Incendiary (The Premonition Series (Volume 4)) (45 page)

“You
not try to know Anya,” she responds
in a tense tone.

“That’s right.
I don’t want to know you
,” I agree
, not wantin’ to have this conversation now, but since she’s forcin’ the issue, I’m thinkin’ that maybe this is as good a time as any. I need her to leave before we get to Ireland. She’s not supposed to be a part of this and if I remove the reason for her bein’ here, maybe she’ll go somewhere safe.

“So, th
at is complication?” she asks
in a soft tone.
Her sleek, ebony wings
retract to a restin’ position behind her.

“Naw, not a complication. It
’s a wall between us,” I reply
, hopin’ she’ll get what I’m sayin’.

“Then…I remove wall,” she says
, takin’ a step nearer to me.

Holdin’ up my hand, I say
, “I like the wall.”

She pauses, and tilts
her head at me, like she’s processin’ what I just said. “That i
s two complication,” she replies
with a blank expression, holdin’ up two fingers.

“Here’s number three: I want you
to leave,” I state
in a firm tone, watchin’ for her expre
ssion to change. She just stares at me like she does
n’t understand what I just said. “I don’t
love you
and I never will. So, you
might as well just get a new tattoo or whatever it is y’all do in a
situation like this.” I point to her chest and see
her fingers skim over the spot where the crimson wings are branded into her skin beneath her clothin’.

“This i
s blindness
,” she says
in a quiet, restless tone. “Yo
u not see what we are,” she adds
, indicatin’ her and me with her gesture.

“Don’t tell me that you’
re
one of those psychotic girls that can
’t hear when it’s over?” I ask
in my harshest tone, feelin’ my stomach twist at the expression on he
r face. Pain and confusion break
th
r
ough her blank façade.

“What is
‘psychotic
?
’
” she interrupts me…she flips
open her dictionary, searchin’ for the word. “Spell for me.”

“Crazy…coo-coo, lo
co, insane, demented,
” I reply
, bein’ as crass as I possi
bly can, but she still looks
puzzled. “Non compos mentis—
”

She gasps
, like I slapped h
er and then her eyelids narrow
to slits over her green eyes.
“Anya Throne…THRONE,” she growls
, slappin’ h
er chest with her fist. She begi
n
s
re
adin’ me the riot act with her A
ngelic words, like she’s tellin’ me where I can go if I have a mind to. Finally,
after a few minutes she switches
back to English. “You leave
me and say, ‘I be back for you
.
’
Th
at make you liar, not me non compos mantis—
cra-zee.”

She’s breathin’ hard now, lookin’ wild and fierce…exotic and unbelievably beautiful. Her black hair is flowin’ down her back in waves and her face is flushin’ pink with emotion.

Stay the course, man
, I think
, givin’ myself a quick pep talk in my mind, while bein’ distracted by her incredible allure.

“I don’t need
a broken-hearted savior,” I say
, pointin’ my finger at her.

Her spine straightens instantly, as her mouth thins
in
a grim line. “Yes, I have eyes—
I
see what you want now.” She ta
k
es
a step back from me and t
he feelin’ of crickets jumpin’ ‘
round in my stomach is makin’ me wan
t to move nearer to her again.

“Good,” I nod
, but I feel sick. My face is a mirror o
f her grim expression. “So, you’
ll be goin’ soon,” I state
with a sinkin’ feelin’ of regret.

“I dec
ide what I do,” she replies
.

Unthinkingly, my hand sho
o
t
s
out to her upper arm, holdin’ her when
s
he would have walked away. “You’
r
e
gettin’ off this boat.”

“This angel no long
er belongs to you,” Anya replies in a soft tone. “You shun—
you throw away…you get no
…” she flounders
for a second, searchin’ for words. “You get no thinking
in
what Anya do.”

“You’
r
e
wrong
. I get
thinkin’ about what you
do, ‘cuz as long as you’
r
e here, you’
r
e
my responsibility. You
should leav
e here and go home,” I counter as my hand tightens
on her arm.

“You th
ink you know so much?” she ask
s
me in a derisive way. “You baby compared with Anya. I take care of me.”

“I know I’m not gonna let up
on you
until you
leave,” I reply in a
menacin’ tone as my face dra
w
s
closer to hers.

“Your words are wr
ong,” she says
, puzzled. “I am not understanding
you. You say you don’t want me
. I say I take care of
me…you want me away
…why care if here,
or
not here? I will not bother you anymore.”

“It bothers
me to see you here,” I clarify
.

Pullin’ her a
rm out of my grasp, Anya crosses
her arms over her chest defensively before askin’, “Why?
I say to you I leave Russell be
to ru
n after Evie,” her mouth twists
like she’s tastin’ somethin’ bad. “I
have no home to go to,” she admits
in a soft tone. “I know no one he
re…I misunderstanding very much.
Reapers offer to help Anya…Brownie is kind.”

