Incendiary (The Premonition Series (Volume 4))

by Amy A. Bartol

  Russell leaps to his feet, yelling, “ZEE!”

  My cheek rests against the hardwood as I orient myself. Tremors of pounding feet coming toward me vibrate the floor. Evie’s head is pressed tightly to my chest; I would pull her inside of me and have my heart beat for us both if I could. Russell looks confused as he stands over me. He doesn’t know where it’s okay to touch me to help me to rise.

  Never having been much acquainted with the word “help” I’m unable to say it even now. I do what I always do when the day has shown me its worst: I make do. I manage to stagger to my feet with Evie in my arms, but I do it clumsily.

  Buns, standing at the window, takes a step back from us in shock. Her hand reaches for the silken drapery as she steadies herself. Evie and I must look frightening to her and the irony in that hits me: she is a Reaper who now fears our deaths. We must resemble the dead. My skin is red and raw, peeling off of me in places where it’s regenerating. My wings are molting, shedding charred feathers as new ones replace them. Evie is so pale and blood-soaked that it appears that there can be no way that she still lives. But she does. I can finally hear her heart beating...th-thump...thump...th-thump...thump...it’s very faint, but it’s there. It falls between the cracks in my heart, helping me to control my panic as that raging fear tries to control me.

  “EVIE!” Russell howls next to us. “ZEE, THEY’RE HERE!” I know his shout is from fear rather than to necessitate the presence of Zephyr, since a whisper would suffice to get Zee’s attention wherever he is in the house.

  Zephyr enters the media room on the tread of panther feet, silent. With him, clutched in one glove-covered fist, is a flailing Gancanagh soldier. He is no threat to Zee, having had his arms cut off at the elbows, but Zee is taking every precaution with him anyway. He must have tried to touch Zee otherwise Zephyr would have left him intact. The Gancanagh’s death-white, twisted face changes as he catches the scent of blood pouring from Evie; it turns hungry with yearning eyes as his fangs gleam under the soft lighting in the room. I feel nothing for him, the evil soul-skinner—the animated corpse. He would destroy Evie in seconds if he were to be turned free. He can end now.

  Like the scent of rain, the shift in the air alerts me to the storm coming. Russell is pulling energy to him and I wait for the ripple of thunder to roll silent as the lightning from his hands already begins to warm.

  “Put her down over there, Reed!” Russell indicates the wide, cracked media table in the middle of the room.

  I feel a soft touch on my elbow as Brownie materializes next to me. She puts her other hand on my wing, gently urging me forward to the table as her lips curl in a smile of encouragement, but her eyes are glassy with unmitigated fear.

  My tread is centipede-like, as my will to move must wait for my body to comply. I lurch forward but seem to get nowhere. A chair falls to the floor as I bump into it. Buns’s eyes widen from her position across the room at my uncharacteristic lack of fluidity. In the next second, Buns touches my other elbow, helping to guide me to the table. When we reach it, I place Evie upon the surface as gently as I can. I stroke her tangled hair away from her pale face. Her eyelids never move.

  Crouching down close to her ear, I want to beg her for her forgiveness for all that she’s been through—for this. Instead, I whisper, “I’m lost without you, Evie. I’m only found in your eyes.” Something in my heart squeezes painfully.

  Do I pray for her life or for mine? They’re one in the same...Be this soul in Thine hands...I stop, unable to pray for her ascension. I cannot let her go, I think in agony. I try again, May this soul in Thine hands be with me...always...

  Zephyr slams the Gancanagh down next to Evie on the table. The soldier’s neck thrusts and rears forward, his fangs snapping at her in his desire for her blood as she remains just out of his reach. Russell’s hand covers the Gancanagh’s chest and he simultaneously motions Zephyr to step away from them. Zephyr glances toward me, his jaw clenches at his inability to help further. Like me, there is nothing else he can do.

  “Reed,” Russell casts me a meaningful look; he needs me to back away from Evie so that he can lay his hand on her.

  Tearing myself away from her now is nearly impossible. I feel like she’ll ascend if I’m not touching her and the guilt of wanting her to stay with me is crushing. My throat tightens and it’s almost impossible to speak, but I force myself to whisper, “The most fortunate day of my life,” my voice falters and I have to pause before continuing, “was when I stumbled across you, Evie. I need you to stay with me...please...I will love you every day until my last. I promise you that I will.” Then I do the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life: I let go of her.

