ground.

  Pulling my wing back from my face, I straighten just enough to feel the full impact of strong arms going around me, plucking me from the palm of the giant Ifrit with a bone-crunching jolt.

  “UGHH,” my breath comes out in a rush as all the wind is knocked out of my lungs.

  “Sorry, love,” Reed says, gritting his teeth and dodging through the arms of fallen angels who have zeroed in on us as their targets.

  Missing us by centimeters, the streaming black hair of a beautiful fallen angel touches my skin. His strong hands reach out to try to pluck me from Reed’s arms, but his hands fall away as another angel pounces onto his back. This blond-haired divine angel slips a dagger beneath the fallen one’s throat and slits it with a grim expression while blood spatters back onto his chest from the velocity of flight.

  “Who was that?” I breathe, watching the blond angel fling himself off the dead angel and onto the back of another fallen angel.