Revenant

by Phaedra Weldon

  Boy was I wrong. I’d barely got us to the ground when parts of my body began to burn. I looked down to see slashes again, just as Lex had made before. Blood flowed out as I put myself in front of Rhonda, our initial position protecting her from the largest of the attacks, but I could see deep gashes tearing at her jeans.

  “Zoë!”

  I turned to see Jason back on his feet. He was motioning me to move. “Get Rhonda and Dags out of here!”

  Rhonda was easy, she was behind me. But Dags had engaged the guy. I could see the air almost waver every time he sent a slash at Dags, but the Guardian was blocking them with the light of his palms.

  I turned to Rhonda. “You run! Call Mom! I’ll get Dags!”

  She nodded and didn’t argue. Yay. Then I moved a few inches from the ground and barreled into the dude in black, tackling him and sending both of us into the side of the house, putting a dent in the wall where the botanica’s books were. The impact wasn’t as painful as I thought it’d be.

  What I hadn’t expected, though, was the speed with which the guy recovered. He was up and back on his feet, a gun in his hand.

  And he fired it at Jason.

  The Revenant went down.

  Then Robe Guy turned it on Dags.

  “NO!” I bellowed, and moved in front of Dags. Robe Guy fired several times at me, and I felt the strikes like pins and needles in my flesh. But I’d had it. I opened my mouth and SCREAMED—

  18

  THE power of my scream wasn’t lost on the Revenant. He vanished in a whirlwind of dirt, debris, and old copies of newspapers Mom had stacked on the back porch. When I ran out of breath, I turned to Jason and knelt beside him. Three large, bloodied holes decorated his shirt, and he lay on his back panting. The body that was Jason Lawrence was shaking.

  Rhonda moved to the other side, and Dags joined her a few seconds later, moving a little slower than usual.

  “We need to call—”

  I looked at her. “Call who? Nine-one-one? I don’t think so, unless they know how to treat vampires.” No, calling anyone was a bad idea. Unless it was Mom.

  Mom!

  I held out my palm. “Give me your phone.”

  She did as she started pulling Jason’s shirt away from him, exposing the bullet holes. I pressed Mom’s speed dial, but Jason’s hand grabbed at my wrist.

  I looked down at him. “No need . . .” And he smiled. He was shaking. But he was also smiling.

  I closed Rhonda’s phone. “You mean to tell me you can withstand bullets but not a stake?”

  Rhonda sighed with relief as the bullets started pushing out with sickening squishy noises. I was reminded of the bullets falling from Daniel’s body when the Horror possessed him. The pinging noises as they hit the floor. “I guess bullets aren’t as effective?”

  Jason finally sat up with a little help and nodded. “They hurt like a stone bitch—but Inanna didn’t want to kill me. She just wanted to stop me to go after her real target.” He shook his head. “Or I should say he. Looks like she managed a male this time.”

  “Real target?” Dags asked.

  Jason finally stood with a groan. I did as well and felt my body shift back to human. Dags remained on the ground, looking up. “The real target is you. I told you I could sense the book, and I’m sure most everyone else can too. He probably thought you had it in your possession—not that you were possessed by it.”

  I held up my hands, looking at the slashes along my arms, legs, and forearms. They weren’t as deep as Lex’s. Just surface cuts that would cause agony if covered in salt. I noticed Rhonda’s were the same. Sliced clothing, but the wounds beneath weren’t dangerous. I thought about the guy in the robes. I’d seen that type of robe before. “Uh, Rhonda, did that robe look—”

  “Familiar?” She was dusting herself off and examining a long slice on her upper left thigh. “Yeah. Those were ceremonial robes. A lot like the ones Bonville’s followers used.” Rhonda looked at Dags. “It looks like there are still neophytes out there, Dags. And they’re still wanting that damn book.”

  The look on Dags’s face caught my attention. He was pale— too pale. I knelt beside him and put my hand on his arm. He started to pull away, and I pulled him closer. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

  His gray eyes focused on mine. “I think—” He blinked a few times. “I think I got hit.”

  “What?”

