Indebted: The Premonition Series (26 page)

We exit the room and walk down the corridor turning onto another hallway. We stop in front of another huge set of wooden doors, but these doors are different. These doors have intricately carved angel’s wings on them. “Dis, is yer archive,” Brennus says as he opens the door.

I am not prepared for what I see. It’s a tower room, so it’s round with a ceiling that is at least three or four stories above my head. This room leads to tier-like balconies above and there are different spaces arranged on every “floor.” A spiral staircase leads to each level, or I can fly up to each one, landing on the platform between each railing. It sort of resembles a cross-section of a hive, in a way, like the way the chateau is arranged, but more open.

The main level is like a reception area. A large, stone fireplace is centered on the far wall and above the fireplace is the portrait that Mr. MacKinnon painted of me as the Goddess Persephone. On the mantel of the fireplace is a small glass box. My steps are slow as I walk forward into the room and move to the mantel.

When I lift the lid of the glass box, I find that it contains a letter opener, cradled on a bed of red velvet. I recognize it instantly as the weapon I had used to try to ward off Brennus at the library in Houghton.

Touching the letter opener lightly, I murmur, “Not as impressive as a battle-axe.”

“Ye are wrong,
mo chroí
.” Brennus responds immediately. “’Tis more impressive dan da axe. ’Tis an unbelievably brave weapon.”

I shut the lid to the box gently and wander slowly around the room. Some of the furniture from my uncle’s house is mixed in with very chic furniture to create a lovely place to sit and receive guests. Delicate tables dot the room and on them, next to beautiful vases of fresh flowers, are priceless things that I never thought I would see again. Pictures of my friends, of my Uncle Jim…of my mother…they have all been re-matted and framed so that they are better preserved. I walk numbly to the table in front of me, before picking up a picture of my uncle and me. I think I was in the fourth grade and I had won the spelling contest at school.

“You were a beautiful child,” Brennus says from over my shoulder.

“You think so?” I ask, trying to hide the tightness in my voice. “Tell that to some of the boys. They used to call me ‘tomato head.’”

Brennus’ eyes narrow to a dangerous edge. “Who called you dat?” Brennus asks.

“Mikey…” I begin, and then I stop. “Why?” I ask with suspicion.

“I will kill him,” Brennus promises in a soft tone.

“He was nine,” I reply.

“Den he has lived many years longer dan he should have,” Brennus replies with malice.

“Never mind,” I say, placing the picture back on the table and silently moving from table to table, touching the pictures with trembling fingertips.

“Do ye want ta see da rest of yer tower?” Brennus asks me.

“I do,” I say, finding it hard to breathe. “I’ll meet you up there.”

As I expand my wings, I take three strides, and then jump into the air. I fly a little shakily to the second level. I find the railing a lucky addition to the design as it stops me from crashing into one of the bookshelves on the far wall when I come in a little faster than I should on my landing. Clutching the railing, I see that this tier is like a library, with ornately carved bookcases full of leather-bound books and comfortable chairs and sofas where I can read.

“Dat was an interesting landing. Do ye need a couple of pointers?” Brennus asks as he and the fellas make it to the room.

“I think I’m doing quite well for having had little instruction. The first time I flew was in China and well…you were there.”

“I was,” Brennus agrees. “If I wasn’t already dead, dat may have killed me.”

“Oh, come on,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “I was not
that
bad.”

“Dat is debatable,” he replies. “I had ta keep reminding meself dat ye are stronger dan ye look. ’Tis why I didna try ta stop ye while ye were in da air. I was afraid ye would na survive it if I did.”

“That was kind of you,” I remark.

“Na kind, practical. I knew where ye were likely going,” he replies smoothly.

“I’m sort of an open book, huh?” I ask.

“I would na say dat,” he murmurs thoughtfully. “Ye surprise me too often to ever say dat.” I smile as I go to the bookshelf and see many, many volumes of books I haven’t read yet, mixed in with books that I have. “Dis room is for me librarian, Lillian.”

“I didn’t think you liked Lillian. She vomited all over the bleedin’ beemer,” I say.

“’Twas Finn’s beemer,” Brennus replies with a grin.

We head up to the third floor and I opt to take the stairs this time. This level is a chic office area complete with several computers and a seating area with a theatre size screen. DVD’s that I have long since lost interest in line the shelves, relics from my life with Uncle Jim. I let my fingers roam over the selection, pulling one from the shelf, I read the front aloud, “Hackers.”

