“What are you doin’ here?” I growl at Brennus.
He moves in front of me and bends down to my eye level, studyin’ me. It’s shockin’ to see his black wings beyond the unbuttoned collar of his stark-white dress shirt. They’re almost like an elegant accessory to complete his ensemble of tailored black trousers and expensive shoes. His meticulous well-kept black hair doesn’t even move as he leans near me. Faerie writin’ scrawls in intricate tattoos over Brennus’ neck. Behind his ear, there’s somethin’ I’d never noticed there before; it’s a glowin’ tattoo on his not so pale flesh—one that looks like the battle axe I’d seen back at his castle.
“I came ta retrieve da portrait of me queen dat da Reapers stole from me castle,” he nods toward his brother Finn on the other side of me. Finn demonstratively holds up a rolled up canvas; his iridescent green eyes twinkle like this is all very amusin’. “Nasty wee craiturs, dose Reaper aingeals—tink dey can reap everyting, but dat’s moin—given ta me in trade by a Fallen one.”
“Ahh, who are ya tryin’ to kid? You killed Freddie and kept it.”
“I did na say ’twas a good trade for him.”
“You must be Brennus,” Djet says behind him. Brennus’ eyes narrow as he straightens to face Djet.
“If I must,” Brennus says pleasantly enough, but his anger is recognizable to me. “And ye must be Emil.” Fallen angels move in closer, surroundin’ Djet, while their eyes focus on the back of the room by the doors. Behind me I hear click, click, click, click, click, click...hundreds of fangs engagin’ at once.
“How do you know that name?” he asks Brennus.
“Ye’re Emil. Yer last lifetime was in Lille, France was it na? About a century ago,” he states, exudin’ confidence. “And like a coward, ye enjoyed frightenin’ wee lasses den.” Judgin’ by the look on Djet’s face, I should start referrin’ to him as Emil.
Emil goes rigid. He looks bitter as he assesses the threat in the room. “To whom have you been speaking? Casimir? Where is he? Do you have him?”
Humor enters Brennus’ green eyes, turnin’ them even lighter. “No one is talkin’ ta Casimir. Genevieve’s aingeal shredded him na long ago. Ahh, but ye do na know her as Genevieve, do ye? Ta ye, she’s still Simone. Isn’t dat right, Emil? She’s still da weak lass ye tortured in da war.”
“Tell me who killed my mentor!” Emil demands. He’s torn up about it.
“Casimir? Was he yer mentor?” Brennus asks, toyin’ with Emil. “Ye should tank da aingeal who did it. Casimir wanted Genevieve for himself. He planned ta use her ta gain power in Sheol.”
“He’d never betray me.” Emil’s anger is a tangible thing.
Brennus shrugs. “He did. Maybe ye’re na dat important after all, Emil. Dey’ve probably been feeding ye dat nonsense since ye were born. Finn, whah’s worse dan an evil aingeal?”
Finn grins. “A spoiled evil half-aingeal?”
Brennus grins as well. “Och, ye have ta luv me brudder; he’s so cheeky. He was always da favourite.”
Emil isn’t amused. “You’ve kept Simone from me.”
Brennus’ expression becomes serious; his fangs engage, click. “She’s Genevieve, and she’s moin.”
“You don’t know her like I do. She’s not worth it!”
“If dat were true, ye’d na be here. Ye burn for her.”
“I’m here to make sure that there will be nothing left of her. What will it take for you to walk away?” Emil asks. “I could find your soul—release it back to you. You can be whole once more—”
Brennus laughs with derision. “Listen ta him try ta negotiate for me queen, Finn. ’Tis fair disgustin’.”
“Or I could find your faerie soul in Sheol and make things a bit more difficult for him.”
“He has been dere for a while. He can take care of himself,” Brennus replies.
“Think what it would mean to have him back with you. You’d be more powerful—”
“I do na negotiate for whah’s moin. Genevieve is moin,” Brennus states with a deadly glint in his eye. “Let me tell ye whah’s gonna happen here. We’re gonna have a mill, and den whoever wins our fight—me or yous—will be da one left ta try ta win Genevieve for his own.”
“I don’t intend to win her. I intend to crush her. You’ve tasted her blood, haven’t you?” Emil accuses. “You’re infected with her.”
“Her blood has awakened me ta whah I’ve been missing. I feel her heart beat inside me.”
“She’s a killer drug, isn’t she? Enough is never quite enough. You’ll always need more of her. I was once like you, pathetic, Brennus. Lifetime after lifetime spent begging her to join me—the sun to my moon—the light to my dark.”
“Grow old, did it? Or did she tire of ye? She did, didn’t she?”