Iniquity (The Premonition, #5)(23)

I avert my eyes at once. Death is a regular occurrence here. I had thought Tomas had a better chance than most of surviving the German occupation. I was wrong.

Emil leads me to the music room. He opens the enormous doors, spreads them wide, and allows me to enter before him. The room is arranged with opulent furniture: centuries old carved mahogany chairs, gold silk-covered sofas, and a light-blue, silk tufted settee among others. Most of the artwork that had adorned this space has been removed, shipped to the Fatherland to be hoarded by relatives of the officers who reside here. Large, discolored patches of plaster remain as a testament to where they had been.

We cross the immaculate blue and gold carpet to the black-stained bench placed in front of the piano of the same hue. All of the silver frames near the piano have images of the family who had once lived here. I don’t know what happened to them, but they’re richer by far for not having to remain.

As I settle on the bench, I lift my eyes to Emil’s blue ones. The strawberry-blond highlights in his hair shine in the waning sun from the window as he doffs his officer’s cap. “What would you like to hear?” I ask.

“Play Johann Pachelbel’s ‘Canon in D,’” Emil smiles. He drops his cap on the chair near us.

I remove my white gloves and take my hat from my hair, placing the gloves inside of it. Emil takes them from me and puts them on the chair beside his. As I rest my fingertips on the smooth ivory keys, gunshots explode from the floors above. My eyes rise to look at the ceiling, hearing the violent, high-pitched screams of women’s voices and the heavy pounding of running feet. “It’s just a bit of housekeeping, Simone. The staff cannot come with us; we have to be sure they won’t see something that they shouldn’t. I’ve given orders that they be...retired.” His hand rests heavily on my shoulder.

“You’ll kill them all?” I choke on the words.

“All but you, Simone. I have spared you.” He caresses my cheek before he urges, “Now play for me.” I hesitate for a moment, trying to think of a way to convince him to spare the lives of the staff. Emil leans close to my ear and growls, “Play!”

The first staggering notes are hardly discernable above the chaos and clamor. The pistol reports shatter the very air. Agnes, one of the chambermaids, pleads for her life, but her terrified cry is cut short. I concentrate on the keys so that my fingers won’t shake and I fade away into the music. I hide in the notes, momentarily free from the terror of the Lille chateau. It’s only when the song ends that I begin to pray.

I cannot stay here a moment longer...I can’t stay...Xavier, please come, Xavier, please...

Emil whispers in my ear, “Again, Simone.”





The pressure of Emil’s hand on my shoulder lifts. I continue to play the piano, frightened that if I stop he’ll change his mind and kill me, too.

“Dat’s lovely, mo chroí,” Brennus’ deep voice murmurs from just over my shoulder.

My hands fall on the ivory keys, making a horrible, discordant sound. “Brennus,” I rasp. I turn on the bench and find him behind me, a dark blessing in this place. My arms go around his waist as I clutch him. The soft, white fabric of his dress shirt soothes me. One of his arms pulls me tighter to him as he strokes my hair with the other.

“Whah is it? Whah has happened?”

“He has killed them all!” I sob. “All of them!”

“Who has killed who?”

“Emil. He gave orders to kill the staff!” I lift my eyes to Brennus’ phosphorous green ones.

“Shh…don’t ye cry.” Brennus’ thumb wipes a tear way as it slides down my cheek. “Dis Emil, is he here now?”

“He’s...” I glance around the room, but it’s empty. “He was here...”

Brennus scoops me up in his arms and holds me to him. My hands go around the back of his neck and brush up against his velvet-soft black wings. He takes me to a gold silk-covered sofa. Magically retracting his massive wings, he sits down on the cushions with me on his lap.

Brennus pulls the pins out of my hair one by one. It spills down my back with each lock he frees. “Emil might come back, Brennus.” My eyes dart to at the double doors still wide open. Brennus sees my fear and lifts his hand in that direction. The doors slam closed. “Better?” His eyebrow lifts.

I raise my hand and the furniture near the door slides across the floor and piles in front of it. I exhale and nod.

“Dat’s da way I came in, mo chroí. Dere is nuting out dere but an empty house and empty streets. I tink it’s jus da two o’ us here now. And whah are ye afraid of?” he asks as he wipes the rest of my tears with his immaculate sleeve. “Ye’re one of da most powerful craiturs in existence. I tought ye had learned dat by now.”

“It wasn’t like this before you came in. I wasn’t me—I couldn’t do magic—I didn’t even know magic existed! It was like I was living a memory...I mean, I was me...but I wasn’t really me.”

“Ye were na really ye?”

I shake my head. “No, I was her.”

“Eh?”

“Simone. I was Simone. She was me and I was her, but I’m just me now.”

“So now ye’re Genevieve?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Ye’re da one I like,” he smiles, still playing with my hair. He looks around. “So. Dis is a crap place ye’re livin’ in. From da outside, dere appears ta be a war going on...empty trenches, missing bridges, debris wherever I looked.”