Revenant

by Phaedra Weldon

  Mom—well, Mom was Mom. She wore a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, though the shirt was pretty much stretched to its limit over her breasts. I watched her come in, then, “Hey—that’s my tee shirt!”

  She only waved at me as she came around the right side of the bed, a thermometer in her hand. I pointed at it. “I don’t need that.”

  “Yes, you do.” She pressed the button and heard the beep. She leaned over me. “You can open wide, or I can use this one the way I did when you were a baby.”

  Oh, I opened wide. And while I lay there with a stick under my tongue, Rhonda set a tray of Mom’s goodies at the foot of the bed. I recognized her lemon cake, salmon and salad, soft yeast rolls, a fruit salad of strawberries, pineapple, and blueberries, and a carafe of what I figured was tea.

  I was wondering who the feast was for until my stomach betrayed me with a vengeance. Rhonda grinned at me. “I see your stomach is better.”

  Nodding, I sat up. The room didn’t tilt on me the way it had, and the stick beeped. Mom pulled it out in time for me to grab up the roll and bite into it.

  “You’re still at a hundred,” she said.

  I pointed to the carafe and looked at Rhonda, the question in my eyes, did my mom make that?

  ’Cause she was notorious for her really nasty tea concoctions. Rhonda glanced over at Nona, who was pressing buttons on the thermometer, and gave me the head shake. No, Mom didn’t make the tea. Yay! So I poured myself a small mugful and sprinkled in some Stevia.

  Jason came back in, a mug in his hand. I frowned. Revenants eat?

  Ah, no, we do not eat, came Mephistopheles’ voice in my head. But our hosts must for at least the first two centuries. Jason is still young and has an enjoyment with beef. There was a pause and a chuckle. As do I.

  Somehow that was just wrong. But I wasn’t going to figure it out just yet.

  He looked at Nona. “Good?”

  “Well, good for what we started with Wednesday.”

  Wednesday. I looked at Jason and Rhonda. “What day is it?” Oh God, please no. Tell me I didn’t lose days again?

  “Saturday,” Rhonda said. “It’s about seven thirty in the evening.”

  Shit!

  I set the mug down, my appetite vanishing. “What the hell happened?”

  Mom and Rhonda crossed their hands on their chests in unison. Now I know the two of them shared Rhonda’s body for a while, after Mom’s soul escaped from TC, but this whole thing with them doing similar movements and saying similar things—CREEPY. “Apparently you did release Mialani’s soul,” Rhonda said. “But it had a real blowback effect on you. Usually you get more powerful—that whole euphoric thing you loved to tell me about.”

  Well, that worked with what Jason had said. “So I got sick.”

  “You got deathly ill,” Mom said, and sat on the bed beside me. “I think I’d gotten used to you being so strong as a Wraith, that nothing could hurt you.”

  “I’m not sure I want to do that again anytime soon,” I said, and realized then that I hadn’t gotten the end of the story from Jason. Crap. I looked at him. “You gonna finish?”

  Jason had been sipping his—coffee? “Oh. Yes. Sorry. Ah.” He set the mug down on my nightstand and put his hands together. “To bring you up to speed—after the usurping Phantasm took control, he sent his armies of creatures out to hunt and destroy the First Borns. All but a handful survived those first centuries, until they learned how to merge with human souls.”

  I’d heard most of this before from TC, but it felt like Jason was being a little more Revenant-friendly with his retelling. “The Phantasm somehow gained the knowledge of spell casting, Seraphim-style—and created a spell that destroys or obliterates Revenants. It managed to dwindle down the ranks to a rumored twenty or so Revenants before the spell was stolen.”

  I nodded. “TC told me about the spell being stolen. And so the Phantasm stopped hunting?”

  “Well.” Jason shrugged. “There didn’t seem to be a purpose any longer. When First Borns go Revenant, their power is diminished as they grow closer to the physical plane. The Phantasm turned its attention to that last offspring. The Last First Born, who fell under the Phantasm’s spell, became his right hand. His Metatron, as you might believe.”

  I looked at each of them. No news there for them. “So TC is that Symbiont.”

