“Planning a hostile takeover, Brenn?” I ask, breezing into the room.
As I walk to Brennus, I force myself to give him a quick kiss on his cold cheek before sitting at the table and pouring myself a cup of coffee. Glancing up at him, he looks a little shocked by my affectionate greeting.
“Every takeover is hostile,” Brennus replies, snapping out of the stupor and grinning at me, “or dey would call it surrender.”
“Good point,” I say, sipping my coffee that has gotten better than when I first got here.
Maybe the staff in the kitchen has turned over, I think grimly.
I smile at Brennus. “You remember that you promised to teach me to fight, starting today,” I remind him. “You should change or I’ll ruin that beautiful suit,” I quirk my eyebrow in challenge, eyeing his exquisite dark suit that fits him like his own skin.
“I’m afraid I will have ta meet ye later. I have a meeting planned for dis morning,” he says, coming around his desk and sitting next to me at the small table where my breakfast is spread out.
“Who are you meeting?” I ask, feeling his leg brush mine under the table.
“Da leader of da Werree,” Brennus replies, watching me pour a little milk on my oatmeal.
“The Weary?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.
“Na Weeree, Werree,” he says, making it sound almost the same.
“The Wary?” I ask, seeing his light green eyes soften as I try to understand him. “Wary? Like ‘to be cautious?’”
“’Tis,” he replies. “Dat’s probably how dey got deir names, because dat’s exactly whah ye have ta be around dem.”
“What’s a Wary?” I ask.
“A Werree is a craitur dat ye do na want ta meet. ’Tis best dat ye eat yer breakfast and go wi’ da fellas,” he says, looking at his watch.
“Why? Are they mean or something?” I ask, feeling a pang of dread. “Maybe I should stay with you.” Thinking I may need to protect him.
“No, dey are envious,” he replies.
“Describe one for me,” I ask, trying to picture a Werree. “What are they like?”
“Depends on da Werree, but I suppose da best way ta describe dem is dat dey are like scarecrows,” Brennus says. Goose bumps rise on my arms instantly. “Dey find a trait dat dey envy, and dey take it from whoever has it. So dey look cobbled together…like a scarecrow who takes da castoffs of someone else.”
“WHAT!” I ask him, putting down my spoon before it reaches my mouth, feeling instantly cold inside.
“Some of dem appear grotesque. ’Tis like dey do na know whah looks good together. So, dey may take da arms off of a extremely powerful ogre, but den put it on a smaller body, so dat da proportion does na look right…or a feminine head on a masculine body…ye know whah I am saying?”
“You mean, they steal body parts from other beings and swap them out for their own body parts?” I ask, pushing my bowl of oatmeal from me. Fear at the thought of a creature like that coming here is making my stomach hurt.
“Dat is exactly right. I do na want dem ta see ye. Dere are so many tings about ye dat dey could covet—yer eyes, yer skin, yer hair, yer wings…” he says, reaching out and stroking my wing reverently.
“You are not going to be alone with it, are you?” I ask, fear bleeding into my tone.
“I have nuting dat a Werree would want, mo chroí,” he says, his beautiful face looking less pale in the soft lighting of the office.
“You have a nice face,” I murmur, reaching out and touching his cheek gently.
Studying him, there are no lines of imperfection in his immortal skin. He has the kind of beauty that draws you in at first glance and keeps you enchanted forever.
My touch is affecting him, as the darkness in his eyes grows with desire. I whisper, “Do not let the Werree covet your face… I’m growing accustomed to it.”
Brennus stills. “He couldna take it. He will be me slave if he tries ta touch me…his flesh canna abide mine. Ye are still da only being I have met dat can withstand whah I am—ye and da other,” he says, looking completely happy about what I just said to him.
“I never thought I would say this but, ‘good,’” I reply, leaning forward slowly and kissing his lips lightly, feeling the cool texture of them against mine.
Brennus groans then, leaning into me and putting his hand on the back of my neck. His other hand snakes behind my back, scooping me off of my chair and onto his lap. He deepens our kiss, demanding more from me than I am prepared to offer. I am just about to pull away from him, when I hear click. It makes Brennus pull back from me.
