I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes to listen for any sound that will tell me what’s happenin’ above me. It’s quiet. Eerie. Minutes pass and nothin’. Maybe she found a way out and made a run for it—went for help. I hear a rattle of a chain, and then a gaspin’ exhale. It is soft, like the sound of air bein’ squeezed out…I open my eyes and struggle to pull myself up the last few steps of the stairwell.
I claw my way to the landin’, pullin’ my useless legs behind me, and I make it to the top of the stairs. When I look up, I see Brownie suspended in midair with that long, evil chain wrapped tightly ‘round her, crushin’ the air out of her lungs. She is floatin’ aloft in the center of the church, pale and broken, her head fallin’ back as she struggles to take a breath that’s bein’ denied her by the bindin’ chain squeezin’ her like a python. He must be usin’ his magic on her ‘cuz there is nothin’ holdin’ her up but air.
“NO!” I shout, tryin’ hard to stand, but I can’t, I can’t reach her and I’m suffocatin’ ‘cuz I can’t get enough air in me to breathe either.
The slimy Ifrit bastard appears above me then, his golden-brown eyes reflectin’ the fire within him like they’re mirrorin’ a campfire—flickerin’ and dancin’ like flames. “Russsell,” he lisps, while graspin’ me by the back of my neck and pullin’ me up to a mere inch from his face.
“Let her down, yer killin’ her,” I growl through my teeth, clawin’ at his hands with my own and tryin’ to get him to let go of me.
“I really despise it when you speak, Russell. You never tell me what I want to hear,” his slithering voice intones, puttin’ his finger on my throat and speakin’ his ugly Ifrit language. I open my mouth to tell him to go to Hell, but my voice no longer works. He turned it off. “That’s better,” he sighs.
Furious, I drive my head forward, battering’ my forehead against his. He sneers at me with breath that feels like a blowtorch against my skin, frying’ the small hairs and causin’ the smell of burnin’ flesh to curl up to my nose. I scream, but no noise comes from me. I writhe as the achin’ patch of skin begins to bubble up.
The Ifrit straightens up and pulls me by the back of my wing up the aisle of the church towards the altar. Brownie is still levitatin’ in the middle of the room, her face growin’ paler—her lips turnin’ blue.
The Ifrit tosses me up on the altar. I try not to look at him as he moves in front of me. “Russselll, I was coming to tell you that she is nearly here, my Alya. Did I tell you what that name means? It means Heaven. Appropriate, no? You do know what that means, Russselll?” he asks me with a smug smile. “I no longer need either of you,” he says, grinning happily. His black hair and tanned skin make him look like he should be on the cover of some magazine, not freakin’ carvin’ me up in the middle of a church. If I ever picture the devil again, he is gonna look just like this monster. Sickened by him, I turn away to look at the statues of the saints that have witnessed most of the unholy atrocities that have occurred here in the past few days.
A sanguine smile crosses his lips. “How shall I kill you, Russselll?” he asks with his gravelly voice hissin’ my name. “It has to be slow, though, because you refused to cooperate with me, so I have to make it as painful as possible. You seem to enjoy burning so much—should we start there?” he asks.
I choke on anguish as I turn my face away from him. Behind the Ifrit, my eyes alight on the most beautiful statue I have ever seen. Its marble-white face is perfection—the face of love. It steals my breath away as the stone comes to life in the next instant, sheddin’ its rocky exterior for the crimson feathers of an angel as the wings of the statue lash out ‘round it. The angelic statue loses more of its pale veneer, takin’ on the soft glow of angelic skin as it soundlessly grasps the golden staff that holds a crucifix attached to the end of it. Usin’ the staff like a sword, Evie’s marbled arm thrusts the golden crucifix right through the back of the Ifrit, so that it comes out the front of it, impaling him.
Evie’s teeth gnash together in a twisted sneer. “Let’s start your death here, shall we?” Evie asks between her teeth, twistin’ the staff and yankin’ it back out of the Ifrit, leavin’ a gapin’ hole in his chest as molten hot blood pours out of him.
