The Mephisto Kiss (The Redemption Of Kyros)

  “How do you know it’s the same bunny?”

  “Viorica’s initials are embroidered inside its ear.”

  She slowed down, then stopped at a door in a building that looked ready to be condemned. He followed her inside and up seven flights of rickety stairs. Despite the fact that it was past three in the morning, loud music came from behind a few of the doors they passed in her hallway, and he heard a guy shouting at someone, then glass breaking. The disgusting stench of meth permeated the place. He definitely needed to get her out of here. Immediately.

  Her apartment was like her coat—old, shabby, and too small, but clean.

  The cat was there, winding between her legs, meowing. As soon as Mariah picked her up, Key reached for her arm and popped them to Colorado, to the front hall of the house.

  She blinked and stepped away, clutching the cat. “Holy God, what just happened?”

  Key was about to reassure her that she was safe, but before he could say anything, he heard Phoenix say from the upstairs hall, “It smells like Yorkshire in here. Like heather.”

  Sasha said, “All I smell is short ribs. I’m starving.”

  Key looked up as his brother and Sasha came to the top of the stairs. They both stopped dead and stared at Mariah. Phoenix went pale, clearly stunned.

  “Key, who is this?” Sasha asked with a note of wonder. “Oh, wow, she’s got to be Jordan’s sister. Is she? Where was she? Does Jordan know?” She said all of this as she hurried down the stairs.

  Phoenix remained on the top step, completely still.

  “Hello, I’m Sasha. Poor thing, you look scared to death. Please don’t be. You’re safe here.” She turned to Key, and her smile nearly blinded him. “This is absolutely incredible! Another Anabo!”

  Key jerked his gaze to Mariah. “I don’t think so, Sasha. She’s exceptional, but not Anabo.”

  Mariah’s cat meowed, probably because she was being squeezed too tightly.

  “Of course she is! Can’t you see her glow? It’s very dim, but maybe she’s not feeling well.” She smiled at Mariah. “Are you okay?”

  Eyes wide with bewilderment, Mariah said in Romanian, “I don’t speak English.”

  Sasha repeated what she’d said in Romanian, and Mariah took a step back, looking desperately at Key. “Please take me home.”

  “I know this is confusing,” he said, “but no one’s going to hurt you, I swear it.”

  Mariah didn’t relax at all, clutching her cat to her chest as if she were a lifeline.

  Key couldn’t see the glow, but he felt the brightness of her spirit. Maybe Sasha was right and Mariah was Anabo. Maybe her glow had dimmed because of what Emilian had done to her. Maybe Sasha could see it because she was Anabo.

  Looking up, he asked Phoenix, “Can you see it?”

  Phoenix was staring hard at Mariah, as if he was powerless to look away. “No, but I can feel … I can …” His voice was low and rough.

  Key thought about what Phoenix had said before he saw Mariah. His brother smelled heather, but Sasha didn’t. Key didn’t. There was no heather anywhere in the house.

  There was only Mariah.

  Oh, hell, no. It couldn’t be.

  But it was. Mariah must be Anabo, and, incredibly, Phoenix was the lucky one who caught her scent. Except he didn’t look like he’d just been blessed with the best thing to happen to any Mephisto. He looked like his whole world had been sucked into a black hole. Here was another Anabo meant for him, another chance, but in his brother’s twisted mind of guilt and grief, the instinctive need to pursue her meant he had to leave Jane behind.

  Phoenix’s greatest wish and his worst nightmare stood on the Mephisto M.

  Key looked at Mariah, who was staring back at Phoenix much like a small animal would look at a lion, and wondered what he had done.

  SIXTEEN

  IT WAS PAST MIDNIGHT IN D.C. WHEN JORDAN POPPED BACK to the White House from the Mephisto gym, and she was surprised to find Key instead of Brody waiting for her. Dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt, he sat in the chair by the window, cloaked, staring down at her rabbit, which she could see had been repaired.

