Iniquity (The Premonition, #5)(6)

“Do na kill yerself, mo chroí,” Brennus pants as he sags a bit like someone who has just run an excruciating race. “’Tis weak.”

With a firm grip still on the dagger, Reed draws it out of me. I fall forward to be caught in Reed’s arms as he rests me against his chest. He flips the dagger in his hand before throwing it. The blade passes through the shape of Brennus to stick in the wall behind him.

I grit my teeth as Reed rips the edge of the sheet that I have wrapped around me and uses it to stanch the flow of blood coming from my stab wound. “It was the only way to stop you, Brennus. I’m your weakness,” I pant against the pain. “Your tristitiae—I’m your sorrow.”

“No,” Brennus says with his eyes softening for a moment. “Ye’re me love.”

“How did you possess her?” Reed asks while his deft fingers bind and tie the makeshift bandages to me.

“We’re connected trough blood. She gave hers to me.”

Reed’s fingers pause and clench into fists. He glances at Brennus. “I will kill you.”

Brennus’ eyes narrow at Reed. “Ye can na kill me! Ye’re WEAK! Ye make her WEAK, aingeal! Dat’s why ye have ta die.” Brennus replies in disgust. “Do ye na see dat, mo chroí? He’ll let ye be his martyr—he’ll let ye die for him. Ye can na win dis wi’ him. Ye have ta be ruthless! If ye’re meek da aingeals will forsake ye. I know dis ta be true!”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW?” I retort. My blood smears on Reed’s chest as I twist to look at Brennus.

“I KNOW BECAUSE I WAS FORSAKEN! ’TIS WHAH DEY DO! I prayed for Finn—for me—dat day when Aodh made me his sclábhaí! DA AINGEALS DID NA LIFT A FINGER TA HELP US!” He points his finger accusingly at Reed. “I’LL NA HAVE DAT FOR YE! I will na,” he says the last part quietly, shaking his head with a grim expression.

“You have to stop trying to save me, Brennus!” I growl. “I don’t want you to save me.”

“I’m na concerned wi’ whah ye want. Dere’s opposition to yer very existence everywhere now. Ye tink da Werree wanted ye before? Dey covet ye, ta be sure, but dat is nuting compared ta whah dey want ta do ta ye now. Dey know dat if da fallen get ye, ye’ll annihilate da Divine and da Fallen will control everyting on Earth and in Sheol. No one wants dat; jus as we do na want da Divine ta have dat much power. Once da aingeal war ends, if dey were ta stop fighting one another, whosoever wins will focus on us—da na so divine craiturs. Dey’ll reign down on whoever is left. So every craitur will either have ta begin ta choose sides so that dey have a chance of surviving whah comes after, or dey take ye out demselves.”

I flinch at this information. “I’m not your problem. I thought we covered this in my dream.”

“Dat’s where ye’re wrong. Ye’re everyone’s problem, but I take care o’ whah’s moin.”

“I’m not YOURS!”

“Ye are. Moin and no other’s. Dere will come a time when ye’ll need me more dan ye need him. When dat day comes, I’ll be dere for ye.”

“It’s not today,” I state with heat.

Brennus’ smile is iniquitous. “Den I’ll see ye tonight and every night dereafter. Maybe ‘twill be one o’ dem.”

“Until my blood runs out you mean. You don’t have an endless supply, just two small vials. It won’t last forever.”

“’Twill last long enough, and who knows?” His eyebrow rises cunningly. “Do ye forget dat I know where ye live? Perhaps ye’ll see a way ta give me more.”

The shattering of glass from the bedroom window behind us hardly registers before Zephyr is beside Brennus, slashing a sword in broad strokes through his shadowy form. Brennus ripples; his image distorts and roils but it does little to Brennus but make him angry. Zephyr stops swinging at him when it becomes apparent that it’s ineffective.

A moment later, Russell crashes through the bedroom door. He scowls as he enters the room assessing us all. His unfurled red angel wings make him look even bigger than six foot five. “Brennus, you maggot! Come here and let me kill you.”

Brennus smiles. “Da other,” he says, “ye get a bye dis time, but only because ye healed Genevieve. When I’m ready, however, ye best be, too.”

Russell comes to stand next to Zephyr; his wings brush up against light brown ones to form a wall of angel. “Oh, I’m ready,” Russell responds, but his brown eyes are on me. He sees the blood-soaked bandage on my chest that covers Reed’s binding mark. “I bought scented candles for the occasion.”

Brennus’ smile widens. “He’s amusing, mo chroí, except for when he’s na.” He glances at Russell. “Do na worry, someone must get hurt soon—it will na be me. Half of ye will na make it. Care ta take wagers on yer Anya being among da casualties?” Brennus asks before he turns his sultry smile back to me. “We’ll take dis world. Ye’ll have no choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” I whisper.

“Dere is. Either ye run tings or dey will. I’ll see ye tonight, mo síorghrá.”

Brennus’ image falls apart like a dry sandcastle, running in grains onto the wood floor. A cloud of dusty smoke stirs up, and then fades away to nothing.