“I’m sorry, but if there is a way…I don’t know it,” I answer, feeling powerless to help him.
“What if I joined your army?” he asks, his brown eyes imploring mine.
“My army?” I ask. “I don’t have an army.”
“This is your army,” he says, spreading his arms wide and indicating the chaos and carnage going on all around us.
“No,” I deny it, shaking my head. “They don’t follow me.”
“They’re here for you—both sides,” he counters. “We will follow you. The Halfling—many of us will follow you.”
“I prefer half-breed,” I reply without thinking.
“What matters a name?” he asks tiredly. “You have power that none of us possesses. You can lead this army—all of us, not just Divine.”
“But, we fight each other,” I point out.
“I would follow you,” he replies without a hint of subterfuge.
“Follow me where?” I ask.
“Home,” he replies.
“I don’t understand…” I trail off, seeing something in his eyes. Something like hope. “You want my help to get back to Paradise?” I ask.
“You would consider it?” he asks, his eyes widening.
I nod numbly, seeing a brief smile appear in the corners of his lips right before a divine Power angel pauses behind him and drives his sword through the back of this fallen angel and out the front of his chest. Blood spews from his mouth, but the smile doesn’t leave his face.
“NO! DON’T!” I scream, startled as I reach out to the dying fallen angel, but my clone’s hands slip right through him.
“Are you hurt?” the divine angel asks me as the fallen Archangel falls limply away from us toward the ground, dead and broken. All I can do is shake my clone’s head, while turning her away. My eyesight within my clone fades as my concentration wavers.
A warm hand touches my skin as Phaedrus says, “Stay focused, Evie. You have to find Russell. He needs you.”
I take a deep breath, keeping my own eyes closed as I try to calm my racing heart. In moments, I’m fully conscious again within my clone. I reach out and feel a pull toward the center of the city. Streaking as fast as I can towards that pull of energy, my clone enters a clock tower through the black clock face covered with a gold, twelve-pointed star.
I locate Russell and Anya on the interior stairway of the clock tower, fighting back to back as Fallen pour at them from all angles.
“I found them,” I breathe to Phaedrus next to me.
“Good, where are they?” he asks.
“Clock tower—black face, golden star on it,” I describe.
“The Town Hall,” Phaedrus says quickly. “You need to create another clone and send it to Reed with this information.”
“That’s possible?” I ask. “Sssheeesh—” I hiss, seeing Anya receive a slash to her thigh.
I direct my clone to hop up on the railing of the staircase above Russell and Anya. Waving my clone’s hands in the air to get the attention of the Fallen, I yell, “HEY! EVIL FREAKS!”
The instant the Fallen surrounding Anya see me, I dive off the edge of the railing and plummet through the open air surrounding the winding staircase. Mock falling toward the ground like a wounded bird, they all abandon Russell and Anya to pursue me.
“You’re alive,” Russell’s clone says, falling next to mine an instant later.
“I’m at the Brama Mostowa—it’s the medieval tower near the river,” I reply, grinning at him in relief.
“Oh, the Bridge Gate,” he translates for me, probably remembering it from 600 years ago. “Nice, huh?” he asks as he touches down on the Town Hall’s marble-tiled floor by my side.
“Nice? Not so much. It’s more like a medieval prison meets corporate office building, but it does have one perk: no Fallen,” I reply.
“Sounds fine by me. Now we just need help gettin’ there,” he says with a frown. “It’s thick with the smell of rotten Fallen outside and I’ve got Anya. I need to go back up to her.” He points to where he’d left his body and Anya. “I think she’s hurt.”
The Fallen begin hacking at our clones with their weapons, but we ignore them.
“I’ll tell Reed where you are—maybe he can help,” I say quickly.
“Okay,” Russell agrees as his clone dematerializes, causing the Fallen surrounding me to growl in frustration.
“Phaedrus, I need to stay in this clone so the Fallen don’t go back up and try to get Russell—” I begin.
“Shatter,” Phaedrus advises me softly, like a voice inside my head.
“What?” I ask in confusion.
