The Mephisto Mark: The Redemption of Phoenix

  “I’d love her if I could.”

  Knowing how he felt about love and romance, I recognized his statement for what it was – guilt and grief. He didn’t know it yet, but neither guilt nor grief made for anything that lasted. Not for the first time, I wondered what sort of girl would arrive in his life. “It’s all moot anyway. She doesn’t want to be Mephisto. She thinks she let Emilian die in the fire, so she has a complete aversion to violence of any kind. No way she’d learn to use a blade.”

  “Will you tell her what M said about Emilian?”

  “When she’s ready to hear it.” I looked toward the bed. “I have no idea how she’ll be when she wakes up.” Would she be back to that perfect picture of calm acceptance that hid her true feelings? Would I be starting all over again with her?

  It was promising that, in the grip of fear so great her mind had taken her somewhere else, she put her arms around my neck and settled into my lap with complete ease.

  “Does Key know about her?”

  “He’s known since before he brought her here.”

  “I’ll tell him what happened. M’s bound to bring it up, and Key will be pissed we didn’t clue him in.”

  “He gave strict orders not to take her off the mountain. He may call a council on you.”

  Zee shrugged. “I probably deserve it. Either way, I think he should know, and I should be the one to tell him.”

  Before I could respond, Deacon’s solemn voice came through the intercom. “Dinner is served. Allah is good.”

  “Go on,” I said. “I’ll have Mathilda bring us something to eat later, after Mariah wakes up.”

  “What should I tell the others?”

  “Say Mariah isn’t feeling well, and I’m still at the White House.”

  Holding the sleepy dog, Zee stood and went to the side of her bed. Olga meowed, but Mariah didn’t wake.

  Zee said, “She’s known all week that she’s Anabo, but hasn’t let on except to me, because I called her on it.”

  I didn’t ask how he knew. He knew the same way he knew other things. We’d never known why, or how it worked, but Zee had a gift that went far beyond intuition. He simply knew certain things, but rarely divulged details. I wondered sometimes if what landed in his mind was the reason he was odd. I suspected he knew things all of us would rather not know. Disturbing things. He drowned out the thoughts with music, and when that wasn’t available, he worked within a narrow box that was his own sanity. He’d always been a strange one, talking to himself, drawing bizarre pictures, and he wrote constantly. He had locked trunks in the attic, and I was certain they were filled with his journals.

  Denys liked to joke that if Zee wasn’t Mephisto, he’d be a serial killer. Zee laughed it off, but I knew it hurt him. Behind his metal music and odd behavior and contempt for romantic love, he was probably the most sensitive of us all; even Ajax, who tried and failed to hide his sentimental nature. I told Denys to back off with the serial killer jokes, and he did, but it didn’t change that Zee was weird.

  Maybe that’s why I wasn’t mad at him for what he’d done with Mariah. He stood there watching her sleep, and I could feel his pain and regret.

  When he turned and walked toward me, he said, “The cat’s not an ordinary kitty. Somebody sent her to watch over Mariah and be a solace to her.”

  “I wonder who?”

  “Someone divine. Maybe an angel. Maybe God. All I know for sure is that she’s devoted to Mariah and will be until she dies. The cat, I mean. Until the cat dies.” He looked down at the dog he held before he disappeared without a goodbye.

  Minutes ticked by and turned into an hour, then two. I stoked the fire and watched her sleep, my mind searching for a way to fix her that didn’t involve turning her to Mephisto. Because as much as I resented what M had said, the rational side of me had to admit it made sense. I thought about how she skied – fearless. If she had Mephisto and all the instincts that went with it, she’d be incredible. Unstoppable. After Jax taught her to use a knife, to fight to win, she’d be empowered. She wouldn’t be afraid when Olga woke her up. She’d fly out of bed with a blade in hand and take out the threat before the cat was done with her meow.

  But I couldn’t do it to her. As much as it would help, it would hurt. Mathilda was right. Mariah was a gentle soul, more so than Sasha or Jordan. Even more than Jane. Mephisto would change that. And, a small voice I couldn’t silence said, she’d be infinitely more tempting.

