Incendiary (The Premonition Series (Volume 4)) (37 page)

“Are we in Crestwood?”
I ask. I have to make sure
, even though the architecture still looks like Poland
.

The angel frowns. “No. Torun,”
he states.

My eyes slip
out of focus again. Reaching a hand up to rub my eyes, I n
otice
that my palm is burned, l
ike I touched it to fire
. Disoriented, I try
to remember how I got here
and the nightmare I just had
.
The quiet voices
of the angels
speak
to each other again in their language, causing me to stiffen.

“Whatever you
have in mind…don’t,” I warn them
, seeing they have a plan.

“You have broken ribs and you ha
ve
been shot,” the
Power with the scalpel says
, gesturing at me with the blade
.
“
You will tear open what I have labored to mend.
”

R
eaching down, my fingers brush
over the gauzy ban
dages that cover
my breasts
and torso. Realizing I’m only wearing ba
ndages and underwear, I growl
, “I hate waking up
half-
naked.”

This elicits a smile
from one of them.
Throwing on
e of my stakes at him, he
catches it easily, but his eyebrows knit together
. “Where’s Reed?” I repeat
in a stern tone
, still brandishing the other stake
.

“Fighting,” the one with t
he scalpel replies
, before set
ting it on the table. He flicks
his wrist toward the wall behind me. Inching toward the window
s again, I peer
out. We’re near
the river,
in one of the tower gates that line the city
. I can just make
out the medieval streets
of Torun
because of the snow.

My fingers curl
on
the window frame while
snow-
covered angels take
off and lan
d
on the ancient fortification
above
.
Flashes of light burst over the city, but they’re obscured by the blizzard
. Smelling the distant magic o
n the wind, my pulse beat
s
painfully in my chest. Pushin
g away from the wall, I streak
toward the door.

Wrenching it open, I plow
into the angel
on the other side.
Phaedrus’ arms wrap
around me, clutching me to him. Feeling the downy feathers that cover the mantel o
f his owlish wings, my eyes open
wide.

“Phaedrus! What are
you…
” I trail off when he pulls back from me and ho
ld
s
u
p some clothes
. “I LOVE YOU!” I exclaim
.

“I know,” he says
, his black eyes staring into mine
and I remember that he can
hear my thoughts
.
“It’s good to see you,” he adds
in a quiet tone.
He ho
ld
s
up his hand to the angels behind me. “I will speak to her.”

Reading his face, I can tell that he’s remembering the last time we were together. It was on the road outside the church where the Ifrit, Valentine
,
held Russell and Brownie captive. Phae
drus had to leave me there as I went
in
to
the church
alone. The guilt of that mo
ment is still there, in his expression
. He’s a Virtue angel, he performs miracles, but that mission was for me alone and it’s still haunting him.

Putt
ing my arms
gingerly
around him, I whisper
in his ear, “You al
ways appear when I need you
.”
I let go of him and start to shrug into the clothes he has
given me. “Were yo
u sent here for me?” I ask
, wondering if I’m his miracle mission again.

“Yes
...of a sort
,”
Phaedrus says
. “I came with Tau.”

“Tau?
He’s here?” I mumble
, feeling a lump immediately lodge in my throat.

“He brought
you
in from the street
, but then he went back out to fight. Reed went with hi
m
,” h
e explains
.

I panic, “But, Reed was shot—”

“It takes more than bullets to render a Power unfit to fight,” Phaedrus says in a soothing tone.

“Russell and Anya?” I ask with
fear building in me.

“Reed went out to search
for them,” he explains
.

“Do you k
now where they are?” I ask
urgently.

“No, but you do,” he counters
, ta
king my hand.
I cringe
in pain
b
ecause it’s still blistered with
burns.

“Evie!” Phaedrus says, seeing my hands. “What—
”

“I…think I burned them
when I killed Lonan,” I reply
grimly.
I killed Lonan
—turned him to dust—
don’t think about that now
,
I warn myself
.

