Iniquity (The Premonition, #5)(105)

I sit up in bed and reach for the lamp next to it. A soft glow illuminates the room. It shines on his skin, showing the vibrant color of his handsome face. He is extremely beautiful as a faerie, even more attractive than when he was a Gancanagh. I turn the light off again. Somehow the dark feels safer. I can see Brennus just fine with my angel vision and I know he can see me too. “Why are you here?” My voice sounds like someone else’s.

“Ye were screamin’. I tought ye needed me, but when I came in here, I found ye asleep.”

My dreams have turned against me. I’d had a nightmare of angels tearing the skin from Xavier—I couldn’t find Reed. He was gone—he is gone. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“In a very real way ye died yesterday. Ye’ll never be da same. Do na try ta be.”

He’s right. The life that I knew, the one I wanted, was slaughtered in Sheol. Emil may be dead, but he’s still inescapable. I’ll carry him around inside of me forever. The pain in my chest is unbearable and it only grows.

“What do I do?” I ask. Anguish is the bitterest poison beneath my skin.

“Ye go on from here. Ye learn from da past, but ye try na ta live in it. ’Tis gone and ye can change none of it.”

My heart aches. The thread that Reed held has unraveled me. I panic. Without Reed, I’m vulnerable to the darkness. He always kept me from thinking of all the creatures that would like nothing better than to bring me to my knees. My teeth chatter. I’m chilled to the marrow of my bones.

Brennus comes to me. He sits upon the bed, taking me into his arms. “Hush now, mo chroí. Lay yer head here.” He lets me rest my cheek on his chest. “Ye’re in shock.”

“I’m so lost,” I whisper. I have no guard to put up. I’m defenseless.

“Ye will find yer way. I will help ye. Ye will never be alone. I promise ye.” His deep voice speaks in some language long forgotten. I know it. I don’t know how I know it, but I do. It calms me. The backs of his fingers are golden upon my cheek. “We’ll heal our scars one day and be who we are.” He enchants me. I close my eyes. In my dreams I run and scream with peals of laughter. Brennus dances with me through fields of green, under the fairest sun.




The first few weeks after our return from Sheol are a blur. I have days where I cannot get out of bed, even when I don’t sleep. I squander those days. I count the cracks in the ceiling, listening to whispered notes of a piano played by one of the faeries somewhere in the house. In many ways I’m very much in the company of strangers. The faeries who were killed and had no Gancanagh bodies to return to, like Declan and Eion, do not remember their time on Earth as undead creatures. They only remember Sheol and their lives as faeries before Aodh. Brennus and Finn remember it all.

Nightmares plague me, but I don’t sleep very long, so my torture becomes less and less. I focus on creating a routine. I try to do all the things that will break me out of the enslavement of sorrow. The one thing I find that helps most is work. The job I’ve come here to do, hunting down Gancanagh and freeing their faerie souls from Sheol, becomes my new obsession, something to live for.

Time passes quickly with so much to do. I rise every morning and dress in black leggings and a black t-shirt, which will easily allow me to slip into combat armor later if needed. I wrestle my long hair into a ponytail at the crown of my head and jog downstairs to have breakfast with the fellas. I know they’re technically no longer “fellas,” but I can’t stop myself from thinking of them that way. In the kitchen, I take a seat beside Finn who has set a place for me. I smile at him; it’s automatic. He smiles back, chewing his pancakes. He hands me a dossier of our next client. I scan the file as I pour syrup on my pancakes. “Ohh…Bruno’s bio reads like a terrorist’s resume. Do you think he can be saved?”

Finn shrugs. “He’s a demon, but I try na ta judge. Most o’ da vilest Gancanagh I know weep at da sight of ye, but others dat I tink will be easy conversions end up makin’ us send deir souls back ta Sheol.”

I nod, knowing exactly what he means. “Is there any news on the other?” I ask. It’s a delicate subject; one I usually don’t broach this early in the morning.

Finn stiffens. “Dere has been no sign o’ her. I may have taught Molly too well. I should’ve been less comprehensive on how ta avoid Brennus and da fellas.”

“We’ll find her. She has to agree to everything before we can hunt for her soul in Sheol.”

“A contract must be made wi’ her. I know da rules.”

“Sorry,” I murmur, “I know you do.”

Brennus walks into the kitchen. He selects an orange from the giant bowl of them on the stone island. Tossing it in the air, he catches it. Walking behind my chair, his hand rests on my shoulder. He squeezes it. I tip my face up at him and smile. “Good morning,” I say.

He leans down and kisses my cheek. “Good morning,” he replies.

He looks over at the file in front of me. “Bruno Sarcasey?” He frowns. “Is he yer client today, mo chroí?”

“He is up to bat.” I say, looking at my plate. I butter my toast.

“I should take dis one.” Brennus picks up Bruno’s dossier.

“Drop it, faerie. He’s moin.” I smirk, using his accent to humor him and ease his anxiety. He worries too much about me. If anyone should be worried, it should be me. I listen to him in the next room every night while he tries to sleep. He has terrible nightmares, too. Whenever I go to him, he’s drenched in sweat and pawing at the air, fighting unseen demons. He tries to hide it during the day, but he’s tortured, just like the rest of us. “Anyway, don’t you have that thing with Atwater?”