  Eliminating all of her other options so that I was the only guy she could choose meant she had no choice. Knowing that, knowing myself, it would be impossible to stay away from her. Maybe I could do it for a few years. Maybe I’d even make it a hundred years. But at some point, I’d crack. I’d go after her in earnest, and she’d be lonely enough to accept. She’d regret it. She’d be too close, and she’d know what I’d hidden from my brothers all these years.

  I poked at the fire, fighting to stifle my never-ending frustration and anger. Why was I like this? What sick twist of fate gave me this much of my father? Why couldn’t I have been born with more of my mother, like Jax? Even Zee in all his weirdness was more like Mana than I was.

  Thinking of her, I slammed the poker against a flaming log and watched it explode into fiery pieces. She’d died because our father wouldn’t confess his secrets to Lucifer. Eryx sacrificed himself for the rest of us, murdering his own mother so Lucifer and God would know we existed – something M should have taken care of before Eryx was grown. It was Eryx’s last act of compassion, and the worst thing that could have happened to him before he was compelled to jump to his death from the Kyanos cliffs. He came back with a soul black as midnight, a threat to all of humanity. So much pain and horror, all because M wouldn’t step up and do the right thing.

  I was just like him. I wouldn’t tell the truth, and Jane died; murdered by the same brother who murdered our mother.

  I couldn’t be with Mariah. Ever. I had something dark and horrible in me, just as M did, and maybe I’d be kind to her, seduce her, and give her sons, just as M did for my mother, but I would hurt her in the end. She was so wounded, it seemed the greatest tragedy that God sent her to me. Of all of us, why me? Why not Ty, who lived to heal what was injured and make it whole again?

  Hearing a noise, I jerked my head around. Mariah stirred and rolled to her back, throwing one arm above her head. I noticed something in her hand and got up to go look. Olga meowed as soon as I came close, and Mariah’s body went stiff and still.

  That made my chest hurt. How long would it be before she lost her fear? Would she ever? “It’s me,” I said quietly. “You’re home now and safe.” I saw her palm when she uncurled her hand from the fist she’d made. It was splotched with dried blood, and I wondered what she’d done to hurt it. Zee hadn’t said that she fell.

  She opened her eyes and looked up at me with no expression at all.

  Damn. I’d been so hopeful she wouldn’t go back to how she was in the beginning. I debated what to do. I wanted to pick her up and hold her for a while and assure her everything would be all right, but what if she freaked out? I was in way over my head. All I could do was go on instinct. I kept my distance and asked, “How are you feeling?”

  “What time is it?”

  “Half past eight. You’ve been asleep a couple of hours.”

  “Did I imagine that Mephistopheles was here?”

  “No.”

  “He told me Emilian didn’t come back. He promised he’d never come back. Did he know why that man looked exactly like Emilian?”

  “He’s a relative.”

  I expected her to ask more questions, but she didn’t. She laid there and stared at me a while longer, then said, “It was nice by the fire. Thank you.”

  “I didn’t think you knew.”

  “Of course I knew. I go home in my head and . . .” She paused and I heard her swallow. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

  “No. Tell me.”

  “I imagine I’m home on the rug by the fire
and my mother is there and I’m safe. This time, you were there, too, and I sat on your lap and you read to me. It was lovely.”

  “You sat on my real lap for a while. Do you remember?”

  She shook her head. Then she moved to make room, and said, “Sit down, Phoenix. You’re so tall and I can’t see your face because it’s too dark in here. Why do you never turn on the lights? Why candles? Because the twenty-first century called and they’d like you to live there.”