When I open my eyes, I see heat in his. “Hungry?” I whisper to him, rubbing my nose gently against his.
“Ye offering?” he asks with a sensual smile, cupping my face with his hands and using his thumb to brush over my bottom lip.
My heartbeat increases, feeling a pull towards him. “Sure, there is still plenty of oatmeal left. It’s yummy,” I tease him, nipping at his thumb. I know I am playing with fire as I use my finger to trace his bottom lip.
“Do na play wi’ me, mo chroí. Ye will lose,” he warns me softly, before nuzzling my neck, making my heartbeat dance wildly in my chest.
“And then you will have just an empty cage, Brennus, if you kill the bird,” I whisper as I feel his sharp teeth press against my neck.
The pressure increases for a moment, and I tense, ready to try to fight him off and get to my stash of blood. Brennus rests his lips against my neck, as if deliberating, then he pulls them away from my throat, retracting his fangs and smiling at me, but it looks like more of a grimace than a smile.
“Ye are a dark, wicked little ting, wrapped in a sweet, naïve aingeal. It’s hard ta say whah I love da most about ye,” he says, his eyes softening.
“You love the sweet part the most, or you would have killed me already,” I reply, feeling his reluctance to let me go as I rise from his lap, and begin moving towards his office door.
That was just too close, I think, feeling like I just barely escaped a trap. I meant to try to lull him into complacency, but I think I pushed him a little farther than either of us intended to go. He is way too smart to take anything at face value. He will need proof that I love him before he becomes complacent enough to break our contract. I just don’t know how I can prove something like that to him.
How do you make a demon believe that you love him? I wonder, listening to the soft chuckle coming from Brennus behind me as he watches me retreat.
Finding the fellas waiting for me in the hallway, I say to Declan, “Brennus has a meeting planned with a Werree this morning.”
“I hope dey have orders ta lock up da wans,” Eion remarks to Lachlan as we start down the hall towards the West Tower. “I like me wans wi’ deir heads still attached.”
Stopping in my tracks, I turn to Declan. “Okay, that’s just too creepy,” I say as a massive shiver runs the length of my body. “Someone has to stay with Brennus. I’m not letting a Werree make a toupee out of Brennus’ scalp.”
“Whah did she jus say?” Eion asks Lachlan, scratching his head.
“I said, someone protect Brennus’ back or I am staying here and meeting the Werree myself,” I reply, crossing my arms in front of me.
“Ah no ye’re na,” Declan says sternly. “Dat’s da last ting we need. Dat ting sees ye and ’twill be lucky if he leaves wi’ whahever he came in wi’. We will have ta kill him, and since he is likely coming ta give us intel on da Seraphim, dat’s na going ta help atall.”
“Eion,” I say, but looking at Eion’s confused face I change my mind. “Faolan, please stay here with Brennus—at least until Finn gets here. I don’t want him to be alone. Please?”
“Ye are worried about him,” Declan says softly.
“No. Don’t be silly—it’s self-preservation. Magical Faerie contract, remember?” I ask, feeling myself blush.
“Ye lie,” Declan accuses, smiling.
“Fay…just stay with him,” I plead, while
placing my hand gently on Faolan’s arm.
Click. Faolan’s fangs shoot forward in his mouth. “Banjax,” he says, looking at Declan.
Declan scowls and shakes his head. “Ah, ye might as well stay now. Maybe after, ye can feed before ye come back,” he says, before he looks at me and points his finger accusingly. “Oy, no touching da fellas. Ye’re too tempting.”
“Sorry,” I wince, letting go of Faolan’s arm contritely. “Thank you, Fay.”
As I stride down the hallways with Lachlan, Declan, and Eion, I can’t shake the eerie feeling I have been having since leaving Brennus’ office. Everything is the same. We pass by several fellas on our way to my tower and they all step aside, allowing us to pass them, but the goose bumps have not receded on my arms. I feel stalked.