  So that’s why he went to Bucharest. That he’d do something like that made her heart turn over. Moving to stand in front of him, she saw uncertainty in his dark eyes when he lifted his head and looked up at her. He held the rabbit out, and she blindly accepted it, unable to tear her gaze away from his. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He stood slowly, and she stepped into his arms, dropping the bunny to the chair behind him at the same time he bent to kiss her, his lips deliberate and gentle. When he lifted his head, she stared up into his eyes and knew something was different. The hard edge was gone, and in its place was … sympathy? “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I have something to tell you, Jordan. It’s easier if I show you, so Brody will be back in a minute and stay while we’re gone.”

  “What’s going on? Is there something wrong?”

  “No, it’s … why don’t you put on some jeans and a sweater and a jacket?”

  “Just tell me if everything’s all right.”

  “It’s fine. Go on and change.”

  She went in her closet, pulled off her workout clothes, then grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweater. She was ready in less than three minutes, just about the time Brody popped back into her room.

  “We’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Key said as he turned on the bathroom light and closed the door.

  “I’ll be here,” Brody said.

  Then Key took her hand, put her under a cloak, and everything went dark. When she could see again, they were standing in a copse of trees, facing a narrow road. A small cottage of stone and wood was on the other side, a compact red sedan parked in front. It had foreign plates. The sun was up, but it was still early. “We’re in Europe, aren’t we?”

  His hand tightened around hers. “Romania, about fifty miles from Bucharest. That’s the house where you lived until you were almost four.”

  Getting the rabbit repaired wasn’t all he’d done over the weekend. He’d searched for her past and found it. Staring at the little house, she waited for anything resembling a memory, but there was nothing. “How do you know?”

  While they stood there in the trees, he told her how he had looked for the shop where the rabbit came from, and was about to give up when a guy in an antique store told him about a woman in this village who made stuffed animals from scraps of cotton. The world went dark again, and when she could see, they were in a narrow alley between two buildings, looking across a cobblestone street at a small tailor’s shop. Lined up in the window was a collection of stuffed animals. “She remembered your family, Jordan. Your parents were older, and very kind.”

  “So they weren’t angels.”

  He told her his new theory, and it sounded a lot more reasonable.

  “But why are you so sure your father asked God for more Anabo? I know he said something to you, but maybe you misinterpreted it. Maybe it’s just coincidence that Sasha and I were born a year apart. For all you know, there could be lots of Anabo out there, and you just haven’t found them. There could have been Anabo born all through the centuries, and the Mephisto just weren’t aware.”

  “Maybe a few, but not many. We spend a lot of time searching for the lost souls and Skia. For some of the Luminas, it’s a full-time job. If an Anabo was out there, chances are good one of us would have seen her.” He shook his head. “Knowing my father and his obsession with making sure we get to Heaven, I’m convinced this isn’t a coincidence. I’ll never know for sure, because he’ll never admit it, but I think he asked for more Anabo, and God came through. He gave you to an older couple who thought they couldn’t have children.”

  That she didn’t know them, would never know them, pulled at her soul. “What happened to them?”

  Once more, everything went dark, and the next place they landed wasn’t nearly so quaint and pretty as before. The street was lin
ed with very old, run-down houses. “They were killed in a car accident when you were three, and you came here, to Bucharest, to live with your mother’s cousin and her husband. Their house was right over there, where there’s now a newer house. The one you lived in burned down several years ago.”

  “If I lived with family, how did I end up at the orphanage? Did they die, too?”

  Again, he transported them, and they were standing on the steps of a church. Across the street was a youth center in an old building made of red bricks. “That was the orphanage.”

  “But how did I come to be there, Key?”

  Still gripping her hand, he turned toward her and reached up with his free hand to smooth her hair away from her face. “Your sister took you.”

  “My sister? Wait. What? I had a sister?”

  “You have a sister.”

  Stunned, she sank down to sit on the step, and Key sat beside her. For the next half hour, he told her about the sister she never knew she had, and what she’d done for Jordan. Staring across the street, she imagined a child of six taking her sister there, late at night, and leaving her, to save her. The building blurred as tears gathered in her eyes. “How can I not remember her?”

