Revenant

by Phaedra Weldon

  “You’re awake,” came a melodic voice to my left. I realized then I was in my bed at Mom’s. And I was dressed in a set of very soft cotton pajamas. Uh . . . where did these come from? I narrowed my eyes to the voice and saw Jason move to sit on the bed beside me.

  He looked incredible—much better than the last time I’d seen him. Eric Bana in the Hugo Boss summer collection.

  Niiiiice.

  Sans the jacket, of course.

  He reached out and took the cloth from my hands, but then immediately put his own hand to my forehead. I realized then I was wet. I mean—my entire body was covered in a heavy layer of sweat, and the pajamas were sticking to me in all the right strategic places. “Fever’s broken. That’s good.”

  Fever?

  When he pulled his hand away, he got up and moved into the bathroom, which joined my bedroom to the adjacent one where Rhonda sometimes crashed. I heard water running as I threw off the heavy cover. Yeah, I was covered in perspiration. I needed a shower.

  But when I stood to move into the bathroom, some asshole moved the floor on me, and I went down, my knees giving first. I never actually hit the floor though—as Jason was instantly there, holding on to me, his arms around me. With a sigh, he nearly picked me up and sat me back on the bed.

  Next, he leaned down to my eye level and pointed a finger in my face. “You—sit. It’ll take you maybe a day to get up to speed—if I’m right about your Wraith ability.” With that, he turned and went back into the bathroom.

  I stayed put. Not because he told me, but because I was still focusing on not falling in a seated position.

  When he came back, he had the washcloth again and a bowl of water. Setting it on the nightstand, he started moving the cool cloth up and down my arm, then moved it to my face, where he pulled my hair away and started wiping it all down.

  I wanted him to stop because I felt twelve and helpless. But I was getting very light-headed and nearly fell back again. Jason was there and moved me into the bed.

  “Please . . .” I managed to say. “I’m hot. Don’t put that quilt back on top of me.”

  “I won’t,” he said, and continued to dip the cloth into the cold water and rub it over any exposed skin. “Breaking a fever like yours was hard. Just sit back and relax. Joe went to get you a glass of water with cucumbers.”

  Cucumbers?

  Jason laughed. “Don’t make that face. It’s good for you. And you need the liquid. You’re dehydrated.”

  I watched him, again amazed at how incredibly beautiful he was. Oh, don’t get me wrong—when it came to beautiful men, I was surrounded by them to hear me talk. From Daniel’s boy-next-door look to Joe’s rugged manliness, all the way to Dags’s pretty-boy face.

  But this—

  This was a vampire. A First Born. A Revenant.

  I cleared my throat as I watched him with droopy eyelids. “What happened?”

  “To you? Or to me?”

  “Both.”

  “Well, for me”—he wiped my forehead one more time before setting the cloth in the bowl—“when Archer came at me, he initially stabbed me through the heart with a rod of rowan tree.”

  A what? He had a stake? Was Jason kidding? And where did a Symbiont stash a stake in his coat?

  “Apparently, when you pushed him through the back wall, he traveled to England and snatched a stake from a magic house over there. It hurt, and it did some serious damage to me, as in Jason. But as for ending my life?” He smiled. “Not yet.”

  “But why did he try to kill you?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that he was trying to kill me. It was more like”—he smiled—“sibling rivalry.”

  I reached up with my left hand but couldn’t get to his chest. Reading my actions, he pulled up his shirt to expose a well-toned chest and a healing hole to the center right from my point of view. “I guess healing fast isn’t true about vampires?”

  “Revenants.” He smiled. “It’s not my favorite word—but First Born has a pretentious ring to it, don’t you think?”

  I couldn’t help but smile. He had a way about him. Something kinda sparkly in his eyes, and I was disappointed when he pulled his shirt back down. Lemme tell ya . . . the Revenant’s got a serious six-pack, ladies.

