Intuition: The Premonition Series (37 page)

“I missed you everyday,” I say with heavy sarcasm. “I was worried that one of the Fallen would find you and shred your wings to pieces before I got the chance to do it. Lucky me, you’re still alive.”

“Evie! So violent. What have they done to my sweet, innocent, trusting girl?” he asks in faux remorse as he reaches out to touch my cheek.

“HOLD!” a voice at the head of the table barks out, as Alfred is just about to place his hand on me. Looking annoyed, Alfred pulls his hand back, straightening up. “Ye will never touch her. Do ye understand whah I’m telling ye?” Brennus’ authoritative tone spits out. Alfred stiffens at the command.

Witnessing the war going on in Alfred’s head, I almost smile. In Alfred’s mind, I am still his—will always be his, but for some reason, he is with the Irish—but not one of them and maybe not even in charge here.
Interesting.

“Of course,” Alfred says, recovering his smooth demeanor. “I’m just after the soul…you are welcome to whatever is left,” Alfred says, and then he smiles at me, appeased a little to see my fear.

I wet my lips that have gone dry. “Brennus, I don’t know what Alfred has told you, but I’m unable to survive without my soul. If you allow him to take it from me, I’ll die,” I announce plainly, so that there will be no confusion.

“Ye will…but den ye will be one of us…ye will be moin,” he replies with a thoughtful air.

“What are you?” I ask, wishing I can see his face, but I’m not able yet to lift my head.

“Gancanagh,” he replies, like I should know what that is.

I have to see his face. I have to know what is going on here. Slowly, I use my arms to push myself up to a sitting position on the table. Lifting my head, it spins wildly and I don’t even believe what I’m seeing is real because the long table is occupied with a dozen or more “fellas” all seated quietly watching me. I haven’t heard them breathing because they don’t move; they are as still as statues, all observing me with the utmost interest. They all reek of the same smelly sweetness, but it is so thick down here that I hadn’t realized they were all so near.

Brennus’ face stands out among the others with its masculine lines and striking contours, making me think that there are some angels who would be jealous of his beauty. He is seated at the head of the table with Finn at his right hand. The left hand chair is empty, and I wonder briefly if that is Alfred’s seat, but something tells me that it’s not. That one is a seat of honor and it wouldn’t be given to someone who is not one of them. They are a clan… a family. It’s clear by the way they hold themselves. They seem to be a unit.

Alfred knows that I have no idea what a Gancanagh is, so he explains, “Technically, they are faeries, but their species is similar to another that you will be familiar with, I think.”

“Oh?” I ask, because he wants me to ask him what’s up so he can tell me. He is building up to something and my dread is increasing because Alfred only truly enjoys things that are awful. It must be extremely awful because he looks like he’s really, really enjoying this.

“Yes, they’re similar to…vampires,” he says, and immediately every Gancanagh seated at the table hisses at him menacingly, which is lucky for me, because it’s taking me a second to regain my composure. Alfred, holding up his hands in a placating manner, explains, “I’m just giving her an example that she’ll understand. I know that you’re way different than them, but she has been raised as a human. She doesn’t know about other species. She wasn’t even aware that she is an angel until she started evolving.”

I have their full attention again as they try to envision what that was like for me. Finn speaks next, “Truly, Genevieve? Ye did na know ye’re an
aingeal
?”

“No. It took me a while to figure it out,” I answer honestly, because I can’t see any point in lying, yet.

“Den, ye’re not from Paradise?” he asks.

“I don’t know… I only know this life,” I reply, watching Brennus who is silent, but taking in every detail of the exchange.

“If ye have never been dere, den ye’ll never miss it,” Brennus says as if he is contemplating my situation carefully.

I take offense to his remark. “I didn’t say I’ve never been there, that my soul has never been there. I just said I don’t remember any life but this one,” I reply with heat, because he doesn’t know me at all to make that kind of judgment.

“Yer friend has…” Brennus begins, indicating Alfred, but I cut him off instantly.

