The Mephisto Mark: The Redemption of Phoenix (27 page)

He looked up at me and smiled,
but not his fake one that hid his true feelings – this one was real. “I could use a whiskey.”

He had a serious issue with alcohol, but now wasn’t the time to give him a lecture.
“Come on, then, and we’ll get one.”

Outside, we put our ski
boots on, gathered up our skis, and he popped us back to the mansion. I went to my room and slid into a pair of regular boots, then met him in the grand hall. “Where can we go?” I asked.

“I want to take you to my favorite pub.”

“But I’m not supposed to leave the mountain. Can’t we just get your whiskey and go somewhere here, somewhere private?”

“Nowhere here is private. It’ll be fine, Mariah. Trust me.”

He reached for my hand and seconds later, we stood on the sidewalk outside the Rose and Crown. “Is this London?” I looked all around me, at the beautiful buildings and the pedestrians out and about at midnight. A double-decker bus passed. Excited and eager, I asked, “Can we go around and see some things?” It would be awesome to see Big Ben at night. And the Thames. We could stand on the bridge at the Tower of London and watch boats pass beneath.

“Maybe later,” he said, tugging my hand. “Let’s go inside.”

I followed and we took a seat in a booth not far from the bar. The pub was fairly crowded, most of the tables occupied, some guys standing in the corner, laughing. It was lovely, with lots of gleaming wood, brass, and thick, bottle green carpet. I wished Gustav could afford to fix his place up like this. He tried to make improvements, but money was so dear, he’d not been able to do much. His enthusiasm almost made up for it. I had no doubt he’d someday own a nicer pub than what he now had. I would miss him in some ways; not in others. He was my past, and even though he’d always been kind to me, protective even, he was a reminder. Not that I’d ever forget, but after this morning, I realized for the first time that I could eventually put it behind me, could lose the pain of it.

Thanks to Phoenix. I inwardly smiled, wondering what he was doing at that very moment. Was he in the White House? Would he come to see me tonight? I felt a little breathless, thinking about it. I hoped he’d kiss me again.

A pretty blond girl arrived almost immediately, and she knew Denys. Quite well, it appeared. She was smiling at him very happily. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been busy,” he said with a grin and a wink. “Brianna, I’d lik
e you to meet my cousin, Mariah, from Romania. This is her first time in London.”

She smiled at me. “How d’you do?”

“Fine thanks. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I know what this one wants,” she jerked her head toward Denys, “but what can I bring for you?”

“I’d love some tea.”

As soon as Brianna left, Denys lost his smile, gazing at me soberly. “He kissed you, didn’t he?”

I didn’t answer.

“You just spoke perfect English, Mariah. I’ll ask again –
did he kiss you?”

I hadn’t realized. Speaking English had been automatic. I supposed there was no point dodging the question. I’d outed myself without thinking. “Yes.”

“So you know.”

I nodded.

“Are you going to stay?”

Again, I nodded.

“As Mephisto? Are you going to take the jump and be one of us? Are you going to be with him?”

I hadn’t thought about it since this morning, since Phoenix kissed me and began my metamorphosis into Mephisto. He’d said I might like it, and I began to understand what he meant. I was energized, hyperaware of things I’d never noticed before, and the fear that never left me, whether conscious or subconscious, was
at a low simmer instead of close to boiling over. Not feeling so afraid of the world, of life, of what was always in my head, was pretty righteous.

“I’m
not sure,” I said honestly. “I’d thought to be a Lumina because Mephisto means I have to kill people. I still don’t know if I can do that, but things are . . . not quite the same as before.”

He
was clearly bitter, his dark eyes filled with anger. “He’ll never let you not be Mephisto, never let you get away from him, surely you know this. Maybe you think he’s not so bad, maybe he’s been nice. I’d assume so if you let him kiss you.” He leaned forward and grabbed the hand I’d rested against the table, squeezing hard enough to hurt. “He’ll never leave you alone.
Never.
If you have any sense of self preservation, get out while you can. Lose Anabo. Go back to your life. Don’t stay with him.”

“Let go of my hand.”

He released me and sat back, his grin instantly returning with the arrival of Brianna and our beverages. He flirted with her. She flirted back. There was a suggestion of later. I wondered how many girls Denys had slept with in his lifetime? And I wondered if they all hoped for something more, or were they content to only be a sexual release for him? Then I wondered why I was so judgmental? It wasn’t like me and I was disturbed that I wanted to tell her she should stay away from Denys, that he would never be serious about her and she was wasting her time, her kisses, her body.