  “It explains his being stronger,” Rhonda said. “Different than the rest. I mean . . . in all this time of your traveling around OOB . . . it can’t be that you’ve never encountered one before and nothing happened. With it either in body or out of a body.”

  I had to agree. “So this Phantasm now has had TC with him all this time, knowing he could be a threat.”

  “TC—” Jason smiled. “What you call him?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “When I first saw him, he was like Vin Diesel in a trench coat. So I just referred to him as Trench Coat. TC.”

  “But you know he’s called the Archer—and what that means.”

  “Well, yeah.” Though I couldn’t remember where that name came from or who told me. Yikes . . . there goes my perfect recall. “He’s a rogue, a betrayer.”

  “And who do you think gave him that name?”

  I blinked at Jason. “Oh man . . .”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “Because he fell into the control of the Phantasm, we knew it was a voluntary control. He chose to do the Phantasm’s bidding for his own gain. He was the last, and he was the most ruthless of us all.”

  Mom looked at Jason. “Mephistopheles—if the Archer is like you, why didn’t he ever become a Revenant?”

  I wondered why Mom addressed the Symbiont and figured she could hear him too. Until I watched Jason’s face change, and I was reminded of those lucid moments downstairs, when my mother gave her wrist to him. A darkness came over his face, something alien. Something . . . wrong. And for an instant I was a little afraid of this Symbiont, of this creature that stole Jason’s natural life and drank the blood of living beings. Because to join as you see here, lessens us. We diminish little by little as the lives of our hosts bury our own memories. He is far more powerful as he is, remaining Abysmal.

  It was a voice I heard with my ears, and in my mind. I don’t know why I assumed the host controlled the symbiosis, but it became painfully clear as I watched and listened that Mephistopheles could take control of Jason anytime he wanted. Yet, he chose not to.

  “You mean by not fusing, or joining with a human soul,” Rhonda said, “he kept his power intact. But used it with the Phantasm. Willingly.”

  I shook my head at that—I’d had conversations with TC several times—and he’d alluded to waking from a deep sleep when he touched me. I suspected that for a long time he’d been in the Phantasm’s service because he was forced.

  But then, I was wrong a lot. And voicing this opinion just then, probably not a good idea.

  And then my mind started working on its own—this was where Rhonda usually chimed in—but over the past months I’d experienced so much and my own curiosity about my mother and my father . . . of what I was . . . I wanted to know.

  “Mephistopheles,” I said. “How does the fusion happen?”

  Jason/Mephistopheles laughed softly. Ah, you are seeing the greater picture. You understand now why he was able to heal you in the morgue, why he did not want you to release Mialani.

  Oh hell yeah, I got it. I got it big-time.

  Mom held out her hand. “What is it?”

  “TC kept himself free of joining with a human host for centuries,” I said as I watched Jason’s face. “But”—I looked at Mom, then Rhonda—“when he touched me—”

  Rhonda hissed.

  Mom put a hand to her mouth.

  “Why didn’t we see this before?” Rhonda said.

  “Because we didn’t understand the Dioscuri notes,” Mom chimed in. “Is this true? Mephistopheles—is Zoë his host?”

  “No.”

  I looked at Jason. That was his voice and not the Symbiont’s.
“No?”

  He shook his head. “The Archer has joined with you, but it’s not a complete fusion. It’s more of a connection. But one he desires, and one he fears. His link to you is a true symbiosis, not a parasitism. You both draw from each other, but you also give each other strength. Whereas our merging engages the human and diminishes the First Born.”

  “But that doesn’t make any sense. Why haven’t all of you become like Zoë?” Rhonda said. “When he touched Zoë, she became a Wraith. A new creature. When the Symbionts joined with the others—”

  “Humans,” Jason said. “Just plain humans. Creates us.”

  “And when he touched my child,” Mom said. “Who isn’t human—”

  “But an Irin,” Rhonda said, and lowered her shoulders. “Something different happened.”

  Jason nodded. “If he’d joined with a normal human, he would have been like us. And the Phantasm would not fear his power. But because his touch created a Wraith”—he smiled—“he fears you most of all.”

  I felt as if I’d been kicked in the stomach—again—though I did like knowing more about TC. And don’t think I wasn’t gonna ask him about this when I saw him again.

