The Mephisto Kiss (The Redemption Of Kyros)

by Trinity Faegen

  Thinking of the possibility turned her blood cold. No wonder Key had been so determined not to leave her.

  Deacon turned and said to a spot somewhere over her shoulder, “You could be held captive and coerced into bearing his sons, but this will never come to pass because you are strong.” His eyes met hers, and the look he gave her was so intense, it was all she could do not to look away. “The truest test of strength is sacrifice. For mankind and God, you’ve tainted the purity of your soul with the darkness of Mephisto.”

  “He was dying, Deacon. I did it only to save him from death.”

  “You knew what it would cost you. No matter what befalls you in the future, you won’t be subjugated. I tell you this to relieve your fear.” He looked away then and disappeared.

  Mathilda petted her hair. “He’s an odd one, child, but sincere, and he’s taken to ye, which is novel. Deacon thinks he’s above everyone, always judgmental and lecturing.” Turning away, she said, “Come along, and I’ll show you to the TV room.”

  Jordan followed her to a corridor that led off of the great hall, across from the dining room. Several doors down, she stopped. “Here we are. Everyone’s asleep now, so ye’re on your own with all the controls and such. I don’t much care for TV, except to watch a movie now and then, so I’m no help to ye.”

  Moving into the room, Jordan said, “I’m sure I can figure it out. Thank you, Mathilda.”

  The housekeeper smiled as she left.

  The TV room was black and white, with several black leather couches, a couple of deep, comfy-looking chairs, thick white carpet, and a bar that stretched across the back of the room. There was a popcorn maker, just like at the movies, fountain sodas, and baskets full of boxed candy.

  She spied a tray of remotes on the low coffee table and fished around until she found one she thought would work. It didn’t. She tried another and another, until she’d gone through all of them. Frustrated, she sat back, only to realize she was sitting on a remote. That one worked.

  Steeling herself, she went straight to CNN. It was pretty much just what she had expected, with political pundits talking about Red Out, and the economic crisis that had brought on such a desperate move as kidnapping and murdering the president’s daughter. They mentioned Ron Trent’s death from a massive coronary, which confused her. Hadn’t Eryx said Mr. Trent was taken to Hell on Earth? How could he be dead?

  The pundits discussed a White House leak about how the president and his chief of staff had lately begun to disagree. They didn’t suggest Mr. Trent had anything to do with her abduction, but his death added another element of drama they clearly savored. Jerks. She’d grown to despise reporters, pundits, and everyone else on the news.

  While they blabbed on, the screen was filled with images of the White House, legions of people standing along the fence on Pennsylvania Avenue holding candles, flowers, and flags. The crawl at the bottom said President Ellis was set to give a speech at nine a.m. EST, but nothing was said about him personally. He was undoubtedly in the residence, pacing the living room like he always did when things got to be too much. Over the past six months, he’d nearly worn out the rug.

  She tried to shove thoughts of her dad and his grief from her mind, but it wasn’t possible, especially when the screen went to a still shot of the two of them in the Oval Office, not long after Mom died, him working at his desk and her doing homework on the floor. Their last words to each other had been angry ones, and she regretted them with all her heart.

  “It’s not a good idea to watch,” Key said from the doorway.

  Looking toward him, she saw he was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt from the American Indian Museum. His hair was pulled back, and his color had returned. “How’re you feeling?” she asked.

  “Good as new.” He came in and closed the door, then moved to the other end of the sofa and sat down, resting his bare feet on the coffee table. “How about you?”

  The scent of evergreens wrapped around her, a reminder of who he was and what fate had in mind for her. “Better since I slept and ate.” She returned focus to the TV. Now that they’d discussed their health, would he strike up a convo about the weather? Could this be any more awkward? At least he didn’t mention the kiss. She’d slide into the sofa cushions if he did.

  “Why did you run, Jordan?”

