THE MEPHISTO COVENANT

by Trinity Faegen

He was surprised. Moving his body, he asked in a rough voice, “Does it now?”

  She shook her head.

  He moved again, asking a question with his eyes.

  “No.” She smiled up at him. “Do that again.”

  He did, and she raised her head from the pillow to kiss him. “Now do that whole thing again, but faster.”

  His breath quickened. “Wrap your legs around me,” he whispered, just before he pressed her against the pillow and kissed her, sucking all the air from her lungs until she was gasping. Moving his mouth along her throat, he nipped at her with his teeth, then kissed that spot before traveling on to another. Her whole world narrowed to his wonderful face, his spectacular body, moving inside of her, strong and sure.

  Suddenly, his head went back, his eyes closed, and his body went stiff and still. Deep inside, she felt a burn that seared and scorched and traveled all through her groin, making her flinch and try to jerk away from him. But he held her fast with the weight of his body, and when the pain was gone, she began to shake, and shudder, grasping his arms, his back, clenching his hips between her legs, holding on while she flew apart. She had no idea that anything could feel like this. It was incredible. It went on and on.

  When her body finally relaxed and she drifted back to consciousness, she saw the look on his face and immediately turned her head.

  “Don’t look away. Why are you looking away from me?”

  “Because I scratched your arms, and I know I yelled something embarrassing.”

  He said with a note of wonder, “The air all around you shimmered. It was … you were … the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Shifting, he lay beside her and gathered her close, until her head was in the nook between his chin and his shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “For this?”

  “For staying.” Lifting his head, he blew toward each candle in the room until every one was extinguished and all that remained was the soft flicker of the dying fire. “Get some sleep, Sasha. Tomorrow, we’re going to Russia.”

  SEVENTEEN

  A HUSHED NOISE WOKE HER JUST TO A PLACE BETWEEN SLEEP and awake, allowing awareness to filter in slowly. There was that noise again, the soft, gentle squeak of leather. Other noises and sensations drifted into her consciousness—Jax’s even breathing, his warm chest rising and falling beneath her cheek, the ticking of the antique clock in the bookshelves, a whisper of skin against skin.

  She was sprawled across him, lying on her stomach, her legs and hips tangled up in the sheets, one arm slung across his shoulder, her hand in his hair, and the other stretched across her pillow. Jax was on his back, slightly turned toward her, one arm across her body, his hand resting on her backside.

  There was that weird creaking noise again. Then a soft exhale of breath. She woke further—enough to realize they weren’t alone. She opened one eye and saw Zee. Turning her head slightly, she opened the other and saw all of Jax’s brothers, lined up there at the end of the bed, staring at them.

  Burying her face against Jax’s chest, she stroked his hair and mumbled his name. He stirred and said in a hoarse, sleep-filled voice, “Again? Three times wasn’t enough?” His chuckle rumbled against her chest. “And here I was worried you wouldn’t like it.”

  She must be the shade of a tomato, she was so embarrassed. “Jax,” she whispered, “we have company.”

  She felt him move when he lifted his head.

  “Aw, come on, you guys can’t be serious. What the hell are you doing here?”

  Key said, “We have to go now, Jax. It’s already three in the afternoon in St. Petersburg.”

  “Did you all have to come?”

  “None of us had to come. We could have called, or sent Mathilda. But we wanted to make sure everything was all right. Sasha, are you all right?”

  “She was fine, until all of you came in here and embarrassed her to death. Get lost.”

  Key said in a very authoritative voice, “You agreed not to mark her until after we return from Russia and she becomes immortal. I’d like an explanation.”

  “I want to be able to find her. I never want to go through what I went through last night.”

  “How did you find me last night? You never said.”

  “Brody tracked the GPS on the car you took.”

  “You marked her so you can find her, and now, so can Eryx. If anything goes wrong, she has no chance of hiding until we can get to her. This is a serious infraction, Jax. When we return, there’ll be a council. If anything happens because of her mark, I don’t need to tell you what we’ll do to you.”

