I’m like a tourist in my own body, I think.
The dagger hasn’t stopped, but continues to pursue Reed relentlessly. In desperation, I concentrate on moving my fingers of my left hand. Energy spirals down my arm. I focus hard; my fingers twitch, and then bend. Lifting my left arm with effort, I bring it towards my face, covering my eyes with my hand. The clatter of the dagger is shockingly loud against the hardwood floor. I exhale a deep breath at its noise.
“Evie?” Reed says my name in question as his heavy breathing draws nearer while I war with Brennus inside me. The cold darkness races and bumps up against what I know to be me in my veins. It grips my skin unseen.
In the next moment, my right hand covers my left, ruthlessly prying them from my eyes, uncovering them. The sharp, unpolished metal of the dagger lifts from the floor and catapults in a whiplash toward Reed. He catches the hilt of it as the dagger point continues to drive on. Reed is propelled backward. His teeth clench and sweat breaks out on his brow as he struggles with the knife. My outstretched right hand glows brighter, forcing energy into the weapon. The tip of the dagger lurches onward to press up against Reed’s bare chest where the image of my wings are branded above his heart.
Fear, like an accelerant, ignites inside of me. I flail my left arm, compelling all the fear and energy I can find into it. This is my heart and it burns for Reed. I’m never going to be the one to hurt him. Inside of me, fire meets ice. The dagger that’s a breath away from cutting into Reed, with a lurch, abruptly changes direction. Reed continues to hold on to its hilt, but now he’s struggling to keep it from crossing the room to me.
Wind from the powerful beat of Reed’s wings causes my hair to blow away from my face. He’s dragged across the floor toward me by the ancient metal in his hands. A deep growl snarls from his lips when the dagger continues its path to me. The deadly point pierces my skin, blood wells from the charcoal-colored wings etched above my heart.
A bead of sweat rolls down from the side of Reed’s face. “NO,” Reed yells at me. “EVIE! DON’T!” He’s so close to me that I can kiss his lips. I don’t, instead I concentrate on the energy controlling the dagger. “BRENNUS!” Reed snarls as he digs his heels into the floor, attempting to keep the blade from entering my heart. “SHE’LL KILL HERSELF!” Pain floods my senses. I focus on Reed’s hands. The tension in them translates to his forearms as he violently resists my will. The dagger buries deeper.
The ice in my veins recedes. It flows backward to collect in the dark place between my heart and my soul. I’m disoriented. The room spins. An image of Brennus, not unlike one of my clones, lifts from me. Brennus glows, shimmering. His ethereal light fades to a normal hue of his skin—or his “new normal”. His skin is much more golden now. His black wings unfold around him, large and menacing. But with the loss of my energy to sustain him, Brennus’ glow fades, but he still remains.
“Do na kill yerself, mo chroí,” Brennus pants as he sags a bit like someone who has just run an excruciating race. “’Tis weak.”
With a firm grip still on the dagger, Reed draws it out of me. I fall forward to be caught in Reed’s arms as he rests me against his chest. He flips the dagger in his hand before throwing it. The blade passes through the shape of Brennus to stick in the wall behind him.
I grit my teeth as Reed rips the edge of the sheet that I have wrapped around me and uses it to stanch the flow of blood coming from my stab wound. “It was the only way to stop you, Brennus. I’m your weakness,” I pant against the pain. “Your tristitiae—I’m your sorrow.”
“No,” Brennus says with his eyes softening for a moment. “Ye’re me love.”
“How did you possess her?” Reed asks while his deft fingers bind and tie the makeshift bandages to me.
“We’re connected trough blood. She gave hers to me.”
Reed’s fingers pause and clench into fists. He glances at Brennus. “I will kill you.”
Brennus’ eyes narrow at Reed. “Ye can na kill me! Ye’re WEAK! Ye make her WEAK, aingeal! Dat’s why ye have ta die.” Brennus replies in disgust. “Do ye na see dat, mo chroí? He’ll let ye be his martyr—he’ll let ye die for him. Ye can na win dis wi’ him. Ye have ta be ruthless! If ye’re meek da aingeals will forsake ye. I know dis ta be true!”
“HOW DO YOU KNOW?” I retort. My blood smears on Reed’s chest as I twist to look at Brennus.
“I KNOW BECAUSE I WAS FORSAKEN! ’TIS WHAH DEY DO! I prayed for Finn—for me—dat day when Aodh made me his sclábhaí! DA AINGEALS DID NA LIFT A FINGER TA HELP US!” He points his finger accusingly at Reed. “I’LL NA HAVE DAT FOR YE! I will na,” he says the last part quietly, shaking his head with a grim expression.