  “I’ve glanced over the Dioscuri notes on us”—he gestured to himself—“and they’re vague at best. Your great-uncle wasn’t as curious about us as he was all the other little critters on the Abysmal plane.” Jason gave a short sigh. “I’ve already explained a lot of this to Nona, Rhonda, and Jemmy. Lex, of course”—he looked directly at me beneath his dark brows—“is forever in your debt. She felt Mialani’s release, as did I. Now, knowing that her companion is in a better place, she feels she can fight whatever this is that’s coming after us.”

  As I rested there and watched him, the sweat on my body cooled, and I started shaking. Meh. This totally sucks. Jason stood and pulled the cover back up and handed it to me. “Sorry,” I said. “Body can’t seem to like hot or cold.”

  “No, no.” He sat back down. “It’s perfectly normal. For you. Zoë, there are degrees to what I am. Abilities, strengths and weaknesses that all have to do with age. Age of the Symbiont and age of the host.”

  I wasn’t really sure this was a good time for an episode of Life as a Revenant, but I was willing to do anything to keep him sitting there. And no, it wasn’t because he was nice to look at, or that I really needed to know what the fuck it was he and Lex were, but because I had every intention of getting out of him when it was he’d boinked my mom!

  He looked in my direction for a bit, but not at me. I knew his mind was somewhere else, remembering something else. “When a Symbiont, or First Born, fuses, or merges, or joins—pick a word—with a human, body and soul—and I do mean soul—the human doesn’t gain all the benefits of becoming a Revenant all at once. It happens in stages and over time, as the Symbiont’s Abysmal essence changes the human body’s DNA. You grow stronger, more impervious to age and disease. You find you can do things—like jump higher than an average human. And the older you grow, the more you change, and the stronger the Symbiont becomes.”

  Like this irritating stake wound, Mephistopheles said in my head. An echo of Jason’s voice. The Archer’s aim was accurate, and it might have killed a much younger host. But Jason has reached his century mark, and so I am able to control a bit of his physical health. My being has changed his blood, and is healing the wound. It’s not instantaneous yet—but given time, it will be.

  I understood that. Or I’d read enough vampire or fantasy books to get it. “So—you can withstand a fire?”

  Jason shook his head. “Probably not. If my body becomes too badly injured for Mephistopheles to heal, then I will die.”

  “And what happens to him?”

  “He finds a new body.”

  I had to ask. “What if he can’t find one?”

  There was a slight laugh in my mind. I always find a body. But I do not take it. My hosts give me life voluntarily.

  “He finds us at our weakest,” Jason said. “But not in a bad way. I wasn’t the healthiest candidate. But his former host had been stabbed repeatedly on the docks in Manhattan. I was there . . . homeless. A vagrant. And I was dying and didn’t realize it. He offered me a future when I didn’t have one.” He looked down. “I couldn’t see one.”

  I had this feeling there was more to Jason’s story than he was giving me. But I didn’t want to pry. “Why do you drink blood? I have the reason that TC told me. But you tell me. Is it really to maintain humanity?”

  He looked at me. “Yes.”

  Wow.

  “When I said that age is a plus, I also mean it’s a detriment. As our bodies change, we grow less human. The Revenants discovered a long time ago that by drinking human blood, they could maintain the status quo, so to speak. If we don’t drink blood, then our bodies will undergo a dramatic change.”

  “You mean a physical change?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Not so differe
nt than your own change now, as a corporeal Wraith. But not something we can hide as you do. So we drink it to maintain the balance. Like the other night—when your mother offered me blood—she knew that if I didn’t get it, Mephistopheles’ blood would start to change me physically because it’s a fight of the fittest. Whose blood is stronger. So she gave me hers willingly, and I was able to stay human.”

  Well, there was my in . . . but my curiosity level of what he was talking about overpowered my when-did-you-boink-my-mom level. “If you’d have changed into this other . . . this thing like me . . . would you not change back? I mean, I can change back. Pretty easy.”

  Jason looked more serious than I’d ever seen him. It looked interesting on him. “Not easily. Mephistopheles is strong, and he’s never tried to override me”—he put his hand to his chest—“Jason Lawrence. If I were to lose that much control, survival would kick in. It’s a natural response. I could eventually change back, reverse the body shifts. But as I am—unlike you—I am more human than Abysmal creature.”