  I helped him lie back on the ground and moved his shirt away. And there, beside the book, was a hole. Blood had pooled from it, but not a great amount. Phock!

  “Oh shit.” Rhonda moved in, her hands glowing green again. She closed her eyes as she held her hands over the wound and the protruding book. Dags made an odd sound and closed his eyes. I pushed at his shoulder, but he didn’t stir. I looked at Rhonda. “What did you do?”

  She opened her eyes, and her hands stopped glowing. “We need to get him inside. I tried to remove the bullet—but I think I failed.”

  “Son of a—”

  “Just shut up and get him inside!”

  Wow, it’d been a while since I’d seen Rhonda this take-charge. Still in Wraith form, I put my right arm under Dags’s shoulders and my left under his knees, my wings flapping slightly to balance the weight.

  “Zoë, let me get him,” Jason said as he came closer.

  I nearly growled at him. “I’ve got him,” and with ease I lifted him, moving quickly to the door. My heart thundered hard in my chest, and I remembered the helplessness I’d felt a month ago when he’d been in ICU. And I’d been unable to do anything for him.

  I turned sideways to get him through the splinters and spires of broken wood. Mom’s stained-glass window lay in a tangled mess on the first porch step.

  Wow, she was gonna be pissed when she saw that door.

  “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO MY DOOR?”

  I winced. She was going to blame me. That much I could see coming. I could be in a different state, and the woman would blame me for everything.

  We were upstairs in my room when she and Jemmy came in. Rhonda had called her and told her what’d happened, and she and Jemmy had made record time coming back from the herb man’s house. Though why buy herbs this time of night? I decided it really wasn’t a good idea to ask.

  The minute they saw Dags—and Mom got a load of the book sticking out of his chest—the two of them grabbed Rhonda and went into a powwow in the other room. I pulled a chair up next to my bed and watched Dags breathe. He was stable but unconscious. Rhonda had been a basket case with a purpose since getting him inside.

  I’d thought nothing of undressing him, wanting to see more of him. Rhonda seemed a little nervous and bolted from the room when I removed his pants. What? He’s wearing boxers!

  Uh . . . no. He wasn’t. Wow . . . I didn’t know Dags went commando.

  I got him under the cover and downshifted into just me. In this form—me—my eyesight wasn’t as defined or shaped to the things that lurked in the shadows, but was still aware of them. And they of me. As Wraith, I could see the book burning bright in his chest. But I noticed as me—

  I saw something—it just wasn’t a defined book. It looked more like—

  Well—like when a TV network pixels out a brand logo sometimes.

  I blinked and put my hand on the area. My hand looked fine, but the skin beneath it was just blurry—except for the bullet wound, which was trickling blood—no book. Nada. Shifting back to Wraith, there it was. Downshift, blurry.

  What the hell?

  “You’re going to get dizzy doing that,” Jason said as he came in with a pan of hot water and clean towels. He had a pack of sterile gauze tucked under his arm and tape carried on a finger. “You can’t see the book as a human—I mean you should see something.”

  “Why is this?” I took the pan from him and set it on the nightstand. Headless Mary was watchin’ me. “I mean, before when I would OOB, I could still see things when I was back in my body.”

  “I don’t know the rules when it com
es to how your perception works,” he said. “I just know that when I am not a part of another’s soul, my own perceptions shift and change. Like this.” He set the rest of the stuff on the bed. “I’m locked into what Jason perceives. Looking through the eyes of a human in the physical plane. Maybe your own perception has moved with your change.”

  The way he was taking about Jason, I thought I was speaking to Mephistopheles. I watched his movements—patient and deliberate. There was no hesitation as he opened the gauze, neatly folding each piece before he set it upon one of the clean towels. This wasn’t the first time I’d noticed his elegance, and I wondered at that moment if the dance of this seemingly mundane action reflected Mephistopheles’ centuries as a human? Living day to day in a human body.

  I shifted again, so I could see the book. And I found if I looked harder, I could kinda see where it entered his skin and ended, and then, “Jason, I think I can see the other book.”

