The Mephisto Mark: The Redemption of Phoenix

  Mathilda was gone, so Sasha and I sat and made small talk until there was a knock at the door. She swung it open, and there was Kyros, holding my sister’s hand.

  Sasha said, “Mariah and I were just talking about cats.”

  As Viorica stepped into the room, Olga wound around her ankles, meowing loudly, but she didn’t pay her much attention; all of her focus was on me. I got up from where I’d been sitting at the end of the bed. She was petite and beautiful, more so in real life than in press photos or on television, and she had that same ethereal light that Sasha had. Her hair was glossy and dark and her eyes were the color of bluebells, just as they’d been when we were small, just as they were in my dreams.

  “Mariah,” she whispered.

  “Viorica,” I replied.

  We rushed toward one another and I wrapped my arms around her and she threw hers around me and we both cried.

  Overwhelmed, I didn’t notice when Kyros and Sasha left.

  ~~ Phoenix ~~

  In Yorkshire, in the countryside close to the moors where we used to live, it was snowing. Despite where I stood at the foot of her grave, staring at her name, I couldn’t focus on Jane. All I could think about was watching Mariah wake up. When I had stepped inside the room, the cat meowed, and I saw her body stiffen beneath the covers. I could feel her tense awareness, and knew she was afraid. Terrified. But not of me. She didn’t know I was there until moments later when she opened her eyes and saw me. Her expression was unhappy; not scared. She didn’t like me, but at least she wasn’t afraid of me.

  Like it mattered.

  But there was no denying what I’d witnessed. Mariah was horribly afraid of something and I wanted to know, what?

  In the middle of my thoughts, Key materialized, carrying two rapiers. Was he fucking kidding? He looked through the falling snow at me, and I glared at him. “No. Just . . . no.”

  Ignoring me, sliding out of his coat, he tossed it aside and moved toward me, gripping the hilt of one sword in position to begin a match. He tossed the other into the air, and for a nanosecond, I thought about letting it split my head in two, but it wouldn’t kill me; it would merely hurt for a while. I might relish a different kind of pain, but the prospect of skewering Key held a lot more appeal. I caught it in the nick of time. “You arrogant, overbearing piece of shit, you had no right. None. There was no discussion, no request.”

  “She’s all that’s good. And she’s Jordan’s sister.”

  “I don’t give a damn if she’s our sister. Nobody brings a Lumina recruit to the mountain without asking.”

  “Let’s skip the bullshit, Phoenix. Do you want to fight, or do you want to stand there and yell at me?”

  “I’d like to cut your heart out and feed it to the buzzards.”

  Key whipped his rapier through the air. “Bring it.”

  I lunged, and Key parried, the loud ping of steel against steel ringing through the cold morning air. Next to Jax, Key’d always been the best of us when it came to swords, but not today. I had cold, steady rage running through me. At that moment, I hated Key as much as I hated Eryx.

  I fought with single-minded purpose, grunting my satisfaction when I thrust my blade into his only weak spot and pierced his side. He redoubled his effort, but I forced him into retreat, and we moved around the perimeter of Jane’s grave. Key missed dinner and it must have been a long time since he’d eaten anything. He was weakening. “Take her back.”

  “You can’t be serious. Her life is crap, Phoenix.”

  He made another thrust, but I easily deflected and countered with my own, slicing into his upper arm.

  “She’s not just some girl, not just Jordan’s sister. She’s Anabo, and we need her.”

  “I don’t need her.” I let finesse slip and became more savage in my attack, my rapier moving with lightning speed.

  Grimacing in pain after I sliced across his chest, Key came back and slipped beneath my guard, landing a hard jab into my shoulder. “She’s another soldier in our dirty war.”

  I went after him and made another slice across his chest, shredding what was left of his shirt so that it hung in tatters from his shoulders. The snow on the ground was stained with blood, mostly Key’s. I was like a rabid dog, practically snarling. “Always about the job, isn’t it, brother? God forbid you do anything that isn’t about Mephisto.”

  He lost his momentum after that and I wondered if what I’d said actually filtered through to his brain. It wasn’t much longer before he gave up. When I went for his heart, he didn’t raise his sword to protect himself, and I stopped with the tip of my rapier an inch from his chest. “You’re going to let me take you out?”