  “You were barely four. Most people don’t remember anything of their childhood earlier than five or six.”

  “How did she do that when she was only six?”

  “Desperation and fear. Emilian was the worst kind of human being.”

  And Mariah had gone back to him, instead of staying at the orphanage. She’d sacrificed herself for Jordan.

  All her long-avoided, deeply buried memories of Holly came to her, one after the other—the bruises, the burns, the haunted look in her eyes, and when she was older, the most evil violation. She hinted, she said strange things, she insinuated, but she wouldn’t admit it, no matter how many times Jordan had asked, because she knew her stepfather would be arrested, and he was all that kept them from being homeless. By then, her mother was too deep into alcoholism to hold a job. Jordan had pleaded with Holly to let her tell her father, or take her to the police, or call the child-abuse hotline, but Holly always said no, and she had threatened to kill herself if Jordan didn’t leave it alone. Jordan had never doubted it wasn’t an empty threat.

  Then, on a bright, sunny autumn day, she came to see Jordan, to say good-bye, and finally said out loud what she’d denied for so long. Her stepfather had raped her. She’d taken her mother’s old beater car, planning to leave Washington to find her real father. Jordan had to tell her why she couldn’t do that, and she’d never, ever forget watching hope die in Holly’s eyes.

  After much cajoling, Holly finally agreed to let Jordan talk to her dad, and let him get help for her, but before he’d even left the Oval Office to come up to the residence, Holly ran. Jordan went after her, with Maggie driving, but by the time they got to Holly’s house in Virginia, she was dead. She’d hanged herself from a two-by-four, exposed by a hole in the roof.

  Had it been like that for Mariah? Had she lived through the same horror that Holly had? She couldn’t stand this, couldn’t bear the weight of crushing, terrible guilt. Bending forward, she hugged her thighs and rocked back and forth, silently sobbing. She felt Key’s hand gently stroking her back, heard his soothing words, but she couldn’t be consoled. “Why would she do that? Why did she go back … to him … why did she stay there?”

  “Because if only one of you could be safe from him, it had to be you, because you were younger. Because she loved you.”

  All because she was born second, instead of first. And because her sister loved her. A sister she didn’t know at all. Her sister, who may have killed a man to keep him away from Jordan. She cried harder, her stomach twisting into a knot, her whole body shaking. “Do you … think she … started the fire?”

  His hand stopped, and he didn’t answer.

  Jordan looked up and saw her misery reflected in his eyes. “Key?”

  He withdrew his hand and turned to face the street. “I haven’t told you everything about Mariah. I took her to Colorado because, in spite of all she’s been through, there’s this incredible goodness in her, so strong, I could feel it. When we got there, she was freaking out because I hadn’t explained anything yet, but before I could even start, Sasha saw her.” He looked up at the now cloudy sky. “She saw that Mariah is Anabo.”

  Jordan sucked in a quick breath, astonishment quickly followed by dread. How had Sasha seen it, but Key hadn’t?

  “I called my father, because I had to know if Emilian was a lost soul. It would be hard for an Anabo with no Mephisto in her to kill a lost soul, but it’d be impossible for her to kill a human who still belonged to God.”

  Wiping tears from her cheeks, she whispered, “Was he a lost soul?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Just evil in person. M said he shouted all the way to Hell. Most damned souls cry and beg to be forgiven, or allowed a second chance, but not Emilian.”

  Jordan stuffed her freezing hands into the pockets of her jacket. “So she didn’t kill him?” Say no. Please say no.

  “I don’t think she set the fire, but I think she knew when it started and did nothing to stop it. She was so afraid, she did the impossible.” His expression was tormented. “That’s why I couldn’t see that she’s Anabo. What he did to her, and what she didn’t do for him, is destroying her.”

  Unable to speak because she was crying so hard, Jordan could only stare back at him.

  “And as if everything wasn’t bad enough for her, she’s meant for Phoenix.”

