Indebted: The Premonition Series (17 page)

“S’kay,” I manage to whisper back, “I think he’s startin’ to like me. He didn’t burn me this time.” I hear Brownie exhale and I know she’s cryin’ again. “Ahh, Brownie…” I say softly, “this ain’t yer fault. I know what I am. Somethin’ was gonna get me sooner or later. I’m just sorry it got ya, too. I thought it was gonna be the Gancanagh or one of the Fallen or one from yer team—Dominion maybe.”

“No. We should’ve been okay. We were almost there, just a day or two more,” she says, and I can tell she’s beatin’ herself up again ’bout it. “You know, Russell, this is like being kidnapped by an urban legend. I’ve heard about Ifrits, everybody has, but they’re so rare—almost extinct—I never thought I’d ever see one,” she whispers, soundin’ dazed.

“I don’t think this was random, Brownie,” I say softly, “I think he was huntin’ Evie—found us instead.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” she replies.

“Are ya any closer?” I ask her, tryin’ to be cryptic. Brownie and me had been tryin’ to get the steel cuffs off of our limbs before the Ifrit came and got me the last time. She thought that maybe she was loosenin’ hers the last time I checked.

“No. They’re enchanted…dark magic—I feel them moving over my skin. It’s making my flesh crawl,” she says.

I know exactly what she means. I feel it, too, when I have the chains on me. They are alive, like serpents wrappin’ ‘round me instead of metal. It’s just another layer of scary in this hellhole. The Ifrit didn’t bother to chain me back up when he dragged me back in here this time. He knows I won’t be able to move for a while, after what he just did to me. The metal rattles again and I lift my head enough to see Brownie’s butterfly wings movin’ rapidly, elevatin’ her from the ground as she tries with all her strength to pull the chains from the wall, but they aren’t givin’ an inch.

She gives up after a few minutes and drops with a heavy
thud
back onto the floor. “Have you…gotten anymore messages?” Brownie asks in a tentative way, while panting from the exertion.

“Naw,” I murmur, spittin’ blood out of my mouth while touchin’ the new molar tooth pushin’ up through my gum with my tongue. It’s replacin’ the one that was just yanked out. “I hope Red doesn’t send anymore,” I add, feelin’ a portion of my spine heal with a
pop
. I feel my arms now and that really, really, sucks. Tentatively, I try wigglin’ my smashed fingers, but I wince as I realize that my knuckles are still shattered on my left hand, so I just move my right one. “Ya wouldn’t happen to have some aspirin over there, would ya?” I ask, tryin’ to lighten the mood.

“Yeah. I’ve been holding out on you. I’ve got some of that Swiss chocolate that you love so much, too. Heal faster and I’ll give you some,” Brownie says with
faux
lightness in her tone.

“That was good chocolate…” I say, rememberin’ how I was gonna bring some to Red, but that was the first thing we ate down here when we woke up chained to the wall. “Ya know what I’ve been cravin’ though?” I ask Brownie.

“No,” she responds.

“Grits, the way my mom makes ‘em—with milk instead of water and she smothers them in butter…real butter—not that fake crap—margarine or whatever—with salt. My sister, Melanie, she likes them with maple syrup on them. She really likes sweet stuff, but Scarlett and me, we like them just with butter and salt,” I say, thinkin’ of my family.

“I remember…I like them when the egg yoke runs into them on my plate,” she says with a catch in her voice.

“Yeah, that’s good, too,” I agree quietly. A tear slides down the side of my nose. I clench my teeth ‘cuz I can’t cry now. I can’t move my hands to wipe the tears away, but my throat is achin’ with the need to bawl like a little girl. I’m so hungry that one minute I think I can eat anythin’…anythin’, but then the next second I’m so nauseous that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat again.

“Why’s this happenin’, Brownie?” I ask, feelin’ completely broken and weak, like I’m gonna start cryin’ at any second and I know that if I do, I might never stop.

“I don’t know…you’re older than me, I think—I’m sure. I was hoping you might know why,” she says in a low tone.

“I’m older than ya?” I ask, lookin’ in her direction, hearin’ the skepticism in my own tone. She’s thousands of years old by her own estimation.

“Oh, there’s no question, Russell,” she replies, her wings flutterin’ as she tries to find a comfortable position on the floor. “Your soul is older than Moses, to use a cliché…and I mean,
way
older.”

“How do ya know that?” I ask her in suspicion. “Have we met before now? Before this?”

“I don’t think so,” she answers slowly. “I’m sure I would remember you. You’re quite a character. You would stick out.”