“Whah is dat?” Lachlan asks.

“Is it instruction on killing?” Faolan asks, and I burst out laughing.

“Uh, no,” I reply. “I’ll host a movie night and we can watch it. I’ll make popcorn.”

“Whah’s popcorn?” Faolan inquires as we walk up the stairs to the next level.

When I make it to the landing, I pause because it is almost like walking into my bedroom at my Uncle Jim’s house. Everything is there: my bed, my dressers, and my posters of the bands that I like. They even have my prom dress hanging in the closet. Molly must have been instrumental in recreating this room because everything is placed pretty much where I had it before I left for college.

“Whah’s dis ting, Genevieve?” Eion asks, picking up a little troll with purple hair from a shelf.

“That’s a troll,” I mutter numbly.

“No, ’tis na,” he replies, sniffing it.

“Uh, yes it is,” I reply.

He raises his eyebrow at me and says, “Dis is na a troll. Trolls are huge and dey smell like arse and dey have razor-sharp teeth dat ’twill gut ye if ye get too close to dem. Dis is a little naked, plastic ting dat’s na da least bit scary.”

“Oh,” I reply, stumped.

I walk over to the bed and pick up my pillow. Bringing it to my nose I can just make out the smell of home that still lingers faintly on it. In an instant I begin sobbing and I don’t think that I’m ever going to stop.

“I’m sorry! ’Tis a troll, I swear ’tis a troll,” Eion says in a rush.

I sit down on the edge of the bed with the pillow grasped tight to my chest. “Lads, wait downstairs,” Brennus orders.

When they are gone, he sits down on the bed next to me, pulling my head to his chest. I cry for a long time while Brennus strokes my hair. He doesn’t say anything like I would have expected a human to say. He doesn’t promise me that I will be okay or that things will be better soon—not in words anyway. But, even if he didn’t say any of those things, sharing my pain with him—letting him see me vulnerable and him accepting it—makes me feel better somehow.

When I stop crying, he wipes my tears away and says, “Dis is yer room. Ye can come here whenever ye desire, but, when ye sleep, I want ye up in me room. Da fellas and I can protect ye better up dere. It makes it easier for dem to work in shifts and I can work in me office and still be near ye. Do ye understand whah I’m saying?” he asks me.

“Yes. You like me in your bed,” I say sullenly, looking at his wickedly handsome face as he smiles at me.

“Dat’s exactly right,” he agrees. “Ye must be hungry. Let’s go feed ye.”

Russell

CHAPTER 14

Angel And
Soul Mate

I take the shot and point to the shot glass that I slam back down on the bar. “Another,” I say, watchin’ the barmaid look at me skeptically.

“Why don’t ya pace yourself, honey? You look like a nice kid. And ya have sucha purdy face. I don’t want to see nothin’ bad happen to ya,” she says with a pityin’ look.

“Then, don’t look,” I mutter, waitin’ as she pours another shot of Johnny Walker Red.

As I set the glass back down on the bar, I see a movement out of the corner of my eye. Looking over at the barstool next to me, Reed is sittin’ there like he materialized out of thin air. I stiffen, but I don’t say anythin’.

What’s there to say anyhow? She’s gone, for now anyway, we let him get her. I let him get her
.

“It’s noon, Russell,” Reed says, not lookin’ at me, but across the bar.

“Thanks Big Ben, why don’t ya head back to parliament, where ya belong. Run along now—there’s a good chap,” I reply, sippin’ the beer I had ordered earlier.

“Wow, you’re purdy, too,” the barmaid preens as she drops a napkin in front of Reed. “Ya got I.D, Mr. GQ?” she asks him.

“Ma’am, he’s older than dirt,” I say honestly, but she ignores me.

“Nothing for me, thank you,” Reed says with a polite frown. “I came to collect my friend,” he says, indicatin’ me.

“Ahh, that’s nice,” she says, smilin’ at him. “Did someone break his heart?” she asks Reed, like I’m not even sittin’ here.

“Something like that,” he murmurs and I snort.

“He stole my girl,” I say to the barmaid, and she looks at us both and takes a step back, not sure that she wants to be involved in this conversation.

“You think that’s what happened?” Reed asks me in his quiet, contemplative way, watchin’ the woman walk down the bar to assist a couple that just sat down at the other end.