  The fear that has been at a manageable level oxidizes: it turns rancid. I quietly shake, rooted to the floor, unable to move. Russell’s fingers begin to glow with the gold, diamond-fire light of raw energy. In moments, Russell’s hand fuses to Evie while his other hand does the same to the Gancanagh. Russell’s face contorts in pain, like a pianist with his hands upon ivory keys as he pounds out an exquisite melody.

  Evie’s face is placid, and its lack of any expression of pain causes sweat to form on my brow. I fear that she’s already dead, even when I can still feel her. Bite marks slowly recede on her pale skin, as they break open on Russell’s neck and forearms. Russell’s wounds only last for moments before they heal, but the Gancanagh thrashing on the table begins to bleed in earnest, black blood oozing from his undead flesh. And then, what I’ve been waiting for happens.

  “Gah ah,” Evie arches her back in agony while inhaling an enormous gasp of air. Her eyes open wide as her hands come up to clutch Russell’s hand on her chest, attempting to knock it away, but she’s weak. Russell’s eyes connect with Evie’s and he grits his teeth, silently communicating that he feels her pain. Next to them, the Gancanagh’s eyes grow black and bow out like an albino frog. His eyes burst and black blood runs from them while dust billows up in a black cloud from his mouth. It smells like the smoke from a peat fire.

  The light from Russell’s hands slowly dies and he sags against the table as he moves them to help prop himself up. When he looks up at Evie again, she begins to cry. “NOOO! REEEED!” A wailing scream rips from Evie. “REED! RUN!” She struggles to move as gasping screams fly from her. Her elbows flail, trying to move her to a sitting position, but she’s too weak.

  “Red!” Russell says wearily. His strength is gone; it took most of what he had to heal her. His brown eyes connect with her lovely gray ones.

  “No, Russell, Nooo!” She wails again. Her hand reaches up to cover his mouth as her own mouth takes on the shape of agony. “I killed him, Russell! I killed Reed!” Evie cries like I’ve never heard her cry before—not even for her uncle. This is excruciating, unconcealed terror wrapped in guilt. This isn’t the heartbreak of loss; it’s the sickness of tragedy and sorrow. Tristitiae.

  I have to move because it’s too painful not to. I force myself forward into Evie’s line of sight. Her breath catches in mid-sob when she sees me, but tears continue to run unchecked from her eyes.

  “Reed,” she whispers, her torment interrupted by the thread of hope as her eyes rove over me, taking in my torched skin. Her fingers reach out to touch my chest, but she hesitates. She bites her lip and her fingers tremble because she doesn’t know where she can touch me without hurting me. I reach out and take her hand in mine, bringing it to my cheek. When I lay her hand upon my face, I close my eyes in relief.

  I exalt in the language that comes naturally to me—Angel.

  I hear Evie choke, trying to stifle another sob. My eyes open and I reach for her, taking her in my arms. I pick her up and hug her to me. Her arms slip around my nape as her cheek rests against my neck. She’s crying again, huge wracking sobs. I glance at Russell who’s watching us as he leans exhaustedly against the table.

  “Thank you, Russell,” I say.

  Russell shrugs. “For what? Oh, that? Pshh, that was nothin’,” he says with a slow smile full o
f hubris, but his eyes tell another story.

  I frown. “Whatever you have left, Russell, you have to direct it out to protect the house,” I say in a low, deadly serious tone.

  Russell immediately straightens, becoming fully alert once more. “Why?” he asks with dread in his voice.

  “Because if you don’t, Brennus will try to kill us all,” I reply, unable to say it any plainer. “Everyone but Evie.”

  Zephyr’s voice breaks the silence that hangs in the air. “He lives?” he asks.

  My jaw clenches and I can hardly speak. “He’s more powerful than he was before—his magic works on me now. Evie’s blood protected him and when she annihilated his soldiers with energy...it changed him. Can you protect us, Russell?” I ask him pointedly.

  Russell says in a hoarse whisper, “I can. I’ll shield the house now. Nothing will get in.”