  “I’m not letting you do anything. I’m fucking exhausted. Just do it.” When I hesitated, he said, “Do it!”

  He wasn’t the only one who’d lost the heart for this. I moved the sword slowly away from him. “No.” He took my rapier when I held the hilt toward him, and I turned and walked back to Jane’s grave. He needed to know the truth. Maybe that was part of the reason he came here, where he knew he was unwelcome. He had to know what to do about Mariah. Had to know if I would cave in to instinct and loneliness and share what I was with her. He thought it was so simple. Thought I could eventually set aside my guilt and grief over Jane and move on. But he didn’t know the truth. No one did. Except me, and I had to live with it for the rest of eternity. I would never drag Mariah into the Hell that was my life. I wouldn’t ruin whatever hope she had of happiness. And I wouldn’t put her at risk from Eryx. “You need to think real hard about talking her into staying, Kyros, because she won’t be Mephisto, and if that’s all she means to you, it’s cruel to keep her on the mountain.”

  “That’s not all she means to me. She’s Jordan’s sister. She’s been through a lot, and she needs us to help her find her way back to her own humanity.”

  Didn’t he know I had enough guilt for a thousand lifetimes? Surely he wasn’t standing there trying to add more guilt to my plate. “If you think I’ll feel sorry for her, you’ve—”

  “She wouldn’t want anyone to feel sorry for her. She’s all about Jordan, and if all she can ever be is a Lumina, I think that’s just fine. There’s no rule that says a Mephisto has to accept an Anabo, just like they don’t have to accept us.”

  A Lumina. Yeah, that’d just be so awesome. She’d be there on the mountain, day after day, year after year, century after century, working with all the other Luminas, and one of them was bound to fall for her and I’d spend forever watching her with another guy. I’d never survive. I’d eventually be unable to stand it and would walk into a church, onto holy ground, where I’d burst into flames and die and be sent straight to Hell, to be with Lucifer and my father and all the wretched souls who lost their way. It was fitting, I supposed. I’d certainly lost my way. “So there’s no way you’ll take her back?”

  “If you knew . . . if you could see where she lives, and what she’s got in this world, and if you could understand how she feels about Jordan, you wouldn’t want her to go back. Besides, it’s not as if her being away from the mountain will make any difference. She’ll still be Anabo, and you’re still Mephisto, and you know she exists. It’s not going to make her any less tempting.”

  Jerking my gaze to Key’s, I scowled. And lied. “I’m not tempted. I’m not interested at all. And that’s not going to change, ever.”

  Key’s gaze moved to the headstone. “Of course Jane would want you to stay true to her, and you’re nothing if not loyal, Phoenix.”

  Pure hyperbole. Did the arrogant son of a bitch really think I’d fall for it? I opted to take it at face value and nodded as I said, “She’s got nothing to worry about.”

  Time marched on, as it always does, and I know he expected me to say something.

  I didn’t.

  Then, while I waited for him to go away, he blew my mind. “I’m sorry, Phoenix.”

  I turned my head to look at him, shocked by the grief in his black eyes. Jordan had done th
is to him. As much as his chemistry gave her the DNA to become Mephisto and have the ability to kill the lost souls despite the Anabo in her, she gave Key enough of herself to affect a subtle but undeniable shift in the way he looked at the world. But I was too angry to be glad about it. Too frustrated and bitter. “Did the mighty leader of the Mephisto just apologize? Is this the apocalypse?”

  He immediately bent to get his coat and I was positive it was to keep me from seeing his tears. I was astounded all over again. Kyros was cold, distant, and hard. Always. He was all about his job and his duty as the head of our family, as leader of the Mephisto.

  When he straightened up again, his coat folded across one bloody arm, he had himself back under control. “I wish I’d known she’s Anabo so I could have warned you. I’d never have done that to you, but I just didn’t know.”