  Which brought up: “Mom”—I looked at her, then glanced at Jason—“you and I need to talk.”

  I thought—for a second—Nona Martinique was going to do some sort of dodge like she always did when she didn’t want to talk about something. But Joe took that moment to come into the bedroom holding up his phone, his expression hard. Rhonda took the phone at the same time I heard his voice.

  There’s another body.

  “There’s another body,” Rhonda echoed.

  Jason was on his feet within seconds, his eyes wide, his hands out to his side. It looked as if he’d been slapped, hard. Mom was beside him, taking an arm. “Jason?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair and looked at Mom, then at me. “Oh God,” he said. “It’s a Revenant.”

  13

  I wasn’t all that and a bag of chips when we left Mom’s house at about eight thirty or so—me, Joe, Jason, Rhonda, and Tim piled into Jason’s Lincoln, with him at the wheel. Mom insisted on staying home in case we needed her. But I sort of got the feeling Jason had confused her on some deep emotional level, and Nick volunteered to stay with her. And to be honest, I was still confused as well. And I really wanted to get one of them alone long enough to get the details.

  Which seems kinda Jerry Springer when I think about it now.

  My mom and a Revenant.

  Ew.

  We traveled in Jason’s Cadillac, with him at the wheel. Joe sat in the front, and Rhonda and I were in the back.

  I looked at Rhonda, and said in a low voice, “Dags is working for you, right?”

  She glanced at me. “Yeah.”

  “He talk to you? About things? Like him and the girls? Maureen and Alice?”

  “Yeah . . . sometimes. Though I usually just talk to them my - self.” She frowned. “What is it? You’re not all freaked-out because of it, are you?”

  I shook my head. “No. But do me a favor—find out if he’s dreaming.”

  Her expression was priceless, a mixture of WTF and HUH? “Dreaming? I just ask him that?”

  “Yeah. Ask him if he’s dreaming. Or if he’s sleeping. When you talk to him again.”

  Rhonda nodded. “Okay. But why?”

  “I dreamed about Alice,” I said as I looked at Rhonda’s eyes. “She said Dags wasn’t dreaming.”

  “Oh, Zoë.” She grinned, and her tone sounded like Mom’s did sometimes, when she was about to shake her head at me and go “tsk-tsk” because I had said something stupid. “You dreamed about Alice? You know how whacked out your dreams are. It was probably nothing. Of course he’s dreaming. We all dream.”

  “I didn’t have a whacked-out dream.” I gritted my teeth at her, and I guess something went wrong with my eyes because hers widened. I could feel that bit of the wild inside of me, and I backed off. “Look—I think it was the real thing. You want proof.” I twisted in the seat because honestly, if I paid attention anymore to Jason’s crazy driving, I was gonna puke. Man, no wonder Nick did most of the driving.

  I vote Nick back on the island.

  Rhonda was waiting.

  I pointed at her. “You sent him off to California to find another Grimoire, but not as powerful as the one inside him.”

  Her expression? Golden. After her eyes bugged back in her head, she leaned in to me. “How did you find out? Did you go OOB and spy on me?”

  Go OOB and spy . . . why hell! Why didn’t I think of that?

  Shit.

  Evidently my expression was enough to convince her that wasn’t what I’d done. “You trying to tell me it was the dream? Alice told you this?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  She looked away, then back. “Did he get it?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Is that a test?

  “What do you mean? If Alice told you where he was, did she say whether or not he got it?”

  I stopped then—a little confused. “Didn’t he?”

  She put her hands up. “That’s the problem. We don’t know. Last I heard from him concerning this new Grimoire was Wednesday. Then he vanished for a few days before he called and said he was in town. But when I asked him about the Grimoire, he avoided the question.”

  But . . . didn’t Alice say he found the book? So . . . why hadn’t he told Rhonda this? Unless . . . he was in trouble. Something was wrong. But that didn’t fit either. If he was in trouble, then wouldn’t Alice have been more specific?

  Oh . . . this is already turning out to be one hell of a week. Starting out like it always did, with a bunch of crap that makes no sense. But eventually, it’d all come together.