  Shock and haunting stares meet my glance as I look around the room at each of the members of my family: Buns, Brownie, Zephyr, Russell, and Anya. I know they want an explanation, but I just can’t give that to them now. Instead, I turn away from them and leave the room with Evie in my arms. I make my way slowly to the stairs in the foyer and climb them.

  When we reach my room, I hesitate at the threshold. It’s been destroyed. I should have some emotion for what I’m seeing, but I don’t; it’s the smallest of trespasses in all of this. Turning, I move on to the bedroom that Evie once occupied. I walk through it to the attached bathroom, closing the door behind us.

  Cold water falls like rain from the ceiling mounted showerhead when I turn it on. I don’t bother to try to take our clothes off, I only wait a moment until it becomes warm and then I enter the glass enclosure with Evie in my arms. Water beats down on us causing the ashes in our hair to make dark trails of black tears on our cheeks. The soot mixes with blood to form swirling patterns as it washes away into the drain.

  After a few minutes, I sink to the wet floor and lean against the tiled wall with Evie on my lap. Gently, I stroke her wing. The water soothes my skin, helping me to heal. I flex my hand, watching the raw hue fade to a normal, healthy tone.

  “I thought I killed you,” Evie whispers. She hasn’t lifted her forehead from the hollow of my throat.

  “Not today,” my abraded voice whispers in return. I squeeze her reassuringly. “Today, you saved me.”

  “He didn’t die?” she asks without breathing.

  “No, he didn’t,” I answer.

  “Then he’ll come for me,” her tone holds no hint of doubt.

  “He’ll try,” I murmur. I won’t deceive her.

  Evie stirs in my arms; her chin tilts up and brushes against my cheek. Butterflies stir too, increasing at her simple touch. My fingers tighten on her hip as I react to the attraction between us. Her heart begins to sing to me, the Siren’s song that’s calling me to shipwreck. I go to it willingly. When her lips meet mine, I know I’m lost, I’m found—I’m home.

  Something between a groan and a growl comes from me as she shifts in my arms, straddling my hips. The black silk of her dress rides up her thighs as my hands caress her bare skin. She presses herself to me and the feeling of silk touching my chest is a thousand times more exquisite since being healed. My hand slowly moves up her, past the perfect curve of her hip, up her back to her shoulder. Water continues to pour on us as I slip the dark strap of her dress away from her.

  When my mouth touches her shoulder, her hands slip into my hair and tighten. It does something to me. I reach up and grasp her dress, rending it in half and pulling it from her. The only thing that comes between us now are what’s left of my jeans and a flimsy, lacy square of material that attempts to pass as her undergarment. I correct that with a soft tug to the delicate fabric that clings to her hips. Evie’s sultry red wings spread wide as the lace square falls away from her and is tossed to the corner of the shower.

  She reaches down and pops the button on my ragged denim. As I stand up with her in my arms, the heavy, water-drenched fabric shrugs from my hips. I hold Evie as her lissome legs wrap around my waist. Her wet skin against mine is more sensual than the silk of her dress had been. The muscles in my abdomen tighten as my need for her grows.

  Her wings flutter and another deep growl is torn from me. My wings respond, spreading out to full extension as I press her against the tiled wall. Delicate fingertips softly toy with the waistband of my underwear before she gives them a tug and it becomes a nonissue. My hands cup her perfect bottom, and then my heart nearly explodes when she moves her hands to mine, squeezing it.

  I have to kiss her again; I start with her lips. When I taste her on my tongue, I want more. I need more. Tugging on her bottom lip with mine elicits a soft groan of pleasure from her. I live in the sound of it.

  When our bodies fit together, like pieces falling into place, I’m nearly undone by it and by her eyes. They narrow and her forehead leans forward to rest against mine. Through her eyes, I can almost see inside her soul. That’s where I long to be: centered near her soul, wedged between it and her heart. Her angelic body and heart are mine, have always been mine, but Russell was right when he said her soul loves him and now there is a piece of her heart that loves Brennus. I want it all; I understand that now. The battle for her entire heart and her soul starts now.

