Jax paced back and forth outside the church, waiting. He checked his iPhone no less than a hundred times, every few seconds, wishing she’d hurry, that she wouldn’t take the whole five minutes. He regretted agreeing to bring her. Letting her out of his sight, even to go inside a church, seemed like the stupidest idea, ever. Key was right—what purpose did it serve to let her see her mother? All it could do was upset her.
Four minutes left.
Barely four thirty, and dusk had already settled over St. Petersburg, the sky turning sapphire, streaked with orange from the setting sun, the reflection turning the snow to purple. He walked closer to the door, checking the iPhone one more time.
Three minutes to go.
He stared at the door, willing her to open it.
“Do you have something to eat?” a man asked in Russian from behind him.
Turning his head, Jax said, “No.”
“Spare some change?”
He handed him a twenty.
“Thank you.” The man pocketed the bill, but didn’t go away. “Are you waiting for someone?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you go in to wait? All are welcome.”
Not all, but he didn’t say so. “I’m fine.”
“There are some who believe God lives in every holy place, that no evil can touch them there.”
He so didn’t need a religious fanatic bum preaching at him right now. He tried to ignore the man, staring at the door. It was killing him, the waiting. What if she didn’t come out in five minutes? What if, even at this moment, someone was hurting her? He couldn’t get to her, couldn’t protect her.
“And some say evil exists everywhere, that only love can overcome, no matter where a man stands.”
Turning his head, he looked at the old man, at his white beard and rheumy eyes. “Okay.” He looked again at his phone. One minute.
“I saw the devil go inside. Do you think he intends to repent?”
Jax jerked his head around again. “What did you say?”
“Just a moment ago, up at the front of the church, I saw the devil go inside. Dressed all in black, with soulless eyes. I wonder if he’s come to swallow his pride?”
It couldn’t be. Eryx couldn’t go inside any more than the Mephisto.
“Then again, maybe it wasn’t the devil. Maybe it was just a man with evil in his heart.”
“Who are you?”
The old man came a little closer. “I’m here to give you a present.”
“Why don’t you take that twenty and get yourself some supper? Go down to Anna’s. They take American money.”
“I’ll do that, but first, don’t you want the present I promised you?”
All he wanted was for Sasha to come through that door. The five minutes were up. He turned his back on the bum and stared at the door, begging God to bring her out safely. If only God could hear him.
“I love you,” he heard Sasha whisper from behind him, but when he turned, there was only the old man.
Except his eyes were no longer rheumy—they were so bright blue, they twinkled. Jax was suddenly overcome by a feeling so unfamiliar, he couldn’t name it.
“Go with God,” the old man said before he walked away, fading as he went.
Jax blinked, wondering if he’d just seen the eyes of God. “I’m here to give you a present.” Did he mean Sasha? “… don’t you want the present I promised you?” The Mephisto Covenant. God’s promise of an Anabo, of redemption.
“I saw the devil go inside. Dressed all in black, with soulless eyes.” Was it a warning? Was he talking about a Skia?
He’d spoken to him in Sasha’s voice. “I love you.”
His whole life had changed because of three words, spoken by a girl with golden hair and eyes the color of the twilight sky above him. She couldn’t die. She was humanity’s best hope. She was his only hope. He would never survive if anything happened to take her away from him. Death and eternal Hell would be better than life without Sasha.
He heard her scream, and his blood ran cold.
Swallowing hard, he sucked in a deep breath, opened the door, and rushed inside.
EIGHTEEN
SASHA DIDN’T LINGER, AND SCARCELY NOTICED THE MOSAIC ceilings, the beautiful paintings, the elaborate gilt iconostasis, grieving for her mother as if she had died. In a way, she had.
Thinking of Jax, she walked faster. He must be beside himself, worried.
She’d just passed the last tsar’s marble tomb when she heard running footsteps behind her. Steeling herself, she withdrew the switchblade from her pocket and sidestepped around the tomb, hoping it was just someone running for the exit.
Instead, it was a tall man in black, his face hidden in shadow, a knife in his hand. He leaped over the tomb in one inhuman bound, and she scarcely escaped him by darting around the next one. He was Skia, much stronger than her. He was there to kill her.
She leaped across the tomb at the end, into the walkway, booking it for the door. It hadn’t seemed so far away before. Now it seemed like miles.
Her assassin caught her hair and jerked her backward. She felt his blade pierce her back, but he missed her heart, puncturing a lung instead. Time slowed to a crawl, and she prayed for her life, for Jax’s soul, for an end to Eryx.
Eyes on the door, she stabbed backward with the switchblade, but only succeeded in hitting his leg. He loosened up on her hair, and she tore herself away from him, stumbling, unable to draw a deep breath, knowing she was about to pass out. If she could just make it to the door, she’d live. Jax would heal her.
But she couldn’t run, could barely move, so when the Skia caught up to her again, she knew it was all over. She would die in this beautiful church, with painted angels as witnesses.
The door opened, and she watched Jax run inside, his body and clothes instantly catching fire. He ran to her, his cries sounding as though they came from across the mountains, like an echo. “Sasha! Oh, God, no! Sasha!”
She felt the blade pierce her back, and this time, the Skia didn’t miss. She collapsed, but not before she saw Jax reach for her, his body blistered, his clothes burning. She fell to the floor, then floated above herself, watched the Skia limp away while Jax gathered her up in his arms and rocked her to and fro, sobbing her name as he followed her into death.
