Iniquity (The Premonition, #5)(24)

“Big war.” I nod.

“Got caught in da middle of dat, had ye?” he asks. “By da look of tings, dis may be Europe.”

“It’s Lille, France.”

“Ahh. ’Tis.” He nods in understanding. “Dis Simone was French?”

“Oui,”

“Tings go bad for her?”

“I think so. You showed up before I got to the end. I didn’t have to find out what Emil had planned for me.”

“’Tis a pity he could na stay. I’d have liked to have met him.”

I shiver. “Why are you being so nice to me?” Now that my intense fear of Emil is waning to an acceptable level, the very real threat of Brennus being here takes over.

“’Cuz I love ye. I’ll banjax yer enemies. I swear it.”

“I can’t trust you. You see everyone I love as a threat to me.”

“True, because dey are. I’ve gotten reports from yer house, mo chroí. Someting happened dere. Ye want ta tell me whah ’twas? Da fellas say dere were hordes of demons at yer door—in da daylight no less! Did ye take care of dem?”

“No. Something else did.”

“Someting? Or Someone?”

“Something’s stalking me, Brenn.” I whisper.

“Powerful?” he asks and I nod.

“Powerful enough to suck all the energy from me and use it against us.”

He growls in anger. “Genevieve! Ye need ta work on yer defensive spells! Ye should be wi’ me! I’ll teach ye how ta take power instead of give it!”

I scramble off his lap. “I’m with you right now!”

“Only because I came looking for ye!” He rises from the sofa as well, his hands in fists at his side. “Someting feels wrong about dis place. It’s almost as if ye’re na sleeping. ’Tis too real: I can smell da burnt food in da kitchen. Dis place lacks da haziness of da divine nightmare we shared jus dis morning.”

I pace in an attempt to stave off my growing panic. He’s right. It’s absolutely too real here.

“I do na have ta try ta keep ye here. Ye canna leave, can ye?” he asks in an accusatory tone. “Whah’s wrong? Why can ye na leave?”

“I’m not sleeping, Brennus. I...I don’t know. I may be unconscious. As soon as I wake up, I’ll be able to leave...I think.” I wring my hands as I glance at his hostile face.

Brennus takes a deep breath. His voice has the illusion of calm as he asks, “Where are ye now? I will send da fellas to collect ye.”

“No.”

“Whah? No? De ye jus say no ta me?”

“That’s right. I said no. You’re not allowed to come get me.”

His fangs engage with a click. “Genevieve...”

“And put your fangs away! I’ve had it with being bullied!” I rub my forehead as it begins to ache.

Brennus retracts his fangs. His voice holds a note of concern. “Why are ye unconscious?”

“You want to help me Brennus? Teach me some of your defensive spells.”

He takes a step toward me and I straighten in uncertainty. He pauses, seeing my reaction. “May I approach ye?” he asks.

“Why?”

“Humor me.”

I incline my head and he comes to me and takes my hand in his. With his other hand he sweeps his arm wide. Every piece of furniture in the middle of the room moves against the far wall.

“What are you doing?” I ask with a cynical raise of my brow.

“I’m going ta teach ye how ta take someone’s energy. Before I can do dat, ye first have ta learn ta accept someone else’s energy—”

“I know how to do that.”

“Do ye?” he asks. “From whah I’ve seen, ye never accept energy as yer own. Ye pass it on—ye get rid of it as fast as ye can. Ye never hold on ta it. Ye never claim it as yer due for being a powerful craitur.”

“My due?” I ask skeptically.

“Yer due.” He takes me in his arms then.

“What are you doing?” I squeak as I try to pull away from him.

“I’m getting ye used ta accepting energy from someone else.”

I try to squirm out of his arms. “Isn’t there another way?”

“Do ye want me help or na?” Brennus asks.

I stop squirming. “Yes.”

“Foin,” he nods. “Dis may be easier for ye if we move. Ye’re fidgety.”

“I’m uncomfortable. This is awkward.”

He glances around the room and his eyes rest on an elegant wooden cabinet in the corner. A wicked smile plays upon his lips as he waves his hand at it. The lid opens. It’s a Victrola. The crank on the side of the contraption moves on its own. The arm of the record player magically drops to the turntable. The music begins. The first few notes have Brennus laughing like he’s heard the funniest joke of his life.

“What?” I ask, unable to keep my smile from showing as he grins at me.

“’Tis ‘L’Amour Est un Oiseau Rebelle’—Habanera...’Tis da aria from Carmen...da opera...” I shake my head in confusion, unfamiliar with the song.

As it plays, I listen to a woman sing. “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle...Love is a rebellious bird?” I translate, seeing that the joke is on me.