Evie
CHAPTER 11
The Bargain
The Ifrit’s blood melts the metal crucifix right off the pole it is affixed to as I pull it out of its chest and through his back. Molten blood spews from his mouth, spraying the ground in front of him with a sizzling smolder. Using what is left of the melted pole like a bat, I swing it as hard as I can at the Ifrit’s head, connecting with it and knocking him away from Russell’s prone body on the altar. I have no idea if I can kill this wicked thing, but I have to try. He can’t live, not after what I just witnessed. He dies or we all die. There is no other option open to us; I can see that now. There will be no negotiations.
I must have stunned him, because Brownie drops from where she hovered and crashes to the ground. I hear her begin to take gasping breaths as I look around for another weapon, because mine is still melting. I collect my clothes as my alabaster-stone skin begins to take on its original form and I shrug into them.
I pick up one of the nearby statues and use it as a club, beating the inert body of the Ifrit as he lies on the ground by the altar. Rage is fueling me, I can’t seem to stop smashing him even when I can see he is shifting, taking another form. The Ifrit is growing.
With a desperate look, I scream, “GOD! WHAT KILLS YOU?’ I watch as the Ifrit becomes a formless blob, expanding with every second, so much so that I have to take several steps back from it.
“Red—RUN” Russell shouts to me from where I have left him.
“HOW DO I KILL IT, RUSSELL?” I shout to him in a desperate plea.
“YA DON’T! YA RUN!” he shouts back in equal desperation.
The Ifrit’s blood on the floor has ignited a fire; it is spreading to the altar. I have to drop the statue because it is not even hurting the Ifrit anymore. I run back to the altar. When I pull Russell into my arms, I feel how broken and beaten he is as he hangs loosely in my grasp. Rage causes tears to brighten my eyes.
“Run!” Russell demands as his head lolls back.
“Shut up if you can’t be constructive, Russell,” I retort in anger, dragging him to where Brownie is lying listless on the floor.
I glance back at the altar; the Ifrit is shifting, taking on the shape of a man again, but huge: a giant who is filling the apse like it is shrinking to dollhouse size.
“Can either of you move?” I ask them in an urgent voice. Brownie groans, twisting, she tries to sit up, but her ribs are clearly broken, making her gasp and writhe.
“Naw, my legs don’t work,” Russell says, staring at me like I’m going to disappear any second. I lean over and kiss him hard on the mouth, so he knows I’m real. After I pull back, I see tears gather in his eyes that match mine.
“I’m going to drag you back to the corner,” I explain, grasping them both, one in each hand. “This is going to suck,” I warn them, and then I pull them as fast as I can to the far corner of the church, away from the apse and the altar. Brownie passes out, but Russell remains conscious. “Hold on to her,” I order him, putting Brownie into Russell’s arms.
Russell grits his teeth. “Ya have to leave, Red. Ya can’t kill it—ya can’t save us. It’s enough that ya tried—that ya came for us,” he says in a taut voice.
I grit my teeth, too. “Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” I retort. “You don’t happen to still have any of those grenades handy, do you?” I ask, knowing he doesn’t. He shakes his head. “Damn!” I say under my breath. “Okay, maybe I’ll have to reason with it after all.”
“NO!” Russell shouts at me in anger, but I take flight then, soaring up so that I’m at eye level with the enormous Ifrit. The Ifrit smiles at me and I watch in fascination as his golden eyes have the appearance of being on fire, like flames are lighting them from within.
“You said that we could both get what we wanted if I came to you. I’m here and I want you to allow my friends to leave,” I say as my wings beat steadily to keep me in the air.
“YOU HAVE A SOUL!” The Ifrit’s voice erupts in a roar as the walls of the church reverberate with the echo of his voice.
I quake inwardly. “Yep, and I’m a Scorpio, who enjoys holding hands and taking long walks on the beach,” I reply with my jaw clenched in a sullen expression. “Let’s talk.”
A deep rumbling laugh comes from the giant monster, his breath reeking from him in scorching vapors, making me veer away from him to save my flesh from melting. Then he looks at me again and his demeanor completely changes. His eyes narrow and he sneers, “YOU ARE SERAPHIM, THE WORST KIND OF REFUSE! I HAD HOPED THAT YOU WOULD APPEAR MORE WOMANLY.”
“I can look human, in fact, I am half human,” I reply in an even tone. Flying back down to the ground, I land on my feet, retracting my wings into my back so that I no longer look like an angel.