  I believed him. He was sincerely sorry. It had been a misstep, and Key never made mistakes. He hadn’t known Mariah was Anabo – but he knew she was exceptional because he could feel what was within her, what set her apart from all other humans. A well of goodness, of kindness and compassion that didn’t judge, that wasn’t selective. Born without Original Sin, Anabo were unique, and very rare. Mariah was different, though. Something was wrong with her. The blue of her eyes was dark, and she’d lost her light. “Why can’t we see it?”

  “Because of her life. She’s been . . . things have happened that caused her to . . .” He stopped talking and sighed.

  I watched snowflakes land on my brother’s dark hair and waited.

  Finally, he said, “She’s broken.”

  That hit me hard and I flinched before I quickly refocused on Jane’s grave. “Go home and eat, Key. You’re still bleeding, and you’re pale as a ghost.”

  I suppose he understood that I couldn’t talk anymore. While I stared at Jane’s gray, dreary headstone and wondered what had happened to break Mariah, Key disappeared.

  ~~ Mariah ~~

  My reunion with my sister was bittersweet: extremely joyous and heartbreakingly sad, all at once.

  We sat on the chairs in front of the fire and before I’d talk about me or our shared history, short as it was, I insisted Viorica tell me about her life, about her adoptive parents and being the First Daughter. When she told me about her mother dying of breast cancer four years ago, she cried, but there was something more, something beneath her tears that was infinitely more tragic than Mrs. Ellis’s too early death. I watched her carefully as she spoke, noticing the feminine way her hands moved, the light in her eyes, the confidence in her voice. What bothered me was her Romanian. She spoke it perfectly, just like all the others who called themselves Mephisto. Zee had said they knew every language on Earth. I was certain Viorica knew far more than the average teenager, and she undoubtedly studied French, Spanish, maybe even German, or Chinese, but would she know Romanian? Perhaps she remembered bits and pieces from her early childhood, but what were the odds she’d speak it so fluently now?

  With dread in my gut, before she was done telling me her life since I’d seen her last, I interrupted and asked, “Why are you here? Who are these strange people to you?”

  She turned her bluebell eyes toward the fire and fell quiet.

  I waited.

  Finally, she said, “I’m as strange as they are, Mariah. I was killed when I was kidnapped, and Key brought me back to life. We were going to let the world believe that my abductors dropped me into the ocean, but on a training mission in London, I was recognized, and had to make up a story to explain where I’d been. I came back to the States, to my dad at the White House, but I’m going to fake die at my birthday party in a couple of weeks and after that, I’ll be here permanently.” She turned to look at me. “I’ll never die. I’ve agreed to stay here with the Mephisto and do what they do.”

  Concentrating carefully, I kept my face devoid of any emotion. I swallowed the overpowering need to cry and scream and rail at God, opened a new box, put this inside, firmly affixed the lid, and slid it on the shelf next to the others. Instead of screaming, I asked, “What is it that they do?”

  “Have you ever heard of Mephistopheles?”

  The night Emilian died, I’d made it a certainty that I’d meet Mephistopheles. “He’s the dark angel of death who carries souls to Hell.”

  “He’s also Key’s father. He and his brothers and Sasha call him M.”

  That explained a lot. Didn’t make it better; in fact, I wished I was still asleep and was dreaming this. “Who is their mother?”

  “She was an Anabo who M found in a market in Greece over a thousand years ago. He broke a million rules of Heaven and Hell and fell in love with her.”

  This was the second time I’d heard the word Anabo. I now knew about Purgatories and Luminas. The Mephisto brothers were the sons of the dark angel of death. Really, how much weirder could this be? “What is an Anabo?”

  Viorica smiled. “People born without Original Sin. Before Eve ate the apple, she had a daughter, but the girl wandered away from Eden and was lost. She began a line of descendants who are all without Original Sin. They became less and less over time, and now, there are almost none.”

  “There’s no such thing,” I told her, certain of this. “Everyone sins. It’s the pull of darkness none of us can escape.”

  “Believe what you like, Mariah, but they do exist. Sasha is Anabo.” She smiled. “And so am I.”

