Iniquity (The Premonition Series Book 5) (27 page)

“What do you mean?”

“Me light—ye’re here ta free it.”

“Your light? I’m sorry—I don’t—”

“Me light is me soul. Whah was inside me was me light—most o’ whah was good and whah made me special—’tis Faerie. It has been gone ever since Aodh made me Gancanagh. I’ve been waitin’ for me queen ta arrive ta free me from dis and make me whole once more.”

“How do I do that, Finn?” I whisper, desperate for information.

“I do na know, but I know ye will na fail me.”

“How long have you known I was your queen?”

“I dared ta hope ’twas ye when Brennus touched ye at da library—dat night in Houghton. Ye did na lose ta us—ye did na become jus another wan. But ’twas when ye destroyed Keegan in da mines dat I truly began ta
believe
’twas ye. I tought den dat if yer soul separated from ye, ’twould travel ta Sheol and free us.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all of this before?”

“I could na. Someting has always kept me from speaking of it—a magical force like da one we created wi’ yer contract. But ’tis gone now. I do na know how or why, but ’tis no longer a slipknot around me throat.”

Brennus speaks to Finn, “Atwater told me da only way ye’d survive, Finn, was if I went after ye. Ye’d already been made Gancanagh, but I didn’t know it. I went ta meet Aodh and yer whole crew had already been changed inta undead craiturs.

“I remember. I know whah ye did for me. Ye’re still me king, brudder,” Finn says, “but Genevieve is me queen. She’s da one I fight for now. She’s here ta dig up me soul and reunite it wi’ me bones.”

I look from Finn to Brennus. “We need to prepare for battle. We have to mobilize the fellas and get them to Crestwood—”

“’Tis done,” Finn says. “Most of our army is near dere already. We have a few hundred or so fellas here ta protect ye until we depart. Ye need ta prepare for da battle now. I’ve armor dat I made for ye.” I look at the medieval Faerie armor beside me. He catches me and smiles for the first time, “’Tis na like dat armor. Da armor I created for ye looks modern and will chafe ye less. His eyes travel over my entourage. “I have armor for all of ye and modern weapons charmed by our best spell crafters.”

“Thank you, Finn,” I murmur.

Brennus approaches me slowly, saying, “We stand little chance against all of da aingeals. We can fight da fallen or da divine, but we can na hold out against both of dem.”

“We won’t have to, Brennus. We’ll fight Emil. Xavier and my father will bring their armies to help us.”

“Eh? Divine aingeals do na fight wi’ Gancanagh,” Brennus says in disbelief.

“They do now,” I reply.

“Emil will be hard ta kill, mo chroí. His brand of savagery is someting I’ve na seen in a long time. Do ye know whah he did when he found out da location of his soul mate on Earth in dis lifetime?” Brennus asks.

I pale, shaking my head. “No.” I glance at Russell to see that he’s listening. Russell’s mouth forms a grim line.

“When Emil was only fifteen, he went ta her home a few cities away. He knew who she was and whah she was because unlike ye, he had total recall of all of his previous lifetimes. His soul mate was still a little girl—only eleven. He found her and he butchered her. She was da other’s inescapable,” he gestures toward Russell, “but she does na exist anymore. Neither of ye will ever see her again in any lifetime. Emil used da weapon dat is meant ta kill ye, mo chroí, ta annihilate her soul as well as her angelic body.”

“Why would he do that?” I whisper.

“He does na want anyone ta be as powerful as him.”

I feel like I can’t breathe. Finn notices. He gestures to the hallway that leads from this room, “If you come dis way, I will get ye and yer friends outfitted wi’ whah ye’ll need ta face whah lies ahead.”

I nod. Finn picks up the battle hammer and ushers me to the adjacent corridor. We enter a room that has state-of-the-art weaponry and lightweight modern armor. “Dese weapons,” Finn says, spreading his arm wide, “have all been charmed. Da body armor has been enchanted ta repel other magic, but I do na know how ’twill fare against Emil. He’s exceptional when it comes ta conjuring energy. Ye have ta be spry and avoid his spells as much as possible.”

