Iniquity (The Premonition, #5)(102)
I touch the boatswain around my neck. Putting it to my lips, I play the tones that I used the first time I touched it. In front of us, a doorway to Earth opens up. Other Brennus picks me up off my feet, holding me in his arms as he straightens to full height. Dazzling sunlight shines in on us. The faerie souls shield their eyes from it, unaccustomed to the glare. Other Brennus doesn’t flinch, he faces it as if it was an answer to a prayer and carries me into the daylight on the other side.
Other Brennus strides out of Sheol with me in his arms. Crossing the threshold into my world, he becomes a ghostly soul without substance. No longer able to hold me up, I drop through his arms, landing on the frozen ground that once had snow, but now is charred with only a few grassy areas to cover the mud. Brennus’ soul spirits away from me, as if he’s an overfilled balloon that’s untied and let go. He disappears through a crowd of monsters still fighting on the battlefield where I’d left them. I watch him go, a shiny light in the growing darkness. The ground beneath me shakes from a tremendous explosion. My ears ring at the noise it makes. Dirt rains on me. Screams of anger and anguish fill the air as pieces of angels fall from the sky.
Finn’s soul enters Earth’s realm, crossing the threshold from Sheol. The same thing happens to him. He loses his Sheol body and his ghost snaps away into the crowd. I rise from the ground, numb and disoriented. I walk without thought of destination. “I’m wi’ ye, aingeal,” a voice says next to me. I glance beside me, but don’t stop walking. It’s Declan, but not the Declan I know. He’s not Gancanagh; he’s Faerie. He pats my wing, his eyes surveying the buzzing swarm of killers surrounding us. “Dey’ve given me a second chance—a new body—’tis like me old one—da one I had before Aodh…” he doesn’t finish.
“Who has given you a second chance?” I ask.
“Heaven,” Declan replies, “and ye. I will na fail ye, me queen.”
Declan snatches up a discarded sword next to a dead angel. A troll runs toward me with his arms raised above his head. The blade of his hatchet is poised to cleave me in two. I stare at the bald creature, numb, wondering what it will feel like to be cut down by him. Declan raises his sword to block the hatchet, but the troll bursts into flames from an elf dart thrown at him by Eion. Faolan and Lachlan run on ahead of me, blocking clashing demons from getting too close.
“I hate trolls,” Eion grumbles beside me, while scanning the sky to make sure nothing is targeting me from above, “dey smell like arse.”
My sense of déjà vu is not helping with my sense of unreality. I keep walking, but everything is a violent blur. Ogres clash with angels and Werree pick through the abandoned flesh of corpses. More faeries join us, spreading out around me: Goban, Alastar, Cavan, Eibhear, Torin, Lonan, and Ninian. I stumble when Keegan moves beside me. He has a dagger. The blade reflects the color of his red hair right before he plunges it into the skull of the fallen angel who tries to reach me in the center of their circle.
“Keegan,” his name falls from my lips. He was the first being I ever killed. I slaughtered his Gancanagh counterpart in the copper mines in Houghton when I had to fight him. Keegan yanks his dagger from the angel’s forehead as the Power crashes to the ground. He glances at me, concern in his eyes. “Me queen, are ye well? Do ye need me ta carry ye?” My world spins. I’m dizzy. My hand rests on his shoulder. His arm goes around my back, supporting me.
“You’re alive,” I breathe. I touch his face as tears well up and spill down my cheeks. “I didn’t want to kill you. I didn’t…”
“Ye did na kill me. Aodh did. Ye saved me from Sheol.” I nod my head stroking his face. I can hardly breathe. “We have ta go. We have ta get ye ta safety.”
I nod again, too overwhelmed to be able to speak. A series of explosions rock the ground. Keegan and I are both knocked sideways. My fingers trip over the silky softness of my feathers. The acrid smell of smoke is all around me as my head lies against the grassy ground. Above me, angels are flying, moving chaotically.
Fire rains across the dusky skyline, turning what is left of the blue filament to red and orange as giant rockets burst and riot. The explosions make the ground tremble. There is a pain in my belly; fear twists it. A shrill roar causes all the hairs on my body to stand up at once. I’ve never heard its like and I dread seeing what is capable of making such a sound.
As I sit up, my head throbs painfully. Using my trembling hands, I rest my head in them, hoping that the world will stop spinning. From the corner of my eye, I see an armored-clad Power angel flying low to the ground near me. His forward trajectory switches in the sky as a hulking Seraph broadsides him. They rapidly lose altitude, plummeting towards me.
When the warring angels tumble to the ground only a few feet away, my hands go up to cover my head and I brace myself for their impact. Rather than being crushed by them, I’m scooped up and thrown over someone’s shoulder. My cheek rests against his strong, blood-colored wing. Yelling in Angel echoes in the air as carnage from the war waging around me litters the ground.
From my position, I see my faeries rise from the ground as well. They chase after us, hacking at attacking beasts that try to stop them from getting to me. There’s a small clearing where divine angels stand guard. We land there and the Seraph puts me on my feet. I straighten, noticing the red armor of my father’s army. I’m disappointed to see gray eyes instead of brown and auburn hair instead of tawny. Tau waits for me to speak, scanning me with critical eyes. I glance down at myself. My black armor is covered with mud and blood. My hair is caked with dirt and tangled in knots. I must look like hell.