  Oh, boy. He was going to mention it. “I just needed to be alone for a while.” Kind of like now. As much as she didn’t want to talk about kissing him, she wanted to watch every image, hear every bit of what was happening. The screen went to an aerial view of the Red Out compound in central Texas.

  Suddenly, the picture went dark. She looked down at the remote in her hand and pressed the power button. As soon as it came back on, it went dark again. Jerking her attention to Key, she frowned. “You’re doing that, aren’t you?”

  He nodded. “It’s making you cry.”

  “Maybe I need to cry.”

  “Why would anyone need to cry?”

  She looked away from him. “Don’t you ever cry?”

  “No, because it changes nothing. Better to move on and do what has to be done.”

  “Is this your not-so-subtle way of telling me to buck up?”

  “I need to discuss something with you.”

  Still holding the remote, she stared at the dark television and accepted that he was going to talk about the kiss. “Okay, so discuss.”

  “After you were abducted, we went to the White House to find Ron Trent; we knew he was a lost soul and figured he’d know where you were. We expected to find him with your father, trying to convince him to pledge the oath to Eryx, but we didn’t expect to find so many others there with him.”

  Anxiety over the kiss discussion forgotten, she turned her head to look at him, shocked. “Like who?”

  He listed ten names, and with each one she felt more sick. “That’s almost half of Dad’s cabinet, the Senate majority leader, and people on the White House staff! How is that possible? How did Eryx convince all those people to hand their souls over to him?”

  “The same way he gets anyone else to follow, with charm and empty promises. We’re certain he’ll try again with your father, and if his closest advisers are lost souls, it’ll be that much more difficult for him to resist. They’ve lied and given him bad advice, which is a big factor in why the United States is on the edge of another depression.”

  Tossing the remote to the table, she turned to face Key fully. “What do you want me to do?”

  He didn’t answer for a while, staring at her from those black eyes, as if debating how best to tell her. Finally, he said in a low, sober voice, “Sasha and my brothers want you to go back.”

  “Like I wasn’t killed?”

  “Right. They think, with you in the White House again, you can help them with the takedown plan Phoenix has dreamed up. Do you know what happens when we take out a lost soul?”

  “Eryx said you take them to Hell on Earth.”

  “The problem is, if everyone we took out just disappeared, people would panic, so our father provides us with doppelgangers. We figure out how they’re supposed to die, and the stand-in body fits the plan, to look realistic.”

  “That’s why they think Mr. Trent had a heart attack.”

  Key nodded. “But there are so many more to take down in Washington, we need a believable way for all of them to die at one time. Gatherings are always prime for takedowns of multiple people, and my brothers and Sasha want you to go back, because they think the president will have something to celebrate if you’re still alive.”

  “I don’t think Dad will throw a party, Key. He’d be more likely to take me to Camp David.”

  Surprising her, he looked relieved.

  “You don’t think I should go back, do you?”

  He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. Eryx is still a huge threat, and now that you know what’s on the other side, you’d be forced to lie and put on an act. I think there are other ways to go at this.”

/>   “Like what?”

  “We’ll take them out one by one. A heart attack here, a car wreck there.”

  “Won’t that look weird, so many D.C. big names dying that close together? And you’ve already used a heart attack on Mr. Trent.”

  He leaned his head back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. “Maybe they could all catch a virus.”

  “A virus that kills? Talk about panic. People would totally freak out.”

  “True.” He rubbed his chin, deep in thought.

  “It’s morbid, but what about planning something during the memorial? Dad’s bound to have one for me.”

  “You’re right; it is morbid, but it could work.” Turning his head to look at her, his expression was dark. “Whatever death we fake for the lost souls is going to be bad, and your dad will already be upset. This will be hard on him.”

  “It’ll be harder if those people hang around and somehow convince him to pledge to Eryx.” Most of them were friends of Dad’s, people he trusted and counted on, and he had no idea they were working against him. “I want to get them away from him as soon as possible, so even though it’s totally creepy that it’ll be at my funeral, I think it’s the best idea.”