With
his hand on my shoulder, Phaedrus
turns
me down the hallway,
leading
me to another room
.
It’s somebody’
s
o
ffice with a desk and a few
chairs. Phaedrus
goes
to a beautifully ornate rug
spread out
on the
ancient
floor and sits. Following him, I si
t cross-legged
,
facing him
stiffly because my side is aching
.

“We need a controlled clone,” Pha
edrus advises me
.
“
One that will follow Russell’s energy
to him and then be able to ask him
his position so that you can send a different clone to Reed and direct
him there.”

“You taught Russell to do this…
when I was
with the Gancanagh?” I ask
, trying to breath
e
steadily so that I can fight the adrenaline that just flashed into my system. I need to remain calm.

“I helped,” Ph
aedrus replies
in his modest way.

“Okay…so a clone,” I murmur
, taking a
nother
cleansing breath. “I should have practiced these more.”

“Survival was mo
re important,” Phaedrus replies
,
“
a
nd you’re weak right now so you’ll need to c
oncentrate.”

A
ttempting
to reach a med
it
ative state, the firs
t clone that juts
from me
i
s gone in an instant. Brushing my hair bac
k f
rom my face, I try
again.

Another clone appears
from me, bathed for
a moment in a golden glow. Sweat breaks out on my forehead as I attempt to c
ontrol
her.
I fly
her through the wall of the
tower gate and
into the cold, soft
ly
illuminated
city
streets
beyond
. Her wings spread out as
she soars
, moving faster than I could in my body becau
se there are restrictions on me:
gravity, mass, force, to name a few.

As I gaze
around
through her eyes
, it’s lik
e a lesson in quantum physics. E
verything is energy and everyone
and everything has its own signature and way to
man
i
p
u
late it, but it’s all basically
connected. In those terms, it’s no
t
too surprising that my clone knows exactly where Russ
ell is on this vast tree of one-
consciousness.

One-
consciousness aside, my presen
ce is agitating the Fallen
. My clone is being noticed, and I’ve picked up a couple o
f trailers
violently
pursuing me. Slowing
for a moment, I
hover
in one spot
, letting them catch me.
I don’t want to lead them to Russell.

Not having the same need to flap my wings as they do,
I seem
to be disturbing the f
allen Archange
l with the streaming dark hair as
a fro
wn twists
his lovely face.
Th
e Power
with him
swi
ng
s
his sword at me, hack
ing
through the
air that my image occupies
.

“Give
up,” I say to the fallen Power
, watching him
continue to thrust his sword
at me with the same result.

But, it is
the
fallen Archangel that speaks to me,
“How do I surrender?”
he asks.

The earnestness of
his question makes
my eyes
snap to his face.

“Please…” he trails
off, his expression tortured.

“I don’t know,” I reply
, feeling tears prickling
my eyes in response to the sadness I see in him
.

“I want to go home,” he admits
with
the kind of
weariness that I
know well.

“Me, too,” I bre
athe
.

When the f
allen Po
wer angel swi
ng
s his sword
at me again, this
f
allen
Archangel
with the sad eyes
defends
me. He
uses
his sword to hack the other
’
s head clean off
hi
s body. A spray of blood slips
through me as the dead angel’s
body freefalls away
toward the ground in what seems like slow motion.

Howling w
ind and snow blow the Archangel’
s hair back as I stare into his eyes.
I see
something I’ve n
ever seen in one of them before:
regret.
“Tell me how I’m to
submit,” he begs
me, his fac
e awash with pain as he searches
my image for answers.

“
I’m sorry, but if there is a way…
I don’t know i
t
,” I answer
,
feeling powerless to help him.

“What if I joined your army?” he
asks
, his brown eyes imploring mine.

“My army?” I ask
. “I don’t have an army.”

“This is your army,” he says
, spreading his arms wide and indicating the chaos and carnage going on all around us.

“No,” I deny it
, shaking my head. “They don’t follow me.”

“They’re here for you
—
both sides
,” he counters
. “We
wi
ll follow you. The
Halfling—
many
of us will follow you.
”

“I prefer half-
breed,” I re
ply
without thinking.

“What matters a name?” he
asks
tiredly. “You have
power that none of us possess
es
. You can lead this army—
all of us, not just Divine
.
”