Iniquity (The Premonition Series Book 5) (26 page)

Russell allows Anya to enter ahead of him. Reed reaches out and hugs her. Russell’s low growl makes him sound like a wolf resides in his heart. Reed smiles despite the warning. “I get it,” he says to Russell. He lets go of Anya. He extends his hand to Russell. Russell takes it without hesitation.

“It’s instinct, Reed, and given our history, can you blame me?” Russell asks.

I walk to Anya and hug her, “How are you?” I ask.

“I’m well. We’ve managed to evade divine and fallen angels all the way here. Everyone is looking for us, but we have excellent karma.”

“Yes, you do,” I agree.

Buns squeezes past Russell and Reed to get inside. “And we have the Goose!” Buns exclaims, referring to her car. “No one messes with the Goose!” She runs to us, tackle-hugging Anya and me. Brownie slips in to join our circle, squeezing us fiercely. When we break apart, I have to wipe away tears.

Zephyr walks through the door. Looking at Reed, he says, “When Russell told me you said we couldn’t miss you—to just look for wings, I was skeptical.” He gestures outside to the glowing neon sign of a white-winged Pegasus.

“It seemed a fitting place to meet,” Reed replies.

Zephyr turns to me and hugs me. “I missed you,” he says simply.

“I missed you, too.” I rest my head on his shoulder. I let go of him. “I heard you ran into some trouble with my inescapable.”

“I will kill him for you.”

“We have to locate the weapon we need first.”

“That is why I brought Phaedrus with me,” Zephyr replies.

He steps aside so that I can see Phaedrus in the doorway. I don’t smile, but walk to him and hug the black-eyed angel. “Thank you for coming, Phaedrus.”

Phaedrus wraps his arms around me. “You’re welcome. Do you know where the Gancanagh are?” His body is burning up. He’s like holding an electric blanket that is turned up high.

I let him go and nod. “Yes. They’re only a few miles from here—in an old seminary.”

“I can visualize the place in my mind. It’s very hot in here, isn’t it?” Phaedrus asks. He unwraps the plaid scarf from his neck and takes off his coat. It must be extremely warm for him here because we’re so close to the Gancanagh base. Phaedrus locates his targets by following heat signatures. The closer he gets to something he’s looking for, the hotter he feels. It’s a relief to me that my instincts were right—Brennus has the weapon I need.

“Let me get you some water.” I go to the bar and retrieve a glass for him. On my way back I almost drop it. Another angel stands in the doorway. It’s Preben. His silver-blond hair is covered with snow. The Power angel shakes the flakes from his head and smiles at me, before looking at Zephyr and saying, “The rooftops are clear. We weren’t followed.”

“Preben, how did you find us?” I ask.

“Zephyr called me. I’ve been running reconnaissance on Dominion for us. I was coming up with a plan to free you, Reed, but you freed yourself.”

“I had a little help,” Reed replies, glancing at me.

“Hey! I helped, too.” Russell teases. “Those knots did not untie themselves.”

“I owe you,” Reed replies to Russell.

“You do.”

Buns strips off her coat and tosses it over the back of a chair. Going to the bar, she starts lining up flutes. “We’re celebrating!”

“What are we celebrating?” I ask, handing Phaedrus a glass of water. Turning, I go to help her. She passes me a bottle of champagne. Taking another from a refrigerator under the bar, she pops the cork without even breaking a nail.

“Family,” she replies, pouring the sparkling liquid into tall stemware.

I pop the cork on my bottle and fill glasses. Russell and Anya take off their coats. Preben casts a glance at Brownie. She looks pale. He helps her remove her coat. Setting it aside, he places his arm around the small of her back; she leans on him as he guides her to the bar. My eyes open wide. “What’s wrong with Brownie?” I ask.

Buns looks over at her best friend. “Nothing is wrong with her, she’s perfectly healthy. She just really needs this right now.”

