Resonance Part 2: DarkWorld: Irin Chronicles: A DarkWorld Universe Series

  Resonance II

  The Irin Chronicles #3

  T.G. Ayer

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  The Irin Chronicles

  Also by T.G. Ayer

  Join my Newsletter

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Barry’s early morning appearance in Evie’s cell had thrown her for a loop. She’d prepared herself, both emotionally and mentally, for a long wait in her current lodgings a la Greylock Estate Dungeons, before her appointed legal counsel would be allowed to visit with her in order to discuss the details of her defense.

  The last few days had been insane. She'd gone from returning home from Hades with a mission to find her long-lost, and hither-to unknown, sisters. But instead she'd ended up being thrown into a cell and charged with murder.

  Marcellus, Master of the Irin had been killed, but the man's death had been the natural conclusion to his own stupidity and illusions of grandeur. And though he'd given Evie many reasons to wish him dead, she hadn't killed him.

  He'd been eaten by a chimera.

  Chimera chow.

  And now the Brotherhood of the Irin wanted Evie to go down for Marcellus’s death and were making everything extremely difficult for her when it came to preparing her defense.

  Evie had tried to take her mind off the probability that she’d have to beg for access to him, given the brotherhood’s outrage at the appointment of a demon as legal counsel in a case of the murder of the Master of the Irin.

  Instead. She had focused shucking out her wings and running them through a few exercises, given that she was grounded and hadn’t had much opportunity to fly around and stretch the muscles. After several exercises, the stone floor was littered with white, silver-tipped feathers.

  Evie had also been putting her newfound magic through its paces. She still felt like a complete noob having never been trained in using her angelic magic, or even aware of possessing them in the first place. She’d spent the last hour creating silence wards around her. So Barry’s arrival had come at the price of shattering a half-made silence shield which she’d focused so much energy into the magical dome that when it popped something in her brain twanged, as though someone had flicked the strings of a guitar.

  Worse still, the demon overlord was far too cheerful for this early in the morning. Dressed in his usual attire of biker jacket and leather pants, he’d walked in without announcing himself, and with a wide grin on his face. His smile was the opposite of Evie’s grumpy morning mood, all white teeth and sparkling eyes.

  After clearing the table of the previous night's detritus, which Evie had left there in a state of utter rebellion against her incarceration. Barry thunked her styro-foam coffee cup down on the small wooden table and handed Evie a paper bag which emitted warm, doughy, sugary clouds of aromas of freshly baked beignets.

  “Have at it. I’ve already indulged.” He was giving her a self-satisfied smirk, but it was impossible to take him seriously. One look at him made her want to burst into giggles.

  But she dug down and barely held on to her self-control, instead rewarding him with a narrow-eyed glare. “I can see.” She didn’t take her eyes off his face.

  “Huh?” he replied, pale brow furrowing. Then his eyes widened. “Oh.” He groaned, swiping his hand across his lips and chin. “Did I get it?” he asked, his concern both fervent and comical.

  Evie shook her head, then focused on the bag of fried goodness without feeling an ounce of guilt. Within moments she’d sat on one of the two chairs and had downed two of the fried dough treats.

  Barry grunted. “That’s not cool, Evie.” The flat slap of skin to skin confirmed the demon was dusting his face and chin a little harder than was necessary, but Evie still didn’t look at him. He slurped his coffee, the sound making her wince, though she didn’t comment. Partly because slurping wasn’t that big a deal, and partly because her mouth was full of delicious beignet, hampering her ability to scold.

  After a few sips of her own dark brew, and about half a dozen more donuts, Evie sat back and sighed, ignoring the ominous creaking of the flimsy chair as it struggled to hold her weight. “So good.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and grinned. “So, to what do I owe the honor of your early morning company?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.

  Barry sipped again, licked his lips and said, “Apart from filling your angelic gut with breakfast because I’m pretty certain the food here isn’t Michelin Star worthy, I’ve got a couple witness meetings lined up for you today. And I’ve been told I get to meet the Supreme High Council overseer as well.”

  Evie nodded, relief pulsing through her at the thought of finally being able to speak to the witnesses herself, and more because she was going to be able to see her two closest friends again.

  “That’s nice and all. What would have been better is if I had a meeting with some soap and hot water before those meetings.” Evie’s tone was dry and bitter, but she did hear a hint of pathetic somewhere in her voice as well. Boy had she sunk low.

  Barry growled now, his sugar-coated chin and lips forgotten as his pale skin flushed a deep and angry pink. “Have they not let you shower?”

  Evie exhaled slow and patient and controlled. “Barry, this is a dungeon. This is not Greylock Manor Hotel, a five-star establishment guaranteed to provide you with enough luxury you’d hear the angels sing. Literally.”

