Intuition: The Premonition Series (40 page)

“What happens to those women when you get tired of them?” I ask in a soft tone, watching him shrug as if their lives are negligible.

“We drain dem,” he pauses when he sees the look of horror on my face. “’Tis a better death dan if we let dem go. Dey are addicts, dey end up killing demselves somehow when dey figure out dey can never come back.” My heart goes out to those women because I know some of what they feel. I feel like a Reed addict and it’s exhausting to try to live without him now.

“Can’t have the strung out addicts stalking you, huh?” I say, getting a clear picture of why they don’t let them go. “A nest of Gancanagh must have its secrets preserved.”

“Dere is dat, too,” he replies with honesty. “When Alfred came ta me wi’ his proposition, he presented me a gift. Do ye know whah ’tis he gave me?”

“No,” I croak in response to his question.

“He gave me a portrait of ye. ’Tis ye in a white gown and ye look like a goddess. Yer face…’tis da loveliest face…” Brennus says, and my whole body goes cold. Alfred had bought my portrait from Sam MacKinnon. Of course he did. It makes sense. An anonymous buyer doesn’t just show up and buy my portrait. Sometimes, I can be so stupid. Alfred is evil—he used my portrait to entice the Gancanagh.
I will kill him.

I try to downplay the portrait by saying, “That portrait was just a crazy… art thing. You know—girl gone wild—gotta test the boundaries…” I trail off when his eyes became darker.

His eyes soften. “Ye do na even know how exquisite ye are, do ye?” he asks.

“I can’t be a Gancanagh. I can’t!” I say in desperation. “If you change me, then I can never see my love again,” I say pleadingly. “I can never…” My voice breaks. I can’t hold my tears back.

“Ye don’t even know whah ye need. It would’ve been better if I had fought dis lover for ye, but he is na here ta claim ye. Ye will forget him. Ye will never mention his name ta me,” he says with jealousy choking him. “Ye’re moin now.”

“There is only Reed, you do not exist for me,” I say viciously.

If I had forgotten for a second that Brennus is a very evil and sadistic demon, he reminds me in the next moment. Feeling the back of his hand slap my cheek hard, it forces my head to turn away from him. “Dat is where ye’re wrong, I am da only ting dat does exist for ye,” he replies with equal heat.

I will not be able to play to his softer side because there is no soft side to him. If he wants something, then he takes it. He feeds on humans, uses them, and then kills them without a hint of remorse. I’m probably a trophy—a prize to him. If he turns me, I will lose my soul, along with my humanity, and I will become a Gancanagh Seraph: a truly evil half-breed—Reed’s enemy.

The game is back on now and it is to the death…his or mine.

CHAPTER 12

Gancanagh

Brennus and I do not speak to each other as the IV drip slowly runs out, signifying that I’m to live another day. He extracts the needle from my arm gently as if trying to prove to me he is not a monster, which is laughable because my cheek is still throbbing where he had just hit me. My stomach twists as he bends down to place a cold kiss on the spot where the needle had just been extracted from my arm. I grit my teeth. Killing scenarios pulse through my head, but I resist them because I’m not strong enough to take him right now. I’m having trouble bending my joints because they are so stiff from dehydration and from lying on the cold, hard ground for so long.

He leaves me alone in my small, stone cell just where he had found me, on the ground staring up at the gray ceiling, and I’m grateful to be alone. I have to think and he doesn’t allow for thought when he is present. When Brennus is near, all I can do is keep my guard up and watch him for his next move. When I’m alone, I should study the board, try to anticipate his next move. I need to also look ahead several moves, if I can, because checkmate means I become a cold, dead “craitur.” One thing I do know that will play to my advantage is the fact that Brennus is trying to make me his pawn. That makes him the king, which is the most vulnerable man on the board next to the pawn.

What other advantages do I have? I have no weapons, well, nothing physical–although, with this crowd, it already proved easy to get a knife. Ninian didn’t even try to stop me. As a matter of fact, no one has tried to touch me. Only Brennus has touched me since I woke up on the table in the hall above. Finn did touch me, but I think that is only because Brennus didn’t want me to die of dehydration. Brennus freaked at Alfred when he
almost
touched me. It would make sense, if he feels an ownership where I am concerned, that he wouldn’t want another Gancanagh to touch me. They are accustomed to women responding to another after being touched. Their touch does not affect me though, but still, I bet they will all think twice before they try to touch me. I’m Brennus’ and it’s a habit not to touch what belongs to the master.

I shouldn’t count on them not touching me though. I’m a known enemy. There will be new rules for me because Brennus is not stupid. But it will be foreign for them to follow the new rules. Old habits die hard…and I have a feeling these guys are old…really, really old.
Freaky evil faeries.

The fellas are also used to docile women. Total compliance from drugged women who don’t know any better.
How much trouble are they expecting from me? After all, I’m a woman.
I bite my lip a little, realizing I gave them a little sample of what I can do when I tried to kill Alfred. Tapping my fist softly against the hard ground of my cell, I think about what they saw me do with a severed heel. That was not very smart, but I’m having a hard time feeling bad about it because I’m remembering Alfred’s scream; and it’s warming my heart.

Since I lack physical weapons, I will have to cultivate alliances— allies are key here. Look for the disgruntled. I also need to spot their other vulnerabilities—what can they not resist? They seem to be partial to lust.
Can seduction be a weapon?
I wonder.
Can I seduce them?
That thought is causing ice to grow in my belly, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. I have to break up their little party if I want to get out of here. I have to cause dissention and make their ranks fall apart. I have to play my games as covertly as possible.