“Why?” I ask. I hand Brownie a full glass of champagne when she leans against the bar.

“She’s more sensitive than me,” Buns explains. “She feels souls more acutely.”

Brownie doesn’t wait for the toast. She drinks it down and holds her glass out for more. “I feel all of the souls who need to be reaped. They’re screaming out to me to help them.”

My hand goes to my forehead. “It’s that bad in Detroit?” I ask, completely shocked.

Buns shakes her head. “No, sweetie, the souls are in Crestwood. We can feel them from here.”

“What is it like?” I ask. It occurs to me that I should know the answer to this. I remember Heaven. I’ve met more Reapers than I can count, but I never interacted with them to any great degree. I’m ashamed to admit that, even to myself. I was different than I am now. I had bought into the angel caste system to a certain degree. I accepted the way things have always been, instead of how they should be.

Brownie looks at Buns before she says, “It doesn’t hurt at all if I go right away to a reap and do my job, but when I try to resist, my pain increases the longer I wait.”

“Maybe it’s a little like being in labor?” Buns looks at Brownie for confirmation.

Brownie raises her shoulders. “I wouldn’t know about childbirth, but if it is, I’m not ever signing up for that.”

Buns winces and bends forward, clearly in pain as well, but trying hard to hide it. I touch her back, asking, “How do I help you?”

“You can’t. I need to reap,” she pants.

“Has it ever been this bad, Buns?”

“No. Whatever’s happening there, in Crestwood, feels like the end of the world. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

I hand Buns a glass of champagne. Zephyr walks behind me and pulls a bottle of vodka from the shelf. “They might do better with this.”

He starts to pour out some shots. I blanch. Without thinking, I place my hands on Buns’ shoulders. I whisper a spell, asking her pain to come to me. It does. Like lightning strikes, her pain climbs up my arms in jagged, yellow bolts. I redirect the sizzling snarling pain. Removing my hands from her, I clasp them on the neck of the champagne bottle, stuffing the glowing bolts of white-hot pain down the throat of the bottle. I shove the cork back into it. Pain shakes and flashes inside its emerald cage in a raging tempest.

Buns stands up straight. “Sweetie, you’re like a redheaded witchdoctor!”

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’m much better!”

Brownie groans. “Do me next!”

“Zee, hand me that other empty bottle,” I order. When he does, I repeat the same spell I used on Buns. Yellow lightning strikes climb from Brownie up my arms. I channel them into the container, and then cork that one, too. Anya gets close to the first bottle. Tapping her finger on it, she stirs up sparking chaos inside.

“Thank you, Evie!” Brownie stands up on the rung of her barstool and reaches over the counter. She liberates the shot from Zephyr’s hand. Without really tasting it, she swallows the vodka and sets the glass on the bar.

“It didn’t work?” I ask.

Brownie dabs her mouth with a bar napkin. “Oh no, it worked. I just really like vodka.”

I look over and see Russell watching me. He raises his eyebrow in question, asking me silently what else I can do and what else I know. I pick up two flutes of champagne and walk toward him. Behind me, Zephyr tries to remove the cham-pain bottles from the bar, but Buns stops him. “What are you doing with my pain?”

“Getting rid of it,” Zephyr replies.

“Don’t take my pain. I have plans for it.”

“You have plans for your pain?”

“Yes.”

Zephyr’s cunning grin matches hers. “Tell me of these plans.”

I hand Russell a glass. He taps the rim of it to mine before sipping from it. “I never figured you for a Tigers fan.”

He makes a funny face. I point to the navy-colored knit cap on his head. He tugs it from his tawny hair, using his fingers to comb it. “Oh, this,” he holds up the hat, “was Buns’ idea. She got ‘em for us when we stopped for gas.”

“How was that?” He looks confused, so I add, “Stopping at a gas station convenience store?” Of course I’m referring to our aversion to going into one since our brush with death at the hands of Alfred.