He rests the weapon in his hand against the wall as he opens a glass case that contains ebony body armor. Lifting it out of the case, he holds the shapely combat uniform up to me. The breastplate is a hard shell, the surface of which appears black until I touch it. When my skin meets it, scrolling Faerie writing illuminates it in silver and gold light, showing the protective magic layered into it. Finn presses it into my arms. “Dere’s a room,” he points to one of the several silver doors to my right.

“I have to pee,” I blurt out. I do. I’m so afraid that it has made finding a bathroom a dire necessity.

“Dat is why we’ll win, mo chroí,” Brennus says behind me, “because ye’re still so human.”

Am I still human?
I don’t know. All I know is I’m terrified and I need a few seconds to myself.

Finn takes pity on me. “Ye can do dat in da room I jus showed ye as well. Dis part of da seminary was an underground bathhouse. Dere’s a shower and grooming—”

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.

“Now tell it dat ye need it ta cling ta ye and ta stay put. Da best place ta carry it is over yer left shoulder because ye’re right handed.” He moves behind me.

I speak to the hammer. “Hang on to me until I need you.”

I reach over my shoulder and place it under my left wing. It rests against my back. When I let go of the handle, it doesn’t succumb to gravity. It grips me. I hardly notice it because it feels like it weighs nothing at all.

“Now grasp da hilt and tink of a command when ye do, but do na say it aloud,” Brennus orders.

I do. I reach for the handle, finding it, I think,
Let go and grow.
The hammer lets go of me and as I swing it back in front of me, it has become full-sized once more.

“Now, wield it like da fellas taught ye when ye lived wi’ us in Ireland,” Brennus orders. I do, whipping the long-handled axe-hammer through the air like a bo staff warrior. “Ye’re lethal,” Brennus says proudly.

I’ve caught the attention of every single being in the room. Everyone has gathered their weapons and has them in packs on their backs. Finn comes close to me. “If ye’re ready, we’ll go and join yer army now. I have charmed da revolving door jus dere.” Finn motions to the round turnstile door. “All we need ta do is make da trip.”

“I’m ready.” But I’m not, so I have to fake it. If any of the Gancanagh senses weakness or fear, I’m dead before it even begins.

Zephyr and Reed join me, taking up positions on the other side of me. “You are ready, Zephyr says, giving me a nod of approval. “You are the second best fighter that I’ve ever seen.”

“Who’s the first?” I ask.

He blinks. “Me,” he states, as if I should’ve known that.

I try to suppress my grin, saying, “You are, Zee.” Buns and Brownie elbow their way next to me, linking their arms with mine, they escort me toward the revolving doors.

“Let’s go beat the Fallen,” Brownie says, as if we’re going to a field hockey game and facing the Kappas.

“I will set them up for you,” Buns advises, talking strategy, “and you can knock them back to Sheol. They’ll fall like dominos.”

“When it gets bad, Buns, run,” I warn her. “I need you here when this is all over.”

The fellas move to the revolving door. They enter it so fast it blurs and whirls.

“We know what to do, sweetie.” Buns lets go of me and enters the portal.

It’s Brownie’s turn next. “See you on the other side,” she says. She disappears in a swirl of copper-colored butterfly wings.

Reed places his hand in mine and whispers in my ear, “As one?”

I squeeze his hand and reply, “Always,” before we disappear together into the whirling dervish of the portal.

I
t’s
a wild Matterhorn ride to the other side of the portal. Arriving on the snow-covered grounds of Crestwood, I manage to land on my feet with Reed’s help. Distant lightning sends thunderclaps rolling in, threatening the already darkening skies. Cold air blows my hair, but my armor keeps me warm. The campus is the same, except it’s not. Not really. My head leans to one side. Now there are undead faeries everywhere, hanging off the bronze statues of the founders and pretending to do lewd acts to them.

