In the southeast corner of the room, a similar scene plays out between the queen’s favorite chancellor and Denys. The man manages to land a punch to Denys’s face, but seconds later, they, too, disappear.
The third Skia is wilier, but Ty finds his hiding place beneath the musicians’ dais and drags him out, ignoring the man’s shouts and curses, never flinching when the Skia buries a dagger in his arm. As soon as they are gone, Jax, Zee and I begin carrying the lost souls to the gates. I grasp the arm of a beautiful young woman with blond hair, wide blue eyes and porcelain skin. She is Lady Georgiana Rutledge, daughter of the Earl of Longbourne, a debutante just finishing her first season in London. Rumor has it she will marry the Duke of Rothschild’s eldest son, a brilliant match that will join two of England’s oldest families.
I feel nothing but a pang of regret that one so young and lovely has traded her soul to Eryx. I wonder what she asked for, what she considered worth her soul. But I don’t give it much more than a flash of thought before I take the arm of her intended in my other hand and transport from the glittering ballroom to the barren desert of the Arabian Empty Quarter. The couple is still frozen and make no move or sound when I drop them to the sand that hides the gates to Hell on Earth. Key chants, waiting for Lucifer to open the gates and allow the Skia and lost souls to fall in.
I pop back to London to ferry two more lost souls, then two more and so on, until my brothers and I have emptied the ballroom of them. The freeze will soon fade. We hurry to transport the rest of the ball guests to the back of the townhouse, standing their statue-like bodies in and around the cook’s vegetable garden and in the mews, where they would be if they ran from a burning house. When they wake from their frozen state, they’ll be disoriented and won’t remember running from the house, but will assume they did when they see flames and smoke.
Key, Denys and Ty are almost done placing the lost souls’ doppelgangers in the ballroom. Jax is readying to set a catastrophic fire. I run to the last room with people, an anteroom where there are low settees and comfortable chaises filled with dowagers and matrons who spend time at balls sipping madeira while they gossip and reminisce. As I expected, it is filled with old ladies, all frozen, but I’m surprised to find one who isn’t old. Or frozen.
Sitting on a chair next to the fire is a mirror image of Lady Georgiana, but this girl is surrounded by soft light, almost a glow. I blink. I move toward her, forgetting about the old ladies, about the takedown, about everything in the universe but this girl. Staring at me, her hand moves to her throat. Why isn’t she frozen, like all the others? She’s ethereal, lit from within. My confusion lifts as I realize she must be Anabo, something I’ve never seen in all my nine hundred years of immortality.
I’m awed.
She doesn’t get up or make any attempt to run from me, despite her obvious fear. Her blue eyes widen as I come closer.
I catch the scent of heather and my heart races. Long ago, when we first learned about the Mephisto Covenant, our father said when an Anabo is meant for us, we will know by her scent. After centuries of waiting and hoping, I’ve found my Anabo. It seems fitting that she smells of heather.
“Hello,” I say. “What’s your name?”
“Jane,” she whispers. “I’m Lady Jane Rutledge.”
Georgiana’s twin. I face the fact that even beyond being a son of Hell, I have another huge obstacle to winning this woman.
Less than fifteen minutes ago, I killed her sister.
~~ Phoenix ~~
I was so dizzy, I didn’t move a muscle, afraid I’d hurtle down the stairs as if it were a landslide. It would be the ultimate indignity to fall in a heap at her feet.
Oh, God rhythmically repeated in my head, over and over like a squeaking wheel. I wasn’t sure who I was angrier with – Key, or God. That my brother would bring this girl to Mephisto Mountain without asking, without warning, was infuriating. But why would God make her smell like heather? Like Jane? Was this a divine joke?
We’d moved from Yorkshire to Colorado to get away from the memories, and the heather, and here it was, right in the house, making me euphoric, suicidal, and enraged all at once.