  “If anything happens to Sasha, I won’t give a damn what you do to me.”

  “I’ve got half a mind to forbid the trip. It’s a pointless risk.”

  “Sasha saying good-bye to her mother isn’t pointless.”

  “Her mother is already gone. How can seeing her as she is now be anything but a terrible memory she’ll never be able to erase? Better to remember her as she was.”

  “Are you saying Jax can’t take me to Russia?” Sasha asked, still unable to look at them.

  “I’m saying it’s a foolish risk. You have to follow every order, do exactly as we tell you. Knowing what you do of the lost, you understand they have no capacity to feel anything for another human being except rage and hate. Your mother’s love is gone; in its place is only her ambition to become something more to Eryx than another collected soul.”

  She knew it was true, but she also knew it would haunt her until the end of time if she didn’t have the chance to ask, Why? This wasn’t good-bye. This was all about an answer.

  She lifted her head finally and looked at Jax. His expression was blank, so she couldn’t tell if he was mad, glad, or anything in between.

  He squeezed her shoulder. “Let’s get dressed and do this.”

  The decision was made for Sasha to meet her mother at the Peter and Paul Cathedral, where the tsars were buried. If her mom thought it was weird when Sasha e-mailed and asked to meet her there, she didn’t let on. All attempts to pretend everything was normal were gone. She wrote back a terse, I’ll be there, and that was it.

  “She knows you’re with us,” Denys said, standing next to the fresh flowers in the great hall.

  “How could she know?”

  “Because you’re marked, and Eryx told her.”

  “I thought as long as I was here, behind the mists, Eryx wouldn’t know.”

  “Oh, he knows,” Key said, glaring at Jax. “He just can’t get to you here. The instant we leave, all bets are off. This is why you have to go inside the church immediately, and leave by the exit we showed you on the map. Jax will be there, waiting. The rest of us will be at other exits, just in case.”

  “In case of what?”

  They all exchanged looks before Jax said quietly, “Your mother may try to kill you, Sasha.” He pressed something hard and cold into her hand. “This is my switchblade.” He demonstrated how to open the blade by pressing one of the jewels embedded within the ornately carved silver handle.

  She remembered it from that night in San Francisco. This was what he’d used to stab Alex Kasamov. “Where did you get this?”

  “Key had it made for me in Spain, in 1855.” His smile was wry. “My seven hundredth birthday.”

  “Tell me I won’t need it.”

  He stroked her hair. “I wish I could. Slip it into your pocket, just in case. Remember, you’re enormously strong, far stronger than your mother, or any other lost one who might be in there with her. No matter what she says, don’t for one instant believe she has your interests at heart. Never forget what you know of the lost. Of Eryx.”

  Key came closer. “You have five minutes, Sasha. Ask your questions, say what you have to, then leave. If you’re threatened, don’t engage. Just leave. And remember, if you use the blade and kill a lost soul, Eryx wins. He becomes that much more powerful. If you see a Skia, run like hell.”

  “Skia can be inside a church? They can stand on holy ground?
”

  “Yes, because they’re not born of Hell. Only the dark angels and the Mephisto are barred.” Key looked around at each of them. “Are we ready?”

  They all nodded, and Jax slipped his arms around her.

  Moments later, they stood beneath the portico at the entrance of the cathedral, less than six feet from the doors. She knew immediately something was wrong, because Jax stiffened and his arms tightened.

  “I have a proposal for Sasha,” a deep voice said.

  She peeked over Jax’s arm and saw him—Eryx. Even while she stared in stunned surprise that he was the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen, she recoiled in terror from the sight of his eyes. They didn’t reflect the suffering of mankind and the secrets of the universe. They were not of Hell, but of something infinitely more disturbing: nothing. They were like a doll’s eyes, dead and flat.

  “Get away from the door so Sasha can go inside and see her mother,” Key said.

  “Of course,” Eryx said in his deep, seductive voice. “But first, I’d like her to consider my offer to release her mother from her oath.”

  “In return for what? Her life?” Key laughed at him. “No deal.”