“Most of da fellas are disciplined,” Brennus mutters behind me. “Dere are only a few left who do na know how ta conduct demselves. I will kill dem later should dey survive.” I let go of Reed’s hand and stop to face Brennus. He’s so close to me that I’m looking at the center of his massive, black armor-clad chest. His ebony wings only add to his height as I look up at his face. He’s always gorgeous in a tailored suit, but his combat attire is even more impressive. Whereas his suits are elegant, this shows just how powerfully built he is. My cheeks redden and I hope it can be attributed to the cold wind.

Whatever I was going to say to him eludes me now. I look away from my dark, handsome king, catching sight of the irreverent fellas hanging on the statues once more. I raise my hand to them. Casting a spell, the gyrating Gancanagh soldiers are knocked off the pedestals and into the snow. I raise my eyebrow to Brennus. “I’ve taken care of the problem. They’ve learned their lesson. Now you don’t have to kill them.”

“Ye still know little of how tings work.” Brennus sighs. “Showin’ no mercy is how ye lead.”

“Power and mercy are two different things, Brennus.” I want to change the subject to more pressing matters. “Are there any signs of divine angels?” I ask, holding my breath.

“Na yet,” Brennus admits. His beautiful lips turn down. I feel almost devastated by what he says.
What if they don’t come? What if Xavier and Tau were made to abandon me again?
Brennus reads my look.
“Dey’re na as fleet as a Faerie army, Genevieve. Dey can na charm dere way here.”

“You think that’s it? That they’re just more cumbersome than Faeries?” I can’t hide the hopeful lilt in my voice.

“Ye know me. I do na trust divine aingeals ta join our side in dis fight.”

We’ve been transported to the area in front of Central Hall. It’s dark inside the building, as if no one is there. “Where are all the students and staff?” I ask. At this time of day, there would normally be a lively crowd walking to and from classes.

“It’s winter break,” Reed says beside me. I didn’t know that. Time means almost nothing to me now. The goings-on of normal people’s lives means even less. “Some have not made it home, though.” Reed points to human figures standing across the street on the frozen sidewalk in front of Calhoun, one of the men’s dormitories. They’re not acting like humans. They aren’t panicking or trying to run away from undead faeries that have invaded their campus. Nor do they display the devotion on their faces that wans exhibit when fellas have touched them. No. They stand erect with their arms at their sides, watching us with sinister expressions.

I shiver. “Who are they?” I ask. One of them is female. She stares at me as if she’d like to stab me in the face. Her clothing is pristine. She’s dressed just like anyone would be for the cold weather in a warm coat, scarf, mittens, and a hat. Her makeup is flawless. The way she tied her scarf is in fashion.

“They’re possessed souls, Evie. I think you called the first one you ever saw a ‘shadow man’. They’re spies of Sheol now. They will report your arrival if we allow them to live.”

I would never know she had a demon in her if I was merely human. They hide well. “If you kill them, their souls will crossover to Sheol. Fallen angels will know I’m here all the same.”

“Yes,” Reed admits, “but these possessed wouldn’t be able to join the true fighting when it begins if we slay them now.”

“Can they be saved?” There has been so much bloodshed and collateral damage already. I don’t want anyone else to feel what I felt when I lost my uncle. How many will suffer when their sons and daughters don’t ever come home?

“Normally, I would say no, but I’ve seen too much lately to the contrary to ever make that bold of a statement again. But, that said, I’ll kill them now if you don’t.”

“But what if they can be saved?”

“Kill dem,” Brennus gestures to two of the Gancanagh who have been following him. Without hesitation, both of the undead soldiers sprint across the snow-covered lawn and across the street, cutting down the shadow people with hatchets.

“Why did you do that?” I demand. My hands are in fists at my sides and my jaw is rigid.

“Let me show ye someting,” Brennus replies. He takes me by the elbow none too gently, and leads me over the crest of a small hill. On the other side of it, human carcasses and the dead bodies of divine Reapers turn the snow red with blood. There was a massacre here of epic proportions. Brennus takes me by the shoulders and growls in my face, “Dat is whah da Fallen and deir demons do. Ye show no mercy, mo chroí. No. Mercy! Anyting else and ye have dis outcome.” He sweeps his arms wide, indicating the carnage once more.

