“’Tis,” he responds, like he doesn’t have a word that means “yes.”
“I’m not familiar with your slang. How long have you been here?” I ask, trying to gain a frame of reference for what they are and how long they’ve been in the area.
“Longer than ye,” Finn answers.
“You know how long I’ve been here?” I ask as dread consumes me.
“I do,” he replies.
“How?” I ask.
“A lil’ bird told us,” he says cryptically.
“Finn, that’s not an answer,” I say.
“’Tis,” he replies with a sharp nod.
“Not a good answer,” I amend, and then I stick my finger down my throat and retch all over his new beemer.
“Ach, Genevieve! Ye banjaxed me beemer! Ye bleedin’ hallion,” he says in disgust as he sinks dejectedly in his seat. Brennus, however, finds it funny as he peers at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes twinkling in approval.
Brennus pats his brother’s shoulder. “Yer wan can clean it for ye, Finn,” he says, placating Finn who opens the window to get some air in the car.
Thank God, I might not be able to stop retching now with the smell of vomit and the “fellas” in the front seat, I think, gulping in deep breaths of warm air, trying to clear my head. We are further away from the water. The smell of pine trees and earth alert me to the fact that we are in the hills for sure. No! I think, as it just now dawns on me that if they know how long I have been here, then they probably know about Russell, too. I can’t ask about Russell, just in case they don’t know about him. Laying my head against the seat, I wonder when he will discover I’m missing. Will he stick to the plan and leave town? Please, God, protect Russell, I pray as pain makes everything dark again.
When I become conscious again, Brennus is hauling me out of the back of the beemer. He is being gentle now, like I’m someone he has found hurt and he is assisting me out of the car, so he can make it all better, I think scornfully. I hate it when the supernatural swing from one extreme to the other. It makes me feel unbalanced. I almost want to tell Brennus to pick a side and stay there because being nice, and then all of a sudden wigging out is really scary.
With that in mind, I begin to struggle immediately as Brennus swings me up in his cold arms, hugging me to his even colder chest. Seeing that we are heading to the yawning mouth of a cave, I study the terrain around me as best I can, while attempting to get free. The cave is partially hidden by a huge rock that had not fallen from the rock face above, but looks like it has been placed there on purpose to shield the entrance to this tunnel. Trying to gaze around at the terrain behind me, to see where we had come from, I look over Brennus’ shoulder and hear him bark, “Ye will na be leaving here, so ye do na need ta know whah is back dere.”
I don’t answer him, but use my forehead as a battering ram, crashing it into the bridge of his nose. My head aches more, but I don’t mind that so much because I get to hear the satisfying crack that lets me know that I broke his nose. Brennus, not making a sound, pitches me forward into Finn. He catches me easily as Brennus walks on ahead of us into the cave. Finn looks at me in shock and says, “Whah, Genevieve, ye are a hallion, but na a very smart one!”
“Why? You are going to kill me anyway. I just thought I would get it over with now,” I say as Finn signals to the fellas to pick me up and take me inside.
“I won’t kill ye. I’m surprised he is lettin’ us even touch ye now atall. But ye are right, he will kill ye soon, and after he does, ye are gonna have years to make it up ta him,” Finn says. Then, he walks on ahead of us as I fight and hit anyone within range.
I don’t get a chance to decipher what Finn is telling me, because after we enter the tunnel, he disappears down a deep hole that is more like a mineshaft. The shape of it is square, like it’s man-made and not occurring naturally. I don’t have time to study it because the fellas carrying me jump into it, too, and we fall a couple of stories to the ground below. Whoever it is that is holding me does a decent job of absorbing the jolt of hitting the ground. The impact is bad only because it rattles my swollen heel, making me want to retch again. Well, that, and the fact that we fell several stories, and I thought we were going to be flattened for sure.
Immediately the place takes on a familiarity of a well-watched movie scene, only it hadn’t been a DVD that I had rented, but a nightmare I had dreamt. It’s Merlin’s House—Morte Darthur—the cavernous chambers in my dreams. They are dug out of stone… the unusual gray walls that bleed with green are rock and copper… tarnished ore like an old one-cent coin. The walls are an earthy green in spots and in other spots it’s brilliantly shiny and reflective as a new penny. The ore runs in veins within the walls, giving a marbled appearance to the stone that is stunning. Gray stone Corinthian columns, as tall as pine trees, reach to the ceiling far above. They are a marvel in this place, so polished and symmetrical, but they appear to have been carved out of the same stone as the walls because they have the same ore within them. Stone staircases branch off in several directions. Some lead up to other chambers and some lead down. I’m interested in the ones that lead up. I have no desire to see what is beneath this hall.