  “You can?” He moved from the opposite side of the bed and came to stand to my right. “You can see the Grimoire?”

  I narrowed my eyes as I focused on it. It was like refocusing Dags’s body in Photoshop, making it transparent. And there at the center of everything was a large, tattered-looking book. He literally had a book in his—“Wait. This is the astral body I’m looking at. This book is connected to his”—I looked up at Jason—“his soul.”

  The Revenant nodded. “Of course. Where did you think it was?”

  “I guess I hadn’t thought about it,” I said. “I mean—I’ve seen the Veil that Rhonda uses where she puts things around her to hide them. I guess I sort of thought this was the same thing.”

  “No.” Jason shook his head, and this time I could hear the First Born clearly in my head. “My understanding—from what Rhonda told me—was that Darren was dying. Rodriguez had stripped him of his will to live—damaged his heart so badly he wasn’t going to survive. His Familiars were too weak to heal him. So she used a very old spell, one she’d found in the Grimoire itself, and fused his heart, and soul, to the power of the book.”

  “But”—I looked down at him again—“it looks as if this new book has, in a way, fused itself to the old one.”

  “Oh?” He narrowed his eyes. “Interesting.”

  “Interesting?” I blinked at him. “Jason . . . Mephisto . . . whoever you are . . . what exactly is happening? I mean what happens if they do fuse?”

  “Why don’t you look inside and find out?”

  Jason and I straightened and turned together. TC stood in front of one of the windows, his front shadowed from the light filtering in from the streetlamp. Jason immediately moved around me and approached TC. “Archer.”

  “Hello, Mephisto. I see you survived the rowan?”

  Well, I guess Dags was right—he’d given TC back his own voice. It was deep and nicely melodic.

  “How dare you attack me.”

  I noticed Jason’s voice was no longer his own. In fact, I wasn’t sure if Jason Lawrence was at home at all.

  TC took a step forward, not even the least bit afraid. “How dare you put the Wraith in danger like that. You knew what could happen if she released a ghoul, and yet you and that damned bitch pushed her to do it. You need to learn truth, you old ass. Something you Revenants discard like old shoes.”

  I frowned. I was missing something here. Something important. And though I wanted to know more—hell, add this to the list of things I want answers to—it really wasn’t the time. “Jason . . . Mephistopheles . . . not now, okay? TC, what did you mean look inside?”

  TC glared at Jason as he pushed the Revenant aside and stood by me. “You still retain the ability to overshadow, as you did with Mialani and Aether’s host. Take a look inside and remove the bullet. You can do it better than that witch.”

  I looked at Dags. He was breathing shallow. And—it made sense. I waited for a protest from Mephistopheles, but none came. He’d turned and was watching me. Taking in a deep breath, I moved my hand toward Dags’s chest, just to the right of the protruding book, and pushed in. To my amazement, my hand did go through Dags’s flesh, and into his chest. I closed my eyes and looked inside as well, using my hand as my eyes.

  Amazing . . . it was like having a tiny camera attached to my fingers. Okay . . . that image was gross. It wasn’t that I saw organs and blood and bone, but more of the ebb and flow of his aura as it moved throughout his body. Most of the colors for him were dark blue and purple. But in the center, below his rib cage, there was a concentration of red and yellow. Angry colors.

  I could see the book—the original Grimoire—and the smaller book was somehow pushed into its side. As I moved closer I realized—the bullet was in the Grimoire. Somehow, an astral item had stopped a physical intrusion.

  Is this possible?

  In order to get the bullet, I was going to have to open the book. To open the book, I was going to have to remove the smaller one. Before I could do anything, I felt a coldness along my spine and realized I was no longer alone.

  TC was inside.

  What are you doing? I asked him.

  Watching you. Why are you hesitating?

  Because I don’t want to hurt him.

  Awww. TC’s voice was more than a little sour. Is the big bad Wraithy afraid she’ll hurt her wuver?

  Fuck off, and I shouldered him away as best as I could in the astral state.

  No chance, baby. I don’t give a shit about this asshole. He bit the tip of my finger off.

