Incendiary (The Premonition Series (Volume 4)) (21 page)

“You’
r
e
tryin’ to help me
,” I croak
, feelin’ like I’m gonna
puke at any second. She touches
me again, placin’ her ha
nd on my cheek. As she continues
to s
cald the bites, my body trembles and begins
to
become numb. But, when she moves on to my neck, I strain
against the chains again,
while groanin’ and
tryin’
to pull
away from her.

At last, she steps away from me. My head slumps
we
akly on my chest while I watch
her walk to the counter. P
lacin’
both her hands on it, she hangs
her head. Then t
akin’
out
a soft cloth
from a drawer
, she su
bme
rges
it in the teacup she had made earlier
. She wrings
it out
a little as
she
goes
to the freezer. P
ullin’ out some ice, she wraps
the cubes in the te
a cloth and walks
back to me, h
oldin’ the cloth to m
y neck where she had burned me.

“What’s you
r name?” I ask
, feelin
’
dizzy and sick.

Silence me
e
t
s my question as she continues
to sooth
e
the burns. Steppin’
in front of me,
she kneels
so that our face
s
are on the same level. S
he wipes
my face, her finger
s
movin’ to my hair and tuckin’ it back behind my ear
. “You
r name, what is it?” I ask
again, tryin’ to make
eye contact with her. She pauses
, before sayin’ somethin’ in Angel.

“I’m Russell. What’s you
r name?” I repeat.

“Ruse-el,” she says
, givin’
me a grim smile.

“
Yeah, that’s me…Ruse-el,” I agree
, mimickin’ her pronunciation
of my name. “What do I call you
?”
I ask
, pointin’
my chin at her.

Her face changes then as her eyes scan
mine. She looks so sad
. Holdin’ both her h
ands to her chest, she whispers
, “Anya.”

“Anna?” I ask, and she shakes
her head, tears fillin’ her eyes.

Clearin’ her t
hroat and lookin’ away, she says
, “An-ya.”

“An-ya?” I repeat
to
her and she nods
, not lookin’ at me. Gettin
’ up off her knees
, she walks behind me. My chains rattle and loosen before they drop
from my wrists.

Quickly, Any
a moves
away from me, back to the co
unter of the kitchen. She picks
up the knife again, holdin’ it in front of her like she’s protectin’ herself from me.
With my hands free, I wrestle
the rest of the chain off of me that had bound me to the chair. Leanin
’ forward, I rub
my wrists, tryin’ to get the circulation back in them.

“You
missed a spot,” I say
grimly, holdin’ up my wrist to show Anya the bite from Eion on my arm.

She closes
her eyes briefly, seein’ the blood oozin’ from my flesh. Turnin’, she put
s
the knife back on th
e burner.

When the knife is hot again, she picks
it up of
f the stove. Slowly, she comes
toward
s
me, watchin’ m
y face. I lean
forward, layin’
my wrist on the table calmly. Seein’ the mug of whis
key sittin’ next to it, I pick
it up
with the other hand and drain
the mug in a couple of swallows.
The burnin’
of the liquor makes
my eyes t
ear a little. Anya stands
next to me, tryin’ to hand me the hilt of the knife so that I can take care of this one myself.

I shake my head.
“Ah c’mon, you’
r
e
not gonna
stop now, are you
? You
already burned the tar outta me. Y
ou
might
as well finish the job,” I say,
givin’ her an ironic smile.
She hesitates, but then she leans over my arm. Her hand shakes when she presses the knife to my wrist, burning
away all the traces of Gancan
agh from me. My fist flexes as I close
my eyes, tryin’ not to move my wrist
at all. In a few moments, it’s over.
Anya pu
lls
the k
nife from
me, throwin’ it hard; it sticks
in the far wall.

“Thank you, Anya,” I say
grimly, openin’ my eyes.

She sinks
to her k
nees in front of me, restin’
her head on my legs. Hearin’ a sob
comin’ from her, her body shakes
as
tears drip off her cheeks. In confusion, I rest
my hand on her head, slowly st
rokin’ her hair as she continues
to weep like h
er best friend died or somethin’
.

“Shh,” I murmur
, tryin’ to soothe her. “It’s all right
. Now, we have to take care of my girl, Evie
,” I say
, lookin’ over at Evie. She’s still unconscious, bound to her chair.

Anya lifts
her head slowly
from my lap, her eyes narrowin’
as she wipes
the
back of her hands over her face
to dry
her tears. “NO EV-IE,” she seethes
between her teeth.

“What
?” I ask, confused by the anger I see in her eyes
.

“NO E-VEE
,” she
repeats
, gesturin’
to Evie again.
Then, she breaks
into Angel again, and she really looks like she’s tellin’ me off.