He shrugs. “There are worse things than fallen angels, so I just try not to think about it. And I like my hat.” He puts it back on.

“It’s not too late, you know?”

“Too late for what?”

“You can still take Anya and go somewhere—I have all the money you’d ever need—you can be happy.”

He shakes his head. “I’m in this fight, Red. I can’t be happy livin’ with your ghost, knowin’ I could’ve helped you and I didn’t.”

“That’s just it, Russell. You won’t have to live with my ghost either way.”

His brown eyes see right through me. “That’s not what I meant, and anyway, I always liked your ghost. It would be a shame not to see it around once in a while, so I have to finish this with you so I can start over fresh, like you intended.” There is no bitterness in his words, just honesty.

“If all goes well, you won’t have to fight Emil ever again.”

“If all goes well, you get to live, ‘cuz I gotta tell you, Red, I don’t think eternity will be half as interestin’ without my best friend in it. Or him,” Russell tips his glass in Reed’s direction. “I kinda like him and I never thought I’d ever say that.”

“I kind of like him, too.”

“Then figure out a way for us to win this, like I know you can.”

“I don’t know if I can this time.” I feel crushed by the weight of my own words.

Reed moves away from the bar. “Balance,” Reed murmurs when he comes to stand beside me.

“Hmm,” I ask, raising my eyebrow at him.

“Something just occurred to me—about balance.”

“What about it?”

“We have a key that opens Sheol.” Russell leans in closer, listening to our exchange.

I nod and say, “I think we need to use it to close Sheol. I think that’s its purpose.”

“Maybe,” Reed says, noncommittal. “It could also be a way in to Sheol to get to Byzantyne, should he try to hide from us, but that’s not what concerns me at the moment.”

“What worries you, Reed?” I touch his arm; he wraps it around my waist holding me to his side.

“If we have something that opens Sheol, then it stands to reason that Emil has a key that opens Paradise.”

“Why would he have that?” Russell asks, his body tense.

“The Fallen want to get back into Paradise,” Reed answers. “If we needed the key to get into Sheol, they’d only relent if they could have one to Paradise.”

“Why would we need to get into Sheol?” Russell asks.

“I don’t know, but the fact that we have the means is telling. And if I’m right, then Sheol already knows we have this boatswain.”

“What boatswain?” Zephyr asks as he joins us. We have everyone’s full attention now.

“I think we all need to tell our stories of how we got here.” A hush falls over the room. I have everyone’s attention. “I want to tell you a story about Simone and Reed, and I want to tell you about how we will unite our three armies.”

Zephyr’s ice blue killer stare is focused on me. “Yes. I have been patient long enough. I need to know it all, the strategic points, positions, and players in the conflict so that I can force them to submit to me.”

Something about that makes me smile, even as I try hard to hide it. “We can all sit at this table and I’ll fill you in.” Choosing a seat at a round table, I start at the beginning with a girl who loved her soul mate and her Seraph. I tell them the tale of a Power who would save a dying girl, and gradually come to where we are now. Along the way, each member of my family fills me in on things I missed. When we come to the end of our pasts, the only thing left to discuss is our future.

“What is our next move?” Zephyr asks. I lean back in my chair. “When the sun comes up, we meet Brennus, find the magical Faerie weapon, and collect our undead army for war.

T
he sun rises
, shining light through the restaurant window. I didn’t sleep, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not tired. My body is changing, becoming more and more angelic as time goes on. After our discussion last night, everyone found his or her own places to sit and talk. Reed and I gravitated to a corner near the back. We’re sharing the same side of a large booth. His back is to the wall and I’m propped against his chest. He strokes my hair, occasionally wrapping it around his finger.

“We should probably go,” I whisper to Reed. His arm around my waist tightens. Pressing his lips to my hair, he shows no sign of letting me go.

“Just a few more minutes.” The deep resonance of his voice rumbles through me. I relent, easing my head back against his chest. We both know that once we leave here, it’s the end of us. My lips take an ugly shape as I try to come to terms with that fact. I’m not going to cry, though. I don’t want that to be what he remembers about our time here.

