Iniquity (The Premonition, #5)(94)
“We have to close Sheol,” I whisper to Reed. “If you give me the boatswain, then I’ll do it automatically—I think—I hope—this hole will collapse before they get here!” I hold out my hand to him for the whistle.
His hand moves to where the whistle lies beneath his armor. He covers it, making no move to give it to me. “If I do, you could get trapped on the other side and slaughtered by them.”
Russell crawls over to where Reed and I crouch in the trench. “We need to pool our energy, Red, and come up with a spell to kill the apocalypse of evil that’s about to crash in on us.” He calls out to Brennus and Finn who are giving orders to the fellas to prepare to leave the trenches and storm the field. “Hey! Brothers Grim! Do you mind helpin’ us out with some magic?”
Brennus scowls at him, but moves closer to us. Finn has never been more than a few yards from me, always protecting my back from Gancanagh and Trolls behind us. It’s a very precarious position to be in. My army could turn on me at any time if they feel they have a better chance of coming out of this alive. And right now, I kind of wouldn’t blame them.
Brennus crouches down in front of me. “I’m going ta give ye energy, mo chroí. Ye have to accept it as yer due. Channel it inside ye and hold on ta it. Do na hurl it away in a spell. Make it part of ye.” Brennus holds out his hands. He channels his energy into me. It’s painful and pleasurable; I hate the duality of it. Finn joins him. His energy is contrary to his brothers’. Whereas Brennus’ energy is power and dominance, Finn’s is playful and effervescent. Russell puts out his hands to me. I feel his energy flow inside my body and it’s like the feeling I get when I hear my favorite song. When they all drop their hands, I stretch my arms out to the sides because I cannot seem to hold them down. I’m not anchored to the ground. I levitate in the air, defying gravity. Without the use of my wings, I lift out of the trench. Reed is by my side, flying next to me. My movement out of the trench signals my army into action. The hoard of mythical creatures behind me catapults out of the trenches, running over the torched ground toward the invading evil.
Now I know how Emil creates such devastating magic. He’s basically doping off of other beings’ energy like I just did. Knowing this, I whisper a magic spell to conjure fire. Aiming it at Sheol, I ratchet up the pain when I control the flames like an extension of myself instead of a cannon ball let loose. White-hot light burns through the clouds, connecting with the swarms of beasts on the other side of the divide. Clear paths of red sky ripples through the vile creatures. Angelic figures catch fire and fall in flames to Hell’s terrain.
Fallen angels pour over the divide because I can’t stop them all. Flying low to the ground, Sheol’s angels hatchet Gancanagh, severing heads from bodies. Automatic weapons fire rings in the air. Bombs explode falling angel carcasses from the air in a color array of magic. I switch my tactic. Instead of burning the skies, I try to narrow the gap. This will force them to enter our world in a smaller, more manageable way that will enable us to cut them down easier the moment they cross over the divide between worlds.
Whispering a spell, I pull my arms together; the sky knits and seals in a section, closing a small part of Sheol. I’m making headway, cutting off a procession of mothmen driven chariots and blocking them from entering. They pull up, reaching the edge of the world that has become too tight to get through.
A sigh escapes me at my small victory, but it’s short-lived. My magic is only a bandage on the wound. It unravels and opens again. A golden armor-clad angel with bright red Seraphim wings flies along the divide, scoring his dagger over the fabric between our worlds. It rends and frays growing larger than it was before.
I recognize the angel. It’s Emil. My heart pounds; I had almost no hope of finding him among the damned, yet, there he is. I glance beside me. Reed hovers in the sky to my right. His dark wings beat with a graceful rhythm. His attention is on the masses of Fallen engaging in battle around us. I’ve been so focused on my spells; I hadn’t questioned their proximity to me. Now I see I’m at the center of the conflict. Reed swoops in front of me, slicing off the arm of an angel who would’ve tackled me from above. The carnage falls to the ground where Gancanagh are tearing apart possessed souls.
Buns is just a small distance from me, her golden butterfly wings flying her in zigzag patterns. She clutches the neck of the cham-pain bottle. Using it like a bat, she smashes it into an angel, yelling, “Take my pain!” The brutal Power cramps up, yellow lightning bolts of suffering charging through him as he falls from the sky. At her side, Zephyr stabs his sword through the belly of an albino mothman, its mouth opens wide like a dying fish, showing rows of pointy rotten teeth.
It’s not enough, though. The pathway into our world from Sheol is widening with every slice Emil makes with his soul shredder. Soon, there won’t be just a hole; Sheol will be the horizon. I need to get to Emil to stop him. I try to catch Reed’s attention, but as I do, I hear a scream that nearly stops my heart. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Buns’ golden wing fold in. Blood sprays from her chest and mouth as she’s impaled on the end of a spear of a dark-haired fallen Seraph. My response is automatic. I reach over my left shoulder and grasp the handle of my battle hammer. Wielding it like a shot putter, I let it fly. The silver hammer tumbles through the air. The flat side of it connects with the depraved Seraph, knocking his head clear off his shoulders, casting it down to the ground below. The angel’s body goes limp and chases his head to the ground. I whisper the command, “Come back to me.” The hammer twists and returns, striking my palm.