  Jordan wiped the tears from her face and rubbed her nose on the back of her hand. “How … how do you … know?”

  “He caught her scent like ten seconds after we arrived at the house.” He rested his forearms against his thighs and bent his head to stare at the ground between his boots. “Even after all my time in the world, I don’t understand how life can be so cruel. She needs help. She needs somebody who has a way with the wounded. Why couldn’t it have been Ty? Phoenix looked at her as if she were Lucifer, come to take him to Hell.”

  She remembered the day she came to the Mephisto Mountain, how frightened and unsure of everything she was, but at least she’d known who they were and what they were about. Mariah must have been scared out of her mind, and to have Phoenix look at her like she was the scary one? Jordan wanted to go punch him in the face. “If she’s meant for him … why, Key? Why would he do that?”

  “He had no warning, nothing at all to prepare him. He hit the top of the stairs, and there she was in the front hall.” Key took a deep breath and huffed it out, like he was trying to control the urge to cry. “He’ll want so much to be with her, but he’ll make her suffer for it. He’ll resent her for interfering with his obsessive need to keep Jane’s memory alive. I’ve hoped for another Anabo for him, but I imagined she’d be strong and independent, someone who’d give him whatever it is he needs to finally forgive himself and move on. Instead, it’s Mariah, and after all she’s been through … why did it have to be Phoenix?”

  Watching him agonize over his decision to take Mariah to Colorado, Jordan forced herself to pull it together and moved closer to him, until she was pressed against his side. “She’s hurt, true, and it’ll take her a long time to heal, but she must be insanely strong and independent to do what she did. And it’s not like she’ll be alone on the mountain with just Phoenix. I’ll be there, and Sasha, and Jax.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “And you.”

  He let out a short bark of a humorless laugh. “Yeah, like I’ll be so much help to her.”

  “You’ve already helped her. She wouldn’t be better off staying in Bucharest.”

  “I’m not so sure. I feel like a traitor to my brother for saying it, but I did her no favor by bringing her to Phoenix. He’s incredibly screwed up, and she’s in so much pain, her light’s all but gone out. With everyone on the mountain being there for her, especially you, she could get better and even be happy, but not if Phoenix won’t l
eave her alone. And he won’t. He’ll most likely ignore her for a while, which will be a blessing, but eventually, he’ll be absolutely compelled to be with her. He won’t be able to help himself.”

  As it began to snow, she slipped her arms around his neck. “Is it that strong, Kyros?”

  He lifted his head and met her eyes. “I’d risk everything just to stand next to you. Yeah, it’s that strong.”

  Pulling him toward her, she kissed him, and he turned and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. They sat like that for a long time, on the steps of the old church, hugging each other in the falling snow.

  Half an hour later, Jordan stood with Key in the third-floor hallway at the door to the bedroom next to hers. She was shaky and anxious as he knocked, and she felt relieved when Sasha opened the door. She hated to think of her sister being alone right now. Sasha smiled at her. “Mariah and I were just talking about cats.”

  As Jordan stepped into the room, a big orange tabby wound around her ankles, meowing loudly, but Jordan didn’t pay it much attention; all of her focus was on the dark-haired girl getting up from where she’d been sitting at the end of the bed. It was there, the unmistakable glow of Anabo, but not nearly so obvious as Sasha’s. She was pretty, with big blue eyes and a soft, hesitant smile.

  “Mariah,” she whispered.

  “Viorica,” her sister replied.

  Then they were hugging and crying, and Jordan didn’t notice when Key and Sasha left.

  It had been snowing in Bucharest earlier, and it was snowing in Yorkshire now. Carrying two rapiers, Key materialized in the countryside close to the moors where they used to live, next to Jane’s grave, and looked through the falling snow at his brother.

  Phoenix glared at him. “No. Just … no.”

  He hadn’t expected Phoenix to welcome him, especially here, where his love was buried, but he wasn’t leaving until they’d had it out. His brother needed to see blood, particularly Key’s.