Iniquity (The Premonition, #5)(90)

I avoid everyone’s eyes and don’t wait for Finn to finish explaining it all to me. I hurry to the room with the silver door and close it behind me. Setting down my armor on a red velvet-covered bench near a three-way mirror, I locate a private attached bathroom and use it. There’s an enclosed shower in the bathroom as well. Turning the water on, I strip off my clothes and wait only long enough for the water to become somewhat warm before entering it.

As I shower, my mind wants to detach from all of this, so that fear goes away and I can be numb. But I know I can’t escape it. This is happening. There’s no way I can stop it, or go back and change it, or issue a do-over. I have to face it. I turn off the water. Finding a clean robe on a hook, I dry off. A small vanity has everything I need. I towel dry my hair. Locating a comb, I use it to untangle snarls. I gather it into a ponytail at the crown of my head and secure it with a hair tie from the pocket of my discarded jeans.

When I go back into the room to collect the armor, I pause. Reed is leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. He already has his black Faerie armor on. His hair is wet from a shower. He straightens as I approach the bench near the mirror. “Would you like some help with your armor?” he asks.

“Yes. Thank you,” I murmur, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

He walks to me. Picking up the armor, he opens the back of it. You should start off with your wings out.”

I nod. Untying my robe, I let it slip from my shoulders, and then my arms. I catch it and lay it over the bench. Reed’s eyes focus on me. My skin flushes in response. My wings release from me; they spread out in a fiery display of red. He catches himself staring and looks down at the armor in his hands. He stretches the back section of it apart and holds it out to me so that I can step into it. I place my hand on his shoulder for balance, before stepping into the footwear and greaves. As I do, they become liquid and form to the contours of my feet and legs, only to harden when they take the shape of me. Threading my arms into the sleeves, the armor grows over my shoulder. It knits together in the back, smoothing and enclosing me in a black casing that shines with scrolled Faerie writing over the breastplate. For a few moments, the light is bright and ethereal. It fades. I still see the writing, but it has dulled to a deep shade of gray, appearing etched into the armor.

“You can retract your wings or redeploy them at any time. The armor will adjust.”

“I could’ve used this when I first got my wings,” I reply with a small smile.

“I hope it didn’t bother you too much. I tried to make the transition as smooth for you as possible—”

“You were perfect.” I kiss him. “You are perfect.” He holds me and it becomes like fire inside of me, relieving my fear.

“He takes my hand in his and leads me back out to the weapons room. Buns and Brownie are outfitted with Faerie armor. The Reapers have military-style backpacks that they’re loading with arms. The menagerie of death is spread out on top of a glass case in front of the angels. Gancanagh soldiers hover around them, attracted by their angelic auras. The undead pretend to be focused on inserting weapons into similar packs, but their fangs all but hang out of their mouths. My eyes go to their gloved hands. The new added feature to their uniform attests to a new code. Once the battle begins, I’m sure they’ll shed them so that they can be more effective killers when they meet the fallen, but for now it’s a much-needed precaution.

One undead faerie, standing next to Buns, is particularly interested in the flashing cham-pain bottle Buns has set on the glass case in front of her. He reaches out and taps his finger on the glass. The bottle reacts violently, vibrating and flashing with rage.

“Oh, sweetie,” Buns warns the undead killer with a wicked smile, “don’t touch that. That’s pure pain.”

Russell has opted to keep his Detroit hat on. It looks amazing with his assassin Faerie armor. He stands with Anya, choosing their weapons carefully. Anya holds an automatic faerie-charmed rifle up to her shoulder. Russell adjusts her form and points out its features while his hand slips to her bottom. She doesn’t seem to mind his hand being there.

Preben and Zephyr are going old school. They’re more interested in the swords, daggers, and the charmed throwing stars that boomerang. Brennus draws my attention. He’s watching me. He has Finn’s hammer in his grasp. I let go of Reed’s hand. “Have you chosen your weapons, yet?” I ask.

“No.”

“Go get what you need. I’ll join you and Zephyr in a moment. I want to talk to Brennus.”

“Alright,” he says. I cross the room to where Brennus stands with Finn. “This is going to be awkward to carry.” I gesture to the huge battle hammer.

“Ye need na worry. All ye have ta do is talk ta it and ’twill obey ye.”

I must have a skeptical look on my face because he sighs. “Here.” He puts the shaft of the weapon in my hand. “Give it a command.”

The battle hammer sings and vibrates at my touch. “Urr…can you stop singing?” I ask. Finn’s killer weapon silences. I look over at Brennus and smile.

“Dat will come in handy if ye need ta surprise yer opponent. Tell it ye need it ta be small so dat ye can carry it wi’out killin’ someone accidentally.”

“Umm…be small.” The weapon shrinks to pickaxe-sized.