Phaedrus opens the front door and walks outside without his coat on, into the falling snow. He sits in the snow bank by the street, scrubbing his face with icy handfuls of it. Zephyr walks over to us with his eyes on the window. “We have to go before Phaedrus melts.”

I make a sound that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Okay,” I agree. Reed says nothing. Zephyr nods and walks away, rousing the others to action as he goes. I lift my head from Reed’s chest and scoot to the end of the bench seat. Standing, I look back at my angel. I’ve only seen that look on his face one time before, it was when he knew Simone was dying and there was nothing he could do to save her—to save me. I try to smile, but I can’t. I hold out my hand to him. He takes it in his and presses it to his lips. He says in Angel, “I’ll fight for you and with you until my last breath.” It’s a vow he has made to me before, just days ago in Crestwood.

I speak in Angel, “Whatever comes we face it together—as one.”

“As one,” he agrees. He gets to his feet. With his hand in mine, I lead the way to the door. I don’t have a coat and neither does Reed, but it’s a short dash to Xavier’s SUV still parked outside. Reed holds the door open for me and I climb into the vehicle. He turns it on. Russell opens the door of a black SUV for Anya before he goes to collect Phaedrus from the snowdrift. He pauses at my window. I open it. “I got the Heat Miser,” he says, indicating Phaedrus with the point of his chin. “Do you know where to go?”

“Yes, you can follow us if Phaedrus lets you.”

“Okay. I’ll tell Buns to follow me.”

Zephyr, Preben, Buns, and Brownie get into the Golden Goose. Russell runs back to them, relaying the message, and then he gets into his black vehicle.

Reed pulls away from the curb. We resemble a small funeral procession as I direct Reed to drive to the shadier part of town. Passing rows of abandoned houses and buildings, we’re getting close. I know it because there’s no one on the streets for a couple of blocks. Then, I feel them. The coldness I associated with the Gancanagh when I first met them no longer exists for me. Since Brennus bit me, the awareness is more of a familiar tingle raising the hair on the back of my neck. Fellas watch us move closer to the seminary they inhabit. I don’t see them, but I know they’re there. That means they’re either under orders not to approach me, or they are afraid of me. Either way suits me just fine at the moment. I don’t plan to cajole them into fighting for me. I plan to lead from a position of power.

Reed pulls up and parks in the circular drive in front of the defunct seminary. He turns off the car. The view of the building from the passenger side window is gorgeous. The structure is old and gothic—something out of a fairytale. The fellas have been working hard to return it to its former glory. Snow has been cleared away from the cobblestone walk and the grand staircase in front. Intricate wrought-iron handrails lead up to heavy wooden doors. One of the doors opens. Brennus emerges from the shadowy foyer. He looks every inch a king in a dark suit and an exquisite black coat. Finn follows him. He’s similarly attired, a slightly paler version of his older brother. As they walk toward our car, wind stirs their black hair, causing it to fall and play on their foreheads.

When Brennus reaches us, he opens my door for me. Extending his gloved hand, he says, “Welcome home,” and waits for me to take it. I place my hand in his and allow him to help me. As soon as I’m out of the car, I let go of him. Standing beside Brennus and Finn in the cold, I wait for Reed to join us. Snow floats in the gray, overcast sky, making everything appear magical. Brennus takes off his coat and drapes it around my shoulders. The heavy fabric is warm from his body heat, which surprises me a little. He’s different, physically anyway.

Reed approaches us. Brennus hardly gives Reed a second look as he says, “We have a truce until dis is over, aingeal.”

“The moment that it is, you should worry,” Reed replies. He stands beside me. I look over at him and try to reassure him with a smile that falls flat.