  Barry stared at her for a long few second as though pondering the best response to her sass. Then he simply elected to bypass Evie’s quip altogether. “Damn these hooded old farts. Even roach motels have showers. What are they thinking treating one of their own like this?” Barry’s skin had taken on a grayish hue and he looked far from happy. “I’ll be right back,” he hurled the words over his shoulder and stalked out of the cell like he owned the place and was ready to do some damage.

  The two gargoyle guards who were assigned to watch Evie’s cell simply stood opposite the doorway, backs against the wall, and watched the demon overlord leave. Their expressions were neutral, as though the comings and goings of a demon within the hallowed grounds of Greylock was as natural as bumping into a nephilim on their security patrols around the estate.

  Chapter 2

  The cell felt cold and empty now that Barry had left. Evie had downed the coffee and polished off the rest of her beignets mere moments after his departure. She got to her feet, a restless wave rippling through her muscles.

  Neither of the guards were familiar to Evie, which gave her a reason to worry. Where was Darthh, her gargoyle ally who was supposed to have sent someone to contact Julian and ask him to come to see her?

  Had the guard been discovered? Had he been killed for being sympathetic to the cause of a nephilim, or perhaps punished for disobeying the Irin brotherhood? Or had he suffered a change of loyalties?

  Darthh, along with a small number of his fellow guards, had already shown Evie that they weren’t in collusion with the brotherhood. They had revealed that to her on numerous occasions. Mostly with subtle looks and body language, that they had no intention of harming her, and in fact had done what they could to look after her. O
ther than the incident with the Shade, they’d been successful.

  Now Evie began to pace. Her steps were accompanied by the sounds of soft sobbing, a litany of words half-formed and prayers left incomplete. The sounds of boots thudding on stone echoed to Evie along the tunnels though she was certain the noise was coming from further inside the dungeon complex.

  Near the cells in which Evie's foster brother, Castor, had been thrown. His words had implicated Evie in Marcellus’s death, had started the ball rolling to have her charged with murder. But how would he have known that he’d be interrogated so skillfully that he’d reveal such dangerous details.

  If Evie knew anything by now, she knew that whoever had interrogated the halfling would have described in detail what would happen to Evie once she was found guilty. And Castor would be in utter agony at the thought. His love for Evie was no less than that of a blood sibling and the brothers would know exactly how to hurt him.

  Iron bars clanged and hinged squealed in the distance. Evie glanced through the bars in her door at the gargoyle guards who were still standing there, stiff-spined. They may as well have turned to stone for all she knew.

  She took a step toward the door. She hated that she was unable to offer Castor any relief. And the brothers knew it. They knew how sensitive Castor was, knew how fragile he was. Castor would be afraid of the small closed space, of the chains binding him. And of the dark.

  Castor had always been scared of the dark. The reason for that fear still made Evie so angry she could rip something in two. Father Patrick had tried to help Castor to assimilate into society and had made the mistake of having far too much faith in humanity.

  Two little boys had trapped Castor in a hole in the ground and had covered the entrance with a small boulder. The kids had gone two days before finally confessing to one of their parents when they’d gone back to the hole only to find the halfling unconscious. They'd been scared that Castor had died, afraid of what Father Patrick would say.

  Evie had been sitting at the dinner table beside her guardian when the parents had arrived to deliver the unconscious halfling home. After the rush of getting Castor to bed, Patrick and Evie met with the families in the front hall, both curious, having discussed the soil caked beneath his fingernails and the blood on his knees and arms that implied a fall.

  The moment the father of one of the boys revealed what they’d done, Patrick had placed his hand on Evie’s forearm, the action gentle but firm. It would have looked to the parents that Evie had been upset and was simply being comforted but what they hadn’t known was that the nephilim had been ready to thrust out her wings and attack the boys with her bare hands.

  Patrick had known her too well, almost been able to read her so well that sometimes she had wondered if he’d learned to read her mind.

  Evie went to the door and beckoned the guard. At first Evie thought that neither of them were going to react but the taller one eventually stepped toward the door.

  “Is everything ok?” he asked, his voice a low whisper as his gaze flicked along the passage in search of unannounced visitors.

  “What’s going on with Castor?” she asked, unable to keep the urgency and fear from her voice. “Do you know what they are going to do with him?”

  The guard’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “I do not know. We aren’t privy to the brother’s actions. They come and go as they please.”

  Evie sighed and blinked away the burn of tears. “Is there some way you can find out for me? Just check on him and see if he’s ok?”

  The gargoyle glanced over his shoulder at his partner who didn’t even blink in response. “You might want to wait until his current visitor has left the cells.”

  “Who is with him? What are they doing to him?” Evie grabbed the bars of her cell door tight.

  “I’m not sure. It will either be Braxus or Ordentran. They come to talk to the halfling ever so often. Perhaps one to two times a day.”

  “What do they want with him? They have to let him go. He won’t last long locked up in there.”

  The mention of Ordantran’s name sent shivers down Evie’s spine. How had she forgotten him?