The scent filled my head and I was gripped with an extreme need to draw closer, to snatch her right off of the onyx M, to carry her away somewhere and take every stitch of her clothes off and just feel her skin. Soft. It would be so soft. It had been over one hundred years since I’d felt a woman’s skin, since I’d touched a woman’s hair, since I’d felt anything but the burn of guilt and the yawning hollow of loneliness. I didn’t even know her name. I couldn’t see her glow, but I knew she was Anabo, and I knew, against all the odds, against everything that followed the laws of karma and fate, that she was intended for me. The worst of all my brothers, the one who let my Anabo die, I had been gifted with another, while three of my brothers had none.
I hated God for making her smell of heather. I hated her for existing. I hated Kyros for his arrogance. But mostly, I hated myself for wanting her, for betraying Jane.
Jane, who was kind, beautiful and gently bred. A lady, always.
This girl was dressed in skintight black pants, cheap, worn boots with low heels, and a shabby coat. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail at the back of her head. Her eyes were the color of the evening sky, not quite gray and not exactly blue, lined with thick, dark lashes. Anabo always have blue eyes. Jane’s had been the color of cornflowers, wide, innocent and filled with compassion.
She was sublimely fine.
This girl was rough.
And clearly something was wrong with her. She had no glow and her eyes were almost dark. Maybe she wasn’t entirely Anabo.
No, that made no sense. There was no such thing as shades of Anabo. Like being pregnant – you either were, or you weren’t. Because of her scent, and Sasha’s unquestioning declaration, I knew she was Anabo. But something was way off about her. This was a good thing. I couldn’t possibly want a defective Anabo. I’d steer clear of her until I could convince Key to take her back; put her out of my mind and forget her. I wouldn’t think about her skin, or the fullness of her bottom lip, or the uncertainty in her eyes as she stared back at me.
Oh, fuck.
I was an idiot. A fool in deep denial. I couldn’t bullshit myself that I didn’t want her. She was the most beautiful thing I’d seen since Jane, and it took every ounce of willpower to stay where I was. I knew if I moved at all, my body would go to hers of its own volition. I wanted her with crushing desperation.
And I could never have her.
“Phoenix?” Key had the strangest look on his face, almost as if he wanted to cry. But that couldn’t be. Kyros hadn’t cried since the night Eryx murdered our mother, over a thousand years ago. “This is Mariah. I brought her here because I think she should become a Lumina.”
Mariah. A beautiful name. Why couldn’t she be called Bertha or Helga? Why couldn’t she have a face like a horse, a third eye, some kind of horrifying growth? Why couldn’t she smell like sheep shit?
It wouldn’t matter. I’d want this woman no matter her name, appearance, or scent. Instinct and a thousand years of loneliness demanded it, because what she could do for me was light-years from the superficiality of those things. Unlike every other human female on planet Earth, this one had the ability to love me.
The thought was horrifying. Jane died because she loved me.
Sasha slid an arm around Mariah’s shoulders and Mariah carefully and politely stepped away. Sasha’s touch bothered her and I wondered why. The orange tabby meowed again, then made her escape, leaping from Mariah’s arms to dash across the hall and disappear beneath the middle console, the one with a portrait of Jane next to it.
My gaze was drawn to her beautiful, innocent blue eyes. Jane. Who loved me.
With one last look at Mariah, I popped away from the Mephisto house and landed in Yorkshire at the foot of Jane’s grave. I stared at her headstone and cursed Kyros. And God. And Mariah.
Chapter 3
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br /> ~~ Mariah ~~
One second he was standing up there glaring at me; the next, he disappeared into thin air. I was ravenously hungry and completely exhausted. Maybe I imagined it?
But no, Phoenix Who Despised Me really did disappear, and Kyros really did bring me here via magic, which meant there must be the devil about. Mama used to tell stories about fantastical things, and all of them taught a moral lesson to small children – magic and such is the work of the devil. I later learned that the devil is at work everywhere, and there’s nothing at all magical about it. I’d met the devil, and his name was Emilian. After that, nothing particularly frightened me. People popping in and out was incredible and weird, but not scary.
Still, this was an eerie place with bizarre people and I was torn between serious concern for Viorica and the absolute necessity of leaving immediately.
Self-preservation won the day. I walked toward the console where Olga hid and coaxed her out, swung her up into my arms and turned back to Kyros. “Take me home now.”
