Incendiary (The Premonition Series (Volume 4)) (20 page)

More music spills from her lips
as she looks
through the sight window of her bow.
Takin’ a breath, I say
,
“Well, that soun
ds serious…and I can see that you
mean everyt
hin’ that you’
r
e
tellin’ me, but you
gotta get outta my way now ‘cuz
I’m fixin’ to go mental if you
don’t let me give this
to
my girl
.”

I brush
past
the black-winged angel to kneel
down by Red. Op
enin’
t
he lid to the canister, I lift
Red’s head, cradlin’ it while puttin’ the rim of the canister to her l
ips. Red drinks
the thick, coagulatin
’
liquid as b
loody trails
drip
down her cheek, fallin’ on
to
her little halter tank top.

“That’s it, Red, keep drinkin’ it, sweetheart,” I
whisper
to her, seein’
her eyes open a little at my words. Liftin’ her hands to the canister, she
holds
it
to her mouth, drinkin’ in large gulps like she
’s
dyin’ of thirst.

The angel behind me growls, makin’ me stiffen. I say
over my shoulder, “Just a second…
I’ll get to you
.”
Usin’ my hand to smooth Red’s
hair back from her face, I murmur
“It’s gonna be
all right, Red. I won’t leave you
again.”

Instantly, I feel
somethin’ hit
the back of my head, causin’ me to reach up a
nd touch my neck. Dark spots swi
m
in my vision as everythin’ begins to sound like it’
s comin’ from far away.
Another swat
to the back of
my head makes
me drop Red as I fa
ll on her, while
everythin’ goes
dark.

**

Wakin’ up, my vision blurs
as
whistlin’
blares
from nearby. My head feels like it’s
seis de Mayo
and I had been up doin
’ tequila shots all night with
the
señoritas
.
Shiftin’
my head toward the sound, I see a kettle on the kitchen stove emittin’ a stream
of steam from its
spout. Tryin’
to move, I find that it’s impossible. Thick chains are wrapped around my waist, holdin’ me to a chair in the kitchen. My hands are bound behind my back with the same type of chains.

Glancin’ over, I see Red is in a similar position, chained to a chair next to me. Her chin is slumped forward on her chest, but she looks like she’s still breathin’. Strugglin’
,
the
chains rattle
loudly behind me
. The pot on the stove continues
to boil until the lithe figure of
a beautiful, young woman enters the kitchen and takes
it from the burner. Her wings are in now, and she’s put her hair up in a sleek ponytail, but I still recognize her as the angel with the black wings.

She takes
a couple of mugs
down from the cupboard and pours
hot water into one, droppin’
a tea bag in i
t to steep. Pickin’
up a bottle of whis
key from the counter, she pours
a generous amo
unt into the other mug. She glances
over her shoulder
at me and her eyes catch
mine. Keepin
’ her features blank, she turns
, bringin’ t
he mug of whiskey to me and settin’
it on the ta
ble
.
Then, she reaches out and touches
a lock of my hair, brushin’
it back tenderly from my face.

“You
changed. I
s that one of Ree
d’s sweaters?” I ask, my voice sounds
rough. Her eyebrows soften as she touches
my cheek, runnin’ he
r slender fingers over it. Her scent drifts
to me and some
thin’ flitters through my mind
like a whisper, tormentin’ me with a stab of…ye
arnin’.

I swallow hard against the unexpected tightening of my throat.
“You
wann
a let me go here? ‘Cuz
you’
r
e
total
ly
s
tartin’ to freak me out
,” I say
honestly, tryin’
to get my hands loose from the chains bindin’ them. “Don’t get me w
rong, this is strangely excitin’
and under different circumstances I’d probably find it sorta hot…but right now, I go
tta say, it’s really just shady.” I flex my arms again,
tryin’ to pull my chest away from the c
hair, but my shoulders are
bound to it.

A cooin’
sound co
me
s
from the strange angel
as she pu
t
s
her finger to my lips, tracin’
them
grace
fully and makin’ me shiver. She bends down so that we are eye to eye before she says, “Ruse-el…” then she shifts
to her A
ngel
ic
language
, speakin’
with a look of concern
on her face. She lightly touches
my chest w
here I’m still bleedin’ from
Keefe’s bites. S
he pulls
her fingers
away, showin’
me the blood on their tips.

“Ye
ah, I know I’m bleedin’,” I reply
, lookin’ in her eyes again. “Let
me go and I’ll call my friends—
they’ll know what I need to do
to stop it.”

She
frowns
. L
ooki
n’ down at the table, she picks
up the mug, bringin’ it to my lip
s. “Whoa, wait! Hold up!” I sputter
, movin’ my head and not lettin’ her make me drink it. S
he pulls
the mug back, frownin’
at me.

