Incendiary (The Premonition Series (Volume 4))

by Amy A. Bartol

  The music continues to float in the garden like a merry-go-round of sound, being here, and then there, moving in stereo. My eyes shift to the far wall covered in ivy and bittersweet vines, looking for the source of it. I find Finn, leaning casually against the ivy, playing some sort of long stringed guitar that I cannot name. The guitar hangs low in front of him, more like a steely weapon than an instrument. His head bends forward while he plucks at it, concentrating solely on the mesmerizing notes of the music. My eyes shift to his white, pointed wings beyond his shoulders.

  There are layers to his music, twisting melodies within melodies, and something else…something beyond sound. It is sensual and tactile—heat that burns from an Arabian sun, casting a heady fragrance of Bedouin fires and cooking pots from just the other side of a sandy plane. The effect is potent, filling me with the sense of invulnerability…like being intoxicated. My mind struggles to remember that this is all fake—a faerie-tale. The fellas can conjure cunning illusions and cast lulling spells that make everything dream-like and surreal.

  Beside Finn, Brennus slants idly against the wall, watching me with his light-green eyes. The golden laurel crown upon his head contrasts starkly with his black hair. White wings reach above his crown in thin points that resemble the jagged shape and texture of silken leaves and continues downward to just below his calves. Sun-kissed skin has replaced the paleness that I have grown accustomed to seeing in him. In short, he’s breathtakingly beautiful and never more faerie-like.

  Pulling casually at the pointed cuff of his elegant, white tunic, Brennus smoothes the wrinkles from his silken sleeve…and then, he waits.

  “Russell,” I purr in my sweetest tone, keeping my eyes on Brennus. “Why don’t you go and show Anya your new wind trick?”

  A slow smile spreads over Brennus’ lips as Faolan says, “Wait, Russell, I’ve another spell ta show ye—dis one heals da pains ‘o wounded pride,” he says with a congenial lilt.

  “They’re goin’ back to their own land now, Red,” Russell interrupts Faolan, missing his obvious threat. “They figured out a cure for their condition, so now they can go home.”

  “Really, Russ? There’s a cure for arrogance?” I ask him with the sinking realization that I’m alone in this fight, since Russell isn’t all-there. He’s been completely fooled by their elaborate façade—lie upon lie dancing in rings around one another.

  Russell laughs drunkenly at that, slapping Declan playfully on the chest, not seeing his frown. “She’s funny,” he chuckles.

  “She is,” Declan agrees with a grudging smile.

  “Russell,” I try again, glancing at him, and then back to Brennus, “I don’t think they can go home…and I’m pretty sure they’re still Gancanagh.”

  Russell frowns before shaking his head, “Naw, see!” he says, pointing to Faolan’s mouth, “no fangs!”

  Anger surges through me along with terrifying fear. “WAKE UP, RUSSELL!” I shout at him. “Their fangs retract—you know that!”

  “Huh?” Russell mutters, peering at Faolan in confusion. “You got more teeth hidin’ in there?”

  Straining with all my might, I try to pull energy to me to conjure a spell that will help Russell out of his cloud, but the air is thick as if the music is scattering the energy, suppressing it and keeping it from me. There must be a trick to it, because the fellas and Russell can still use magic.

  Panting in frustration and effort, I glare at Finn. “Finn, can you play something else?” I call to him over the seductive notes.

  “Whah would ye like ta hear?” Finn calls back with a small smile.

  “I don’t know…how about Stairway To Heaven?” I ask, trying to get him to stop weaving magic within his sinister inflections.

  “I do na tink I know dat one, Genevieve,” Finn replies softly, “ye’ll have ta teach it ta me.”

  “He does na take requests,” Brennus says, straightening and pushing effortlessly away from the wall. “But, I do.”

  I frown at Brennus. “Oh?” I ask as my eyebrow rises. “Do you know the song called ‘Go-the hell-away-and-don’t-ever-come-back?’”

  Brennus smiles and says, “I do na know da melody, but da lyrics are familiar.”

  He prowls towards me with his eyes focused in on mine. Feeling the framework of his newest cage, I twitch with the urge to fly away. “If you plan on staying, maybe I could hum a few bars for you,” I reply as a bluff, trying to keep him talking and not attacking. It’s my only chance to save Russell. “It worked with Casimir.”

  Brennus, appearing unimpressed says, “Make yer Siren’s call, grá mo chroí, but I’ll na listen ta yer song. ’Tis time ye heard moin.”