He stares at me for a few moments and I stand as still as possible, feeling rigid with fear with my heart pounding in my ears. He steps nearer to me, shaking the foundation of the church with his massive tread. My fear increases because he can stomp on me and squash me like a bug. Reaching his hand down, he picks me up in his fist and brings me up to his eye level again.
“What do you want from me?” I ask as he studies me.
Gently, he reaches back down and sets me on my feet. He begins to change then, shrinking in size and shifting into several grotesque shapes before resuming the same male appearance as before, but in human size. He looks just as he did when he stood over Russell at the altar and I want to smash his face in again.
“I want what I have been denied for eternity,” he says in a silky tone, reaching out to touch my hair and then the skin of my face, feeling the texture of me.
“Don’t tell me you want a soul, because I kind of still need mine,” I say, trying to head him off.
His lips twitch. “No, I do not wish to possess your soul. I like it in you,” he smiles at me tenderly. He looks almost charming. If I didn’t witness his evil only moments ago, his beauty might have fooled me. He is dark, with sultry, olive skin. His hair is really long and straight—tribal. His chest is bare and covered with hair, but it’s not unattractive, just very masculine. He’s wearing a pair of loose fitting pants that are pajama-like. They make him look exotic.
“What is it that you want then? I would like to be clear, so that there are no misunderstandings between us,” I ask him.
His eyes soften. “I want you and what you can give me,” he says, smiling. “I have tried for centuries to acquire offspring. I want true immortality—to pass on my traits to another. I want a child,” he says with reverence.
Buns was right! He does want to breed, I think to myself, feeling ill.
“Why me?” I ask, attempting to hide my revulsion.
“I believe you can give me what I want. It would be a shame to kill you without even trying. You are so wonderfully human—a true beauty. If I hadn’t seen your wings, I might not have realized right away that you are an angel, too.” Quickly and without warning, he slaps me hard across my face, making my head snap back, but I don’t fall down. Holding my hand to my throbbing cheek, I look back at him, growling low. He smiles in delight at me. “You see, you are not as fragile as a human. That could’ve snapped a human woman’s neck, but not yours. I can be rough with you.”
Russell growls low and deep from the corner where I have left him with Brownie. I pray that he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t draw attention to himself. “You like it rough, huh?” I ask, straightening back up.
He shrugs. “I have never been allowed to be rough. When I take a woman to my bed, I have to be very, very careful. But, when she becomes pregnant, I know that it is over for her. The child within her will kill her eventually and they both will die,” he says with a sultry smile. “But, perhaps, you will not. No, you are strong, healthy—durable.”
“You’re a flatterer,” I respond with sarcasm.
His eyebrows come together in menace. “You mock me?” he asks.
“Sorry,” I hold up my hand, wanting to bite my tongue. He is an insane demon, I have to remember that, or I’m dead. “So what do we do now? I know what you want—you know what I want. Let’s let Russell and Brownie go, then we can talk.”
“They have offended me. I cannot let them go now,” says the Ifrit in a stern tone. “They endeavored to escape me. I cannot tolerate such defiance.”
My heart beats painfully, “What is your name?” I ask him, trying to head him off.
“I am Valentine,” he says. Several sarcastic remarks come to mind, but I do bite my tongue this time.
“Valentine, there is no deal if you kill my friends. I will not agree to anything,” I state, trying to make him see reason.
His expression is one of puzzlement. “You will have no choice,” he replies.
“There is always a choice,” I counter.
He grasps my wrist and his hand heats up to burn my skin. Searing pain shoots up my arm as he leans near my face, saying, “No, you do what I say or I kill you.”
Gritting my teeth, I reply, “Exactly—you will have to kill me.”
His eyebrows become one. “No, I will have to break you,” he says with an evil grin.
“I will kill you if you try,” I promise, leaning into his face, ignoring the pain in my wrist.
In an instant, he picks me up and throws me away from him across the church where I hit the far wall, crashing to the floor. I lie there, stunned. “You think that because you are a Seraph, the top of the chain, that you are a threat to ME?” he shouts. “I kill Seraphim for sport,” he intones, beating his chest with his fist to indicate himself.