I concentrated on my tea, plopping the silk bag in and out of the wee teapot, hurrying up the steeping.
And all the while, I chastised myself. I had major issues with sex, which was understandable, but knowing I had a problem and dealing with it were two entirely different things. I hoped I wasn’t always so freaked out by it, or critical of girls who liked sex for what it was and didn’t attach any significance to it. Maybe Denys was good at it. Maybe Brianna knew it. Maybe she liked sex and didn’t have any expectations beyond getting naked with him.

When she was gone again, I looked up and met his gaze. “I don’t understand your anger.”

“He destroyed Jane. He took her to bed, then abandoned her. Why was she alone that night? If I found an Anabo meant for me, there’s no way in hell I’d leave her within an hour of our first time. He didn’t love her because he’s incapable of it. Please, Mariah, save yourself from an eternity of misery. Lose Anabo and live the rest of your life like ordinary people.”

“What about my sister? Have you forgotten her? If I go back to my life, I’ll never see her again, and we’ve only just found each other.”

“Key will grant an exception for her to visit you. Even if he doesn’t, she’ll do it anyway. Jordan will do what she will and Kyros needs to get used to it.”

I poured the tea into the cup and took a sip. It was marvelous. “Why do you think
Phoenix is incapable of love?”

“Because he had the chance. He had Jane, and she was perfect. Beautiful, smart, educated, funny, kind and absolutely loyal. He couldn’t love that, so what does that say about him?”

“It says she wasn’t right for him.”

“She was his intended.”

“Says who?”

“Says God
. He sent Jane for Phoenix and not only did he not love her, he let her be murdered.”

I was already tired of the Mephisto, and not because they were sons of Hell, eternal bad-asses charged with saving the world, which gave them a certain aggravating arrogance. No, I was tired of the guy thing, and they
were so steeped in testosterone and over a thousand years of striding across the planet with absolute entitlement because of their size, their looks, and their sheer strength, they failed to understand simple human interaction. Dialogue. Conversation. Discussion. Why talk it out when they could simply launch themselves at one another and roll around on the floor and punch and kick and curse and shout?

“You look like you’re disgusted.”

“I am. With the lot of you. Over a century has passed since she died. You silently grieve, he stalwartly feels guilty, and I don’t doubt the others are equally tightlipped about it. No one, in all those years, has ever talked about what happened to Jane. You say you have no idea where he was that night, or why he was beaten when he finally showed up. Did it ever occur to you to ask? Did you never consider just telling him how it was with Jane? Maybe he’d be hurt, or feel betrayed, but it’s better than having this huge, festering secret between you. You’re so filled with rage toward him, you’re trying to get me to leave. Listen to yourself, Denys. Would the others want me to leave? Jordan told me there are no other Anabo, that we’re so rare, she thinks maybe M asked God to send more. Would you wish your brother, who you claim to love, to have no one for all eternity? Because I’m it for him. And maybe it’s unfair that he’s had two Anabo, but how can you be sure he has? How do you know Jane wasn’t intended for you, all along? Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe you guessed at it. But you’ll never know, and you’ll never move past it if you don’t
talk to him
.”

He blinked at me. “
And here I thought you were more the quiet type.”

“Not hardly.” I drank more of my tea. “Can we get something to eat? I am starving.”

He waved at Brianna, who hurried over. “Bring my cousin some fish and chips, with mushy peas. Bring a slice of steak and kidney pie, as well. And if you have any left, let us have some treacle cake.”

As soon as she’d flirted a bit more and left, he settled back and drank his whiskey, watching me drink my tea. “You’re kind of a surprise, Mariah. I wonder what goes on in that head of yours?”

If he only knew. I shrugged. “We all have our crosses to bear, don’t we?”

“I’m a son of Hell. No
crosses for me.”

I told him my thoughts about religion and he was surprised, I could tell.

He told me what he thought, and it was my turn to be surprised.

The food came and it was delicious. He ordered more whiskey.

Time passed, he drank more and became tipsy, then drunk. Our conversation swung between serious and funny, and at some point, others gravitated to our table, pulling up chairs, laughing and cheering when Denys ordered round after round for everyone in the pub. He told joke after joke, flirted with everyone there, held them in the palm of his hand, and all the while, through his drunken, raucous laughter, I saw the pain in his eyes.