  I sighed and closed my eyes. Geez, I was tired. And I was pretty happy Jason was okay.

  “There’s one other thing, Zoë.”

  Uh-oh. I looked at him. “Is it about my mom? This whole dating-her thing?”

  “No—but that is something she and I need to talk to you about. My concern is what’s happening to you on the Wraith side. The physical transformation rather than the astral one.” He cleared his throat. “Your relationship with the Archer, to be exact.”

  I thought about TC. About his seemingly uncontrollable dislike for Jason. For all Revenants. His attack. And then how he—

  “Jason—TC was the one that helped me. After I released Mialani.”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s never done that before.”

  “No.”

  “But you seemed to know he could.” I pushed myself up on my elbows and narrowed my eyes at him. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

  He took in a deep breath and clasped his hands together in front of me. “I’m not sure how to tell you this—but as a preface: did you ever wonder how it was that he could do what he did with you? That of all the Symbionts out there—you had a run-in with one that, when he touched you, you changed?”

  Honestly—that thought had never crossed my mind. I shook my head. “I didn’t know that no other Symbiont could have done what he did.” I leaned back, held out my left arm, and looked at the handprint there. It was faint now, and looked almost gold. “I was out of body, and he tried to take my soul. But when he touched my astral body—”

  “The shock from touching the living plane changed both of you.” Jason nodded. “The Archer is a liar above all things, Zoë. Dedicated to self-preservation. He is also one of us.” He lifted his shoulders and stared directly at me. “He is the Last First Born.”

  12

  IF there was one thing I’d been expecting in terms of waiting for the other shoe to drop—that wasn’t it. In fact, that was nowhere near what I’d expected to hear from Jason. And I’m sure my face showed it as he moved in a little closer and reached out for my hand. Again, I was surprised at how warm it was and how pliable his skin was in comparison to Lex’s.

  “Zoë, I know that probably sounds made up—”

  “Uh . . . yeeee-ah,” I said. “You’re trying to tell me that TC—the freak that derailed my being some Irin or such—is actually one of you?”

  I could hear Mephistopheles grumbling somewhere, under his breath. Something about asses and donkeys.

  I like him. He’s my kinda disembodied voice.

  Jason’s eyes narrowed, and I kinda figured he and the Symbiont hijacker were in conversation, privately. I also figured that I could hear Mephistopheles only when he wanted me to. Finally, he gritted his teeth and looked at me. “Apparently Mephistopheles isn’t that fond of calling the Archer what he is.”

  “Neither am I,” I said. “But this—How can he—But I didn’t—”

  Och. This was getting me nowhere.

  “Zoë.” Jason lowered his shoulders. “When the first Phantasm created them—the First Borns—he created a limited number, and even now that total is unknown. But Archer was created last before the original Phantasm was destroyed. He was never allowed to mature or grow up outside of the next Phantasm’s influence.”

  “So that’s why he was doing the Phantasm’s work?”

  “He was for so long controlled by the Phantasm—until he met you. And then everything changed.”

  I heard Joe’s footsteps before he came in, a tall glass in his hands. He stopped in the doorway and grinned. His hair seemed droopier than usual, and I wondered if he’d run out of gel. He held up the glass as he stepped forward. Jason said this will help you feel better. And he handed it to me.

  I took it. The glass was clouded with condensation, and I could see the cucumber floating inside with ice. “Cucumbers.”

  It’s actually pretty good. Nona put a bit of sweetener in mine. Though I don’t think that’s a good idea for you.

  I cocked an eyebrow at him just as his phone went off. He held up a hand and pulled it from his back pocket. Joe couldn’t talk on the phone—having no voice. So he and Mastiff used texting in order to communicate. I watched as he looked at the screen, then moved out of the room.

  Jason gestured to the glass. “It’s really refreshing. Vitamins.”

  I stared at it and, with a shrug, tasted it.