  “Would all of them attend your memorial?”

  “I’m sure they will, as well as lots of others, which might make it more complicated. How do you take some out and leave others behind?”

  “With the exception of Skia, we can freeze people for short periods of time, so we can take away the lost souls and Skia and stage their deaths. When the freeze fades, people are confused, and assume they saw things that didn’t actually happen.”

  “I want to be there.”

  Instantly, he shook his head. “It’s too soon, Jordan. The changes in you will take a while, and you’ve had no training.”

  “It’ll be at least a week before a memorial, and I’m a fast learner.”

  “Your first takedown shouldn’t be this personal. You need detachment and no emotion to be effective.”

  “Sasha explained what it’s like for her, and she didn’t seem detached. What’s emotion got to do with it anyway? If I’m angry at these people for what they’ve done to my dad, wouldn’t that make me more motivated to take them out?”

  “You’ll want to argue with them, which is one of Sasha’s problems. There’s no time for arguing, and it’s pointless anyway. Once someone pledges, it’s a done deal and there’s no going back.”

  His refusal to let her take part in this only hardened her resolve. “Tell me what I have to do to be included, and I’ll do it.”

  He gave her a level look. “Train with Jax, every day. Learn all there is to know about us and about Eryx from Phoenix. Don’t watch the news, and don’t spend time crying or feeling sorry for yourself. Grieving is a waste of time.”

  “Have you always been a robot, or is this a result of your near-death experience?”

  “I don’t have the luxury of basing decisions on emotion. My brothers have a little more latitude, but for me … I have to be the one who remains calm and gives them stability.”

  He hadn’t been calm when he begged her not to die, not to leave him. So maybe he put this hard-ass face on to keep his brothers in line, but that’s all it was—a face. “So you think the only way to be an effective leader is to be made of stone?”

  “For the Mephisto, yes. This isn’t a team sport, Jordan. We’re all sons of Hell, and maybe we still have a little of our mother in us, but it’s not enough to change what we are.” He nodded toward the TV. “You can sit here and watch the news and make yourself depressed, but it changes nothing. All it can do is suck away your energy, and if you want to go with us on this takedown, you’re going to need all of your energy for training.”

  They sat in silence for several long moments. She thought about the people who’d pledged themselves to Eryx, people her dad trusted, who he considered friends. What would someone say to a man like Mr. McCall, the Senate majority leader, to convince him to turn his back on God? How did someone even start that conversation? Most people were fairly private about their faith and spirituality. Maybe they had a public side that went to services, bowed their heads during prayer, gave money to charity and things like that, but how they felt, deep inside, what they believed—it kind of came down to something between them and God. “Key?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why now? Why is Eryx working so hard to take over the U.S. government now? Why didn’t he try it years ago?”

  “He did.”

  She was stunned. “When? What happened?”

  “Since the beginning, when he first became … what he is, he’s tried to stack governments with his followers. His first try was in Greece, but he failed because he didn’t understand their religion. He figured out it’s easier to convince someone to follow him if he understands what they’ve been raised to believe in the first place. Later, he worked to convert the aristocracy of Russia under Catherine the Great, but we made sure he didn’t get too far there. During the American Revolution, he collected a decent percentage of the House of Commons in the British Parliament. In the American Civil War, he made a lot of conquests on the Confederate side, assuming they’d win. Of course they didn’t, and we took out every one of his followers who hadn’t already been killed in battle. We’ve always managed to screw it up for him before he gets too far, but this time …” He shook his head. “He’s never had people so high up before. He’s learned new tricks. He’s sneakier and more shrewd.”

  “I feel awful for my father. He’s had such a hard time, and things have gotten so bad with the economy. People are so angry with him, and he keeps trying to make things better, but he has no idea those people are purposely screwing things up instead of helping him.” She looked at Key. “I really, really want to be there when they get taken out.”

