Indebted

by Amy A. Bartol

  “You sent Alfred,” I state in Latin, letting them know that I can follow them in this language, too.

  Casimir replies, “Mr. Martin, your Latin instructor, said that you excelled in his class on all of the progress reports that we had from him.”

  I clench my teeth at his words so that my jaw won’t drop open because he is talking about a teacher I had in high school, before I attended Crestwood. They have been watching me for a long time, but Alfred betrayed them and tried to take my soul from me, without their permission. They have plans for me. No one just watches someone else. They want me for something—they have always wanted me.

  “Alfred was a poor choice,” Casimir says. His calm demeanor is back now.

  “Gaspard and Cade were poor choices, too,” I reply.

  “You didn’t enjoy them? I’m surprised, you seem to champion mediocrity,” he counters. I bristle because his eyes drift to my binding mark again, and then his eyes move towards Brennus.

  “I don’t enjoy you, and you seem to be a complete failure, so what does that tell you?” I ask him calmly, mirroring his demeanor.

  A slow smile begins to pull the corners of his mouth up, making him look achingly beautiful, but there is no magic in his beauty for me. I am repulsed by it, not attracted to it.

  “Name your price, Brennus,” Casimir says softly. “I wish to take her with me when I go.”

  “Dere is no price,” Brennus replies in an equally gentle tone. “But, if I find another like her, I will be sure ta let ye know.”

  “There is no one else like her,” Casimir replies as his top lip curls in a sexy sneer.

  “’Tis true,” Brennus agrees with a shrug. I could kiss him for not exposing Russell to Casimir. “Dis has been an interesting and informative meeting, Casimir. However, I am afraid dere are pressing issues dat call for me attention,” Brennus says, trailing his finger over the line of my clavicle, making me shiver at his cold touch. “Declan…”

  Declan opens the door and steps into the room, followed close behind by Eion, Lachlan, and Faolan. They stand just inside the door with their fangs clearly discernable.

  “Brennus, you have done well for yourself. Why would you want that to change? There is always a price. You should name it or you may end up paying it,” Casimir says seductively.

  “Are ye going ta try ta make me pay dis price, Casimir? Ye must be tired of livin’ in yer hole, or are ye jus tired of livin’?” Brennus asks, looking completely calm and amused.

  “It could be me who makes you pay, or it could be the little jewel sitting on your lap. I heard you tried to make her grovel at your feet…that didn’t work out so well for you, did it? And she is just getting started. You have no idea what you have there, do you?” he asks.

  “I’m learning someting new every day, Casimir. Life has suddenly gotten worth living again,” Brennus replies.

  “It’s too bad for you then that you are already dead, is it not?” Casimir replies.

  “Da next time ye come here, Casimir, ye best na be alone,” Brennus replies coolly. “Do ye need more tellin’?”

  Casimir growls in response, which elicits a hissing sound from the fellas who move towards him menacingly. Casimir backs to the balcony doors. He takes one last look at me and then he leaps into the air and is gone.

  “ARRGH, someone open da windows, would yous,” Eion says, holding his nose like it stings. “And dey say we stink.”

  “Any of yous see him again, ye have me permission ta kill him,” Brennus says to my personal guard. “He wants yer queen. Drain him if ye like.”

  Brennus touches my chin, turning my face to meet his eyes. “Remember his face. If ye see him again, ye run, ye tell us and we will take care of him. Do na try ta face him yeself. He is dangerous for ye, do ye hear whah I’m saying?” Brennus asks me and I nod, feeling terrified and grateful. “I did na want ye exposed ta him, but I had ta make sure ye saw him and understood whah he is. Seeing is easier dan saying.”

  “You…you weren’t lying to me,” I say softly, looking into his eyes. “You plan on protecting me—for real.”

  Brennus looks at Declan and says, “Take da fellas and tell Finn I want ta see him after I speak ta Genevieve alone.” Declan inclines his head and they look grateful to be leaving the office—to be getting away from Casimir’s foul odor.

  “I will protect ye. Ye are safe here. Do ye know whah da Fallen plan for ye?” he asks me, deadly serious. I shake my head at his question. “’Tis important now dat we find out exactly why dey want ye. If ’tis jus for yer soul, dat could be changed, but I have gotten de impression dat dere is more ta dis dan jus dat.”