“Ya mean ya never reaped me—my soul?” I ask, still feelin’ weird ‘bout her bein’ a Reaper and knowin’ all ‘bout Paradise. She won’t tell me nothin’ though. I’ve tried to squeeze her for information, but all she keeps sayin’ is how she’s not tellin’ me, so that if I ever have my soul leave my body, she can negotiate for it with no worries. She wants to make sure that I get into Paradise.

“No…and I don’t think I met you in Paradise either,” she says. “No, you’re older than me for sure and very…elite. Let me ask you this. How many names have you had?”

“Shoot, Brownie,” I say, exhalin’. “There are so many I couldn’t begin to recall them all.”

“Okay, now, think back farther. Can you remember a time when you had no name? A time when there was no time—before there
were
names?” she asks. The hair on my arms rises up like wires.

My heart pounds hard in my chest, so hard I think it will burst as I see glimpses of things that I have never seen before with these eyes—Russell’s eyes—things I want back, things I have no names for—dark, ebony wings. “What…where?” I ask her, feelin’ stunned. I lose the track to that memory in an instant, like somethin’ turned out the light on it.

“Your soul is scary old, Russell,” she says with a smile in her tone for the first time since we have been here. We are both quiet for a while as I think of all the things I do remember.

Anger builds in me, makin’ my throat feel tight and painful. “Naw, I don’t know why we’re here, but what I really can’t figure out is why they would leave us lyin’ on the floor down here,” I say in a soft tone.

“I doubt they know where we are, Russell, and even if they did, they don’t have magic to kill it. They would have to get help,” Brownie whispers.

“Brownie, I’m not talkin’ ‘bout Reed and Zee. They have to take care of Buns and Evie. Naw, I’m talkin’ ‘bout
them
,” I say, grittin’ my teeth, usin’ my index finger to point up.

“Oh,” she says in a sad tone. “I don’t know why we’re here, in this place, with these circumstances. But, have you ever played with dominos, you know, when you were a kid in one of the many, many, lifetimes that you’ve had?” she asks me seriously.

“Yeah, in fact, I’ve played with them in
this
lifetime,” I reply. Then I grunt, feeling another
pop
, and then searin’ pain, as my spine heals some more. I can feel that there are several ribs still mendin’ after being crushed by the Ifrit’s bare hands.

“Are you okay?” Brownie asks with panic in her voice.

Sweat is tricklin’ down the side of my face as I fight through the pain. “Yeah—dominoes,” I pant, wantin’ somethin’ to think ‘bout other than the agony in my chest.

“Okay,” she whispers, her voice shaky, “when you set up lines of dominoes, you have to place them just right, so that when you knock the first one down, it will fall and hit the next one in the line,” she explains in a rush.

“Yeah,” I manage to say, so that she knows I’m still listenin’ to her.

“You can’t get to the end, the last domino, without lining everything up just right,” she says. “You know?”

“Yeah,” I say, gettin’ what she’s sayin’. “You think this is leadin’ to somethin’ else?” I ask. “Somethin’ bigger?”

“I know it is. This is huge, Russell,” she whispers, lookin’ over her shoulder to make sure the Ifrit isn’t standin’ behind her. Seein’ nothin’, she continues on urgently, “I never expected to be in on a mission like this—with someone like you—well, I never imagined someone like you either. I’m just a Reaper, we are never asked to do work like this—this is the realm of the Seraphim and work of souls that gather in
His
presence.”

“Ya should talk to yer union rep then, ‘cuz I think yer due for some overtime pay,” I reply sourly.

“No, you don’t understand. This is an honor for me—a great responsibility to help you with your mission. I’m just scared, but I know my role is important—more important than anything I have ever done to this point and I…” she is choked off by the intensity of her emotion.

“Are ya sure I’m older than ya? ‘Cuz I feel like I don’t know nothin’ compared to ya,” I mutter, feelin’ grateful to have her here and guilty for feelin’ that way.

“Russ, you’re like super old,” she says, and I can hear her eyes rolling in the tone of her voice. “You are as old as George Hamilton is tan.”

“Ahh, Brownie, that’s disgustin’. Yer freakin’ me out now,” I say, wrinklin’ my nose at her, but feelin’ a little relieved, knowin’ that thing upstairs hasn’t beaten the smart-ass out of her yet.

“Don’t start trippin’, Russ, it’s awe inspiring to be so old. I bet Reapers don’t even come for you when you die. I bet it’s the Thrones or the Cherubim that collect a soul like yours,” she says, and I can tell she’s been thinkin’ ‘bout that a lot, by the reverent way she had said it.

