Incendiary (The Premonition Series (Volume 4)) (55 page)

Zephyr respond
s
with an air of patience
, “When confronted by the knowledge that all is lost
,
save the disgrace of death
, what is your weapon of choice
?
’
”

Reed’s head snaps
up as
a smile
spread
s
from his
eyes to his lips. He
utters somethin’
that has to be
Faerie
. Then,
he murmurs,
“I
mmortality.
”

I crouch down low
so I can lurch
away from the
next burst of
fir
e before it fries me, but instead, the energy in the room instantly shifts
.
Then, n
ot unlik
e a
vacuum suckin’
up
a dust particle, the dragon is swept up off its feet; its scales liftin’ like shingles in a windstorm.

I’m
pull
ed off my feet
,
too, bein’ sucked
toward the Archive R
oom doo
rs in a rush of wind. Anya flies
from the ground then, to get
directly in my path
in order to keep
me from becomin’ part of the
enchanted
door by
clutchin’ me to her
.

As
the wind eases
, her hypnotic
-
gree
n eyes stare
up into mine while we both u
se
our wings to remain aloft.
My hand slips
from her back
to her face, cuppin’ her cheek,
as my thumb caresses
her luminous skin. Her eyes clos
e
and I don’t know if
I can survive not kissin’ her where
her sooty lashes
contrast
against
her
pale
complexion.

Leanin’ down, my lips near
hers, but just as they woul
d’ve connected, she eases
back from
me. Openin’ her eyes, she looks
away, causin’ my hand to slip from her cheek.

“Immortality,” she says
in a thin, haunted tone. “It is a weapon with a double-edge.
”

Turnin’ away from me, she flies
back down to the ground, before followin’ Sorin, El
an, and Tycho into the Archive R
oom. Reed and Zephyr wait
for me by the
carved door that is now just that: a door.

“Injur
ed?” Reed asks
in an assessin’ way.

I shrug
, noncommit
tal. “Just my pride,” I reply
before punchin’ one of the
inanimate
dragonheads on the
door, splinterin’ it to pieces.

“Good thing you are not
in short supply,” Zephyr grins
.

“I’ll say,” I
a
gree
,
f
lexin’ my fingers and
watchin’ Anya gaze ‘
round the nearly empty room. “Looks like they took almost everythin’.”

“All but one suit of armor and
a battle-axe,” Zephyr comments
.

An exquisite suit of silver armor,
edged in gold
,
stan
d
s
alone in the center of the room.
The tuni
c-style plackart of the armor i
s deeply etched with intricate scrolls
,
and on the breastplate, a set of golden wings is centered.
I don’t need to look behind the plackart to know that the back of it has two, long plackets, slits in the a
rmor, created to accommodate
the wings of the wearer.

Matching, silver chainmail cuisse protect the wearer
’
s thighs from harm as the greaves, in t
his case silver metal
boots
resemblin’ the framin’
of a lead glass window, protect the calves and feet.

One silver g
auntlet of the armor holds
a seri
ously deadly-
lookin’ battle-axe. The serrated edge of the silver axe-head resembles the arch of a wing, wh
ile the long shaft of the axe i
s notched for grippin’.

“That’s Evie’s,” I state
with a growin’
frown. “Brennus
gave it to her ‘cuz she went right to it when he brought her
here
. It belonged to him. He m
ade it himself.” My gaze shifts
to Reed’s. “Damn, it’s like he knew we were comin here.”

“I told h
im that I would come
when the contract was
broken,” Reed replies
.

“Do we let
Red see this thing?” I ask
, indicatin’
the armor
.

Reed walks slowly to the armor and pauses
in front of it.
A reflection of Reed’s face shi
ne
s
on it
, etched with complex
scroll
in’
marks. He reaches
his hand out, restin’ it gently against the cold metal of the breastplate where hi
s face had been. His hand tenses and he crushes
the golden wings affixed there. Whe
n he pulls
his hand away
, the metal moves
too, poppin’ back out and smoothin’
until it i
s like new again.

“She would look beautiful in this armor. Did you
know t
hat it will mold to
her shap
e if it desires her?” Reed asks
m
e, not lookin’
away from it.

“Is that right?” I ask,
tryin’ to imagine somethin’ like that.

“Yes. But then, it would always
remind me of Brennus,” he adds
, frownin’.