  “Why do you think that they would want more than my soul?” I ask.

  “Did ye na see whah ye were doing ta da Seraph? Ye walked into da room and ye owned Casimir. Ye fluttered yer wings and he responded ta ye.”

  “I’m sorry…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say. I watch Brennus smile broadly.

  “Ye do na even know ye’re doing it, do ye?” he asks.

  “Doing what?” I shake my head.

  “When ye came in, yer wings asked him a question and his wings answered ye,” he says.

  “What did my wings ask?” I inquire breathlessly.

  “Dey asked, ‘Do ye desire me?’” he says, watching me blush.

  “I’m going to have to have a little chat with my wings later,” I mutter. “What did Casimir’s wings say?”

  “His wings said, ‘I will kill anyting dat keeps me from having ye,’” Brennus replies. “Ye really riled him, too. Seraphim never show emotion, ’tis like ’tis beneath them. Dey usually seem more dead den we do—ye can na read dem.”

  “They are good at giving nothing away?” I ask, thinking of Reed and how good he is at that when he has to be.

  “Ye can say dey wrote da book on it,” he replies. “Ye made him growl, twice. I never tought ’twould be possible. I have seen Seraphim kill dere enemies wi’ dat same blank expression dat Casimir had in here, but he could na hold it in yer presence. Ye got ta him—he was emotional. Bringing ye in here was da best ting I could have done because it showed me how desperate he is for ye.”

  “You think he will come back?” I ask, fearing his answer.

  “I’m certain dat he will and he will bring his army,” he replies casually.

  “Why not just give me to him then? You could avoid all of this and they will probably give you whatever you want in return,” I say, feeling cold at the very thought of being handed over to Casimir. Declan was right, the devil that you know is far, far better than the devil that you don’t. The Ifrit, Valentine, proved that to me.

  “He will na have ye. Ye’re moin. I am na weak. I do na have ta do whah I’m told,” he replies. “Power has its privileges. Ye are me queen. Ye are very powerful, too. Ye do na have ta do as ye’re told, except when I’m tellin’ ye,” he says, smiling at me.

  Without thinking, I wrap my arms around his neck and snuggle into his chest, hugging him tight. Resting my head against him, I whisper, “Thank you for protecting me from Casimir. I want to learn everything that you can teach me—magic, fighting, weapons, strategy. I have to become more powerful. If Casimir is responsible for sending Alfred, then he is ultimately responsible for my uncle’s death. I want to crush him…slowly, painfully…” I stop speaking when I hear Brennus’ fangs click in his mouth and his body grow still.

  Slowly, I pick my head up off his chest and turn to look in his eyes. Desire and pain war in his eyes, as he says, “I had better go feed now, mo chroí. I…I like it when ye speak to me of vengeance and…when ye lay yer head on me chest. I should be able ta control dis, but lust and bloodlust are entwined in whah I am, ye see?” he asks, afraid that he has scared me.

  I nod. “You should try venison blood. It tastes a little piney, but it stops the craving,” I say seriously. “It’s probably healthier too—humans are full of cholesterol.”

  Brennus laughs. “Would dat please ye—if I stopped
feeding on humans?” he asks, squeezing me tighter.

  “Yes,” I respond immediately. “Can you, I mean, it wouldn’t hurt you to eat something else, like cows?”

  “Blood is blood. It all nourishes,” he says. “Da taste, however, ’tis someting else entirely.”

  “That’s epic, Brennus! You can all start eating beef blood! We can get our own cattle! Get rid of the wans!” I say, grasping him by the shoulders and looking at him happily.

  “Whah, no, ’twill never work, Genevieve,” he replies. “I might be able to cross over eventually, but the fellas will never be convinced ta do it.”

  “Why not?” I ask disappointedly.

  “I told ye dat lust is entwined wi’ bloodlust—we get both from da wans. If I told da fellas dat dey had ta feed on animal blood, dey could probably do it, but ye would be asking dem never ta touch a female again. In order never to harm a human, we could never touch dem. I would be saying ta da fellas dat dey had ta be monks from now on. ’Twould make me more despised den Aodh ever was.”