  That he did—when TC had tried to kill him by suffocation. I’d wondered why TC had started wearing gloves. Evidently what happens in the astral doesn’t stay in the astral. He also gave you back your voice.

  Oh . . . is that what happened? Okay. I owe him one.

  Geez.

  Hrm . . . looks like you’ll have to remove the small book to get to the larger one.

  Well, duh. I moved my hand slowly, watching Dags’s reaction both in his physical being and his astral. He flinched once or twice, and when he moaned, I stopped again. Waiting, I slowly gripped the spine of the smaller book and got one freak’n hell of an electric shock. When I jerked my hand back, the book came with it, out of the astral and back into the plane of the physical.

  I sat on the bed, staring at the book as my body shifted from Wraith to human. It looked less like a Grimoire of some kind and more like someone’s journal. Like Jules Verne or someone like him. It was maybe five inches by eight and a half, hand-tooled leather, and hand-stitched in the binding. A leather thong held the book together.

  “Let me see that,” Jason said as he moved forward.

  But before either of us could react, TC grabbed the book from my hands—

  And was gone.

  That simple.

  “Shit!” I said, getting to my feet.

  “Shit what?” Mom asked as she, Jemmy, and Rhonda came through the door. They were each carrying handfuls of stuff, all wrapped in blankets. They looked like the Three Wise Men bearing gifts.

  Nothing could have prepared me for the look of pure incredulousness on their faces when they looked at Dags—with no book sticking out of his chest. Mom dropped her bundle. Jemmy crossed herself.

  “Shit!” Rhonda said.

  I pointed to Rhonda. “See?”

  19

  JUST as Mom was about to lay into me, two flashes of light appeared to my left. Alice and Maureen materialized, both dressed in their full Familiar regalia (which was basically Valkyrie anime strategic armor). Alice’s light was white, Maureen’s a deep red. Alice crouched and looked at me. I smiled and waved.

  She then turned to see Dags on the bed and hissed. Immediately, the two of them shifted costumes, swords gone, and moved in to put their hands on their Guardian.

  I somehow got the impression I’d popped a cork.

  “Where is the book?” Mom said as she came forward and yanked me out of the way. Rhonda did a similar movement with Jason, who looked as if his entire attention was taken up by what the two women were doin
g.

  I swallowed. “I took it out.”

  “How did you do that?” Rhonda hissed.

  “I just reached in and grabbed it.” I sighed. “The bullet is in the Grimoire, and I needed to remove the book to open the Grimoire to—”

  “NO!”

  GAH . . . ! If there was one thing Rhonda Orly had, it was lungs of steel. I put my hands to my head and whirled on her. Her eyes were bright and her complexion pale. “WHAT. THE. HELL?”

  “Please tell me you didn’t open the book?”

  I frowned, keeping my hands protectively over my ears. “What book?”

  “The Grimoire?”

  “No, I never got that far.”

  Mom whirled me around to her. “Did you open the small book?”

  “No. I didn’t open any book. I just pulled it out, and TC took it. He snatched it—”

  “WHAT!”

  GAH . . . ! Stop that! Both of them yelled that time, and I moved away to stand beside Jemmy and Jason, where it was less noisy. “What is with you two?”

  “How did TC get in here and get the book?” Rhonda said.

  “I have this place warded,” Mom said.

  “Yeah, well, they don’t work. He found a way in,” I muttered. “And he took it.”

  Both women were quiet for a while as Jemmy handed me her bundle and moved to where Dags lay, his body enveloped in a soft golden light. The girls were leaning over him, their eyes closed in concentration. I just hoped Jemmy didn’t bother them.

  “You just stuck your hand inside him?” Rhonda was apparently stuck on that part.

  “Yes, just like I stuck my hand in Mialani and in Aether’s host. Now what is the big deal?”

  “Zoetrope—”

  God, I hated it when she said that.

  “You are not to stick your hands into anyone else, do I make myself clear?”

  “Wraith!” Alice called out.

  I closed the distance between us. “What is it?”

  “I’ve laid the book open just enough to remove the bullet—but I need you to reach inside and take it. Only you can do this.”