  Sasha wanted to look away from him, but she couldn’t. She wanted to speak, but her throat wouldn’t work. Jax’s arms were like a band around her, and his body was tense, ready to disappear with her in a nanosecond. One small move from Eryx, and they’d be back in Colorado before she could blink. Eryx must have known it, because he stood completely still, just in front of the doors.

  “I want the papers.”

  “You have the papers,” Jax said.

  “I have the bullshit you put in the lockbox. I want the original journals, letters, photographs, and recordings Katya’s father and grandfather stored there.”

  “What makes you so sure there was anything else in the box besides what you found?”

  “Katya knew what was inside, and she assures me the contents have been replaced with trinkets. My proposal is good for another five minutes, the time it will take for Sasha to go in there and see what her mother has become. She can have her back if I can have the original contents of the lockbox.”

  “It’s no longer hers to give.”

  “Yes, I realize, but she’s with you now, so let’s call it a collective ownership issue. If she wants the deal, you’ll all go along with it.” Eryx was staring at her from those horrific eyes. “You can win your mother’s soul if you’ll just give me what I want.”

  He was a liar. She knew that. And yet, it was the greatest temptation to believe him. She turned her face into Jax’s neck. “I want to see my mother.”

  “Yes,” Eryx said, “go in and see her, know she’s doomed to eternal servitude to me, to find those whose souls are seeking, and she’ll give them hope, lead them to me. I’ve already promised her immortality, but you have the power to give her back the promise of God.”

  Jax began to move, walking her slowly toward the entrance, his arms still around her. Zee shouldered Eryx out of the way and opened one of the massive doors. Just at the threshold, Jax released her and she was inside, looking out. “I love you,” she whispered.

  “Be careful.”

  Turning, she moved into the elaborate, ornate cathedral, awed by its splendor, even while she searched the rows of pews for her mother. There were a few worshippers, kneeling, forearms resting against the backs of the pews, hands folded, heads down, praying. She couldn’t see their faces—their eyes. Were any of these people lost souls or Skia?

  “Sasha!” A loud whisper came from her right and she turned, unprepared for what she saw. Her stomach heaved and her heart broke all over again. Her mother’s great, dark eyes—so beautiful—now obliterated by Eryx.

  Stepping into the pew, she went toward her and sat several feet away, aware of the switchblade in her pocket and that her mother was crying.

  “You hate me, don’t you?”

  “Mom, please, I only have five minutes.”

  “Did you look at the painting, Sasha?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t know it, because I painted over her face, but the girl in the picture is you.”

  She knew, but didn’t say so. She also knew Key had delivered the fake directly to Eryx, so her mother didn’t realize the real painting was still in Colorado. Eryx didn’t know the difference, and assumed he had the original because he’d found the microscopic code numbers to the lockbox.

  “I painted over your face because I didn’t want anyone wondering why you were in a five-hundred-year-old painting. Even Mikhael never knew it was you. I showed it to Alex, who told me the girl in the picture is Anabo, and what that means. He wanted the painting and offered a lot of money, but I wouldn’t sell, especially after what he told me. I was so afraid for you. When I arrived in Russia, a man named Rurik approached me, a man like Alex, and claimed I’d sold it to Eryx. He demanded I hand it over. I couldn’t, of course, even if I’d wanted to, because you had it.”

  “Melanie searched, and destroyed everything I owned, but she didn’t find it. It was all for nothing that I hid it so well, because you ended up giving the painting to Eryx anyway.” Not really, but Mom didn’t know the painting delivered to Eryx was a fake.

  “It was only a matter of time before they found out you’re Anabo, either because they’d find the painting and someone would uncover the girl’s face and see it was yours underneath, or someone would see your birthmark. I knew they’d kill you, so I took a chance. I asked Rurik, if I knew of an Anabo, and pledged my soul, would the Anabo be spared? He said yes, and I believed him.”

  She remembered Jane’s sister, who appeared to give her soul as the ultimate sacrifice, and Chris, who had traded his to save his father’s life—but both of them had a secret reason, hidden, and not selfless at all. “Four minutes, Mom. Tell me the real reason you did it.”