  “Oh,” I say dejectedly.

  “Ye see why ye are so special? Na only are ye na affected by me touch,” Brennus says, running his fingers down my cheek and over the curve of my neck. “’Tis like ye were made jus for me. Ye can have a soul, ye can have life and be touched by me and na change—na become a compliant shell dat does anyting I want. Ye have a mind and ye use it and ye sass me and ye rage at me and ye…love…and ye make me want tings I never knew I could ever have again—tings I tought died when I died.”

  “Brennus, you’re asking me to be the queen of the wild things,” I murmur sadly. “And you’re asking me to give up everything that I already love to do it.”

  “I’m na asking,” he says softly, his lips hovering inches from my neck.

  “No, you’re not asking,” I agree, before feeling his cold lips press softly against my neck.

  My heartbeat increases instantly. Brennus pulls back quickly, like I burned him. As he searches my face, his brows draw together with desire. He picks me up in his arms and then seats me on top of his desk. He grasps me firmly by the back of the neck, tipping my face up to meet his, his cheek grazes mine. When Brennus presses his lips roughly to mine, my mind races.

  If he bites you, he breaks the contract. Make him bite you—make him lose control, my mind whispers to me.

  The blood I have collected will be enough—it will have to be. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him to me and kissing him back with unrestrained fire. With one hand on his back, I reach out with my other hand, touching the statue on the desk and feeling its cold stone beneath my fingertips.

  Reed, I think, closing my eyes and pretending that it’s his lips on mine.

  My fingers grasp the base of the statue, ready to hit Brennus with it the moment he sinks his teeth into me. I feel his fangs scrape my bottom lip, but not enough for it to bleed.

  What if I do make it back to Reed now and Casimir follows me there? Will he bring his army with him so that Reed will have to fight not only the Gancanagh, but the Fallen, too? Reed will be crushed, I think, feeling my heart twist painfully.

  If I stay here, the Gancanagh might wipe out the Fallen for me—both my enemies pitted against each other. But, the longer I stay here, the less the Gancanagh feel like my enemy. Can I live above this mess or will I be buried by it? I wonder as my hand balls into a fist.

  “Genevieve,” Brennus whispers against my skin, like he would worship me if I would only let him.

  Something twists inside of me at the sound of his voice, the passion and the need within him is calling to me. This is love—a version of it and I wonder when that happened.

  When did I start loving him? I ask myself. But, it doesn’t really matter. It’s the bottom of the wave, not the top of it where love crashes over me and washes me way, like it does with Reed. Nothing can compare to that—nothing.

  “I can’t be what you want me to be,” I whisper to Brennus, while trying to pull away from him.

  “You already are whah I want ye ta be,” he replies softly as he tries to halt my retreat. “Give it more time. Ye will see dat I am right.” Shaking my head, I rest it against his chest.

  From somewhere outside on the grounds, shouts erupt from the fellas. Brennus tenses as his arms tighten around me. Lifting my forehead off him, my eyes go to his face to see his expression harden.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, following his eyes to the open doors where Casimir had left.

  In the next instant, Russell enters through the doors and moves rapidly towards me. The shock of seeing him again is overwhelming, bringing tears to my eyes.

  I don’t have time to even take a breath before Russell’s clone enters my body. Then, a comforting sense of being home, a calm and a peace that my soul has been silently begging for, floats through my body.

  “We’re searchin’ for ya, Red,” Russell’s voice whispers from somewhere deep inside of me. “We need ya. Yer ours. I love ya…and so does Reed.”

  CHAPTER 17

  War Of Hearts

  As Russell’s voice speaks to me with the resonance of a dream, I feel like, for just one moment, some of the pieces that have gone missing from me are filled. I must have a look of bliss on my face because when I lift my eyes to Brennus’, his scowl startles me.

  “Da other needs more tellin’,” Brennus growls, while stroking my cheek. “I tought da Ifrit would have been enough ta convince him dat he is way out of his element, but he is having a problem dealing wi’ reality. Whah did he say ta ye?”

  I lower my chin and look away.

  “I’m na used ta open defiance,” he says sternly, pulling my chin back so he can look in my eyes.

  “I’m not used to betraying my friends,” I reply coolly.