“I want you to shatter as if you were a broken piece of glass. Send Reed a fragment of the clone you are in now,” he explains. “It will be a soft whisper of you, but enough for him to feel—to hear, smell, follow—”
“A piece of me,” I murmur, feeling stumped and wishing I were more like Russell—more of a doer than a thinker. “Shatter…” I breathe. Nothing happens. “Break…”
“Reed could be in trouble. You should get him here as fast as you can,” Phaedrus’ voice says in my head.
Instantly I feel brittle. Cracks begin crawling slowly up my arms as light from within me shines out through them. The Fallen who have been surrounding me step back, distancing themselves from what they don’t understand. A piece of me, from where my heart resides, breaks out of my clone. Glowing golden, a soft orb floats briefly in front of the fallen angels before shooting through the side of the brown brick wall.
As the Fallen continue to circle me, I attempt to ignore their trash talking because some of the stuff they want to do to me and my soul is really terrifying. Feeling Phaedrus reach out and take my hand, I understand that he can hear what the Fallen are saying as he listens to the thoughts in my mind. And then, as if by magic, they all stop speaking while two of them lay prone in pieces on the floor. Reed, covered in carnage stands before me, staring into my clone’s eyes as several divine angels cut down the rest of the Fallen angels surrounding us
“What are you doing here, love?” Reed asks.
Pointing up, I say, “Russell and Anya are up there.”
A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth while he calls out, “Russell?”
“Yeah! You got my back now?” Russell asks in a sour tone, looking over the railing from the tower above. “’Cuz one of them freaky demon things almost ate me after y’all left!”
“A Riser nearly ate you?” Reed asks with humor in his tone
“Yeah, whatever—it’s not funny!” he calls down, sounding irritated. “Next time, I want Zee for my wingman.”
“That is because I am the ultimate assassin,” Zephyr replies from behind Reed.
Russell flies down from the tower above with Anya in his arms. “Zee!” Russell says, grinning.
“Russell,” Zephyr replies, and his tone is a little tight as he rests his hand on Russell’s shoulder. “The last time I saw you, you were being eaten by Gancanagh.”
“Apparently, I’m delicious,” Russell says with a cheeky grin as Zephyr drops his hand. “Is Buns here, too?” he asks Zephyr.
“Nearby. She is not fighting,” Zephyr answers with a frown, “at least, she better not be. She was told to stay in the tower gate.”
“Did she go postal?” Russell grins at him, “You know, for pullin’ her portal on the island and sendin’ her to your safe house before the fight?”
“Define postal?” Zephyr counters, his brows pulling together further.
“Insanely angry,” Russell says.
“Yes,” Zephyr nods his head adamantly, pointing at him. “She has not called me ‘sweetie’ since.”
“Oooo,” Russell says, ducking his head and wrinkling his nose. “Doghouse.”
“Yes,” Zephyr agrees blandly. “We must discuss how I am to get out of it. But, who is this?” Zephyr asks, indicating Anya.
“Long story,” Russell mutters, pulling Anya closer to him.
“My favorit
e kind,” Zephyr replies, his assassin’s eyes almost twinkling.
“I need to get her somewhere safe and warm, she’s freezin’. You think you can help me out with that?” Russell asks, looking a little cold himself.
“We’ll take you to the Bridge Gate,” Zephyr replies. “Maybe she can give Buns a project—”
“Any sign of Brennus?” I interrupt them, holding my breath.
“He either never made it here, or he left soon after the battle began because we haven’t seen him. Nor have we seen any of the Gancanagh since you took care of the ones in the street,” Reed replies, gauging my reaction. I don’t know how I feel about it, so maybe he can tell me later.
The huge, arching doors that open to the street swing in, emitting a legion of divine angels. Attired from head to foot in white armor, spattered in blood, the leader in the front stands out from the rest not only for his extremely long set of crimson wings, but also for his short, auburn hair that is the exact same color as mine. Knowing that this incredibly confident angel striding toward me is my father, I become mute as I stare at him.
Sparing only a glance around, he speaks to Reed, “I see you have located Russell and Anya,” Tau says in a direct way, nodding towards Russell.
“Evie found them, we just secured the area,” Reed replies, just as directly.