I groan, using the wall to help me to stand because he is coming for me and I have to evade him. I get to my feet, but he catches me before I can sprout my wings and fly from him. As he holds me by the collar of my shirt, he lifts me off my feet, so that we are eye to eye with each other. With a wicked smile, he says, “I am going to kill your friends now and you are going to watch. Then, I am going to see just how much pain you can take while we work on getting me a child. You want fire and brimstone, Alya? I will give it to you.”
“No,” I choke in desperation, kicking at him, but it is not doing a thing to hurt him.
“Dat is me aingeal dat ye’re breakin’, Valentine,” Brennus says from the mouth of the church where he’s standing with Finn, Declan and a score or more of the fellas.
Valentine lowers me to my feet with a startled look on his face, but he doesn’t let go of my collar. His face is changing though. There is fear in his eyes as he watches the Gancanagh enter the church.
“Brennus,” I whisper. My eyes widen in surprise to find that I feel relief in seeing him here—it’s more than relief and I know that is an absurd feeling to have.
Brennus walks casually into the church, looking around at the blood and destruction. A small fire still smolders near the altar. Blood is everywhere from days of torture and things are smashed and broken, especially Russell, Brownie, and me.
Brennus’ face is turning paler as he looks back at Valentine and me. “Do ye need more tellin’? Whah did ye na understand, Ifrit? She is moin,” Brennus says through clenched teeth, raising goose bumps on my arms because he is truly enraged and scary. His fangs are engaged and he is scowling at Valentine like he will pounce on him at any moment.
Letting go of me, Valentine moves back from me and I almost fall down from the shock of being released so quickly. “I did not know,” Valentine says in a humble way, bowing his head to Brennus.
Brennus raises his arm, holding out his hand to me. I don’t hesitate, but stumble towards it, like a lifeline. Grasping his hand, he pulls me to him, hugging me to his cold chest and I feel relief and dread. He presses his cheek to the top of my head, saying, “Dis is na how ta sort out an Ifrit, mo chroí. Ye need magic. Did ye try ta wound it?” he asks.
I nod. He gives a small laugh. “I tought I smelled his blood. Ye are me heart, ’tis true,” he says with a grudging pride in his voice. “Come, we will go home now.”
“Wait!” I say, pulling away from his chest so that I can see his face. He looks less angry than he did when he was looking at Valentine.
“Whah?” he asks me gravely.
“What about my friends? I can’t leave them here with the Ifrit—Valentine. He wants to kill them!” I explain with panic in my voice. Brennus looks over at Russell who still holds an unconscious Brownie in his arms. Brennus’ eyes narrow when he sees him.
“Oh look, ’tis da other,” Brennus says, gazing at Russell with recognition on his face. I begin to really panic then, feeling ill as my face flushes with heat and my heart pounds wildly.
Russell tries to give him a smart-ass grin, but it turns into a grimace. “I didn’t ever think I would say this, but I’m glad to see ya stinky devils,” Russell says listlessly. “Y’all think ya could put me outta my misery before ya leave? Valentine and I don’t get on, if ya know what I mean.”
“Whah, no grenades?” Brennus asks Russell.
“Fresh out,” Russell replies with a slow shake of his head.
Valentine moves then, facing us. “They are my kill,” he says with malice. My legs go numb with fear.
Brennus’ eyebrow arches. “Dey are whahever I say dey are, Ifrit,” Brennus growls back at him. “I will deal wi’ ye in a minute.” Brennus waves his hand, freezing the Ifrit. In shock, I see that the Ifrit is completely still, but its eyes are moving, dancing like fire. Lonan and Goban approach Russell, flashing their fangs at him. They remember him. Russell killed Ultan and Driscoll, their buddies.
“Brennus!” I say in desperation, watching the fellas hiss at Russell. “Please!”
“Please whah, Genevieve?” he asks in a quiet tone, watching me.
My mouth goes dry as my eyes shift from Russell to Brennus. “What do you want?” I ask with urgency.
He blinks, like he didn’t expect me to say that. A slow smile forms in the corners of his sultry lips, making him look almost angelic in his beauty. “I want Persephone,” comes his slow reply.
“Excuse me?” I murmur, not understanding him.