Brownie and Buns are beside me. The shock quickly gives way to grieving as they see their kind amid the casualties. I know it would’ve been them too if they had remained here, or if Zephyr had allowed them to come back here when they wanted to return. Emil would’ve slaughtered my friends. As it is, he has slaughtered enough to make what I’ve come to do to him and anyone who helps him more than justified.

“Where do I meet Emil?” I ask.

“Da gate of Sheol at da aingeal’s estate—where he cut da world asunder.”

“Then we should go there now and finish this.”

Brennus lets go of my elbow. He strides away from me toward Finn, an undeniable general, barking out, “Right lads! We’ve waited lifetimes for dis day ta come! Up now and get ‘em boys! Yer queen demands it!”

Finn calls out orders of his own, directing his commanders to mobilize for the short trek to the end of the world. I straighten my shoulders. If nothing else, all this ends today. Something about that gives me the confidence I need to face what’s ahead. There is no going on to my next life. This one is it. I have to make it count.

Reed, Zephyr, Russell, Preben, Anya, Brennus, Brownie, and Buns gather around me. I know the way to Reed’s house by heart, literally. I take to the sky, flying away from campus. Legions of Gancanagh, more than I could have ever fathom, strike out on foot in blurring speed. They have no trouble keeping up with us as we set the pace. I know the element of surprise is not with us. Emil knows we’re here. He can probably smell the Gancanagh from miles away. I’m curious to know if he’s surprised by whom has decided to join me—or that I let them join me. I pray he has no idea what it means.

Landing on the lawn that runs up to Reed’s house, trenches have been dug into the frozen terrain for protection. Inside the maze of trenches, Gancanagh mix with baldheaded creatures that have hairy ears and enormous lumpy bodies. I touch down near one such creature and have to almost cover my hand over my nose at his odor. “Eion told ye Trolls smell like arse, did he na?” Brennus asks next to me. He pulls his battle-axe from his back. The hilt grows to full extension. The king uses the end of it to nudge the troll intent on touching my hair away from me. “Dat’s close enough, baldy. Go find yer regime and prepare for battle,” Brennus warns him, showing his fangs in a hiss when it looks as if the troll would protest. The lumpy creature shuffles off into the growing crowd of unwashed bodies behind us. “And brush yer teeth once in awhile,” he calls over his shoulder in irritation.

My attention returns to the house ahead of us. It was an English manor that resembles a modernized hunting lodge. Now, it has taken on a very sinister mien. The ground around it is fuzzy, resembling the haze of the terrain in the desert. Seeing my bedroom window, I wonder if Emil has slept in our bed, or rolled around in my sheets. If we survive, we’ll have to burn the place down and rebuild. I glance at Reed by my side. He’s poised for battle. “We need a protective shield, Brennus. Will you help me make one?” I ask.

“I will gather energy and push it inta ye.” He does, pouring copious amounts of shimmering energy into me. My insides singe from it. I use it to weave an intricate spell of protection around my army. Brennus tests it with his own magic. When it not only holds, but also spits his energy back at him so that he has to jump out of its way, he says, “It’ll do.”

The front door of the house opens up. Emil emerges from it with his hands raised in surrender. A hush falls over the crowd of us watching him. Before I can say the word, “Wait,” a hundred or more beings open fire on him. Emil is riddled with bullets, arrows, throwing stars, and a menagerie of other projectiles. He’s reduced to a bloody pile of flesh in the driveway.

Zephyr, who hasn’t moved, comments on the fact that Anya was one of the first to unload her entire magazine on Emil. “Thrones,” he says to Russell, “need vengeance. Good luck with that.”

Russell replies, “She got him good, though.”