  She was making a joke. She asked me to sit. Maybe we hadn’t returned to square one after all. “I’ll be right back.” I went in the bathroom and ran warm water on a washcloth. Taking it to the bed, I sat and reached for her hand, but she held it away from me. “Let me clean it, Mariah.” She nodded and stared up at the ceiling while I washed away the dried blood, revealing four perfect half-moon cuts. While I cleaned her other hand, I said, “Since we can see in the dark, we don’t need that much light. It can even bother us at times. And I suppose we lived so long with candlelight, we like it.” I set the washcloth on her nightstand, then held her hands, thinking to heal them, but she made a soft sound of protest and pulled them away from me.

  “Promise me,” she whispered.

  “I promise.” I smoothed her hair away from her brow. “What did I promise?”

  “Don’t tell the others. Tell Zee not to say anything. And especially don’t tell Viorica.”

  “We think we have to tell Key.”

  “He’ll tell her.”

  “No, he won’t. She’s having a rough time right now, so the last thing he wants is for her to worry about you.”

  “I went downstairs to find you to talk about her, and the omen, but you were gone and Zee said I should go with him to learn what you all do, even though I told him I’m not going to be Mephisto. He’s a funny one, but I like him. I’m sure after what happened he thinks I’m a head case, and I guess maybe he’d be right. Do you think Viorica is going to be okay? Is Kyros going to be lost? Does Lucifer send omens very often? Why did he send it to me?”

  She was progressively getting more wound up. I continued stroking her hair and said calmly, evenly, “Zee is a head case, and believes people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. He feels bad for putting you in that situation, but he didn’t know about Emilian. He does now, but don’t worry about that. He’s not one to carry tales. Your past is yours to talk about if you want, and otherwise, no one will know who doesn’t already. As for Jordan, she’s incredibly strong, and will be just fine. It’ll be hard for her to let her father go, because they’re so close and she’s all he has now, but she will, and Kyros will not be lost, and all will be well. Lucifer sends his messages through a human, although it’s always in the real world because there are no humans here. We get omens and messages on restaurant receipts, newspapers, even the sides of busses. Don’t be frightened by the omen, or that he sent it to you.”

  “He said the Mephisto shouldn’t stray from the path. What does it mean?”

  “I don’t know. It’ll make sense later, and we’ll remember what he said and act accordingly. Don’t fret, Mariah. Jordan’s fine.”

  “You said she’s having a hard time right now. She won’t tell me anything at all. What’s happening?”

  “She feels guilty about Matthew. Her time’s running out and she wants to make things right with him before she leaves the real world. Her father is under a lot of pressure because so many things are going wrong in the United States right now.” I smiled at her. “And she’s working things out with Key, which would make anybody stressed. He’s not easy.”

  “Do you think she loves him?”

  “Yes, but she doesn’t fully realize it yet.” Finding Mariah was the turning point, I was certain. Not because she was Jordan’s long lost sister, although that was huge, but because there were parallels between what Eryx had done for us and what Mariah had done for Jordan. They’d both unhinged their lives for the sake of their younger siblings. It had given Jordan a new perspective, made her see Key’s feelings about Eryx in a different light. Nothing was ever black and white, and Jordan learned another shade of gray when Key found Mariah.

  “What about Kyros? Do you think he loves Jordan?”

  “I don’t know. He’s so closed off and hard to read, it’s impossible to say.”

  “She’ll be here to visit soon. I need to get up and put myself back together before she comes.”

  “You have plenty of time. I’ll ask Mathilda to bring you some dinner.”

  “Did you eat?”

  “No, I waited for you.”

  She fell quiet, and I continued to pet her silky soft hair and knew when she felt better because her scent grew stronger.

  I pulled my hand back when she moved, expecting her to get up, but she came closer and sat up and I knew what she wanted. I reached out and plucked her from the bed and settled her in my lap. She twined her arms around my neck, just as she’d done before, and rested her head on my shoulder.

  Olga rubbed against my back and purred.

  We sat like that for a long, long time and I felt odd. Almost at peace.