“That’s straight whiskey!
I’m not gonna be able to stand
up if I drink all that,” I explain quickly. She shoves
it back in my face, putt
in’ it to my lips again. Forcin’
some in my mouth, I spit it out at her, s
cowlin’. “I’m not drinkin’ that!” I retort
between my teeth.

Angrily, she put
s
the mug down on the table
, wipin’
away
th
e whiskey I’ve
spit at her
on the sleeve of her sweater
. In a blur of angel
ic
speed, she goes
to the counter and back. Wieldin’ a very sha
rp knife in her hand, she lifts
Red’s head by her hair, holdin’
the knife to her neck as sh
e watches
my reaction.

I ‘bout lose my mind,
goin’ wild and
strainin
’ against the chains. I feel ‘
em cut
into my wrists. When I exhaust myself, I si
t pantin’, scowlin’
at her as I’m fantasizin’ ‘bout ways to kill her slowly.

Easin’
the knife from Red’s neck, she put
s
it down on the table
before
pickin
’ up the mug of whiskey again. S
he put
s the cup
gently to my lips, tippin’
it so I’ll take a sip. I refuse again
, lettin’
it drip down my face as I glare
into her eyes.

She pulls
th
e mug back from my lips. Lookin’
at the mug
almost
desperately, she put
s
it to her own lips, takin’ a huge swallow
of it. Immediately, she
cough
s
and sputter
s
, her eyes waterin’ from the e
ffects of the
strong alcohol. After she recovers a little, she
s
ets
the mug on the tabl
e again. She picks
up the knife, takin’ it bac
k with her to the stove. She lays
the knif
e on one of the burners, turnin’
on the gas. Flames leap
up around
the blade of the knife. She does
n’t look at
me at all while the knife heats on the stove; she
h
a
ng
s
her head, like
she’s in pain.

In a few minutes, she lifts the glowing-hot knife from the stove. My nostrils flare in fear.
“Ah, c’mon
…what are you
doin’
now
?” I a
sk in a strained voice.

She
square
s
her shoulders, steppin’ towards me.

“You
d
on’t need to do this…why are you
doin’ this?” I
ask
her, seein’
the
knife’s dull-orange cast. I strain hard against the chains and struggle as if I’m
down in the ba
sement of the evil church again. Drool and sweat course
down my chin in equal measure.

She walks behind me. Then, the beautiful siren with green eyes presses
t
he hot knife to my back, causin’
my muscles to contract
.
I
close my eyes,
shoutin’
in pain. Pantin’ and tryin’ not to pass out,
I feel
her pull
it from my back as the scent of burnin’
skin ent
ers my nostrils. It takes
me right back to the alta
r of the evil church and Valentine’s torture.
Grittin’ my teeth, I shout
, “YOU’
R
E
DEAD! I’
M GONNA KILL YOU
!
YOU’
R
E
G
ONNA WISH YOU
NEVER MET
ME!”

She lays
the bl
ade on my back again
in a different
spot
. S
earin
’ pain erupts, causin’ me to arch my back and I cry
out
again
.
She leaves me to reheat the knife and she does
n’t mak
e eye contact with me as she com
e
s
back, repeatin’ the process ove
r and over again. When she moves on to my chest, I lash
out
at her, tryin’
to knock her away from me with my head, but now I’m so weak I can hardly hold my head up.

She catches
my head, wrappin’ her arm around it and pullin’
it to the side of hers. She holds my cheek to her cheek
, whisperin’ raspy words that don’t sound very musical now.
As I strain
against her, she refuse
s
to let me go, holdin’ me in place
for several minutes. When I don't move, she lets me go. She
walks back to the stove and begi
n
s
heatin’
the knife again. My chin rests
on my chest, waitin’ to fight until she comes back.

She’s
back wit
hout me hearin’ her, but she doesn’t have the knife, she lays
a cold cloth on my back rubbin’ it over the burns.
I cringe at first, until she just leaves
it there, steppin’ back and lettin’ the coolnes
s of it ease some of the pain.

I open
my eyes, seei
n’ her approachin’ me. She kneels
beside me, puttin’ her hand on my chest to keep me
from movin’ forward. She lifts her knife, I watch
her place it on a bleedin’ b
ite mark, searin’ it. As she does, her teeth clench
, makin’ her
delicate
jaw strain
.
Her dark, arcin’
eye
brows dra
w
together while she angles
her head away, like she’s forcin’ herself to watch my skin sizzle.
Her nostrils flare when the smell of my flesh ri
se
s
up,
lookin’ like it’s
chokin’
her.