My warfare cannot be overt. I have to attack where they’re unprepared.
I have to get out of this cell. How can I accomplish that?
That’s my first goal. To accomplish it, I have to seize the mind of the commanding general and woo him into submission. He wants me now; I have to make him need me. In order to do that, I must find out everything I can about him and the Gancanagh. My enemy can be conquered. I will find a way.

My first opportunity to begin my intel arrives a few hours later, when Brennus comes back with four fellas. The fellas wait in the hall outside my cell while Brennus enters.
Five-to-one. Not good odds for me,
I think, studying Brennus who is holding metal shackles in his hands. The shackles are thick, steel cuffs with a short chain attaching them, but the chain is much thicker than the standard prisoner issue shackle. It’s made for beings like me. I stare at the chains, wondering what kind of a tool could be used to cut through the thick metal.

“Put dis on,” Brennus says, dropping the shackles at my feet.

“Why?” I ask casually, not because I don’t know it’s because we are leaving my cell, but because I want to know where we are going.

“So I do na have ta slice yer foot open again,” Brennus says calmly, not solving the mystery of my destination.

Dropping to my knee, I place the shackles on my ankles, clicking them shut, but not very tight. Straightening up, I look at Brennus to see his frown. As I gaze innocently back at him, he sighs deeply, and then he crouches down by my feet, tightening the shackles so there is no play in the cuff.
It’s the lock that matters, not the chain or the cuff,
I tell myself to calm the increased beating of my heart.
The lock can be crushed to release the cuff.

“Come,” Brennus says, holding out his hand for me to take. I want to push his hand away, but showing resistance is not part of my strategy. Instead, I reach out and grasp his hand tight, trying not to show him how creepy it is for me to hold onto the ice-cold appendage of a monster. Brennus looks confused. He doesn’t know what to think, having gained my compliance so easily.
Your move, Brennus,
I smile, looking at him patiently.

Leading me out of my cell, Brennus doesn’t pause to introduce me to the entourage. He turns and pulls me back the way we had come before, when he had dragged me down here several days ago.
How long have I been down here?
I wonder in a moment of dysphoria.
At least six days,
I reason stumbling when I do the math. I have been so focused on escape that I haven’t thought clearly about the other issues of survival, namely, food.

Not wanting to focus on things that are beyond my control at the moment, I concentrate on my surroundings. I recognize only two of the four fellas who are with us. They are all watching me intensely and I wonder if they will be permanently assigned to guard me. They all look lethal. I can tell by the way they move; they’re quiet and stealthy, hardly making any noise with their light tread.

When we reach the chamber that I remember from my introduction to the clan, I have to shield my eyes from the dim light coming from the chandeliers and gothic fireplaces. My eyes have adjusted to the absolute absence of light in my cell, so now, even this dim light is excruciating. “Brennus, please,” I say, pulling gently back on the hand leading me forward. I have to stop, due to blindness, having thrown the arm that’s not holding Brennus’ hand up to cover my eyes. I feel the cold ones hovering around me as my other senses pick up and compensate for the loss of my sight. I know where several of the fellas are in the room and…Alfred is here, too. He is easy to find because of his body heat and the agitated buzzing of his wings.
It’s a good thing I can’t see him right now,
I think as tears run down my cheeks.
I need a moment to collect myself so that I don’t pounce on him and try to kill him again.

“Evie… you’re like a cat. How many lives do you have?” Alfred exclaims when he sees me enter the hall. I lean closer to Brennus, not because I’m afraid of Alfred, but because I want Brennus to think I’m seeking his protection from Alfred. I think it works because Brennus’ arm slinks around me, pulling me to his chest protectively.

“Ye will not speak ta her now,
aingeal,”
Brennus barks out. I have to admit, I’m psyched when Alfred doesn’t say another word. After a minute, I try to open my eyes again. It takes a few more minutes of standing around to get my eyes to stop watering enough for me to see again.

“Thank you. I’m ready,” I say, straightening up and facing Brennus. He is studying me close now and there is something in his eyes that hadn’t been there when we had been down in my cell together. Before I can examine what it is, Brennus turns, pulling me forward again.
You bring corruption with your touch, maybe I can corrupt you with mine,
I think, holding his hand tighter when he begins to lead me by the table.

It’s impossible to keep the chain that is dragging on the ground silent, but I try to maintain a graceful gait as I cross the floor. Keeping my shoulders back, I hold my head up. I scan the faces around me, counting and cataloging them as best I can. Finn is here, sitting in his seat at the table. As we approach him, I mouth the words “Thank you” to him while we continue by him. Raising his eyebrow in question, I point to the spot where he had injected the IV into my arm. I see the confusion on his face when he nods his understanding.
Potential ally?

Brennus leads me to a staircase in the back of the room. This one climbs up to a suite of rooms that has “master” stamped all over them. Elegant and masculine, the only things they lack are electricity and plumbing, but they are more magical without the modern conveniences. Candlelight illuminates the rooms, giving them a softer appearance than I would’ve expected for a demon’s lair. “Your rooms? I ask as I enter. Our entourage does not step over the threshold with us, but remains outside the door like bodyguards. I wonder whom they are guarding, Brennus or me?

“’Tis,” he says, leading me from the reception area that has several gracefully carved wooden chairs with tapestry cushions and highly polished tables. He has a writing desk, too, and I wonder what the drawers contain.