  “So I’m once again the ‘love of your heart?’” I ask with a fleeting smile, translating grá mo chroí.

  “Dat has never changed,” he replies, nearing me without any sign of caution or apprehension. “Ye’ll always be me heart.”

  I try again to pull energy to me, managing only to get a little. I attempt to construct an invisible wall around me to protect myself from Brennus, but when he encounters it, he simply raises his hand and it dissipates.

  I look at him in question and hear him say fiercely, “Dere is some magic I never taught ye.”

  Terrible, nightmarish fear makes my legs feel dead beneath me. Brennus’ hand reaches out for me and the coldness of his touch belies the warm tones of his flesh. Taking me in his arms, I see the fury of a jealous lover in his green stare. I would scream, but it is far too late. Brennus raises his hand and brings it down hard on my cheek, slapping me with the force of payback.

  Russell roars in rage, lunging away from Declan and Faolan towards us. Holding me around the waist, Brennus raises his other hand, pulsing energy at Russell. Lifting off his feet, Russell is tossed backward into the trunk of the flowering tree, scattering pink petals like the erratic fall of confetti. He crashes beneath it, but gets to his feet, only to be set upon by Declan and Faolan; their fangs engage click, click.

  Pushing Declan back with a roundhouse kick to the face, Russell leaves Declan’s jaw hanging at an odd angle. He then grasps the trunk of the tree, cracking and tearing it from the ground in a shower of twisted roots and spewing dirt.

  Russell chokes up on the trunk with a come-and-get-some sneer to Faolan. Swinging the tree, a whiplash of pale pink petals thrashes the air amid plumes of lion-colored pollen that has a sticky-sweet scent. The lichen-covered branches of the tree connect with Faolan, crushing and splintering the wood. It drives Faolan into the shadowy part of the garden not illuminated by the sultry light of Finn’s fabricated Eden.

  Declan rushes Russell, plowing into him with the force of a freight train and causing him to drop the splintered timber. Dripping spattering trails of saliva from his broken jaw, Declan’s arms encircle Russell’s waist. The air is knocked out of Russell’s lungs. He tumbles to the ground and lands beyond the trees out of my line of sight.

  And Finn plays on.

  I turn in Brennus’ arms, trying desperately to pry them from my waist so that I can help Russell. Brennus uses his savage strength to pull me to him. With my back pressing against his chest, his cool lips trace a line of kisses along the column of my throat.

  My wings push against his chest, but he only tightens his grip on my waist painfully. His magic swirls out, pushing back the carnival of fighting fellas, wild-sprawling garden, and fuming music to just shadows and impressions in the night.

  “Mo chroí, I’ve ached ta hold ye in me arms,” he roughly intones against my shivering skin. “Ye’ve torn me heart out.”

  I stop futilely struggling, hearing his accusation. Tilting my head back, I rest it against the soft, white fabric covering Brennus’ chest. Panting from exertion, I wish that the thumping of my heart sledge-hammering against the walls of my chest were the pounding of my feet against the ground, running from here.

  With my throat tightening, I whisper bitterly to Brennus, “I’m so ashamed of what I’ve become,” knowing that he’ll understan
d better than anyone what I mean. Brennus’ body stills behind mine, his cool lips hover inches from my skin. “I never wanted to hurt you…they said…they said I asked for this…that I agreed to become this jealousy-inducing thing and now I find that I’m exactly like you…an enticing monster.”

  Brennus’ breath touches my neck gently. “Dat, right dere, is why I can na live wi’out ye. Ye confide such tings in me dat makes da darkest rage abate,” he breathes. “Ye are a monster, Genevieve, ’tis whah I love da most: da dangerous, seductive killer in ye. Ye’ve da sweetness of a wee lass and da strength of a celestial being. But, shame is for da weak, síorghrá,” he coos, calling me eternal love, “and I’ve a cure for it.”

  His fangs engage, click, before piercing the soft skin of my neck and finding an arterial pulse. I scream this time as the brutal pain slicing my veins brings me to the unrelenting reality that I’m now, truly, in a fight for my life. The loss of blood soon makes my eyes become blacker while I gasp in gulps of air. My fingernails claw his cheeks before becoming fists, knocking his hardened jaw, until a growing complacent-fluttering of my fingertips traces dizzy circles on his flesh, feeling it warming with the infusion of my blood.