  “That is the real reason! But they lied to me, Sasha. As soon as I pledged, Rurik made me tell him who was the Anabo and demanded I hand over the painting. The irony that you’d already been found by the Mephisto, that you’ll never be in danger from Eryx, is killing me. You’re safe now, but I’m not. Please give him the papers. Please help me.”

  She wasn’t safe. Not yet. Not until she became immortal. And she knew, intuitively, there was no saving her mother. It was a lie. If Sasha agreed to give Eryx the contents of the box, he wouldn’t release her mother from her oath. Sasha knew it, and so did her mom. “Melanie said Tim was in love with you. She said he would have left her, except that you picked Dad.”

  She’d hit a nerve, she could tell. Mom drew herself up and huffed out a breath, like she was surprised and annoyed. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Tell me. You can do that much, at least.”

  Her mother turned her face away. “I was still in Russia when I met Tim. I didn’t know he was with the CIA, or that he was married. I fell in love, but when I found out he had a wife and son, I told him I wouldn’t see him anymore. Then I decided to defect, and that’s when I met Mikhael. He was a good man, a kind man, and after I found you, he agreed to marry me so I could live in the United States and we could raise you together.”

  Sasha knew where this was going, and she almost got up and ran. She didn’t know if she could stand to hear it. “You didn’t love Dad, did you?”

  Slowly, her mother shook her head. “It was always Tim, but like so many things in my life, it didn’t work out. He wouldn’t leave his wife and lose his son, and I wouldn’t stay with him while he was married. He had a short affair after I left him, and that is how Christopher was born. Mikhael and I weren’t unhappy, Sasha, and we had you, which made everything better. He loved you so much.”

  Sasha slumped back against the pew. “You pledged because you wanted a second chance, didn’t you? You thought Tim would leave Melanie and bring Chris and me to Russia, where we’d be one big happy family.”

  “I knew it would never happen as long as Tim believed I had something to do with Mikhael
’s death. He discovered it was Melanie who had sold the information that got him killed, and she told him I provided it to her. I suffered death knowing he believed it of me.”

  “If you didn’t give her the information about Dad, who did?”

  “No one gave it to her. She was married to a CIA operative with high security clearance. She figured out his passwords and accessed his files, found out Mikhael’s alias, his cover, his location. She sold the information to Yuri Andreovich for fifty thousand dollars, and after Mikhael was killed, she confessed to Tim what she had done, but instead of confessing that she accessed his files, she accused me of giving her the information. He knew she was rabid, that she’d do anything to hurt me, yet he still believed her and despised me for what he thought I’d done to Mikhael.”

  “So you were promised that Tim would see the truth, that he’d believe your innocence and love you again.”

  Her mother was sobbing now, her face in her hands. “I wanted that so much, was so sure it would happen. But it was a hideous lie! Tim was already dead when I pledged, and now …”

  “Now, since you can never go back, you’d do anything to become Skia and live forever, so you sacrificed me.”

  She raised her head and said passionately, “I’ll make it up to you, Sasha, I swear it! Please, just give him the lockbox contents and help me.”

  “I can’t do it, Mom. I can’t give Eryx what he needs to suck more people in.”

  “You’re of the angels! Show mercy!”

  Sasha stood, wishing now that she’d listened to Jax, that she hadn’t insisted on seeing her mother, on knowing the reason she’d pledged. “I loved you, and I know you loved me, but it’s all done now. My time’s up. I have to go.”

  Her mom stood, too. “You’d turn your back on me? Your own mother?”

  “You’re not my mother. You’re a stranger.” Without another word —because what was there to say— she turned and walked toward the end of the pew, her hand inside her pocket, fingers wrapped around Jax’s switchblade.

  But she didn’t need it. Her mother remained behind, the sound of her weeping carrying through the cavernous cathedral, following Sasha as she made her way to the front of the church, headed toward the Catherine Chapel, where the imperial families of Russia were entombed, toward the east exit and Jax, waiting on the other side.