Holdin’ my hands out, I say
, “Okay, okay—what the—
why are you
freakin’ out at me?”

Ta
kin’ off her sweater, she tosses
it away, leavin’ just an oversized t-shirt tha
t has to be Reed’s, too. Pullin’
down the cr
ewneck of the shirt, she exposes
a tattoo above her heart. It’s
the image of deep red
Seraphim wings
emboldened on her
delicate skin
—
a binding mark. Pointin’
at the mark, she
leans
forward, lettin’
me se
e it up close. Then, she reaches
out, strokin’ the feathers of my wing.
M
y eyes follow
her hand, seein’
the crimson of my feathers.

“Ruse-el ANYA
aspire
...
NO
E-VE
E,” she sneers
.
Pointin’ at Evie, she says
, “Ruse
-el soul mate.”
Then,
pickin’
up m
y hand and
p
lacin’ it on her heart, she says
,
“Ruse-el
aspire
.”

I pull
my hand back from her, feelin’
like s
he burned me again. “What are you
talkin’ ‘bout, Anya?
I don’t even know you
!
I’ve
never seen you
before in my life!
” Looki
n’ around in confusion, I stare
at my chest, se
ein’ nothin’ branded to it
—
no binding mark, like the one Anya is sportin’.
“I think you
have the wrong guy, ‘cuz I
’m
not wearin’ a ring,” I explain
, pointin’ to my chest.

She frowns
, bitin’ her bottom
lip. Shakin’ her head, she says
adamantly, “Ruse-el
aspire
.”

“I don’t know you
,” I reply
, feelin’ irritated and sick. My head is poundin’ and all I wan
t to do is lie
on the ki
tchen floor, but I can’t ‘cuz
Red still needs my help.
Standin’ up, I almost fall back down. I grasp
the table in front of me
for support
, lettin’ the
dizziness pass. I straighten
, walkin’
to the far wall. Pu
llin’ the knife out of it, I take it to the sink and clean
it off. Then, I set it on the burner, heatin’ it up to use on Red.

Grimly, I walk
back to Evie, brushin’ her hair back from her face
. “Red? Can you
hear me?” I ask
. Ou
t of the corner of my eye, I see Anya walkin’
to
the door of the kitchen. She doesn’t look at me, but just leaves
with her shoulders hunched and her arms huggin’ her body. Somethin’ in my
heart twists
, like it’s
breakin’ inside of me.

“Anya, wait!” I call to her, but she does
n’t come back.
In seconds, the flutterin’ feelin’ o
f crickets in my stomach is gone
, makin’ me
feel worse than I did before
.

“Evie,” I nudge her
gently,
before
cuppin’ her cheeks and tryin’ to
get her to wake up. She groans
, not openin’ her eyes.
“Evie, I’m gonna take care of you
r bite
s
now. Maybe it’s better that you’
r
e
not awake for this.”
I fetch
the knife off the stove. Spottin’ the whiskey
bottle on the counter, I pick
it up, takin’ a huge sip of it
and
wipin’ my mouth on the back of my hand.

Seein’
the blood seepin’ from her thigh,
I start
there, pressin’ the knife to her
wou
nd.
Evie’s
eyes flare
open
as a hoarse s
cream tears
from her
lips. Lookin’ at me with a wild expression, Red yell
s, “RUSSELL!
YOU
TOTAL
A-HOLE! STOP!” I pull
the knife back, smellin’ her
burnin’ skin
.

“I
’d
love to stop, Red,” I mutter
wearily, watchin’ her body recoil from me. “I promise I’
ll stop when you
do.”

“Ah crap, Russell!” she says
, pantin’ from the pain. “I hate this part
! God, I hate this part!
”

“I
s this how they did it last time? When you were bit
ten by Brennus?” I ask
,
takin’ another swig of whiskey.

She nods
, eyein’
the whiskey bottle in my hand. “Here, give
me some of that,” she whispers
, pointin’ her chin at
the bottle. Carefully, I place
the bottle to her lips, givin’ her a generous taste of it.

Cou
ghin’ and sputterin’ she manages
to c
a
tch her breath before she nods
at me. “Okay, how many
more bites do I have?” she asks
me grimly.

“You
got two on
you
r neck that I can see,” I assess
, lookin’ her over. “That might be it.”

“Okay,” she
says
with a stoic expression. “I’m ready.”

“You
sure?” I ask
, feelin’ awed by her.

She nods and she closes
her eyes right before I put the knife to one of her wounds. Pantin’ and g
rittin’ her teeth, she unleashes
a torrent of bad words on me, the likes of which would
rival anythin’ I’ve ever heard in the locker roo
m. Despite everythin’, I crack
a smile.