  “I don’t talk about it,” she said against my shirt, her voice soft and muffled. “I’ve never talked about it. I have no real friends and never have. I remember girls at school. I called them friends, and we got on fine, but they didn’t know me at all. They talked about guys and clothes and music and movies, and I had nothing to talk about, nothing to add. I was always the quiet one, but not because I’m a quiet person. It was because I had nothing to say that was appropriate, that wouldn’t make them uncomfortable. And I never wanted to be a victim, never wanted to be defined by what was happening to me. Even after he was dead and I lived with Marta, my life was different than theirs. They were poor – everyone was poor – but none of them worked for their living. They lived with family.” She lifted her head and looked into my eyes. Inches away. “I like that you know about him. I don’t have to pretend. And I wanted you to know that.” She pressed a kiss to my cheek and returned her head to my shoulder.

  “You should talk about it, Mariah. Maybe you’d feel less afraid if you got it out of your head.”

  “Maybe.” She slid her fingers into my hair. “But not now, Phoenix. I’m tired, and hungry, and Viorica will be here soon.”

  “I should get up and call Mathilda.”

  “Yes.” She made no move to get off of my lap.

  I was glad. I’d never been this close to another human being for this long, not even Jane, and I never wanted it to end, never wanted her to move. It occurred to me that she’d had very little affection in her life since she was six years old and went to live with Nadia and Emilian. Marta had evidently been kind-hearted, but gruff, and I doubted she’d given Mariah much in the way of affection. Maybe she’d tried and Mariah rebuffed her. She didn’t like to be touched. Except right now she was glued to me.

  I gathered her closer.

  There was a knock at the door, and I debated setting her off of my lap, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. Whoever was there could think whatever they wanted. “Come in,” I called.

  Mathilda stepped inside the room and smiled at us. “Is our puir lamb feeling better, Master Phoenix?”

  “I think so. She’s hungry.”

  She came close and bent to peer into Mariah’s face. “Zee said you aren’t feeling well, child. Do ye need some Tynedol?”

  “I’m all right,” she said without lifting her head from my shoulder. “I went with Zee to follow a Skia and it scared me. That’s all.”

  Mathilda patted her leg and stood straight. “How about a nice beef stew? Would you like that?”

  “Yes, please. Thank you.”

  Her soft brown eyes met mine. “Would ye care for some supper?”

  I nodded and she disappeared.

  Mariah moved so that her nose was against my neck. “Mm, oranges.” She sighed, sending a tiny breath across my skin that woke things up that didn’t need to be awake. I quickly thought about the sli
des I’d looked at under a microscope that morning. Viruses were not sexy.

  “Thank you for staying with me,” she whispered.

  “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

  “I didn’t dream.”

  “Do you usually?”

  “Yes. Nightmares. I hope when I go to sleep later that I don’t dream. After today . . .”

  She shivered and I tightened my arms. “He’s dead, Mariah. He can’t hurt you ever again.”

  “You don’t understand,” she mumbled.

  “I want to. Tell me.”

  “I dream every second of it, always just as it was. Then I wake up and it’s so real, it’s like he’s there. It takes me some time to realize he’s not, to remember he’s dead, and in those moments, it happens all over again.”

  She hadn’t told Key outright that Emilian had raped her. She’d never said so to me. As far as she knew, all we were aware of was that Emilian abused her. Sexual assault was the elephant in the room, but she’d just pointed to it, maybe because she was still upset, or maybe because, at the moment, she felt as close to me in spirit as she was in body. And she was very close.

  I debated what to say, whether I should go forward, or wait for her to say something more. It was a huge risk. I might spook her. But she’d handed me an opening, and I had to take it. When she didn’t speak again, I asked, “Was it always at night, when you were asleep?”

  “Always,” she whispered. “It was part of what he liked, scaring me awake. At first, I reacted just as he wanted me to, but after Olga came, I knew when he was there, and I’d have time to wake up and escape.”

  “To the rug by the fire?”

  She nodded. “He tried to kill Olga, but it’s almost like she knew to stay away from him. He could never find her, and a few times he chased her after she woke me, but she always escaped.”

  She probably disappeared, taken into another realm until Emilian forgot about her. “So when you dream, it’s always the same?”