“He is not my friend. He is my enemy and I
will
kill him,” I reply as calmly as I can, seeing a slow smile register on Finn’s face, but Brennus remains neutral.

“Alfred…” Brennus amends and waits to see if I will say anything, I remain silent so he continues, “has come ta us wi’ a plan—a proposition. He tells us of yer troubles—dat ye’re hunted by da Fallen and da Divine because of da soul dat ye possess—because ye’re human and
aingeal.
He tells us dat he can reap yer soul, but ’twill cause yer death.” He waits to see if I will dispute any of this information, but it’s factual, so I don’t speak up. “Unless… we were ta intervene at da point yer life is ending. I can make ye immortal once again. I can make ye one of us.”

I’m numb.
What does he mean, one of them? A freaking faerie?
I wonder.
A faerie that is a lot like a vampire
—
how much like a vampire? I
speculate, but then the next thought hits me like shrapnel to the chest.
These faeries are not good…I felt it innately at the library. I’m instinctually afraid of them. Do the Divine hunt them, too, like the Fallen? If I become one of them, will Reed then be forced to kill me if he finds me? A
sickness that I have never felt before overcomes me.
They would make us enemies
—
I would be a demon that Reed would be forced to kill. He would have no choice
—
he would probably see it as putting me out of my misery.
Looking over at Alfred, I see the glee on his face and I know that I have come to the correct conclusions.

“Are you saying that if I become a Gancanagh, that I’ll no longer be hunted by the Divine?” I ask Brennus, because even though I’m not considering becoming one of them, I want to know where they stand in the order of things.

“I am na. I am saying ye will no longer be hunted by da Fallen, and since ye will be of me clan, ye will have our protection from da Divine,” he replies, confirming my suspicions. They’re bad fellas. The Fallen probably aren’t interested in the Gancanagh because they have no souls to sell. They may even be friendly to each other, judging by the fact that Alfred approached them with the proposition.

“Why would you want me to join your clan? I represent a threat to all of you. As you said, I’m hunted. What’s in it for you?” I ask him, and listen while they all laugh like I’ve said something hilarious. I wish that the supernatural would stop doing that when I ask questions. It’s starting to irritate me.

I hear Finn say to Brennus, “I will fight ye for her.”

“Do na make me kill ye, Finn, I would miss ye,” Brennus replies without a smile. To me he asks, “Whah do ye know about Gancanagh?”

I think about telling him that I know they reek, but that is not going to help my situation at all. So, I think harder, and reply, “Well, let’s see…the ones I’ve met have Irish accents and aren’t really very interested in picking out books at the library. They like fast cars, but hate it when you puke in the back seat. They live in abandon mines in the hills of the U.P. and their decorating tastes stray toward the gothic, mystical genre. They have bad taste in business associates.” I pause, looking at Alfred before going on, “And, they move quickly, like angels. As for strength, I’m sure I’ll soon find out.” When I end, I watch Brennus for his reaction. He is not amused.

“So, ye know nuting,” he says, and I don’t dispute it. He is not flattered by my ignorance. “Torin, ask da wans ta come ta us, seeing is easier dan saying.”

One of the fellas closest to me rises from his seat. The fellas are all really good looking, in their own way, I think grudgingly as I study him. Torin has a devilish sort of look to him, like he has a secret that is extremely amusing. His brown hair and brown eyes are a contrast to the green eyes and black hair of Finn and Brennus, but Torin shares the same pale skin that I can feel radiating coldly as he passes me. He disappears in a blink of an eye to the stairway in the center of the room. That one leads up.

I can feel all of the eyes of the fellas upon me, studying me and it’s beginning to make me extremely uncomfortable. Scooting to the end of the table slowly, I’m being hung up by the blanket that is partially covering me. I manage to get my legs to the end of the table when someone scoops me up. Gasping from the cold chest and unfamiliar touch, I lift my chin to meet Brennus’ eyes. As he gazes at me, I want to look away from him because I can see that he’s studying me, assessing me.