  “I understand, but you should know now, they won’t care. They’ll care that they’re about to die, but they won’t give a damn who’s the executioner.”

  “I care. I want to be there. Promise me I can go.”

  “Only if you’re ready, Jordan. Like I said, it’s going to take a lot of training.” He looked toward the dark TV. “It’s also absolutely necessary for you to be completely changed to Mephisto. You have to be able to do what we do.”

  “I understand.”

  Key met her gaze. “Then will you come here and let me kiss you?”

  Panic descended. “It’s too soon. Matthew … I know I can never be with him again, but we were—”

  “Time is a major factor, and you need to make the change as soon as possible.”

  “I thought I was already changing.”

  “You are, but only one kiss means the process will be very slow. If there was another way to give you what’s needed to make it happen faster, I’d do it.”

  Was that a note of hurt in his voice? She looked at his expression, which gave nothing away, but somewhere in his eyes was a hint of anxiety. No, he wasn’t nearly as unemotional as he wanted her to believe.

  And she could still hear his voice on the wind, filled with grief and desperation.

  She unfolded her legs and slid across the smooth leather until she was just next to him. For Matthew, she said, “This is just for Mephisto.”

  He nodded as he reached for her shoulders, pulled her toward him, and lowered his head to hers. There was no slow buildup. Just the meeting of their mouths. And tongues. And instant heat from deep within her body. Her mind registered a bizarre mix of pleasure and pain, an urgent impulse to get away from him and a contradictory need to get closer.

  She wasn’t exactly sure how long it was before it happened, but the reason for the kiss faded to irrelevant when they simultaneously embraced and fell against the back cushions. His skin was hot, even through the T-shirt, and the muscles in his back flexed beneath her palms. His kiss was deep and seductive, while his arms drew her so close she was practically in his lap.

  Matthew’s kisses were never like this—all-co
nsuming and confident. There was no hesitation and no awkward fumbling. Key knew exactly what he was doing, and she didn’t want to like it because it felt like yet another betrayal of Matthew, but she did. When he broke the kiss, they stayed almost nose to nose, staring at each other. “You’ve done this … before,” she whispered, her breath coming in short little gasps.

  “True.”

  “With who? The angel said the Mephisto can’t be with anyone but an Anabo.”

  “Easy girls in dark places.”

  “More than kisses, I’m guessing.”

  “Does it matter?”

  Yes. “No.”

  He kissed her again. And again. She lost track of time. “I hate you for this, Kyros.”

  “It’s what you have to do, and there’s no harm in enjoying it.”

  “How do you know I’m enjoying it?”

  “You have no reason to fake it.”

  Guilt was an evil, unfamiliar foe. Closing her eyes, she dropped her forehead to his shoulder. “I love Matthew. You won’t forget that, will you?”

  His sigh was deep. “I won’t forget.”

  She started to cry. Key didn’t ask why, or tell her to stop. While tears leaked from behind her lids and dripped onto his shoulder until it was soaked, he held her tighter and closer and never said a word.

  SEVEN

  WHILE JORDAN CRIED ON HIS SHOULDER, KEY WONDERED what it was about Matthew that she loved so much? What had he done to elicit an attachment this strong?

  After a while, she stopped crying, but he kept his arms around her and his cheek against her hair. She was so soft, and her scent of bluebells made him remember England. Maybe he’d take her there someday and show her where they’d lived in Yorkshire: the moors, the woods, and the bluebells.

  When she dropped off to sleep, he popped them upstairs to her room and laid her on the bed, where she curled into a ball and sniffled against the pillow. He fought to get Mathilda’s covers loose to spread them over her, then blew out the candles and left.

  Headed back to his rooms, he admitted Matthew’s existence made no difference to his chances. Whether the guy lived or died, he was now off-limits to her. In truth, every male on the planet other than Key was out of the running, but he faced the real possibility that he would fail even without competition. If he couldn’t figure out how to make her feel for him what she felt for Matthew, all he’d ever have of her was guilty lust.