  He’d been one of Marcellus’s lackeys, or perhaps Daniel’s if she were to be honest and allow a thought of the odious angel to enter her mind.

  Master O—as the warriors of the Irin called him—would be visiting Castor for one reason only, information. And the man was notorious for his technique. Merciless, bloody.

  Evie hated being so far away from Castor, unable to protect him from Ordantran’s ministrations. She’d attended a class given by Master O: Interrogation Techniques for use on Creatures of the DarkWorld. Evie’s mind was still reeling at what she’d seen during that class. Many of the warriors had been taken aback by the depth of the course, not to mention somewhat afraid that Ordantran had deliberately been vague when he’d done the module on Angelics. Right now, Evie wanted to burst out of her cell and race to Castor to make sure Ordantran wasn’t harming him. But she was powerless. The Brotherhood of the Irin had rendered her powerless.

  She’d been Hades, King of the Underworld for a month, first in a probationary phase as she floated in a holding position waiting out the time until she could return the mantle of King to Julian. For so many reasons she’d wanted to give him back his title, and yet, even as she returned it and he’d accepted the role again, Evie’s status as ruler of the Underworld hadn’t changed one bit.

  Someone cleared their throat and Evie blinked.The guard on the other side of the door was waving his hand in front of her face.

  “Oh, sorry. I’m just thinking of Ordantran. Why is anyone leaving that creep with Castor?”

  The guard shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything from the halfling’s cell to indicate that O is trying any of his special techniques. We would have done something if that had been the case.”

  Evie’s eyes narrowed. “You would have?”

  He nodded. “Yes. He is important to you. And to Father Patrick. We will try our best to ensure he isn’t hurt again.”

  “Again?” The single word exploded from Evie and though she was furious at the thought of Castor being hurt, she was also confused when the guard stumbled back and the door to her cell bumped hard against the threshold, hard enough for bits of stone and cement to rain down on her.

  “Shhh,” the second guard snapped, giving Evie a hard glare. “We don’t want them to come running over here and see what you’ve just done.”

  Evie blinked and swallowed hard. Anxiety had built up inside her and she’d thrust it out without even understanding what she’d done. “What?” she whispered, taking a few steps away from the door.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard the very feminine voice of the gargoyle guard, but her thoughts were focused on the damage she’d done to the cell door.

  The second guard approached the door. “Relax. Just breathe. We’ll check the door and clean up the dust. They won’t know a thing.”

  Evie backed up far enough to sit on the edge of her bed and her new position gave her a better view of the door.

  She snorted then. “You may not be so confident when you see the other side of the door.”

  Chapter 3

  The guards opened the door and the pair walked around it. A full minute passed while they stared at the smashed-in piece of ancient wood. Evie’s angelic power had left an oval impression in the door. Neat and clean as though she’d punched it with a fistful of energy.

  The pair of gargoyles turned on their heels and stared at Evie, the metal of their swords clanging as they brushed up against each other.

  The female guard’s cheeks ballooned then she coughed. She slapped a hand over her mouth and her shoulders shook as she laughed, her eyes lighting up to reveal a pearlescent shimmer. “That is beyond cool.”

  “Ralna, that isn’t cool. That is trouble.”

  Ralna rolled her eyes and stared pointedly at Evie. “It was worth it. If Ba’aruk sees it, that's not a probl
em. And I don’t believe Mykia will take issue with it either.”

  Interesting that Ralna had referred to Mykia by her first name. The Grand Master of the Irin certainly had friends in many places.

  But Evie didn’t comment on it. Instead she stood and joined the gargoyles, pleasantly surprised when neither flinched nor drew their weapons. She folded her arms. “How do we fix it?”

  “What do you mean ‘we’?” Ralna turned to face Evie. “Use your power to hide it for now. I don’t know what level of magic you possess by returning it to normal will need more than standard magic.”

  Evie was tempted to say she had no clue what the woman was talking about but instead she said, “You can consider me fresh out of magic. That took pretty much all I had for now.”

  Ralna gave Evie an odd look then waved a hand. “Let's just ignore it. Lardri can find a hook and you can hang something on it. A cloak or a blanket and we can get someone in here to fix it later if Evie hasn’t regained her strength in the next day or so.”

  Lardri nodded and hurried from the cell, his face sober. He seemed far more concerned about the repercussions than Ralna who had initially given the impression of total disinterest in Evie’s predicament.

  Ralna went to the door but she didn’t leave. Instead she casually threw up a dome of silence and said, “How much training have you had with your angelic power?”

  Evie blinked and stared at the woman. “You expect me to answer that question when I don’t know who you are or even if I can trust you?”

  The gargoyle straightened, her features stiffening. Evie didn’t speak, didn't justify her response, didn’t expand on her observation. A few seconds passed when Ralna tipped her head in a short bow. “I apologize. I’ve given you no reason to trust me.”