  I begin my seduction as I pull my lips from hers. My assault on her soul is a slow rhythm that increases with her heartbeat. Trailing kisses over her neck, my lips come to rest on my wings imprinted on her chest. They’re still there. My aspire. A small smile forms for the first time. I press my lips to the symbol branded on her, speaking to her kittenish soul in Angel. I know that Evie doesn’t understand that language yet, but her soul knows it for its own. I tell her soul that I love her—that I will wait for her to love me the way that I love her.

  I lose myself in her: her scent, her touch, and the taste of her. I will never get enough. There will never be enough. Goose bumps break out on her arms, even with the heat between us. When Evie cries out, it’s my name on her lips; it’s in the only language I care about: hers.

  My self-control reaches its limit. I gather up her heavy wet hair at the base of her nape in my hand, pulling her lips from me so that her eyes are forced to look into mine. “Evie, I—I can’t be gentle,” I growl between my clenched teeth.

  Her nails dig into my back. “I don’t care how you touch me, just touch me.”

  My stomach clenches with the rush that only she gives me. I thrust her back against the wall. The tiles crack behind her wings, spidering and falling in pieces to the shower floor. Her thighs squeeze me tighter, drawing me nearer to her while her teeth gently rake my shoulder.

  “I thought I lost you,” she murmurs close to my ear as she raises her head.

  “Never,” I promise. Her flat belly rubs against mine while the sultry scent from her wet hair drives me on. “I’ll always find the thread that binds me to you.”

  “Reed,” my name is a plea on her lips.

  My head swims with desire for her and I’m unable to come up for air. “I love you,” I murmur, and being most assuredly unable to speak further, we both fall silent, allowing our bodies to communicate the rest of what is in our hearts.

  CHAPTER 29

  Grace

  Evie

  My hair lies across Reed’s shoulder like a mantle; the strands shine with brassy fire on his perfect skin. The rising sun touches the rumpled white sheets of our bed, turning them golden. I haven’t slept. I can’t close my eyes because the war is just outside our door; it wages on. I know that now. Killers will call on me. I can’t hold back their shadows from falling upon us.

  “You have to sleep, Evie,” Reed says, softly touching my hair as his thigh moves against mine. Its weight is comforting as he pulls me tighter against his body. We’d made love all night, not like we had in the shower, but slowly, a rediscovery of each other—a gentle exploration to assure each other that we’d survived.

  “I can’t...” I trail off.

  “
Why not?” Reed prompts me.

  “They’re out there,” I say quietly. Goose bumps rise on my body; I suppress the need that I have to shudder. “Brennus, the Fallen, scary monsters I don’t even know about yet...”

  Reed feels my reaction and his hands smooth over my arms, rubbing them reassuringly. “Yes, they are out there somewhere. But you can’t fight the next battle until it comes. You have to recognize the moments of grace and live in them. Fighting the invisible enemy will only lead to exhaustion. This moment is a gift of peace. Take it.”

  “What if I can’t stop them?” I ask in a shallow voice.

  Reed is quiet for a moment as he traces the line of my arm to my shoulder. “You are an extraordinary being, Evie. But, even in that, you’re not God. If you accept that, then the regret over your inability to control the outcome of any of this is easier to bear.”

  I roll over and straddle his hips, looking down at him. His hand comes up to cup my cheek and I turn my lips to it and kiss his palm. Reed uses his thumb to trace my lips. I part them, lightly nipping his thumb. He watches me with an unwavering stare as I lightly flick my tongue over the tip of it.

  “The things that you can do to me with just a simple touch,” Reed murmurs. “Come to think of it, you can do the same without even touching me. It can just be the scent of your hair as you walk near me, or the elegant lift of your eyebrow when you ask a question. I have to constantly restrain myself from pulling you to me and tearing your clothes from you.”

  “I’m at a distinct disadvantage now,” I say, looking down at myself. “No clothes.”

  “Then I must press my advantage,” he smiles, sitting up and allowing just about every single inch of our bodies to touch. I melt against him. As our bodies mesh as one, I know that this is the heaven I want to fight for: the one in my arms.

  In the quiet afterward, I lie in Reed’s arms waiting for my heartbeat to come slowly down. I wonder if anything will ever be normal again. A small fire burns in the grate, warming the room against the frost covering the windowpanes.