“Yeah, well, if they come for me, I hope they know I’m fixin’ to get karmic all over that Ifrit. If they’re gonna leave us down here, then they better let me get some kind of apocalyptic revenge,” I reply, tryin’ to shrug off the fact that Brownie thinks I’m some kind of sainted soul. I’m just me—pissed off and wantin’ retribution. “I don’t wanna die before I get a chance to kick his ass.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised—you are part Seraphim and they need to get serious payout when their line is crossed,” Brownie says. “You guys don’t play nice and if you were fully evolved, I would have serious doubts about the Ifrit’s chances. I don’t want to die either. There is something I want and I haven’t had a chance to find it yet,” Brownie says, pullin’ her knees to her chest and restin’ her chin on them.

“Wut?” I ask, listenin’ to the sound of her gentle breathin’.

“It’s nothing,” she shrugs, givin’ me a sad smile.

“Brownie, in all this time I’ve known ya, ya never once said ya wanted anythin’—‘cept maybe to kill the Kappas. Ya can’t leave me hangin’ like this,” I reply.

“Promise you won’t laugh,” she says, not lookin’ up.

“I’m pretty sure that there’s no chance of me laughin’ anytime soon,” I respond.

She grunts softly in acknowledgment of the truth of my statement. “Sorry, you’re right,” she agrees.

“What do ya want?” I ask her again.

“To be in love,” she says, like she’s admittin’ to a crime.

“Why?” I ask, thinkin’ ‘bout how much it sucks to be in love with someone else, especially if they don’t love ya back. Or, even if they do, they don’t love ya the way ya want them to love ya—the way ya love them.

“Because I’ve seen what love can do—make you do things that you’d probably never do otherwise. It makes you stronger,” she says with a humble tone.

“Naw, ya got it wrong. It makes ya weak—vulnerable. It makes fools of us all,” I contradict her.

“Bullshit,” she rejects my answer. “It gives you the strength to be great. I watched you prepare to go down in that hole and save Evie from the Gancanagh. Don’t tell me that you could’ve done that without love.”

As I remember that nightmare, it makes a shiver of dread pass through me. Brennus is still out there. He still wants Red. Zephyr told me that he attacked them at the chateau. Brownie and I had managed to stay a few steps ahead of the cold, stinky bastards, but that wasn’t easy. We had spotted a couple of them near Kiev, right before we ran into the Ifrit—the angel killer.

“Brownie, just make sure that when you do fall in love, that there’s a chance that whoever it is will love ya back,” I advise.

“Why would that matter?” she asks me.

“It sucks if they don’t,” I reply, feelin’ the cool ground under my cheek, not lookin’ at her.

“It sounds like a gift just to be in love,” she says in a naïve way. “To find someone who you think is perfect, even when they aren’t.”

“What if the person ya love doesn’t love ya back, Brownie?” I ask. “And all that ya say to that person is nothin’ to them? And wherever they are, they don’t think twice ‘bout ya?”

“I know we’re not talking from experience, Russell, because I know that she loves you,” Brownie replies. “And you are lucky that you can love the way that you do. Try living without the ability to love…or at least to love with the intensity that you do. I know that kind of emotion must be exquisite. I have only just started to love like that and it’s amazing. The way I love you guys—you’re my family. I would do anything to protect that and
that
is a gift.”

She falls silent then, and I hang my head in sorrow, thinkin’ ‘bout all that has happened. Liftin’ my head, I reach forward, pullin’ myself an inch or two towards Brownie where she is chained to the wall. I can feel one of my fingers bendin’ the wrong way, but I ignore it.

“What are you doing?” Brownie asks, soundin’ worried.

“I’m comin’ over there,” I reply, gruntin’ as pain is makin’ me sweat while I’m fightin’ for air.

“But, what about our psychotic friend? He doesn’t like it when we move,” she whispers with fear in her voice.

“What’s he gonna do? Beat me?” I ask her sarcastically. “Brownie, he didn’t chain me…he forgot.”

“You gotta get out of here, Russell! Can you walk?” she asks, hope surgin’ in her voice.

“Not yet,” I reply, not bein’ able to feel anythin’ below my waist.

“It will kill you,” Brownie whispers. “You need to head towards the stairs,” she says, tryin’ to redirect me in the other direction.

“I don’t think he plans to kill me—not yet anyway. It wants Red and it’s not gonna kill me ‘til he gets her,” I say, continuin’ towards her.

“Russell, let me tell you something about evil,” Brownie says, crawlin’ as close to me as her chains will allow. “Evil doesn’t know when to stop. It feeds on itself, until there is nothing left. He may want her, but he is out of control—powerful as he is, he still needs to be cautious because he is alone. But, he is not being cautious. Ever since Evie sent her spirit to him, he has been out of his mind. I don’t know what she said to him, but his urgency to have her has increased exponentially.”