I wait beside Declan as he whispers the words to open the doors to the West Tower. A dark shadow catches my eyes and I think for a second that I am watching my own shadow pass me by to enter through the doorway without me. No one else seems to notice it. My eyes grow big and my mouth goes instantly dry. As Declan takes a step forward, my hand grabs his upper arm and stops him from entering the passage ahead of us.
The look of annoyance crosses his face until his eyes meet mine. I stammer, “I…I, shoot, I left my…my iPod back in my room…I can’t train without it. We have to go back and get it, Deck.” My hand is like a vise on his arm.
I pull him back with me from the threshold of the door. Seeing Eion about to enter, my other hand lurches out to grab him and pull him back into Lachlan. Declan’s fangs engage instantly, catching on to what I’m telling him. Eion and Lachlan quickly follow suit as we all back up from the doors in a defensive posture.
A signal sounds, like a distant scream, causing the darkness that had appeared to be shadows shrouding the interior to my tower to move forward en masse. I can now discern a score or more distinct shadows separating from their hiding places on the ground and walls.
“Werree,” Declan mutters and a chill runs over my skin as we continue to back away from them.
“What kills them, Deck?” I whisper urgently to him.
“Disembodied like dis, ye need magic ta hurt dem,” he says, before getting in front of me to block them from lunging at me as we move back.
Dark, twisting shapes scurry over the deep-red tapestries lining the walls on either side of us. Following the progression of the inky bodies to the ceiling, three of them attempt to get over us, either to get behind us, or to drop on us from above.
Two of the shadows make a lunge for Lachlan, but they fall back as flaming light bursts forth from Lachlan’s hands, setting them on fire. But, it’s not like real flames; it’s more like magical light with no physical heat. The effect of it, however, seems to be more than sufficient to stop them as they drop to the ground, writhing.
Several of the awful, faceless Werree stop just inside the doorway ahead of us. Planting their feet like archers, they poise before us, aiming shadowy bows with black, wicked arrows. The weapons look like extensions of them, since it’s all comprised of their “essence.”
Declan immediately whispers magical words, erecting a barrier between the Werree and the two of us, but Lachlan and Eion are using their own magic to battle the ones ahead of them, so Declan can’t cover them, too. Declan tries to warn them at the last moment.
“Arrows,” he cries.
The dark, shadowy, shafts make no noise as they spiral through the air, striking Lachlan in the chest and making him stagger backward. Eion goes immediately to Lachlan as he falls to the floor. Grasping Lachlan by his shoulders, Eion pulls him backward, continuing our retreat. Lachlan’s jaw clenches in agony while he attempts to grasp an arrow shaft adorning him, but it slips through his fingers like the night sky.
My feet freeze beneath me and I stop retreating. Lachlan’s back arches in pain, as his arm stretches out to Eion for help to remove the arrows. Eion continues to shield him, trying to protect him from the freaky archers who are drawing back and aiming to shoot at us again.
As I pull energy in the room to me, I feel the Werree fighting me for it. They are trying to block me from creating a spell, but the more I concentrate, the more the energy is flowing to me, like it wants to come to me instead of to them.
“Get behind me, Deck,” I pant. The intensity of the energy I have pulled into myself burns me.
“Whah?” Declan scowls. But then he feel the energy I’m pulling towards me beginning to shift, because he retreats to a position behind me.
Without any time to create a spell, a thought occurs to me and I latch on to it. Softly, I sing, “Ring around the rosy A pocket full of posies, Ashes, ashes, They all fall down.”
When I finish the singsong nursery rhyme, I flip the switch on the energy, just as Brennus taught me, expelling it from my body. A rippling current explodes out of me, striking the Werree ahead of me. Their murky figures darken to a pitch-black hue. Slowly, their bodies begin crumbling to ash while a desolate wind blows through the corridor, sending the scattered remains of several of my victims to cover everything with a coating of grit.
The Werree that I have missed with my spell, stop dead in their tracks. The same kind of scream issues from one of them. It is a signaled retreat. The shadows creeping on the ceiling continue their movements over our heads, beetling above us towards the North Tower.
As I close my eyes to attempt another spell, a sharp, piercing pain stops me as it twists in my side. When I glance down, there is nothing there to indicate that I have been hit, except for the blood that begins to seep out of my abdomen.