After my
second pot of tea, I had to go to the ladies. I excused myself, and one guy said with a warm smile, “Don’t be long.” For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel an underlying threat. Not that I believed every male who showed an interest in me was threatening – just that he was, by virtue of being male, a threat.

I nodded and struck out for the restrooms, located down a narrow hallway just past the bar.
In the ladies, when I was done, while I stood at the sink to wash my hands, I was suddenly aware that someone else was there. And the door hadn’t opened.

Alarmed, I reached for it and the lock turned, right before my eyes.

Wheeling around, I saw a guy in a pale pink dress shirt and dark gray trousers casually leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. He was almost as good looking as Denys, and bore a striking resemblance to Key – to all the brothers. His hair was black as midnight, nicely cut, his jaw was covered with a light stubble, and his black eyes were dead, without a spark of life. Beyond creepy, they were disturbing. Even terrifying. And yet, I didn’t feel so very afraid, despite who he was.

“We meet at last.”
His lips curved into a slight smile, almost wry. “Hello, Mariah.”

“Hello, Eryx.”

Chapter 14

November 6, 1888

Yorkshire

I drop my arms and step back from Jane. I will the candles on her desk to light, and we stare at one another. “What happened tonight?”

“I was hoping you didn’t notice.”

“Why would you kiss my brother like that? Why is it never that way with me?”

She moves to the chair by the window and sits, her back ramrod straight. Is it distress, or her corset? I decide I hate fucking corsets.

“I felt sorry for him. He was so embarrassed and humiliated, my heart went out to him.”

“You feel sorry for lots of people and you don’t stick your tongue down their throats.”

She scowls at me. “There’s no call to be crude.”

I stalk closer to her chair, angry and frustrated. “You didn’t kiss him because you felt sorry for him. You kissed him because you wanted to, because you felt an instant attraction to him, the second he appeared. Isn’t that true?”

She looks up at me, meets my gaze directly. Boldly. I’m a little
taken aback. Jane is never bold. “Very well, I won’t deny it. Yes, I was instantly attracted to him. What difference does it make? I love you, not him. Are you going to carry on like this every time I’m attracted to another man? Because you should know, I’ve been attracted to a number of other men.”

“Again, I’ll point out that you don’t kiss men you find attractive. Until tonight.” Remembering, my heart squeezes. “That was hurtful, Jane.”

She’s instantly on her feet, sliding her arms around my middle. “It was nothing, Phoenix. I’m sorry. He kissed me, and I responded. I’m only human, after all.”

I bend my head and kiss her and this time, it’s better. It goes on for a while and gets even better. When I lift my head
, she blinks up at me. “It’s just all new to me. You and yours, walking again, and learning to live with what happened to Georgiana – it’s a lot to become accustomed to.” She pulls away and turns around. “Will you undo me?”

My lascivious mind takes that way past what she means. While I’m unbuttoning her, sliding the gown down her body to pool at her feet, then unlacing her corset to toss it aside, then reaching for her shift to pull over her head, my mind already has her in the bed, beneath me,
crying out, kissing me with uninhibited desire and passion.

She turns to face me, clearly shy about her nakedness. I stare, unable not to. “
You’re so beautiful. I don’t deserve you.”

“Do not start that again. It’s such a damper.” She steps around me and goes to the bed to retrieve the night
-rail she’d left there earlier. I catch one last look at her sweet body before the thin fabric hides her from me. She moves to her dressing table, sits and begins to remove the pins from her hair. I watch, mesmerized as golden curls fall one by one to trail down her back. She begins to talk and I can scarcely pay attention, I’m so caught up. When she’s done with the pins, she picks up a hairbrush and pulls it through her curls, slowly, carefully, apparently oblivious to me watching. She is still talking, and I realize she’s telling me something important.

“
. . . another month, and spend that time getting to know your family. I also want to learn more about Eryx, and the people who follow him. I can’t understand why someone would turn their back on God and pledge themselves to a charlatan.”

“They don’t know he’s a charlatan. He’s very charming and people trust him because he fakes sincerity so well. He tells them God has abandoned humanity and they look around at all the suffering and they believe him. He offers them
the achievement of all they think they need to be worthy, and it’s always based on whatever it is they feel is missing in their life. Georgiana was convinced she needed the adulation of every aristocrat in England, and your infirmity was holding her back. To most anyone, this is shallow, but to her, how she was seen by others was all important. Eryx has the unique ability to see through a person, to know what they want, and he’s cunning in his method of convincing them he can give them what they need to get what they want.”