“’Cuz I don’t want you
here, so you
can’t stay. Brownie is
my friend, not you
rs,” I retort. I have
to squeeze my hands in fists to keep from
takin’ her in my arms when I see the tragic look that co
me
s
to her eyes before she can
hide it.

“You woul
d deny Anya any help?” she asks
, her face registerin’ shock.

“Y
ou said you
could take ca
re of you
rself. Prove it,” I say
,
but the bitterness in my tone i
s from havin’ to say the
words, not ‘cuz I mean
them. On the contrary, I feel a
lmost desperate to comfort her,
but then I wouldn’t be protectin’ her. I have to keep her away from Brennus.

“I not know you…not my
aspire
…on a different day, you would help Anya…you love me…you would make me feel saf
e in my own skin, not like this—
u
gly…a stranger,” Anya says
like she’s chokin’.

“I’ll talk to Zee. He has places you
can stay
. He knows tons of a
ngels.
You’
ll be all right,” I say
in a gruff tone.

“NO!” Anya says
, her brows pullin’ together. “That will feel like corrosion, slowly eating through me. Stop speaking. You only hurt. Try hard to destroy. I will find my way without you.”

“That sounds fine,” I retort
a
cidly, but my chest feels tigh
t;
i
t aches.

She nods
her head once. Then, sh
e asks
, “Do you w
ant to see Phaedrus now then?”

“Huh?” I ask
, not
understandin’ what she
’
s
talkin’ '
bout.

“You say Anya not yours. You tell Phaedrus, he remove
your mark from me,” she replies
, lookin’ pale and tired all of a sudden.

“I gotta do wh
at now?” I ask
, feelin’ somethin’ twist in my chest, like my heart’s dyin’.

“You say Anya not
aspire
—
you must release me,” she says
in a tight voice.

“Is that really—
do
I have to do that now?” I ask
, and for some reason, I feel totally enraged with her for even mentionin’ that to me.

“Yes—it’
s what you must do to have your Evie again. You say th
e words and make it the end
o
f our
acquaintance,” she replies
.

“Well, I’m kinda busy plannin’ an attack on the
Gancanagh right now,” I reply
, runnin’ my hand through my hair in agitation.

Lookin’ confu
sed and crushed, Anya just shakes
her head at me. “When time comes to you, then?”

“Ye
ah, when I have time
,
” I respond
in a gruff tone. “You’r
e
gonna be all right.” I ca
n’t help myself fr
om sayin’ it again when she begi
n
s
walkin’ toward
s
the door.

She pauses, but does
n’t turn around.
She leaves
the
n, which is good ‘cuz I can’t say anythin’ more to her now
,
anyway. Instead, I crush
the handle to the steel door near t
he bulkhead in frustration. I sit down on the floor and ha
ng my head, wonderin’ if I even know who I am anymore.

I don’t k
now how long I sit in this
small
space, but when I ge
t up from the
floor, my legs feel stiff. Slowly, I walk
back to
wards my cabin and when I near it, I feel
Brownie and Buns join me
on either side. They both link
arms with me, like they’re escortin’ a prisoner
to his execution. My eyebrows rise as I notice
that they’re dressed in bathin’ suits and revealin’ cover-ups, even though we’re dodgin’ icebergs outside. I can
’t really say anythin’ to them ‘
bout it, since I just gave away the only shirt that
I had to Red.

“A word?” Brownie asks
me in a stern tone, while pullin’ me into her cabin and shuttin’ the door.

“‘Trap’ is a word. ‘D
etainee’ is another one,” I say when they both lean
against the door with their arms crossed and the
ir
faces even crosser.

“
We know you, Russell,” Buns says
like a
sneer. “You’re super chivalrous—
”

“To a fault,” Brownie chimes
in like an accusation.

“And a sucker
for a female in need,” Buns says
.

“HUGE sucker,” Brownie adds
, tappin’ her kitten-heel clad foot.

“What’s your angle here, cowboy? Where did yo
u get the black hat?” Buns asks
, her blue eyes narrowin’.

“Do wu
t?” I drawl
.

“Cut the count
ry bumpkin crap,” Brownie warns
me. “We
know how crafty you are—
”

“Crafty,” Buns agrees
with a nod.

“You’
r
e
gonna have to explain to m
e what you’
r
e
referrin’ to,” I say
again, stallin’ for time to try to figure out what to tell them.

“Sounds like Russell could use some time with t
he mermaids, Brownie,” Buns says with
an evil smile twistin’ her lips.

“Or, the Undines,”
Brownie hisses
.