Tau pauses before turning his face to look at me for the first time. Recognition creeps over me as my jaw falls open. He has gray eyes, too, almost like mine, but mine are darker…and his face hasn’t changed…it’s still like an angel’s, beautiful and perfect in every way…just like I remember it…
“Drew…Dreamy Drew is my father…” I whisper, before my clone dissolves into the air and I open my eyes to look at Phaedrus by my side.
“AHH,” I breathe out, feeling really, really confused. Getting up from the floor, my hands in fists, I pace around the small, medieval office of the Bridge Gate.
Holding his head, Phaedrus says, “Can you slow down, I can’t keep up with all those pictures in your mind.”
“Then get out of my head,” I retort in anger, putting my hand to my forehead.
“Tau was the high school Homecoming King?” Phaedrus asks, a small smile forming on his lips, like he can’t help himself. He’s probably reliving that cool, September night with me in my mind, watching the halftime celebration on the football field as Drew, I mean Tau, was crowned king while standing next to Stacy Hingus.
“He was everything. He was class president, captain of the cross-country team, and captain of the soccer team—debate. He sat right behind me in calculus. I TOLD MOLLY THAT HE LOOKED LIKE AN ADULT IN THE NINTH GRADE!” I yell, gesturing wildly while freaking out. “NOBODY LOOKS LIKE HIM AT FOURTEEN! THAT’S WHY EVERYONE CALLED HIM ‘DREAMY DREW’ BECAUSE HE WAS–IS–INCREDIBLY HOT.”
“Technically, he’s much older than an adult,” Phaedrus replies in a rational tone.
“You think?” I retort sarcastically.
“So, you’ve known him for a while,” Phaedrus says, prompting me.
“NO! Not really—since freshman year of high school. He was always mean to me,” I reply in a small voice, completely pissed off when tears come to my eyes. I try to stuff them back down.
“He was mean to you?” Phaedrus asks, frowning.
“Yeah, I’d say ‘hi’ to him because he sat by me in a lot of my classes…every class and he’d just ignore me, like I was a total loser. And then…I’m pretty sure he spread some stupid rumors about me,” I say in a scathing tone.
“Rumors?” Phaedrus asks.
“Not important,” I reply, my face flushing.
“Cheesy?” he asks me, reading my thoughts. My head tilts back as I look at the ceiling in frustration.
“He told everyone I smell...like cheese, so for a while, kids called me ‘cheesy’ in the halls instead of Evie,” I explain, feeling humiliated all over again.
“You don’t smell like cheese—far from it,” Phaedrus says, looking confused.
“THANK YOU!” I answer, while feeling a little vindicated. “I didn’t then either, but once you get a label, forget it, you’re done.”
“Done?” he asks.
“It’s like a stigma. Who wants to date ‘cheesy?’” I question.
“But, it has to wear off?” he asks.
“Oh, there was more, trust me,” I say, wringing my hands. “I have to get out of here.”
“What? Why?” he asks, his eyes widening.
“Because all of my illusions are gone, Phaedrus,” I reply, trying to explain the unexplainable. “He’s this…and I’m just…and he hates me.”
“Why would he hate you?” Phaedrus asks in a reasonable tone.
“I don’t know, Phaedrus, but I’ll take a stab at it,” I retort. “Maybe, if you’re Tau and you’re used to being in God’s inner circle and you enjoy killing rotten, stinky fallen angels and going on dangerous missions to Sheol to parley with evil a-holes, you could see hanging out with me in some small-town high school a little beneath you.”
“But, you are his daughter,” Phaedrus says with a reverence that makes me wish that he was my father for a moment.
“And what makes you sure he wanted to be my father?” I ask.
“You are here,” Phaedrus replies.
“Yes, but do you really ever say ‘no thanks’ when God asks you to do something?” I counter.
“Hmm,” Phaedrus responds, reluctant to see my point.
“Yeah,” I say with a derisive laugh, knowing that I have one.
“You just defined his role, what he does, not who he is. You want to leave before you give him a chance to explain: to talk to you on a level that he was probably never allowed before now?” he inquires.
