Bloodstone (12 page)

He had transformed so quickly that the moisture in my mouth dried up instantly as I stared in awe at Mephisto, unsure if he’d finally shown me his true self. He extended a tenuous, veiny arm, but try though I might, I couldn’t move. His horrifying metamorphosis held me captive.

I felt his bony fingers clamp around my neck, digging into my skin, closing off my air supply. But how could that happen? Only my spirit appeared, not my physical body. Panic swept through me as my thoughts spun and I kicked my legs, trying to clip him, but my feet went through his body.

Regardless, Mephisto had somehow clutched onto my spectral state. A wicked grin peeled his lips back, revealing a bottomless pit of darkness. Twin flames danced in place of his eyes.

Dangling in the air, I tried to grab his arms to knock them aside, but my hands went right through his arm as though he were nothing more than a mirage. I couldn’t determine if he’d projected an illusion, or if I was losing my marbles.

“You are an ignorant fool,” he said, his voice deep and dark. “I treat you with respect, kindness even, and you repay me with insults?” Mephisto adjusted his palm around my neck, squeezing tighter now that he’d gotten a firm hold. “Look at your body.” He tilted his hand, allowing me to check my ghostly frame if I so chose. “Go ahead. Look!”

In spite of the pressure around my neck, I had no problem glancing at my frame. My face, which had turned a slight blue a few minutes ago, now looked a pasty white, as though I’d already died. Although nothing or no one had so much as touched my body, it jerked as though someone had placed two AED paddles to my chest and triggered the defibrillator to send electric currents through my body.

Mephisto threw his head back and laughed with pure delight, and then he met my gaze. “Do you doubt my power, my influence?” He tightened his grasp around me and rattled the hand around my neck.

I squiggled in place from the pressure. I shook my head and caught sight of my figure again. “No!”

He stared at me for a long moment, trying to determine if he’d gotten through to me.

How had he grasped my soul? If he’d visited me in spiritual form, he could exact whatever type of punishment he saw fit. In that instance, didn’t it make sense that I could do likewise?

As Lucifer’s henchman, maybe he had the ability to travel beyond just one dimension? I had no idea. But based on what the demon who’d visited my home earlier had said, Mephisto could not be trusted.

When he’d visited me in my room, Mephisto had scared the hell out of me. And just now, he’d resorted to violence. Had he done so to prove his dominance? If so, he’d succeeded. Maybe he’d visited to make me second-guess my abilities. Once again, mission accomplished! More than anything, in tandem with those two possibilities, he may have dropped by to keep me on edge, to unnerve me. In battle, even a short paralytic moment could mean the difference between victory and defeat. Taken in that context, Mephisto had succeeded on all counts.

He analyzed my eyes, seeking an answer to an unasked question. After five seconds, he shook his head, disappointed. “You’re not ready for the truth.”

Those mysterious, haunting words made my soul quiver. I locked my gaze on the pair of blazing orbs in his eye sockets, searching for answers that weren’t forthcoming.

“But soon you will be.” His demented grin flattened into a confident glare. “And then, you’ll be all too willing to broker a deal with me.” He nodded as complete certainty took hold of him. “Once again, you’ll
beg
me to take the Soul Sword.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I blinked and…Mephisto disappeared. My spirit had already begun its descent until my feet stopped a few inches above the floor. Strangely enough, I no longer gasped for air. Startled by that observation, I also realized my throat didn’t hurt, which made sense since on one level I didn’t have a physical form. So how had Mephisto clenched my throat and lifted my spirit? I still had no explanation for this oddity. It made no sense.

Nonetheless, my body jerked a few times and lay still. I swept over to my face, placed my ear next to my mouth, and barely heard my shallow breath passing between my teeth. How long would I continue to breathe? Ten seconds? A minute? Since I wasn’t a medical professional, I had no idea how much time my body had before it completely shut down.

Mephisto had shaken my soul without touching my physical form. It all likelihood, it meant that, while unconscious or astral projecting, I was still constructed of energy, and therefore, I could most likely influence events in the physical world…similar to how a ghost could walk across creaky floors or slam a door. With that thought in mind, I rushed through the room, sped down the hall, and stopped to see…

Alexis stood in front of Nolan, Brandon, and Kendall, while holding the microphone stand in her hand and glaring at the surprisingly large crowd, which I’d estimate at over one hundred and fifty people, with obvious distaste, as though singing was beneath her. This…from a woman who took off most of her clothes,
danced
in front of men, and mentally brainwashed them into stuffing handfuls of cash into her bra and panties. All that was okay, but singing in front of a crowd? That was stupid, meaningless. It made me want to strangle my sister with even greater pressure than Mephisto had used to choke me

Obviously, after seducing Brandon at her house, Alexis had driven them to the venue and intended to impersonate me. It meant that at least forty-five minutes had passed since I’d left her home. But that seemed unlikely. My conversation with Mephisto had seemed no longer than fifteen minutes. On second thought, time may adhere to different rules in the astral world. It would explain how he’d grasped onto me.