I can’t show him that I’m afraid. I’ll lose any edge I have in this if he knows I fear him.
Not looking away, I allow him to cradle me in his arms. He carries me back toward the head of the table where he had been seated earlier.

It’s harder than I thought, trying not to show how utterly freaked out I am about Brennus holding me so intimately. He is seriously scary. He is somewhere between the size of Russell and Reed and cut just like them. His body is powerful and sleek with a beauty that humans do not possess. His face is extremely handsome, with his black hair, arching brows, and beautiful green eyes.
But, he’s cold…so cold.
He lowers me into the seat that had been empty next to his—the seat to his left.
No!
I think as his hand comes up to stroke my cheek gently. I still feel the bruise from the punch he had given me earlier. I wonder if he regrets it or if he is admiring his handiwork.

“How’s your foot?” I ask quickly, because he looks as if he is about to lean down and kiss me. Scanning his eyes, I see them narrow. He is expecting something that I’m not delivering on; he wants something.
Does he expect me to invite his cold kisses?
I wonder feebly, shivering a little at the thought.

“Me foot is almost healed. Yers?” he asks.

“Not bad,” I lie as my foot throbs hotter than if someone has put an ember from the fire on it.

“Ye lie,” he smiles in admiration, calling me on it.

I am saved from having to say anything else, because the noisy chattering of human females entering the hall distracts him. The young women entering the hall are dressed like—I don’t know, a harem—no, a brothel. The lingerie secret is out with these girls. Most of them are very beautiful—very tall, shapely, and curvy. Several of the girls don’t speak English, but sound like they’re from the Ukraine or some Slavic nation. They seem to be extremely happy to have been invited to our party. None of them expresses any surprise at the atmosphere or the fact that we are in an abandoned mine.

Are they imported? Maybe… it is probably a good idea for Brennus to bring in girls from somewhere other than the small towns of the U.P. If they are illegal immigrants, snuck in via the port in Houghton or the one in Marquette, then no one will miss them if they don’t survive the fellas,
I think, watching the smiling females. As they come nearer, I notice that a couple of them look a little strung out—like they’re on drugs and need a fix.

As the girls scramble to the fellas around the table, a few things are becoming clear to me. The first thing I’m noticing is that they don’t seem to be forced to be here, in fact, they all seem grateful to be here…like they are each devoted to the fella they are fawning over. And it’s not like the affection isn’t reciprocated. The fellas are more than affectionate with their girls. So much so, that I’m becoming a little uncomfortable with it. I watch while a girl saunters over to Brennus, and then she sits on his lap—like a lover. He is watching me close, gauging my reaction. When I just continue to gaze back at him, he frowns.
Does he expect me to be jealous? I
wonder in surprise.

The second thing I’m noticing is that, as soon as the girl, or in some cases girls, finds her fella, the moment he touches her skin, she is in ecstasy—or more like she has taken some ecstasy.
Do they have some kind of thrall
—
like vampires do in the movies?
I wonder, watching them close. The women that had looked strung out only moments ago with one touch have totally transformed, and now look a little dopey—like they are in a narcotic haze.

Brennus hasn’t taken his eyes off of me even though his little girlfriend is all over him like a spring breaker in Cabo. The only thing that bothers me about that is the simple fact that I wish they would take it in the other room, because I don’t need to see it. I think it’s showing on my face, too. Brennus, turning to Finn, says, “Finn, take her.” Finn, reaching out his hand, gently touches the cheek of the girl on Brennus’ lap. Immediately, she shifts, going to Finn, like she is responding to an invisible leash that is drawing her to him.

When the girl is off Brennus’ lap, he lifts his hand up to touch my face. Pulling away from him, I have to stop when he says, “Do na move.” Gently, he rests his hand on my cheek again, stroking his fingers down it all the way to my neck. It’s like he is rubbing an ice cube down my face. I don’t move, I just stare at him in confusion. He reaches his other hand back to the girl he had just given Finn. Using his fingers, he strokes her cheek, as he had mine, and she shifts from Finn back to him again. She climbs on his lap in a heartbeat, but he doesn’t seem happy about it. He is irritated.