He and Sasha exchanged a look before he said evenly, “I’m asking you to stay, Mariah. Jordan will want to see you and it’s much safer for the two of you to visit here than at your apartment, or in the White House.”
I walked to where he stood and made one last plea. “It will upset her to find out about me, and it’s cruel because there’s no way we can maintain any kind of relationship while she’s the president’s daughter. Later, maybe when she’s at university, I’ll see her.”
Again, they looked at each other before Kyros said, “She won’t be going to college. She isn’t . . .” He stopped talking.
I was more than alarmed. I was afraid. “Why won’t she go to college? Is something wrong with her?” Holy God, I’d never survive if she died. Viorica was everything to me. She was why I got up every day. The thought of her living a happy life with parents who loved her was what got me through the worst of things. “Is she ill?” He didn’t reply and Sasha shifted her weight, clearly uncomfortable. “Tell me!”
“No, she’s not sick. Far from it. Jordan will live a long life. Longer than you’d imagine.”
“What does that mean?”
He slid his hands into the pockets of his leather trench coat. “There’s a lot to tell you about us, and I’m certain Jordan will want to be the one who does. For now, have something to eat, get some rest, and plan to stay a few days with us. She has school and other commitments, but she can be here every night and the two of you can get reacquainted. I’d also like you to get to know my brothers, and Sasha.”
If his other brothers were as awful as Phoenix, I’d take a pass on getting to know them. “I have to work tomorrow.” I needed the money. I saved most of what I earned, stashing it away for when I enrolled at university. Missing work wasn’t an option.
“Tell Gustav you need some time off.”
He said it as an order, and my back went up. “I’ll do no such thing.”
“Doesn’t he have other help?”
“Yes, but I need the shifts.”
Sasha laid a hand on his arm and said something in English, which I found insulting. “Have the courtesy to speak so I can understand.”
She apologized and said in Romanian, “I said that you probably need the money and he should respect that.”
Kyros said, “I’ll pay you to stay. Whatever you want.”
Before I could tell him what I thought of his offer, Sasha scolded him. “Key, you can’t offer her money. It’s offensive.”
He looked genuinely surprised. “Why? We’ve got more money than anyone on the planet. I’m happy to give her as much as she wants, but at a minimum, she could at least take what she’ll miss earning over the next week. I want her to stay. We need her to stay.”
I was bemused. “Are your parents aware of your willingness to hand money over to strangers?”
“My mother is long dead and my father isn’t . . . we live here, just me and my brothers and Sasha and the household staff.”
I was about to ask more questions because the whole setup was dodgy, but he held up a hand and shook his head. “I know you’re tired, Mariah. Please, just eat and rest, and I promise Jordan will explain everything later.”
Looking from him to Sasha, then glancing around the grand hall, I considered my options. There weren’t many. I was confident he’d take me home if I insisted, but there was evidently no talking him out of telling Viorica about me, and once that happened, I wanted to see her. This place, strange as it seemed and wherever it was, would be a safe venue. I gave Kyros a quick nod.
“Good.” He smiled and it transformed his face. “Very good.” He flicked his wrist and a tall dark-skinned man appeared from the shadows beneath the staircase. Dressed in balloon pants and a turban, he looked like a character out of Arabian Nights. “This is Deacon, our butler and self-appointed morality police. Deacon, this is Jordan’s sister, Mariah. See that her cat is fed and watered, then taken to the bedroom next to Jordan’s.”
The man wouldn’t look me in the eye, but asked my shoulder, “Her name?”
“Olga.” I handed her over. “She will vomit if you give her fish.”
“Then I shall not give her fish.” He gently stroked Olga’s head while he looked at Kyros. “Dinner is waiting. Am I to ask Mathilda to serve?”
“No. Give Olga to Dani with instructions, then we’ll have dinner.”
Deacon disappeared and I scarcely blinked. “Odd clothing choice for a butler.”
“He’s a Moor. It’s how he was dressed when he died,” Kyros said.