  Smack, smack. Hrm . . . not so bad. Cucumber wasn’t a flavor I usually chose over strawberry or vanilla, but this would do. Abruptly, I was parched, and I drank the whole thing down before realizing I could get—

  “Uh, Zoë, you might want to slow down before you get—”

  Och. I winced and pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose as an old familiar pain centered there.

  Brain freeze.

  Jason took the glass and waited patiently for me to refocus on him. “Be careful.”

  “Just go on.”

  “Those of us born before him were released as free spirits into the planes. Back then, there weren’t barriers, or Guardians, or any real rules regarding realms.”

  I rubbed at my forehead. Oh man . . . What a headache I was getting. Maybe I should check my sugar? “In the good old days?”

  “Maybe.” Jason shook his head. “My memories of those centuries aren’t as clear—too many years have passed from host to host. But there were no borders. And the Phantasm worked in tandem with the Seraphim.”

  “The angels?”

  The look he gave me was soooo condescending. Oh. I hate that look. It was bad enough when TC did it. It was just intolerable for someone with Jason’s face to do it. “No, and yes. Much about the Seraphim is a misconception. Misinterpreted. Creatures like the Seraphim aren’t a grouping of angels—as literature would have you believe—but the culmination of eternity wrapped up into a single entity. Many as one.”

  What was that emoticon that meant complete incomprehension? Oh yeah.

  O.o

  ’Cause that was the look I gave him.

  And to his credit, he didn’t look impatient. He looked more determined. “Okay, take the Phantasm. The term itself has a plural connotation to it. Phantasms in lore have sometimes been labeled into a swarm or a group. Same as the Seraphim. But in truth, it’s really just a title.”

  A title. “You mean like president or Speaker of the House. The position remains the same but different personalities inhabit it.”

  He grinned. “Yes. There have only been to my knowledge—or to Mephistopheles’ memory—two Phantasms. The one that created the First Borns. A war happened—not unlike the most recent Bulwark—and the present Phantasm took control.”

  “What happened to the first Phantasm?” I was still waiting on the explanation of TC being a First Born, but I still wanted a bit more history. More than the Dioscuri notes could give me.

  “That creature—” He hesitated, and his eyes took on that whole MEGO look. I knew it wasn’t becau
se I was boring him but because he was obviously talking to Mephistopheles. Wow . . . I wondered what it was like to constantly have some sort of presence in one’s head. I didn’t wonder for long, as I was immediately reminded of my overshadowing people, with my voice in their heads. Ick. “That creature isn’t with us any longer.”

  “The new Phantasm kill him?”

  “No—” He shook his head and refocused on me. “I can’t really say. Even Mephistopheles isn’t sure what happened. They only knew the moment their creator was no longer in power, and they had become a hunted group.” He gave a short sigh. “But do you understand the concept of the Seraphim?”

  “Yes,” I lied. I wanted to get on with the story.

  “Sure. As I said—both planes worked together. Not always in harmony. The Phantasm created his first brood to go into the planes and experience life. Primarily physical existence.”

  “Now,” I interrupted, “my understanding is that the Phantasm can’t actually touch or influence this plane.”

  “Right.” Jason nodded. “Neither can the Seraphim. Their very being isn’t able to connect to this plane. If they ever tried—the worlds as we know them would cease. And so would they.”

  “Wait.” I held up a hand. “Can we back up with the cease? You mean like—end. Poof?”

  “Yes. Poof. Which is why they both made their soldiers, their scouts, extensions of themselves through which to experience things.”

  “The Seraphim too? It makes Symbionts?”

  Jason nodded slowly. “Yes.”

  Jason checked his watch. A Rolex, I noticed. He patted my thigh. “I’ll be right back. Rhonda was making you a snack.” He stood and left the room.

  I was feeling . . . punched in the stomach. My head was a jumble of things, from the scene in the morgue with Jason and Mialani and TC, the dream with Alice about Dags, and now trying to understand that somehow TC was a—First Born?

  I heard the tray before Rhonda came into the room with Mom in tow. Rhonda wore a pinched expression, which only complemented her black tee shirt and cargo shorts. She wasn’t wearing her usual black lipstick or black nails, and her skin looked even paler than when she wore makeup on it.