I frown
at the armor now, too, sayin’, “We could use it for target practice when we work on our spells.”

“
It’s
for her. S
he
’ll
d
ecide what she wants to do
with it
,” Reed says
in a low tone.
He squeezes
t
he device on his ear, activatin’
his microphone. “Archive R
oom clear.”

Preben’s voice sounds
in our ears, “Weapons?” he asks
.

“Gone—j
ust a present here for Evie,” he re
plies
. “We’re moving on to the South T
ower—
the Harem.”

“We’re nearing the East T
ower,” Preben reports
.

“Most of the dead freaks were housed in th
at part of the castle,” I chime
in.

“It should sm
ell lovely then,” Preben replies
.
It
’
s
obvious
to me
that
some
of Brownie’s sarcasm i
s rubbin’
off on
him to claim
another victim
.

“Yeah, good luck
with that,” I reply
with a reluctant smile
.

Leavin’ the Archive R
oom, we move
do
wn the corri
dor connectin’
the W
est
Tower to the South T
ower.
This hallway i
s even more disturbin’ than the last on
e, ‘cuz pools of dried blood lie
in testament to what can only b
e tantamount to a slaughter. Overtu
rned tables and broken vases mak
e it look more like a barroom after a brawl than the palace I remember.

Passin’ by blood
y handprints smeared across a wall, I
ho
ld mine up to it. M
ine’s much larger. It must be from a woman.

“They’ve redecorated,” I
say
in a low tone.

Gla
ncin’ at A
nya, she looks
stone
white against her midnight wings.
“Stay with me,”
I order
her with a stern look
.

“Why?” she sho
o
t
s
back with her shoulders straightenin’.

“‘Cuz cannibals
are
what they eat,” I reply
matter-of-factly.
Her eyes narrow at me, but she does
n’t disagree.

More
eerie wooden doors ha
ng at
the entrance to the S
outh Tower, otherwise known as t
he Harem
, but these doors a
re capriciously left un-enchanted.

“M
ovement,”
Reed warns
.

I strain
my ears, tryin’ to hear som
ethin’, but the silence only gro
w
s louder the more I try
. “
Remind me never to be you
r neighbor,” I whisper to Reed
.
“Should we kno
ck?” I ask
, liftin’ my chin toward the doors ahead of us
.

“No,” Reed replies
. “They already know we’re here.”
Reed pushes
one of the doors back slowly. A strong reek of G
ancanagh mixed with blood seeps out from it. My flesh crawls when Reed says
softly,
“
They’re attempting to surround us.
”

I search
the intervenin’
space
s
between the end of the corridor
s
and us.
Our position in front of the doors leaves us vulnerable not o
nly to what’s in the Harem
, but also
to the south corridor and the e
ast corridor that both connect in front of it
in
an L-shape
.

A
fragile, feminine voice pleads
softly,
“
Help me…please,
”
as a
young woman staggers
over the debris-ridden stone floor
toward us from the adjacent
east
corridor.

Goose
bumps ru
n
the length of me when I notice
her neck above the sexy collar of her white blouse. Bloody trails from puncture wounds
no longer
cry
like tears from her.

Glancin’ at Reed, he says
in a low tone to me, “Be ready.”
His eyes focus
not on the girl in the hallway, b
ut on the tower doors juxtaposed
to us.

“
I need help,” the girl whispers
again, an
d somethin’ in my chest tightens. My eyes fly
to Anya as I imagin
e
her with the same bloody tear
streaks
on her neck.

“There are more behind her at the end o
f the corridor,” Zephyr informs
me
in
so low
a tone
,
that
I
don’t think anyone but me hears
him.

The dark wings on Anya’s back
recoil
in reaction to the pitiful plea
from the apparently fragile victim
, pinnin’
them
back as if in dread
.
She
steps
forward
when the girl
falters
again
, intent,
it would seem
,
on helpin’ her
.

“Anya!” I growl in a sinister voice that does
n’t sound like my own.

It works ‘cuz she stops
several pace
s
away
from the girl. But w
hen Anya looks
back at me over her shoulder
,
she misses
the intimate
smile that flickers
over the injured girl
’
s lips
, revealin’ her nefarious nature
. A fr
action of a second after that, the newly formed Gancanagh leaps
forward, runnin’ at Anya with the supernatural speed of a born predator.