  Or not.

  It was just before nine when we arrived. The morgue parking lot was empty except for the Bentley outside and Mastiff’s car. Jason didn’t bother parking and simply stopped the car at the curb so we could all pile out. Once again, we were through the doors and into the back area of the morgue. This time I remembered to take Tim’s rock, so he was a half-visible presence moving around the place like a six-year-old in a fun house. Yep, doesn’t get out much, does he?

  Lex was in a rage—and I knew this because her skin was flushed. No, this Revenant of an indeterminable age wasn’t pale at all. Her eyes glowed red from deep inside, and I knew then that the Symbiont—First Born—dwelling in there was pissed. Off.

  A male body lay on the table this time. He looked to be Jason’s age. Blond, well maintained—even though the age of the body was up for question. His face was ruggedly handsome. He would fit well on a beach anywhere in the world—except for the fact that every inch of his flesh was carved up with symbols, and he was obviously drained of blood.

  Help . . . me . . .

  The call was deafening and rattled in my brain. I put my hands to my head and crumpled down on my knees. Sonofabitch that hurt. It was so different than Mialani’s cry for help. Like comparing the pad of a cat’s foot on the roof with an elephant’s stomp. Jason was beside me, as was Joe, both of them pulling me back on my feet.

  What gives? Can’t a girl crouch if she wants to?

  Help . . . me . . . please . . . pain . . .

  “AAHHHHHH!” someone yelled out.

  Oh wait. That was me!

  “Zoë.” Jason’s voice was in my left ear, and I could hear Mephistopheles’ echo inside of it. You can hear him . . . you know what you have to do.

  Do?

  Is he kidding?

  I pulled away from him and shook my head. “Not just no but hell no!” I shouted, lowering my arms. “I released a ghoul’s soul and lost almost three days. You tell me I took in Mialani’s damnation, but you don’t explain it to me. And now you want me to release him?” I pointed at the body where Lex was lurking.

  “If you don’t,” Jason was saying, “they’ll both be trapped in the rotting corpse.”

  “And?” I pointed to my chest. “What abou
t me? You didn’t hear me—I lost three days. What will I lose if I do this? A month? This isn’t a ghoul. This is a Revenant. No fucking way. You say they’ll remain in the rotting corpse. What then? Bodies turn to dust. Can’t they just get out once that happens? I mean, no vessel, no trap, right?” Made sense to me.

  “Points in the planes where such a diminishing occurs become traps themselves. The two of them will remain locked where the body is interred, or burned. Forever stuck in limbo in that spot,” Lex said from where she stood. “It will truly be death for a First Born. You can’t let this happen.”

  I sort of compared it to Tim and Steve, being forever trapped inside of their house. I mean, what happened if someone tore down the house? Would they just stay there?

  “Never thought about that,” Tim said from the corner. “Not sure I want to.”

  Zoë, Joe said in my head. Before, Lex said that the ritual obliterates First Borns. Does she mean this ritual is right? That someone got the rest of it?

  I relayed his question, and Lex shook her head. “No. If it had worked, then the soul and First Born would not have remained. There would be nothing left. Much like the Horror and the way it eats souls.”

  Wow. It seemed to me this way, being stuck in a rotting corpse or the same area of space and time for eternity, was a worse punishment than obliteration. “So basically they still don’t have it right. They don’t have the full spell.”

  “No,” Lex said. “But they’re getting close.” She glided along the floor to me. “You can hear him. You can speak to him.”

  Him? “You mean him the soul or him the Revenant?”

  “Aether.” She looked at me with wide, red-fire eyes. “The First Born. He is the first of us to merge with a human soul to create a Revenant. He is the primordial essence of how we became what we are. If you can speak with him—”

  Joe snapped his fingers. Zoë, if you can talk to him, maybe you can find out who did this to him. He had to have seen who or what.

  “You want me to do what?” I looked past Lex to Joe. “Look, right now, whoever’s voice I’m hearing isn’t doing anything except screaming out. I’m not sure I can actually carry on a conversation.” I was also remembering the pain I’d felt when I’d touched the ghoul’s body with my OOB self. Uh, no thank you.