Whatever Zee was going to say fades from his lips as another Emil emerges from the house with his hands up. I cringe. Behind this Emil, a slew of Emils run from the house. They move over the snow, stumbling and getting up to trudge through the drifts.

Russell says, “Remember the paintball fight on the beach, Red? It’s like the Delt Wars. He’s throwing Freshmen at us.” My soul mate is right. It’s just on an entirely different scale.

Reed clarifies, “He’s trying to deplete our ammunition and demoralize us by making us kill his victims.” I choke back the sour flavor in my mouth.

“Nobody fire!” I order. The victims with Emil’s face keep coming. They swarm into the yard with his strawberry-blond hair and his lazy eyes. I want to smash all of their faces in. They trip and stumble toward us. That’s when I realize that some of them are wearing vests covered with incendiary devices.

“Evie,” Reed says while he looks over the edge of the trench.

“I know! I see them!”

“Can you amplify my voice?” Reed asks, his eyes never leaving the fake Emils as they struggle to get to our trenches.

“I think so. I have to come up with a spell—”

“Do it!” he replies urgently, his assassin’s eyes honing in on a fake Emil running across the frozen water of the small pond only yards away.

I whisper a spell over Reed, nodding my head for him to speak. My Power angel looks in the direction of the possessed human wearing Emil’s face. He calls out, “Stop!” My head vibrates with the resonance of his persuasive voice. It echoes and reverberates in my mind causing my brain to rebel as if it were being scrubbed by steel wool. I hold my head in my hands, looking through my splayed fingers. The possessed soul halts only a yard or so from us. “Go find your master. He’s waiting for you to embrace him.”

The soul doesn’t waver for a moment. He turns around and stumbles back across the frozen water. Reed repeats his order. It amplifies over the mass amount of evil souls coming at us. They turn, fighting one another to claw their way back into the door of the house to get to their master. Hissing sounds, like the spray of fire from a flame-thrower, and then
BOOM!
The house explodes shaking the ground and throwing debris up in the air for miles. Fire and smoke billows up. I straighten, feeling a cautious sense of elation bubble up in me.

My angel grasps my wrist and says through clenched teeth, “Get down!” I have just a second to comply before he pulls me to him and covers me with his body. I catch a glimpse past his shoulder of magical flames traveling at us over the mall in front of where the house used to be. The flames pass over the trenches, moaning. Everything that was in its path is ash in a millisecond. My magic shield is wiped out.

Reed shifts off of me. He leans against the frozen dirt wall and uses the blade of a sword to reflect the area above us. The house is completely gone. It’s reduced to ashes that float around us like snow. In its place is a gigantic gaping hole to another world—a hellscape I only glimpsed once before. I peek over the edge of the trench. It’s as if our world is a solemn, ethereal landscape painting that’s been torn to reveal a dark, sinister masterpiece with blood-red skies underneath. It’s something out of a Bosch nightmare. I cover my mouth as the reek of Sheol hits us all at once. I have to choke back my gag. It is so bad it makes the Trolls smell like perfume.

In the Sheol sky, legion upon legion of fallen angels fly. There’s every type of fallen angel, from Seraphim to Reaper, swirling around in the putrid air. Even with their ability to fly, some angels ride upon the backs of enormous dragons whose scales shine like embers. Dark-winged bulls with polished black horns and hooves ferry other evil angels on their backs. Some Fallen have harnessed teams of powder-white mothmen to carry them in gilded chariots across the sky. Vulgar creature mashups of man and beast hurtle toward the open doorway to our world.

Finding Emil among the fallen angels is impossible. They darken the sky like locusts. The sheer numbers I’m seeing of my enemy is horrifyingly bigger than what I could ever imagine. But they’re not just angels and demons. Evil souls numbering in the hundreds of thousands are being set free from Sheol. They’re spirits—bodiless evil entities—until they find a human host here to possess and inhabit. Once that happens, they’ll be powerful with the ability to maim and kill. We’re outnumbered at least a thousand to one in this fight. My little army doesn’t stand a chance against the malevolence coming for us.