Russell and Anya join us on the walkway. Russell doesn’t look happy to be here. He stands rigidly in front of Anya, ready to defend her at any hint of trouble. Anya reaches out and touches his side. Russell wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her beside him. Brennus’ sea foam-colored eyes rest on Russell. “Da other, I see dat ye’ve recovered from yer wounds. Ye and yer aingeal look grand.”

“It didn’t take me long to heal after I pulled your knife from my belly. But I guess I gotta thank you for savin’ us.”

“Consider it a debt paid for healing me queen.” He looks past Russell and Anya to Buns and Brownie. “Ah, da Reapers have arrived—and more Powers—yer entourage is growing, mo chroí.” He smiles at me, indicating Zephyr and Preben, but then his eyes darken and his eyebrows clash together. Without warning, his fangs engage with a
click
. Stepping in front of me, he growls, “Someting is wrong.” His back is to me. Finn gets in front of me as well, ready to defend me from whatever Brennus senses. I can’t see around the wall of Faerie.

Reed remains relaxed beside me. He takes my hand in his, trying not to laugh. “What you sense is Phaedrus. He’s a Virtue. He came with us to help us locate something.”

Brennus relaxes, turning to look at Reed. “Ye couldn’t have mentioned dat before I sensed da Virtue?”

It suddenly occurs to me that Virtue angels are invisible to most beings. It’s only because I’m part angel that I can see him. “Wait. You can’t see Phaedrus?” I ask.

Brennus retracts his fangs. “I can na see him, but I can feel him. At da moment, da Virtue is radiating enough heat to burn da place down.”

Phaedrus strips off his shirt, exposing his skin to the icy air. He wraps his shirt in his hands. “He’s right. I need to get inside and locate the item we came here to collect.”

“Can you hear him?” I ask.

“No,” Brennus replies.

“You can’t even see his clothes?” I press on, still hung up on the notion.

“Na if he’s touching dem. He has a magic of his own,” Brennus replies. He makes a gesture with his arm, “Shall we go in and find whah ye’ve come here ta collect? I do na tink I can bear da suspense much longer.” He leads the way to the doors. He’s beside me after I enter the foyer. The inside is breathtaking. It’s so much crisper though through my own eyes than through the eyes of my clone.

This is the cathedral part of the seminary. Intricately crafted wooden pews flank a long marble floor. The aisle leads to an apse. Instead of an altar there are two enormous thrones. I face Phaedrus. “Where are you being pulled?” I ask.

He walks up the aisle. “This way,” he replies over his shoulder. His owlish wings eject from his back and unfurl. I follow him. His wings stretch out wide as he approaches the apse and stands under the colorful light from the stained-glass window. He takes flight, soaring around the carved stone images of saints recessed into the walls. He lingers near the back wall. “It’s somewhere…” He lands back on his feet. He drops to one knee, feeling the marble floor. His deft fingers search for a crease.

Brennus clears his throat. Is dere someting wrong?” he asks me.

“What’s beneath the apse?” I ask.

“Dat would be me archive. Would ye like ta see it?”

Phaedrus scrapes the floor with his fingernails. “Tell him yes.”

“Yes,” I relay to Brennus. The Gancanagh king waves his gloved hand in a graceful gesture. The floor beneath Phaedrus moves. The Virtue flies upward as a passage in the floor unfolds to reveal a set of descending stairs.

“You do love your tunnels,” I murmur.

“Dat is someting da religious clergy and I have in common. Maybe na da only ting.” Phaedrus does not ask for an invitation to the world below. He lands in front of the stairs and descends. We follow him down into an elaborate round stone chamber connected to several hallways that lead away from it in a sunburst pattern. Thousands of magical Faerie weapons line the walls of this room. Gleaming glass cases, like coffins, display shiny metal daggers, swords, and axes. They’re masterpieces that have forgotten how to sing. In the center of the circular room, I recognize Brennus’ Faerie armor; it holds the long battle-axe that he gave to me. I walk to the armor and touch it. It feels cold and lonely—the most extraordinary things usually are. It’s the consequence of being timeless.