  The once frantic beat of my heart begins to slow; its pulse lessening, threatening never to move again; not for the beauty of love, nor for the anticipation of a lover, or for the alignment of another’s heart. The darkness grows, killing all hope with pain. A warm tear slips from my cheek to fall gently on his. When my knees buckle, Brennus disengages his fangs from my neck, turning my pliant body in his arms. The hard lines of his beautiful face soften as it swims in my vision, a result of my blood weakening his power, making him drunkenly satiated.

  Held like a doll to him, I search for Russell beyond the magical veil that has thinned and now wavers between impression and clarity. The fight between Russell and the fellas continues; in one instant they struggle ahead of us, and then fall behind, like Shriners in a desperate parade.

  Brennus turns my face so that my eyes rest on his light green ones. His impassioned tone dimly registers in my mind, “Ye’ll bend ta me desires dis time. Confess yer love for me and I’ll bestow me affections on ye along wi’ me blood—everyting will be yers again and we’ll conquer dem all.”

  The hubris of his statement causes a slow smile to spread over my bluish lips as my blood seeps in trails down my neck. Reaching my shaking fingers up to touch his cheek, my response comes out in a croaking whisper, “You’ve already won. I’m dying…you have your revenge.”

  Fear makes his eyes widen and when my eyes close he shakes me so I’ll open them again. The beat of my heart struggles from one to the next, stumbling as each contraction is slower than the last.

  Brennus’ eyebrows draw together in a dark scowl as he snarls at me, “’Tis na winning!” He shakes me again when my eyes lose focus on him. “Losing ye means mourning for eternity…”

  I pat his cheek lightly, while whispering, “Then…you lose,” before my hand slips from him.

  Leaning his face nearer to mine, a slow smile creeps to the corners of his lips as he asks, “Genevieve, when have ye known me ta lose anyting?”

  Cold, dark fear constricts my dying heart. “What?” I breathe.

  “Kiss me goodbye, mo chroí,” he says with a smile before his lips cover mine.

  Nudging my lips apart with teasing kisses, Brennus then bites down hard on his lower lip. His blood, like the fall of tears, wets my lips and mouth.

  Undeath, like an excruciating poison, winds through my lethargic limbs. My muscles grow hard and taut, causing painful spasms as they become rigid and rickety.

  “No,” I whisper accusingly into his exultant face when he pulls back to observe my transformation into an undead monster.

  “Yes,” Brennus whispers in reply, lovingly stroking my hair. “Ye’re truly moin now.”

  Cradled in Brennus’ arms, I writhe in the coldness of suffering and absolute sorrow.

  Russell’s voice sounds next to me as he speaks through his teeth, “Put her down, before I tear his head off.”

  My head lists toward Russell’s voice and I see him, standing behind Finn with his hands grasping the metal instrument that Finn had been playing. He pulls it tighter to Finn’s neck with a grim, determined look when Brennus glances in his direction. Russell only needs to jerk the sharp edge of the instrument back to sever Finn’s head from his body.

  “Ye’re too late,” Brennus replies softly.

  Breathing hard, Russell scowls at him, yelling, “PUT. HER. DOWN!”

  Gently, like I’m made of glass, Brennus lays me down on the cold, hard ground. Everywhere around us, the beautiful garden is retreating; the lush greenery is crawling back, crumbling into wintery darkness. Cold, twisting wind replaces the sultry heat of Finn’s magic.

  Finn and Brennus, too, begin to change; their brilliant, white wings melt away in a plume of smoke, while their skin pales to a deathly tone. The white, magical faerie garb is replaced with sleek, black suits, perfectly tailored and no less refined.

  “Now, move back!” Russell orders, scowling fiercely at Brennus.

  When Brennus steps back from me, Russell shuffles Finn forward to my side. Glancing down at me quickly, and then back up at Brennus, Russell says, “Get up, Red. Let’s go.”

  “She can na move,” Brennus informs him with a smug smile. “She’s dying…or, undying, whichever ye prefer.”

  Declan limps his way to Brennus’ side, the mask of magic gone, so that he appears as he always has: cold and ruthless—a Gancanagh killer.

  “What?” Russell asks in a higher tone. His eyes coming back to me, while the blood drains from his face.

  I try to tell Russell to run, but my jaws feel wired shut while I’m being burned by the coldest of ice from the inside out. My veins are turning black beneath the stark white skin of my hands and forearms as Brennus’ poisonous blood creeps through them.