  Before I could stop it, my mind tripped back in time and I could see her at the table, too short to reach, trying to eat her soup, spilling a little when the bowl tipped. Emilian exploded out of his chair and backhanded her so that she flew from her chair and hit the wall. She crumpled into a little ball and he shouted at her to get up. She saw me coming to get between her and him, to distract him, and quickly scrambled to her feet, looked up at Emilian and said she was sorry, please could she finish. He picked up the bowl and poured the rest of her soup on her head. Her beautiful eyes weren’t angry. They were filled with confusion and sorrow. She felt sorry for him. He was a brutal fiend and she felt bad for him.

  That was the night I knew I had to get her away from him.

  I looked at her now and knew she was no different. She would never want revenge, no matter the provocation. She’d always stand up for herself, but a part of her would feel sorrow.

  “Anabo are the only people who can become Mephisto,” she continued, “and the more there are, the better.”

  “Why? What do the Mephisto do?”

  She lost her smile and gave me a sober look. “They take out people who’ve pledged their souls to the oldest brother, Eryx.”

  I glanced around the pretty pink room with the cheerful fire and candles in sconces and candelabras and the softest bed and a sumptuous rug and a bathroom almost as big as my one room apartment. “Where are we, Viorica?”

  “Colorado. In the mountains. This house exists only to us, and the Luminas and Purgatories. Ordinary people can’t see it, and Eryx can’t find it.”

  “Tell me about Eryx.”

  I drifted a bit while she told me, either because I’d heard too much already, or I was infinitesimally losing reality as the night wore on. Maybe I was simply exhausted. It was two in the morning in the United States, eleven in Romania. I’d had maybe four hours of sleep. And I’d spent almost every moment since Kyros walked into Gustav’s trying to hold back all the boxes. I’d added to the towering stacks, and they all threatened to come crashing down. Too much, my mind screamed while my heart continued to break over Viorica’s death and resurrection. I grieved for her, for the eternal life she’d chosen, and for the inevitability of never seeing her again.

  Somewhere in her explanation, she said humans weren’t allowed here unless they were Luminas. I didn’t want to be a Lumina. I wanted to go home, and the real world and this one weren’t compatible. Viorica would live here and join the others when they captured those who’d traded their souls to the oldest brother, a megalomaniac who couldn’t stop looking for some way to replace the lost ligh
t of his soul and thought taking over Hell and abolishing free will would solve everything.

  “God and Lucifer didn’t know about M’s sons. He’d hidden his Anabo behind a mist of secrecy on a tiny island in the north Atlantic he called Kyanos. When they turned eighteen, they became immortal, and Eryx, as the oldest, was first. When he died, he lost all the light he had from his mother, so when he came back, he had a soul darker even than Lucifer’s. Before he died, he knew what would happen to him, and to save his younger brothers from the same thing, he killed their mother. That was the only way he knew to make God aware of their existence. Every brother after Eryx was blessed by God before he became immortal, so they kept their mother’s light.”

  I struggled to remain focused. Her words flowed over me, settling into my mind like falling snow, delicately clinging to conscious thought. She continued explaining how Eryx sacrificed his mother and himself for his brothers, then became the only soul in existence that wasn’t wanted by anyone – neither God, nor Lucifer. He spent his days convincing gullible, desperate people to pledge their faith in him, and once they said yes, there was no going back. The Mephisto captured them and put them in a place where they could never escape, killing them in the process, but ensuring Eryx would never have their soul, which he needed to increase his power. When he had enough of humanity to tip the scales, he’d declare war on Lucifer and the real fight for Hell would begin.

  The Mephisto worked constantly to keep him from acquiring enough, and very soon, my sister would join their ranks. “How will you feel about killing someone, Viorica?”

  “They’re lost. It’s for the good of humanity.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Hitler said.”

  “It’s not the same at all.”

  Maybe not. My head was about to explode and I wasn’t up for arguing. It wouldn’t do any good anyway. Viorica would stay here, no matter what I said.

  It was fantastical, all of it, and I began to wonder if this was actually happening, or if I’d taken a walk off the edge of sanity and was only imagining it. I’d read about people who lost sight of reality and lived in their own world, talking to people who weren’t there, thinking they went somewhere when really, they were sitting on a chair all the time. I was something of an expert on traveling somewhere in my mind, but I did it on purpose. Maybe my mind had decided to take a trip all on its own.