Finn is beside me. On my other side, Phaedrus passes his hands over the armor next to Brennus’ armor. I grasp the etched silver and gold shaft of the battle-axe Brennus made so long ago. The metal vibrates and comes to life. Its music whispers to me a concerto of hope.

“This.” Phaedrus sighs with relief as sweat falls from his brow. He holds a battle hammer that has two faces. One side is a hammerhead; the other is sharper and sickle-shaped. The Virtue extends the weapon for me to take. My eyes widen in surprise. It’s Finn’s. I glance at him. His pale-green eyes connect with mine and I know. It’s always been Finn. He’s here for a purpose and his brother wouldn’t let him fall alone. Brennus came to help him.

I touch the sculptured silver; it’s like the living dead. It has been waiting forever for me to be born—for me to come for them both. As my fingers move over it, the weapon begins to sing. It’s not the elegant song of Brennus’ weapon. No, this one has a beat meant for crushing. Finn’s eyes squeeze closed when he hears its music. He drops down to one knee in front of me, bowing his head. “Me queen,” he says in a reverent voice. “I am yours to command.”

“Finn.” I rest his battle hammer against his ancient armor. Placing my hand on Finn’s shoulder, the heavy fabric feels wet from melted snow. He looks up at me and I gesture for him to stand.

He does. Getting to his feet, he says, “I made dis for ye—many, many years ago, Genevieve, before ye were ever born.”

“Why?”

“Dere once was a young Faerie prince from a powerful family—he was a de Graham. At da time, dere were Faeries aplenty in da world and everyone knew da name. One day, an aingeal appeared ta dis prince. Da Cherub told da lad a tale of epic adventure. He said dis prince would face a terrible demon and fall to him. He told da lad he would suffer for his sacrifice, but in return, da demon would be slayed and his family would have peace. So dis prince agreed ta meet dis terrible demon, Aodh. He agreed ta sacrifice his life and da light of his soul for his family. Da aingeal told him dat one day a queen would come and she would rescue him from da horror of Sheol. Do ye know who dat lad was?”

“You.”

“Me. Da aingeal’s name was Atwater.”

“Atwater? Brennus’ guardian angel?”

“Da very same.”

“Why you?” I ask. “Why not Brennus?”

“Why me? Because I can make a wicked weapon, Genevieve. But, ye’re wrong about one ting. ’Tis Brennus, too. Atwater lied ta me. He told me dat me family would be safe. But dat didn’t happen. Instead, he recruited me brudder as well for dis mission.”

“How long have you waited for me?” I whisper in anguish.

“Too long,” Finn replies.

I look from Finn to Brennus. There is sorrow in the king of the Gancanagh’s eyes. I gaze at the battle hammer next to me. “Do you know what it can do?” I ask, running my hand over the metal again. It sings some more. I lift my hand and the melody stops.

“It can kill anyting ye swing it at,” Finn replies. “Anyting.”

Brennus comes closer to us. Finn growls a warning at him. Brennus stops. He’s stunned by the aggressive response from his brother. “Finn?”

“Ye’ll na interfere wi’ her mission. I’ll na allow it,” Finn responds, his body rigid, ready to strike at anyone who gets too close to me.

“’Tis na me intention ta interfere, Finn,” Brennus replies. “I’m here ta help as well. I want her ta live more dan anyone.”

“Evie,” Reed says softly, extending his hand to me in a nonthreatening way, indicating that I should move to him. He wants to extract me from in between them. Finn turns his attention to Reed and narrows his eyes, assessing his threat level. Finn growls at my aspire, apparently finding something amiss in Reed as well.

“Finn,” I say, touching his arm. “It’s okay. We’re all here for the same purpose.”

“I’m na all here,” he says, and the torturous depths in his eyes make my heart squeeze and ache for him. “Ye’ve come ta fix dat.” A shiver runs through me to my marrow.