  “Naw, naw, naw…” Russell’s panicky voice sounds as if it comes from him involuntarily, as a bad, off-key tune. “She’d never drink your blood—”

  “But, she has. ’Twas on me lips, ye see, when I kissed her goodbye,” comes Brennus’ smooth reply. “She’ll remain on dis side of eternity wi’ me now.”

  “HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO HER?” Russell shouts like the hiss of snake-spit. “You damned her soul forever! It was supposed to be a choice!”

  “’Twas a choice. ’Twas me choice,” Brennus says, watching Russell pull the silvery instrument tighter against Finn’s neck.

  “Brenn,” Finn says, his face sad as he looks at me, “’tis na da way ’tis done.”

  “’Tis done!” Brennus hisses back.

  I groan in agony as I try to hold on to the edge of pain so I won’t fall down the dark hole growing inside of me. An instant later, I’m cradled in Russell’s arms with his face buried in my hair. He rocks me, groaning in pain along with me as his blood-red wings spread around us, in an attempt to shield us from the fellas. “Ahh, Red, no…I’m sorry…” Russell whispers hoarsely to me, pulling me so close that our cheeks meet. He’s so warm that I want to pull his heat to me to wrap around me like a blanket.

  Feeling his soft tears dampen my skin, Russell’s voice cracks as he groans in my ear, “What do I do? How do I stop this?”

  No plumes of cold air escape from my lips, for my breath is turning colder than the air outside, as I struggle to say, “Killll...meee.”

  When the words are out, Russell’s hand tightens into a fist within my hair. He groans again, like he’ll be sick. “I can’t,” he says in a tortured tone with his teeth gnashing together.

  “Please…” I whisper, no louder than an autumn leaf tumbling over the wintery grass.

  Finn bends nearer to us on the ground, saying sympathetically to Russell, “Ye can na save her now. We’ll take care of her—she’ll be our own dear one. Ye should leave now, so she does na make ye her first kill.”

  Russell’s brow wrinkles as he snarls back, “You�
�ve no idea what I can do!”

  “Ye can na stop it,” Brennus says, coming menacingly closer and baring his fangs. “And, I tink ye’d make a fine first kill.”

  Faolan, mangled and beaten, drops on the ground right in front of Brennus’ feet. He let’s out a groan as his body rests next to us. Brennus hisses, looking up at the sky before Reed kicks him hard in the face, thereby forcing him off his feet and away from me.

  Charcoal-colored wings, of which I know every line and contour, spread out between Brennus and us, blocking the Gancanagh from coming between Russell and me. Then, Reed hurls himself at Declan, instantly breaking his leg to match his lower jaw, while narrowly avoiding Declan’s fist as it swings past his bare, unprotected cheek.

  The sound of harrowing panic threads through Reed’s tone as he orders Russell, “WHATEVER YOU’RE PLANNING TO DO, RUSSELL, DO IT!”

  Russell’s eyes turn wild, widening while he breathes in a massive breath. Exhaling with flaring nostrils, he puts his large hand on my chest. His fingers begin to glow, heating up like molten metal, penetrating my chest to melt the crystallized ice growing inside of me.

  I scream, suffering again as the flow of blood within my veins changes current, running in the opposite direction. Russell falls next to me, sending us like a cascade of debris to the frozen ground. Lying side-by-side, Russell’s hand remains on my chest, locked together like Siamese twins as he pulls the poisoned blood from my body to flow into his.

  Finn, disturbed by what is happening between Russell and me, tries to pry Russell’s hand from my heart. Russell reaches out his other hand to rest it on Faolon’s chest beside him, and it, too, begins to glow. A stricken expression crosses Finn’s face before he abruptly lets go of Russell’s hand on me and tries to pry the other one off of Faolan. When he can’t move it, he looks around, seeing the fight between Reed and Brennus. He gets up then and moves to help his brother.

  Faolan’s face pales to a gray-white color while his veins become engorged, swelling up like black, twisting leeches under his smooth skin. His hair, normally as black as pitch, whitens with the age of centuries. Two deep wounds break open on Faolan’s neck, the exact size and shape of Brennus’ fangs. The wounds ooze with what looks more like thick, dirty motor-oil than blood. A brief second more and his leech-like veins burst, causing black blood to ooze up through Faolan’s pores and from his eyes and ears. He stops struggling as his eyes become darker than the sky above us.