“I want da goddess dat I saw in da portrait, da one dat Alfred gave ta me. It made me want ye, crave ye. Dat’s whah I want,” he says, speaking of the portrait that Mr. MacKinnon had painted of me as the goddess Persephone. “If ye make me bite ye now, ye will die and become one of us, a Gancanagh. Ye will stop evolving, stop growing in power. I do na want dat. I want ye ta be as powerful as ye will be. But, I can na hold ye—ye are wily. If I do na turn ye and make ye me sclábhaí, me slave, ye could jus run off. I’m willing ta change ye ta keep ye. Ye are moin and I want ye. But, I want da goddess more.”
“What do you propose,” I ask him hurriedly, still watching as Lonan hovers over Russell.
“A bargain,” he says with a silky voice. “Ye agree ta live with me and I save yer friends for ye.”
“For how long?” I ask, feeling the crushing weight of his words. I hardly lasted a week living with Brennus the last time. If I agree to this, then it will be war between Brennus and Reed. Reed will never stop trying to get me back.
“Forever,” he says without taking a breath and I pale.
“You said you want Persephone, the goddess. She only lived with Hades for six months out of the year,” I retort, remembering the story. All of the fellas laugh, like I’ve made a joke. I glance at Brennus to see that he is trying not to smile, too.
“Ye’re so quick, mo chroí, it makes me wonder how old ye really are,” Brennus says.
“I’m eighteen,” I reply and they all laugh harder.
“Of course ye are,” Brennus replies, shaking his head. “Six months of each year?” he asks, like he’s thinking about it, and then a slow smile graces his lips. “Dat sounds interesting. But I’m a jealous craitur. I want ta know dat ye will be loyal ta me and only me when we are together.”
“How will you know that?” I ask him.
“Ye have ta promise na ta talk ta yer aingeal when ye are wi’ me,” he says. I know he means Reed without his having to say his name. My heart drops. Can I even do that? I’ve never gone that long without Reed before. The longest I lasted was a little longer than half of that. I must not have answered him fast enough because he asks, “Faolan, ye like aingeals, right? How about taking da beautiful, little blond one?”
“NO!” I shout, glaring at Brennus, and then at Faolan as he moves closer to Brownie. “Okay!” I agree.
“Dis is fun, me sweet,” he says, grinning at me. “Whah else do I want?” he asks, rubbing his chin. He stills and his face becomes deathly serious as he scowls. “Ah, I know. I want ye ta bind yer life ta mine,” he says, frowning at me.
“What?” I say, feeling dizzy. I’m already bound to Reed; I can’t bind to him, too. “I can’t I’m—”
“No, ye are right, one at a time only—still, we can be connected, ye and me,” he says.
“Connected how?” I ask, not really wanting him to explain.
“Yer life and mine will intertwine. If one is cut, da other one bleeds, too,” he enlightens me.
My shoulders round as I cross my arms in front of me. “You can do that?” I ask him feebly.
“I can,” he says. “Yer aingeal can na kill me when ye’re wi’ me, or he will kill ye as well. I will give him a sporting chance. He will have the opportunity to kill me when ye live wi’ him, but dan he will be forever hunting me, and na spending time wi’ ye. Dat will be so dull for ye, will it na?” he asks me.
“I can’t do that, Brennus,” I say pleadingly.
“Dat’s da deal breaker, den?” he murmurs as if to himself. Then, he shrugs. “Ah, well, it sounded fun. Okay, let’s go fellas, da aingeals stay here wi’ da Ifrit.”
Finn moves to my side as my knees begin to give out on me. He catches me to him, holding me up as he says in a grim tone, “Genevieve, tink about dis for a second. He will let the Ifrit kill yer soul mate and yer friend and den we’ll take ye from here where ye’ll be bitten and turned. Whah he really wants is yer compliance. Do ye na see dat? Brenn can kill Russell himself right now, but ’twould make ye hate him more. Be reasonable or yer soul mate will die and ye will still be ours wi’ no chance of any other future.”
“Why is he doing this?” I ask in a daze.
“He wants to win yer love, like Hades won Persephone’s love. He made her love him; even when she did na want ta love him. Give him dat chance, ye canna do much worse dan da alternative ta his bargain,” Finn says with a grim twist of his beautiful mouth.