  “Ah, da Seraph has already taught ye something, has he na?” Brennus says wi’ equal cool. “Ye’re practicing yer poker face?” he asks with a smile that isn’t reaching his eyes. “Remember dat dey all have someting ta learn from ye, na ye from dem.” Letting go of my chin, he turns towards the door to leave.

  “What are you going to do?” I ask worriedly, leaping off the desk and following him.

  “I’m going ta speak ta Finn ta make sure dat ye do na spend da rest of yer life in Sheol wi’ mentors like Casimir,” he says abruptly, turning on me in frustration. “So dat dey do na get dere hands on ye and pluck all da feathers from yer wings one by one, jus for fun—jus because dey can. Ye wonder why I do na want ta turn ye now? ’Tis because I do na want dem ta get dere hands on even a piece of ye. Whah dey would do ta a soul like yers is…unimaginable. I will turn ye, if I have ta—if it saves even a piece of ye. But now I crave all of ye; I want everyting, na jus da aingeal part,” he says, wiping his mouth like he is trying to wipe away the words he just spoke to me.

  “I want to come with you when you talk to Finn. Please?” I ask, putting my hand on his arm to stop him from leaving without me.

  “I’m na going after yer soul mate. He probably canna help himself,” Brennus says reluctantly. “If he comes here, I will deal wi’ him, but truly, he is da last of me problems.”

  “I believe you, but I still want to come with you. I need to learn everything I can from you. You’re an expert on strategy and you know my enemy well. I have no idea what Casimir will do next, but you have some idea, don’t you? Teach me. Please,” I beg again.

  Brennus’ face changes when he sees that I’m absolutely sincere. I need someone to teach me how to fight my enemies. I cannot sit back and hope to be protected any longer.

  “Whah do yer instincts tell ye about dem?” Brennus asks, linking his arm with mine as we walk from the office. I squeeze his arm gratefully as we enter the sitting room and are met by Finn and my personal guard. “Let’s convene in da kirk,” Brennus says to them, and when I look at him in confusion, he says, “Da Knight’s Bar, as ye so aptly named it.”

  We walk the corridor together arm-in-arm, while I think about what Brennus had asked me. When Brennus op
ens the doors next to the medieval suits of armor, I step into the softly lit chapel. Brennus seats me at a table and then goes to the bar. He pours me a glass of a clear liqueur. Sipping it, it tastes a little bit like black licorice.

  “I don’t know what Casimir will do, but…” I trail off, taking another sip and feeling a little calmer. “He is kind of a snob, isn’t he?” I ask as Brennus sits next to me. “He looks down on Powers and Gancanagh, like you’re beneath him, which I really can’t figure out because he is the one who reeks like rotten garbage.”

  Brennus smiles. “So, whah does dat tell ye about how he will proceed?” he asks me, lifting his eyebrow in question as he leans back in his chair studying me.

  “Well, he doesn’t seem the type that enjoys getting his hands dirty. After meeting him, I’m surprised that he even deigned to come here himself. He must really want me…or he really needs me for some reason. He was willing to come here alone and take the risk to bargain for me himself. It makes me wonder if the higher ups are breathing down his neck. He kept saying ‘we’ and at first I thought that maybe he uses it like the royal ‘we’ to mean himself, but now I don’t think so. I think he is truly reporting to someone else,” I pause and take another sip of my drink.

  “Good,” Brennus says encouragingly.

  “So he is a ‘snob’ and he ‘doesn’t like to get his hands dirty,’” Finn recaps. “Whah will he do?” he asks me.

  “He will look for someone else to do the dirty work for him,” I respond. Then I turn to Brennus and say, “Need teaches the plan. He will try to cultivate an ally within.”

  “She warms da heart, does she na?” Declan says, like a proud papa.

  “Whah lengths will he go ta?” Brennus asks me.

  “Huh?” I ask.

  “How far will he go wi’ dis plan?” Brennus restates the question.

  “I don’t know. Do you?” I counter.

  “I do,” he says. “Casimir told me dat he sent da Ifrits ta search for ye. He wouldna have done dat unless he plans ta go ta any length ta have ye or ta see ye dead.”

  “So, if a traitor cannot get me out alive, he will turn assassin?” I ask, feeling ill.