I hoped he hadn’t just said that Deacon was dead. “I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
I turned my gaze to Sasha. “So he’s a zombie.” I was joking, sort of, and expected her to smile.
Instead, she said soberly, “He’s a ghost – a spirit who deserves Heaven but can’t make it because he’s mad at God. His family was slaughtered during the Crusades and he’s still holding a grudge against God for letting it happen. Most spirits like that are sent to Purgatory to wait it out, but some are sent here to serve the Mephisto in hopes servitude and interaction with the Luminas will help them get over it so they can ascend. All of the household staff are Purgatories.”
I remembered Key had told Phoenix he thought I should become a Lumina. It couldn’t be any weirder than a Purgatory. Could it? “What’s a Lumina?”
Sasha said, “They’re extraordinary people who become immortal and live here on Mephisto Mountain and help the Mephisto.”
“Who are the Mephisto?”
“Key and his brothers.” She smiled then. “And me. And soon—”
“Let’s eat,” Kyros said, “and let Jordan tell her the rest.”
Kyros thought I should become immortal and stick around to help out? Help with what? Counting his money? I began to wonder if I’d finally slipped off the edge. I always worried I’d lose it one day, but imagined it’d be a dramatic moment where I’d stand on a rooftop and shout and throw rocks at God and they’d take me off to jail where I’d rot. Instead, I was in a house in some alternate universe with people who wanted me to live forever.
That would be the worst thing possible. Living forever meant never losing the past, and while I wasn’t quite ready to die just yet, I didn’t exactly dread it either, even though I knew death meant Hell. I was certain of that because of . . .
I wouldn’t look in that box again. I would take all of this at face value, and see my sister and she’d explain what went on here, and then I’d go back to my own life.
Suddenly aware of a delicious smell, my stomach growled.
“Come along and meet my brothers.”
I walked between him and Sasha toward the rear of the grand hall where there was a double door entry into a cavernous dining room to the right and a wide hallway with a lot of doors to the left. It occurred to me that the house was lit entirely by candlelight. Looking up, I saw electric fixtures, but none of them were on. Of all the weird things ab
out this night, this struck me as one of the oddest.
Just as we cleared the entrance to the dining room, four guys with the same coloring, similar features, and who were as tall and broad as Kyros and Phoenix stood from their chairs and stared at me with looks ranging from incredulous to suspicious. Tonight just got more fun. I longed for my apartment and my bed, to be curled up with Olga, drifting off to sleep.
Instead, I was facing the Inquisition.
Kyros walked ahead of me and stopped at the end of the very long table. “This is Mariah, Jordan’s sister. She’s going to stay a few days.” He looked at me before he began to point. “The tallest one there is Titus. We call him Ty. He’s an animal lover. Ty, you’ll have to meet Mariah’s cat, Olga.”
Ty managed a small smile, but I could tell he wasn’t happy about my presence.
Kyros pointed to the one with a buzz cut, a diamond stud in one ear and a tat of a question mark on his neck. “That’s Xenos, who we call Zee. He’s our musician.”
Zee was conflicted, unsure if I was interesting or annoying. “Where did you come from?” he asked.
“Bucharest,” I replied. “Your Romanian is perfect.”
“All our languages are perfect.”
“All?”
“We know every language spoken on Earth.”
“Why? How?”
“It’s a job requirement, and we were born this way.” He looked to Kyros. “Why is she here?”
“We’ll talk about it later,” Kyros said firmly. He pointed to the guy across the table from Ty and Zee. “That’s Ajax. When we’re not mad at him, we call him Jax.”
This one walked toward us and slipped an arm around Sasha while he smiled at me. Now I knew who Sasha was: attached to Ajax.
“Hello, Mariah. I’m glad to meet you.” He looked at Kyros. “I hope you know what you’re doing, brother.”
Sasha said, “Isn’t it amazing how much she resembles Jordan? She has that same . . . skin tone, doesn’t she? Practically glows.”
Jax’s smile faded by degrees while he stared at me like I was a germ under a microscope. He murmured, “It must run in their family.”
The Mephisto Mark: The Redemption of Phoenix Page 3