While convincing Brandon that he’d had sex with Kendall was both incredibly disturbing and disgusting, I shouldn’t have been shocked that she had the gall to impersonate me as the vocalist of
Salem’s Curse
. I took a moment to look past this annoyance in order to calm my mind. I glanced around the venue.

The pair of pool tables at the back of the facility was vacant of human activity, but the bar and tables were filled with people, and bodies were stacked tight across the polished wooden floor.

As Kendall, Brandon, and Nolan did a soundcheck to ensure that their instruments played with the precise amount of tonal frequency, Alexis looked ten times more beautiful than I could manage…even if a makeup artist did my face with the utmost care. Only now, seeing her standing beside the microphone, looking out at the crowd, did I realize how stunning she looked compared to me.

How had my bandmates failed to recognize the way she stood, the way she talked, the way she acted? How could they overlook each of those factors? Had she compelled each of them to think I stood among them? Their absent-mindedness concerned me. On second thought, I couldn’t blame them for failing to recognize Alexis. They were busy setting up our equipment in order to present the best show possible. How could I slight them for it? Besides, Alexis had never impersonated me, so they hadn’t given it any thought. Not only that, but she could have compelled them to go on about their business without questioning her true identity. It would have explained how Brandon didn’t act the least bit uncomfortable in Kendall’s presence. Alexis had probably made him forget about their rendezvous. I had to admit one thing. My sister, for all her flaws, was one hell of an actor.

A heavyset man in his late fifties with olive skin and slicked back hair snatched the microphone from Alexis and at the same time slapped her ass. What a scumbag! Surprisingly, it didn’t even elicit a response from Alexis. That upset me. After all, she had mimicked me, and her attitude reflected upon me.

Lust dripped from the man’s gaze as he stared at my sister’s cleavage. “Okay, okay,” he said into the microphone. He used two fingers to press down on his bushy mustache. “Tonight we got a special treat for you rock n’ rollers out there! Give it up for…Salem’s Curse!” He stepped away from the mic, but his gaze didn’t waver from my sister’s chest as he began clapping…and licking his lips like a pervert.

Brandon and Kendall settled into a smooth rhythm. Moments later, Nolan started a bluesy melody on guitar. All the while, Alexis nodded her head with a smile. Then she placed her lips beside the microphone. “Arlington Heights, how you doin’ tonight?”

The crowd lifted their hands and shouted with applause.

My sister’s words didn’t sound genuine. If anything, they felt forced, exaggerated. More than that, her grin looked awkward and didn’t fit her words. 

“Good,” Alexis said. “That’s real good.” She chuckled. “Because this whole thing…” She gestured to my bandmates. “Tonight? Playing for you?” She laughed again, a husky tone erupting from her throat. “Is a bunch of…steaming shit!” She shook her head, looking appalled as she set her gaze on the crowd. “Heavy metal? Really? Who the fuck listens to this shit music?” She glanced behind her at my bandmates as though they weren’t worthy to share her space. Then she spun back toward the crowd. “You can all suck my cock!” She dropped the mic, turned around, and walked back down the hall toward the back exit.

There was complete silence in the bar…for five seconds. Then a man shouted, “What the fuck?!” Another person shouted a similar profanity. And then, one after the other, voices erupted in anger, hurled at my bandmates, who stopped playing and set their attention on one another in confusion before looking in the direction Alexis had gone…as though expecting her to return, wondering if she'd been acting, as if she’d incited anger to get a reaction out of the crowd.

A member of the crowd flung a bottle of Miller Lite toward the band. A second later, a hamburger, with condiments flinging through the air, hit the drum kit. Then half a dozen projectiles flew toward the band: a handful of fries, a few solo cups, a hot dog bun, a couple trays of taco chips minus the cheese; a shot glass, and various bunched-up wrappers.

Horrified by Alexis’s behavior, my friends stood in place as though uncertain if what Alexis had said truly occurred, as though they suspected they’d entered a dream world where only their worst nightmares took place. They looked at each other with great concern, unsure what to do.

Like my friends, Alexis’s behavior shocked me. Only after thirty seconds, and no sign of her return, did I realize what she’d accomplished: she’d buried our chances. No band member had screamed such vehemence at their fans and returned to prominence in world of rock ’n’ roll. Only someone without a conscience would purposely ruin another’s dream. So much rage roiled inside me that my spirit vibrated with fury.

I looked at the space my sister had just vacated, wishing she stood in that exact spot, so I could…what? I didn’t have a physical form, so I couldn’t retaliate even if I wanted to.
That fucking bitch!

How could she, in good conscience, wreck havoc with my career? The one thing I’d spent so much time and attention on for the past few years? I sped away from my friends and the fans in favor of following the path Alexis had just taken. I found her in the alley, heading to the right, probably toward her car somewhere in the vicinity.

I zoomed up to her in order to face my sister. When Alexis tried to walk through me without seeing my presence, I physically made her bounce backward as though she’d banged into a wall.