Putting both my hands over my face, I exhale in frustration, “Ughh. Okay, you have a point. But, to use Russell’s words this is ‘awkward as ass.’”
“Your forte,” Phaedrus replies.
“My plate is a little full of awkward right now, Phaedrus,” I reply.
“You can handle it,” he says with reassurance, and I narrow my eyes at him.
“Is this your mission?” I ask, seeing him smile.
“Virtue angels get to do many things—” he begins.
Holding up my hand I say, “Got it. We’ll need a miracle to understand each other.”
“Perhaps,” he smiles.
“Whatever,” I frown back. “Do you hear that?” I ask, going to the window and looking out. Swarms of divine angels are landing all around the ancient walls of the tower. They look like they’re celebrating victory as they boisterously greet each other.
Frowning, he moves to the window and looks out at the crowd. He smiles, saying, “The battle must be over.”
“That means we won, right?” I ask him, looking to be reassured.
He nods. “That means we won this battle.”
“Where will we be going now?” I ask.
“Good question. Maybe you can ask your dad,” he replies innocently.
“Sure, and maybe he’ll give me the keys to the car and a little money for the movies once we get there,” I counter.
“There’s the spirit,” he replies.
“Should I thank him?” I ask in a soft tone. Seeing Phaedrus’ brow rise in question, I add, “For saving me today.”
“That would be nice. Gratitude is a good ice breaker,” he replies as we both stare out the window at the angels reveling in victory.
“Now, I’ll just have to try to find some,” I say quietly.
“About the other thing…I do not think it is a topic you will want to lead with,” Phaedrus says, not taking his black eyes from the scene outside the window.
“Hmm?” I ask, pretending ignorance.
“I was listening when the fallen one asked you to help him,” he replies. “I felt your regret at his demise.”
“You think Tau will be resistant to finding out if there can ever be absolution for the Fallen,” I ask, my heart beating harder.
&
nbsp; “He knows there is not,” Phaedrus responds.
“Yes, well, there’s never been an angel with a soul before either,” I reply.
“Hmm,” he murmurs. “Heresy from the heretic. You are brave, aren’t you?” he asks in a teasing way.
Before I can answer him, there is a nasty reverb from the P.A. system in the phones. Then, “ATTENTION ALL SWEETIES! THIS IS BUNS SPEAKING! WE HAVE DANCING ON THE PARAPETS AND A RAGING PARTY NEAR THE RIVER. BRING YOUR PARKAS! EVIE, GET YOUR ASS TO THE ROOF FOR AN INSANE REUNION! THAT IS ALL!”
“I love her,” I murmur.
“Yes,” Phaedrus agrees. “There is something reverent in her irreverence.”
“Exactly,” I say with a smile. “Shall we go see her?” I ask.
“After you,” he says.
CHAPTER 13
Rebellion
I follow Phaedrus up the ancient staircase of the Bridge Gate to the roof. Every angel I pass steps aside for me. It makes me feel like I’m back with the Gancanagh where I’m the queen and they have to defer to me. Exiting an exterior door, I’m blasted by the cold, snowy air. I spot Buns and Brownie amid several Powers all hanging on the Reaper’s every word. Buns is wearing a long, gray coat with a matching military-style hat—the kind with the ear flaps. Funky music that I’ve never heard before is playing from an ancient sound system someone dragged out here.
When Buns sees me, she calls out, “Sweetie!” Breaking away from the crowd, she throws her arms around me, hugging me tight.
“Nice bonnet,” I say, smiling as Brownie hugs me, too.
“Don’t let the Russians hear you call it that. It’s an ushanka! I brought one for you from St. Petersburg,” she says, grinning at me and putting the hat on my head. She drapes a matching, long coat around me, too.
“Russia? Is that where you went?” I ask, grateful for the warmth.
“Da, comrade. That was Zee’s idea,” she says, rolling her eyes. “He wanted us to try out the spas, but he’s in BIG trouble with me, so I think he was relieved that this whole epic battle surfaced.” She waves her hand like he lucked out or something.
Incendiary (The Premonition Series (Volume 4)) Page 18
