Iniquity (The Premonition, #5)(37)
“I’m glad you decided to stay. She wouldn’t agree to you as part of our deal—so nice of you to insert yourself into our game on your own. Your soul won’t survive it,” he promises.
“You’re graceless, Djet. I get it now. It finally all makes sense to me. She came back for you, didn’t she? She came to make you cease to be. I’d bet everythin’ on it. She wants us to be free of you once and for all.”
“She’s here because I demanded that she be here and for no other reason!” he spits out with venom, losin’ his cool. “She never gets to walk away from me.”
“Yeah? Well ya gotta go through me first to get to her.”
“How about if I go through her first?” he asks as his attention shifts to Anya. The barrier I erected bows inward toward us, visibly shimmerin’ with a surge of power. Djet taps on it with his index finger: WHAM, WHAM, WHAM—the deafenin’ sounds it makes shakes books from the shelves as figurines crash and shatter on the floor. I cover my ears to block it out.
With my heart beatin’ in my throat, Djet walks right through my magic. An army of beefy-lookin’ Power angels follow him in. They all look as if they could snatch the pitchfork from the devil. Zephyr advances toward Djet, but pauses when Anya gasps and starts to slide across the floor like she’s bein’ reeled in on an invisible hook. The Fallen advance on Zee and me at the same time. Anya skids over the dark threads in the Persian rug. Her black wings beat the air in hard thrusts in an attempt to stop her progression. By the look on her face, it’s at the expense of pain.
Rage builds inside me. A howl sticks in my throat. I conjure barbed razor wire and use it like whips, lashing out at Djet. His evil bodyguards save him by steppin’ in front of him. Hard metal wires twist like serpents around them, tearin’ their skin to shreds as the fallin’ angels try to dislodge from it.
I lurch toward Anya, tryin’ to grab her and stop her from being pulled into Djet’s arms. My fingertips reach for her. Djet raises his hand in my direction, sending out a burst of magic. As I step onto the Persian rug, I sink down into it as if it’s water. The carpet swallows me whole until I swim upward through the tangle of fabric. My arms flail as my head surfaces from the wool. The threads unravel, wrappin’ ‘round my arms and body in a spool of crimson and black.
With a roar, I flex hard, exudin’ energy. I tear through the magic entwinin’ me. Gettin’ to my feet and breathin’ hard, I’m ready to pull the arms off Djet and feed ‘em to him. My stomach churns as I try to advance upon him, only to find that my feet have grown into the floor.
“Such a beautiful face,” Djet murmurs, while rubbin’ his fingers over Anya’s cheek. She struggles to pull away from him, her face a mask of loathin’.
Fallen angels swarm us. Zephyr immediately cuts down the first wave of them with his drawn sword. Blood spatters the walls and ceilin’ in deep rollin’ patterns. I dislodge my feet from the floor and join him in dispatchin’ the mob with my knives that I pull from the holsters on my thighs, but there are more angels than we can possibly handle. As I glace toward Zephyr, his skin is sliced open with a thousand different cuts. He resembles someone who has been thrown through the windshield of a car. I probably look the same, my forearms, face, and sides receivin’ cut after cut from daggers and swords meant to torment, not kill. They’re murderin’ us slowly, deliberately, and for effect. I try to pull energy to me, but it has disappeared, leavin’ me fightin’ for air. A vicious stab to my abdomen drops me to my knees as my sword slips from my fingers.
One of the evil angels grabs me from behind by my blood-soaked hair while pressin’ his dagger to my throat. Zephyr is next to me in a similar position, completely at the mercy of the Fallen and a gloatin’ Djet. My eyes are forced to look into Djet’s as he holds Anya in his arms with a dagger to her throat.
“We’ve been here before, have we not, Iah? And it’s always about her—the one you call your soul mate. Aren’t you tired of her, the little bitch? Where is she? Why are you here without her, protecting her like always? Help me find her—get rid of her. Tell me where she is—who is the Seraph with her?”
“Don’t tell him anything, Russell,” Anya growls.
“If he tells me, I’ll kill you quickly. Otherwise, I’ll give you to the angels here and you will die...slowly—all but you, Iah. I want to kill you in front of her. I want her to watch.”
Hopelessness tightens my throat, as it had when he’d killed Evie when she was Zahra all those years ago. This time it will be Anya, my angel, who dies and it’ll be forever—and she won’t be comin’ back.
“I don’t—” I begin, but stop when I catch the sweet, cloyin’ scent of—
The doors of the library swing open behind me. “Aww, whah’s dis?” Brennus’ smooth voice asks. “’Tis aingeals, Finn.”
“’Tis.” Finn agrees.
Brennus makes a rude sound, “and da other.”
“Brennus,” I hiss.
“Why are ye lettin’ dem have da pretty dark-winged aingeal, da other?” he asks me conversationally, as he walks into my line of sight. He looks at the Power angel holdin’ me hostage by my throat. His eyes shift to Djet and Anya. “Hallo, pretty aingeal,” he says to Anya, “I’ve missed ye.” Her eyes widen as her hands grip Djet’s hand that holds the sharp dagger just below her chin. Brennus’ eyes shift again to Zephyr. “And Genevieve’s aingeal mentor! Zephyr, is it?” he asks. Zephyr doesn’t answer him; he just stares back at Brennus with a blank expression.