Brennus is nowhere to be found when my entourage carries me to the long, rectangular, medieval wooden table and ornately carved chairs. It’s just like my premonition—I should have known. Finn is still with us, though. He scans me as I sit with my legs awkwardly twisted beneath the chair. I am still wrapped in the netting that someone had harpooned me with at the library.
“Ye look a mess, Genevieve,” Finn says, and he has the decency to look sorry about it.
That is kind of weird, I think. Why should he care? Freaking monster— can’t pick a side. “Thanks, Finn,” I reply, trying not to show how terrified I am at this moment. “You look as fresh as a daisy. Your beemer, on the other hand…”
He smirks at my sarcasm. “Have ye control over yer emotions yet?” he asks. I frown at him, trying to figure out what he is asking me now because I’m clearly not crying. “I will cut da ropes off yer legs if ye promise not to kick me or break me face wi’ yer head because I would like to keep it as ’tis.”
I think about what he just said. The ropes are cutting into my skin and it would be a relief to have them off of me. “I promise not to kick you while you take the ropes off,” I reply.
He looks skeptical, but he bends down, pulling a wicked-looking knife from his boot, and begins cutting at the rope that ensnares me. Why don’t I carry a concealed weapon on me? I wonder, watching him slice through rope like butter. If I make it out of here alive, I’m always going to carry a knife on me—I can strap it to my thigh, I scheme. I try to pull myself back together because my head is spinning and I feel really dizzy. I should be trying to focus on escape. I think I may have a concussion. The room spins again and tilts at a strange angle.
“Caul, are ye?” Finn asks when he is done removing the ropes from my legs. I don’t answer him, but just stare at him because my brain can’t decipher what he is asking me. “Ye are shakin’—are ye caul? Do ye need a blanket?” he tries again.
I’m numb, I have no idea if I’m cold or not, but I think I might be going into shock, I say in my head but I’m so disconnected that I can’t say the words aloud.
Turning to a fella by his side, Finn refers to him as Ninian. Seeing Ninian staring at me with his steely-gray eyes, I shiver in fear before he turns to Finn. He seems to be picking up on all of the nuances in Finn’s body language as he speaks quietly to him. I hear the words: Brennus, blanket, and shock. But, things are skipping on me. I’m in and then I’m out again–dazed, and then clear. Ninian disappears within seconds into a stairwell of stone steps that leads up from this floor.
They can move like angels, I think dejectedly. Ninian returns, mere seconds later, with a fur blanket that could be mink or sable on one side and on the other side it is lined with silk. After Ninian hands it to Finn, he steps back solemnly. Finn moves forward, wrappi
ng the blanket around my shoulders and wings gently, careful not to touch me otherwise. I droop against the chair as the heaviness of the blanket covers me.
I should’ve fought harder, I tell myself as the library comes into focus in my mind. I should’ve done Bruce Lee all over them. I could’ve taken at least a couple of them out. No more evasion… if I get the chance, it is pwnage time, I promise myself before the room goes black on me.
When my eyes open again, they focus on a blazing fire. It burns in one of the monumental fireplaces that line the wall of the stone chamber I had been brought into earlier. Feeling stiff and uncomfortable, I look down, seeing that I’m lying on the dark, wooden table that I know stretches out for yards. The blanket that Finn had covered me with earlier is still on me. My head hurts like a brick fell on it, so I’m not going to try to lift it up just yet. I just watch the fire dance and cast evil looking shadows all over the room and ceiling above me. My brain is trying to make sense of all of this nonsensical information it’s receiving. It’s more like jargon than actual fact. How can this be happening?
“Is she awake?” a familiar voice asks from somewhere near the other end of the gothic table. I recognize the voice, but I can’t quite place it. My heart kicks up a notch, though. Unable to lift my head off the table, I crane my neck up, in an attempt to see the owner of the voice. I stop before finding him, because the shooting pains in my head prevent me. Drawing my legs up closer to my body in the fetal position, I wait for the voice to speak again, so I’ll know who it is. He doesn’t speak right away, but a rapid buzzing emits from somewhere close by—like a buzz saw or a—I still.
Rage makes my head throb and pound. Death—Pain—Retribution— Beg! He will beg me, and he will have no mercy. None. “Alfred—you still out there, sweetie?” I ask like Buns would, not moving at all.
“Did you miss me?” he asks, coming around the table to stand in my line of sight. How kind of him to accommodate me. He is only half-dressed, having taken off his shirt to allow for his wings to expand. They are buzzing sporadically as the excitement of this moment is intensifying for him. I can see their iridescent shine, even in the depths of this sunless chamber. He looks beautiful. He must have really had to try hard to look normal when I met him. I think the Lego hair that he used to sport really had gone a long way in hiding his angelic qualities.
“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 w
ould 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.
Intuition: The Premonition Series Page 27