“Yeah,” I reply grimly, takin’ another sip of my beer.

“I don’t think that’s what happened, Russell,” he says.

“Oh, ya don’t? What do ya think happened then?” I ask, not really carin’ what he thinks.

“I think you tore her heart out and her soul too,” he says in a low tone as he turns to look at me. “It’s the only thing that makes sense to me.”

“What are ya talkin’ ‘bout?” I ask him, growin’ still.

“I would be interested to know about what happened in your last lifetime…the one just before this one. Did you leave that life early? Die young?” he asks. “Did you leave her behind?”

“I’m not sure. Why?” I counter as my eyes narrow.

“Because she still won’t let you go. She loves you even when the angel part of her keeps telling her not to—begging her not to and I keep wondering why that is. It’s like the angel side of her knows something that the human side of her refuses to admit. The only thing I can come up with is that you must have betrayed her somehow. You never intended to stay here—in this lifetime. She pulled you back. She changed your destiny—made you stay with her.”

“There’s no way I’d betray her,” I scoff at his reasonin’. “And I wanted to stay, or I wouldn’t be here. I had a choice—I asked to stay. I remember beggin’ for it as I was dyin’. I had to stay to help her.”

He faces forward again, pickin’ up my empty shot glass and studyin’ it. “I keep wondering why anyone would pick a mission like this one. To be born the only half-breed with a soul.” When I look at Reed he says, “Oh, yeah, she chose this. Although this is an honor, it’s more like a suicide mission and one that not many souls would volunteer for because there are so many ways to lose yourself—lose your soul to Sheol, it’s the probable outcome. So I have to wonder why she would agree to do it. Was it that she is just that good?” he asks me rhetorically, “Or, was it because she no longer cared what happened to her? And if that is the case, why didn’t she care what happens to her? And no matter how I look at it, I keep coming back to you,” he says, turnin’ the shot glass over and puttin’ it down in front of me.

“You think I know the answer?” I ask him angrily.

“No, I know you don’t. But someone does. I’m just waiting for that someone to show up,” he says, lookin’ at me.

“Good luck with that,” I reply, hopin’ he’ll leave soon.

“No, she won’t let you go,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “It’s like she still needs you even when you don’t need her anymore,” he says in a flat tone.

“What do you know ‘bout what I need?” I ask him furiously.

“Do you know what she did when she found out that the Ifrit had you?” he asks me rhetorically. “She allowed an Undine named Safira to humiliate her in order to not offend Safira so that she would help her save you. She lied to me, she lied to Zee, she went against every precaution that we set up to protect her, and then she made a deal with the Gancanagh so that they would save you from the Ifrit.”

“I never asked her to do any of that,” I mutter, feelin’ like he’s chokin’ me.

“No, you didn’t have to, she would do it again in a heartbeat, too,” he says without a hint of doubt.

“How do ya know that it wasn’t me that chose this mission?” I ask.

“For one, she was born to it, and for another, she never sat around in a bar at noon while her soul mate needed her help,” he replies. “You are here out of obligation…maybe some guilt, too. Why don’t you just let her go, if you aren’t going to help her?”

I point my finger at him. “This is all bullshit, Reed! Yer total bullshit! Ya know ya stole her from me and this is yer way of tryin’ to get rid of me,” I accuse. His speculation is makin’ me want to hurt him more than I normally do.

“How is it possible to steal a soul mate? Have you asked yourself that? It’s impossible, and yet, she loves me with a fierceness I’ve never—could never fathom existed. She chose me. I don’t know why, but I’m grateful and I love her and I will do anything for her…even talk to you—if it will save her.”

“I’m gonna get her back, Reed,” I promise in a soft tone, lookin’ him in the eyes, so he knows I’m not playin’.

Reed’s eyes narrow dangerously. “She is bound to me, she swore an oath to me. She’s my…” and he says some word in Angel that I don’t know.

“She has sworn many, many, oaths to me in more lifetimes than ya can count and she’s my soul mate and I will have her back,” I assure him.

“Then, help us so that there will be something left in her to win back, Russell!” he says with a fierce scowl. Reed is seriously pissed off that I’m gonna try to get her back, but he had to know that I’ll try even before he walked into the bar. He must be convinced that she won’t be comin’ back if we don’t figure out a way to save her.

My heart sinks further. “Is he torturin’ her?” I ask, goin’ white. I have nightmares ‘bout what might be happenin’ to her.