Just before darkness descended, she heard him whisper, “I love you.”
NINETEEN
DARKNESS SLOWLY FADED, AND KEPT FADING UNTIL HE WAS standing in light so bright, he had to close his eyes. A soft voice said, “Who are you?”
“I’m Ajax.” His voice sounded strange, coming out in a whisper he didn’t intend.
“Ajax was a mighty warrior. Did you live up to your name?”
He shook his head slowly. “I lost the only battle that mattered.”
“Who do you bring to Heaven’s gate, Ajax?”
“Her name is Alexandra. It means defen … defender of men.” He choked on the words. “She lived beyond her name.” With her sweet, soft body cradled in his arms, he clutched her against his chest.
“Will you leave her here?”
He began to cry, helpless to stop. “This is where she belongs. I can’t take her … where I’m going. I can’t take her with me.”
“If you could, would you?”
Slowly, he shook his head. “She doesn’t belong where I’m going. She belongs here.”
“Perhaps she’d rather go with you. When she wakes, she may want so much to be with you, she’ll be angry you left her here.”
“It doesn’t matter. I won’t take her with me.” Bowing his head, he buried his face against her hair. “She’d be miserable. She’d see desperation and pain and regret and hate and rage, and it would break her heart, over and over. I can’t do that to her.”
“So, Ajax, you’ll leave her here, with God in Heaven, even though you’ll never see her again. Why would you make this sacrifice, when she means so much to you?”
He raised his head and opened his eyes. ??
?Because I love her.”
Moments later, something cool passed over him. “This is the hand of God.” The voice was closer now. “Take your defender of men and be at peace. For you, Ajax, son of Mephistopheles, child of Hell, the Mephisto Covenant is fulfilled.”
Sasha stirred in his arms, and his heart skipped a beat. Looking into her beautiful face, he saw her open her eyes and smile. “Jax, I thought I died.”
His eyes welled with tears again. “You did.”
“And you brought me back to life?”
“God brought us back.”
Twining her arms around his neck, she moved her head to his shoulder. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He glanced up and saw the icons of the Romanovs, hanging above their tombs. Turning, he saw the altar beyond the doorway of the Catherine Chapel. Looking into her lovely blue eyes, he saw his future, reflected back at him. “I talked to God, Sasha.”
She blinked. “And he heard you?”
“He came to me as an old Russian beggar, while I was waiting for you, outside.”
“How do you know it was God?”
“I don’t know for sure, but then again, I do.”
She smiled up at him. “That’s called faith, Jax.”
He carefully set her on her feet, to stand beside him on holy ground, and kissed her.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
MY SINCERE THANKS TO THE VILLAGE OF TELLURIDE, Colorado, particularly the staff at Hotel Telluride. Thank you, Principal Alex Carter and Administrative Assistant/Registrar Sharon Broady at Telluride High School, for your warm welcome and generous help. Readers please note: THS is listed in Best High Schools by U.S. News & World Report. Regarding Telluride and San Francisco, I took a few liberties with geography, and all mistakes are my own.
Thank you, Meredith Bernstein, agent, friend, and fellow wanderer. You are glorious.
To the staff at Egmont USA—especially my editor—Greg Ferguson, I appreciate your dedication to children’s literature, and all you’ve done to bring this book to readers.
Enormous props and thanks to Alison Kent, HelenKay Dimon, Kassia Krozser, and Wendy Duren. I could not have done this without you. Special thanks to Jill Monroe, my favorite dreamer.
Thanks to Stephani Fry, who shared her love of YA with me and changed everything, and to Tashya Wilson for the e-mail that started it all.
Thank you, Dianna Love, for your friendship and guidance, and Trish Milburn, God’s special answer to “Help me— I’m stuck!” Many thanks to P. C. Cast and Sherrilyn Kenyon for your support. Seriously, ladies, you’re a gift.
My humble gratitude to the Class of 2K11 for your camaraderie and stellar books. I’m in awe of your talent and mad skilz.
Thanks to Raegan Lumpkin for keeping me on task for revisions while sailing up the Rhine in a blizzard, and a special shout-out to the crew of the River Duchess, who kept the light on for me in the ship’s library and never ran out of hot coffee.
As always, thank you to my family. I love you. Thank you, Mike, for a thousand dinners and a million kisses. Thanks to Callie, for listening to endless plot devices and debating religion, and to Leslea, for road tripping to Telluride with me. Next time, we’ll catch more fish.
WHICH MEPHISTO BROTHER WILL BENEXT TO FIND HIS ANABO?
Check out Book Two in THE MEPHISTO COVENANT series – coming out from Egmont USA in fall 2012.
Table of Contents
ISBN 978-1-60684-170-9 (hardcover) — ISBN 978-1-60684-271-3 (electronic book) [1. Good and evil—Fiction. 2. Christian life—Fiction. 3. Supernatural—Fiction. 4. Love—Fiction. 5. Russia—Fiction.] I. Title.
Book design by Torborg Davern
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in na retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior permission of fthe publisher and copyright owner.
“I AM PART OF THE PART THAT ONCE WAS EVERYTHING, PART OF THE DARKNESS WHICH GAVE BIRTH TO LIGHT …”
Check out Book Two in THE MEPHISTO COVENANT series – coming out from Egmont USA in fall 2012.
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Trinity Faegen, THE MEPHISTO COVENANT
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