“Deck?” I say in confusion, placing my hand on my hip and trying to stop the blood.
He hisses near me, smelling my blood while a look of longing crosses his face. Eion, on the other side of me still holds Lachlan, but he freezes, seeing the blood on my hands as it flows from between my clenched fingers.
“It’s Brennus—he’s been hurt,” I whisper.
Another stab of pain spreads through my shoulder, causing a circle of red to appear on my shirt as I double over in agony.
“Banjax!” Declan mutters, before covering his mouth and nose with his hand. Speaking through his hand, he orders, “Get ta yer tower. When ye are in, seal da door shut and find a place ta hide until ye heal. Eion and me will take care of da few Werree dat are left, and den we will see ta Brennus. Can ye make it dere on yer own?” he asks, still trying to block the aroma of my open wounds.
I nod before I pivot and stumble back towards the West Tower, away from Eion who is watching me like a cat watches a mouse. Moving toward the door where my enemies, the Werree, just formulated their attack on us, I assess the area behind me in short bursts to make sure that no Werree are there to jump on me. I also have to keep Eion in my sights because he is having trouble letting me retreat.
Eion’s hands are balled into fists as he hangs on to Lachlan’s shirt now like an anchor. He’s panting with the exertion it’s taking him to remain crouched near his fallen friend and not pursue the meal that is backing away from him on trembling legs.
Losing the battle to remain where he is, Eion shoots up out of his crouch, and begins to move with stealthy grace towards me. Fear makes the blood drain away from my face as I bump into the wall at my back, near the doorway to my tower. I feel frozen, not knowing if I should try to fight him off, run, or try a spell.
He’s my friend, I don’t want to hurt him, I think feebly.
I flinch when a warm hand reaches around the doorway that leads to my tower. It pulls me through the archway effortlessly and into a tight embrace before the door slams shut between Eion and me.
Whispering softly in my ear, I hear Reed say against my hair, “I have you, love. I’m here.”
CHAPTER 18
My Angel
“Zee, block the door. Russell, help Zee, and then meet me upstairs in Evie’s tower,” Reed barks out orders. He reaches his arm down and lifts me off my feet to hold me close to his chest. I can’t move now, since Reed is he
re I have to retreat inside myself due to the contract. “We took care of the rest of the Werree in here, love.” Reed says, kissing my cheek as his incredible scent settles around me.
I wonder how he did that without magic, but I can’t ask him. I’m a prisoner inside myself, as I lay listless in Reed’s arms.
Reed’s strong wings elevate us from the floor as he flies us to the doors with the angel wings carved into them: my tower rooms. He pushes the doors open and leaves them wide for Zee and Russell to follow us in. Reed seems to know where to go as he lifts us into the air again, flying to the highest level of my archive: my bedroom. We land easily on the platform and he strides to the bed, easing me onto it.
He tears my shirt from me, exposing the bleeding cuts that feel like someone stabbed me with a bayonet. Pulling the sheet from beneath me, Reed shreds it in strips, wrapping one tightly around my waist. He then binds my shoulder, pulling it tighter than I think is absolutely necessary. I scream out in my mind, but otherwise I make no sound.
“That will stop the bleeding. You should heal now,” Reed murmurs to me, placing a blanket over me.
I’m fighting for air now. The pain from being magically stabbed is nothing compared with the fear I have for Reed, Russell, and Zee. What are they doing here? They have to get out of here before the Werree or the Gancanagh converge on us.
“RED!” Russell yells, panting a little as he bursts from the stairwell to my room.
I can’t see him, my head is turned away from the stairs, but just hearing his voice is taking some of the pain that I feel away, replacing it with worry.
“How is she?” Russell asks Reed as he kneels down in front of my eyes so that I can see him.
His beautiful, brown eyes are concerned, well, what I can see of them because his hair is long and getting in his eyes. I want to brush it back for him and tell him that he should get a haircut.
Reed comes to kneel next to Russell, so that I can see both of them. Staring into their lovely faces, I want so much to throw my arms around them and tell them both how much I miss them…that I love them, but I can’t.
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