She looked left. She looked right. An astonished expression took hold of her. “What the…”

Seeing her confusion increased my wrath. “You fucking bitch!” I screamed. I swung a right hook at her face.

A gust of wind lashed against her face, the pressure snapping her head back. She halted. With the utmost uncertainty, without moving, she glanced left and right, her eyes gleaming with puzzled intensity. Not seeing anything in either direction, she chuckled as though disregarding a paranormal explanation in favor of one that emphasized a natural weather pattern.

Her disregard only served to rile me to a feverish pitch. I struck out with both hands, hoping to clutch her neck, but no matter how hard I tried to grasp onto it, my hands stopped an inch from her face, although wind continued to brush against her hair, pushing it back as though a fan blew air into her face from only inches away.

Alexis quivered in place, swallowing repeatedly, her eyebrows lowering in fear. “Whoever’s there, I’m not afraid of you.”

“You will be!” I shouted.

“Oh my God!”

The voice reverberated through my skull. It sounded like…Celestina. I redirected my attention around me, but I didn’t see her anywhere.

“Aunt Serena!” Celestina’s voice rang out.

“Holy shit!” exclaimed Brandon. “Was she wrestling a pack of wild dogs?”

Where were they? And how could I hear them while not in earshot? A second later, however, I realized that both Celestina and Brandon had somehow found my body. I guessed the link between body and soul allowed me to hear what occurred around my body. I suspected that Alexis hadn’t allowed her daughter to tag along on the trip to the bar. I’d bet Celestina had called a cab and made her way here on her own, which explained the delay between getting dropped off and finding my body in the storage room.

Rather than waste more time on my worthless sister, I hurried back to the storage room in time to find Brandon and Celestina attending to my body.

Brandon whipped his drumsticks behind him, gave my shoulder only a cursory glance, and put an ear to my mouth. “Oh, shit. She’s not breathing.”

“No!” Celestina shrieked and hurried over to my body. She couldn’t contain the energy throttling through her hands to move of their own accord. “What do we do?” Her chest rose and fell with nervous energy. “We gotta help her. What do we do?”

What had happened to the confident girl who had seen me die, only to kickstart my heart less than a week ago? What made her so anxious and jumpy that she couldn’t recall how she’d saved me in the past?

Brandon, the epitome of calm and collected, said, “Can’t you help her?” His face twisted into an agonized expression. “You did before. Why can’t you help her now?”

Celestina placed her hands against her cheeks, shut her eyes, and shook her head. A slight whining sound came from her closed mouth. It looked like she was trying to block out reality.

“Okay,” he said, “if you can’t help, go find someone who can. Tell them to bring an AED.”

Celestina gave no indication that she’d heard him. Then again, she began humming louder to block out his voice from reaching her ears.

I watched my niece, concerned that she’d begun losing her mind. Why was she humming? To block out Brandon’s voice? No other explanation could explain her response. Besides, what had taken place in the past few days to dissuade her from helping me? What hadn’t I seen or heard?

“What happened, Serena?” Brandon muttered. “How long have you been like this?” He lifted my shirt above my breasts, slipped one hand over the other, and placed them under my bra in the middle of my chest and began administering CPR. “Hey!” he shouted to Celestina, looking at her without losing a beat while pushing pressure above my heart in his bid to keep my heart active, in order to break through my niece’s fright.

“I’m doing CPR,” he shouted, breathing heavy, probably from an adrenaline overload while addressing Celestina. “Your Aunt Serena will be fine. Now go get some help.” He waited a moment, but Celestina remained in place as tears slipped down her cheeks. “Go!” he yelled at her.

She let out an anguished and frightened cry, spun around, and rushed out of the room.

Brandon turned back to me. “Come on, Serena,” he said, gasping. “Work with me here.”

I approached him, completely and utterly moved by his dedication. If I had a physical form, and he hadn’t been working to keep my heart active, I’d collapse beside him to give him a big hug.

“I didn’t see any vampires out there for a change. Are you going to miss our first show without them?” He turned back to the door, frustrated. Celestina hadn’t yet returned with help. Beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead. He stopped CPR, plugged my nose with two fingers, tilted my head back, and blew a short breath into my mouth. He waited a second and repeated the procedure.

“Goddammit,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m not letting you die.” With pure determination, he went back to work on my chest, keeping a steady rhythm. “Do you hear me?” He checked the door again. “Come on!” he shouted, either to the staff who hadn’t yet barged through the door or to me. “You’re the best friend I ever…” His barely audible voice cracked, but he continued pressing down on my chest before returning to my lips and blowing air between them. He was out of breath, but he pushed more air into my body and then continued doing CPR.

A pot-bellied man in his late forties with pale, clammy skin lacking the slightest indication that even one shred of hair had ever appeared there, rushed into the room with a defibrillator. Behind him, Celestina trailed for a moment before taking the lead and skidding beside Brandon. The pale man hustled over to them, bent down as his knees crackled, popped open the box, and pulled out the AED. Gasping, he pulled out the pads.