When I see that the alternative to my agreeing to this arrangement leaves Russell and Brownie to the torture of Valentine and his vast knowledge of pain, I reply in a weak tone, “Brennus, I agree to your terms.”
A slow smile graces his lips once again. “Dat is very reasonable of ye,” he murmurs, taking me out of Finn’s arms gently and pulling me to his side. “Finn, say da words, so it shall be.”
“Wait,” I interrupt before Finn starts the magic that will create the contract. “I have one stipulation.”
“Whah?” Brennus asks with curiosity.
“NO ONE BITES ME!” I shout to all of the Gancanagh standing around. “I’m bitten and the contract is broken!”
“Was it dat bad, den?” Brennus asks with concern.
I nod, unable to look in his eyes.
“Right, lads, ye heard her, anyone who bites her and breaks me contract will wish dey were never turned because da torture will go on forever—eternity,” Brennus promises all who listen. “Now, are ye willing ta agree ta dis contract?” he ask me.
“Yes,” I say with a curt nod. “When I agree, you will then kill the Ifrit and let my friends live. They can’t die or become undead or be touched or harmed or…” I trail off, trying to cover every angle that may lead to a loophole.
“Is dat all?” Brennus laughs. “Ye really do na trust me, do ye?”
“No, I really don’t trust you,” I agree.
Brennus’ eyes soften with affection. “Ah, well, we will change dat,” he says in an easy tone. Finn moves in front of us then. Brennus nods to him and Finn begins speaking words that I can’t understand. The room is filling with energy, I feel like I can reach out and touch it—taste it in the air. Brennus translates the terms of the contract as we had just laid them out while Finn speaks them in another language.
“Are they telling the truth, Russell?” I call softly to Russell.
“I think so. I don’t know some of their words, but it mostly sounds right,” he says in a feeble tone.
“Hang in there, Russell, it’s almost over,” I say to him and hear him laugh humorlessly.
“Yeah, Red, for me it is, but not for ya,” he replies bitterly, holding Brownie closer to him.
“Ye have ta repeat after me, Genevieve,” Finn interrupts us. He waits until I look at him before he speaks something in his language. I try very hard to repeat phonetically what he says. When I’m done, he produces a knife. Of course, I think, looking at Finn and Brennus with a frown.
“Can’t we just shake on it?” I ask Finn testily.
He smiles broadly at me, shaking his head no. “’Tis not binding dat way.”
I exhale, and ask, “What do you need?”
“A finger will do,” he smiles and his iridescent-green eyes sparkle.
I produce my finger. Piercing it with his knife he gathers a drop of my blood. Brennus extends his finger, too, allowing Finn to pierce it. Brennus’ blood mixes with mine on the blade. The blood smokes and sizzles as it runs together, but otherwise it is uneventful.
“What did I say, just now?” I ask Finn as we both watch the blood slowly dissipating off the blade in a plume of smoke.
“Ye said, ‘Let treachery return ta da betrayer,’” he quotes, watching me.
“Uhh,” I exhale as I realize I forgot to ask about the terms of the contract. “Brennus, what happens if I break the contract?” I ask him with fear overwhelming me. “What will happen to me?”
“Ye can na break it,” he says in a gentle, reassuring way. “’Tis me contract. Ye’re bound ta it. Here, try ta walk away from me now, like ye are leaving and ye will never come back.”
“Seriously?” I ask.
“Seriously,” he replies, suppressing a smile. I turn from him with tentative steps and walk towards the church door, my heart pounds in my chest as I have an urge to run as fast as I can and get away from here forever. My feet begin to drag and grow heavy. Soon, I find it almost impossible to take another step.
“Oh,” I say dejectedly.
“Do na look so sad. Ye wound me,” he says with a new lightness about him, smiling as I face him.
“What happens to you if you break the contract, Brennus?” I ask.
“Ye go free,” he says. “But, since I would have to bite ye to break it, I guess I would jus have ta make ye a Gancanagh and bind ye ta me dat way.” I ball my hands into fists seeing his logic. If he bites me, I’ll probably end up begging him for his blood to ease my pain. It would be really hard to resist him and try to escape, even with the contract null and void.
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