She begins to braid her long hair and I realize I’ve missed the opportunity to touch it, to comb my fingers through its softness. Next time, I promise myself.

“Let’s try again on Friday night,” she says, finishing the braid, turning to face me. “We’ll forget tonight and start fresh.”

I nod my agreement,
but I know I won’t be able to forget watching her kiss my brother.

~~ Phoenix ~~

It wa
s rare for me to be afraid of anything, but I almost chickened out and popped back to Mephisto Mountain. All that kept me going was remembering Mariah’s soft voice, telling me the horror that was her life; remembering Jane’s beautiful face as she died, her eyes filled with her heartbreak.

Grave injustice was mine and I owned it a
long time ago, but not until now did I have the chance to make it right.

That it meant meeting Lucifer again was terrifying. The last time, h
is minions had rearranged my face and pulverized most of my internal organs. And while the dark overlord vented his rage at me for my deception, Eryx was abducting Jane, taking what made her Anabo, stealing all hope of her resurrection. He was able to do that because of me, because I’d held on to her, knowing she wasn’t mine to keep.

In the alley of St. Paul’s Cathedral, moments after I’d been climbing the steps to go inside and end everything, Lucifer
had told me I wouldn’t be allowed to die unless and until I admitted the truth to my brother, and made amends to Jane. He went still further and said when and if I found an Anabo meant for me, I could never have her until I’d met his demands. Incapable of any kind of filter, lying in the filth of the alley, my body broken and my spirit destroyed, I’d pointed out that my disappearance was best for everyone. He hauled me to my feet and said, “Only best for
you
. Of all your brothers, you are most like your father.” He shook me until my bones rattled. “Compassion is not a means to an end. Sacrifice isn’t about
you
. Love isn’t a prize to be won.” He tossed me back to the puddle of refuse. “Make this right, Phoenix. Live your life with honor. Then come and talk to me about what’s best for your brothers.”

He disappeared and I laid there and stared up at the stars in the narrow strip of sky between the buildings. I could still feel Jane, knew she waited for me.
While I wondered how I could ever make things right, her presence in my head felt different. I sat up and concentrated more carefully, and I knew. She was in Romania. Eryx had taken her.

Her murder made half of my promise to Lucifer invalid,
and the other half . . . I hadn’t seen the need to tell him. Jane was gone and it was all my fault. He would hate me forever, and while I certainly deserved his hatred, I knew it would cause enormous problems within the Mephisto. It would alter trust and we depended on trust to do what we did. What was the point?

And so I never told him.
Someday, I would, but not yet. I wondered if Lucifer would punish me for putting it off. I was awash in fear, despite knowing he was always painstakingly fair. I acknowledged my fear wasn’t of what he might do to me, but what he would say. I’d never known shame as I had the night Jane died. No physical pain could compare.

Lucifer was very good at shame. It was one of his reasons for existing.

Humans believed he was a tricky chameleon who’d suck the souls from the unwary, the unfaithful, and the sinners, but that was all bullshit.

Lucifer
was the reason for the darkness of humanity. His existence instilled the pull of evil that resided in every human soul other than the Anabo. He was the dark to Heaven’s light, the down to God’s up, the balance of choice. And yet, nothing in any written or spoken word came close to the actual being who was Lucifer. People forgot he was once an angel, closer to God than any other. I didn’t know why he fell. All I knew for sure was that he didn’t exult when people did bad things. His was not an existence of triumph, but of sorrow, grief, and eternal penitence. He wasn’t about gathering followers. The groups of people who thought to worship him were laughable, if only because they had no clue who it was they lauded. He was the reason humans had the choice between right and wrong. He was man’s conscience. Whatever perversions and horrors they committed against one another was entirely their own choice. And if they remained unrepentant, they would spend eternity with Lucifer, not in a fiery pit, but a dark, cold place where there was no dignity, no love, no solace.

Unless they gave their soul to Eryx
, ensuring a future more dark and grim than Hell. If we failed to capture them, their soul would cease to exist when they died, absorbed into his to bolster his quest for domination of all.

I’d spent most of the day revisiting old haunts, standing at Jane’s grave, walking through the frozen dead gardens at the Longbourne estate
. I tried and failed to figure out a way to make things work with Mariah. I wanted her with all my soul, would have done anything to stay with her, but she deserved so much more than a lying piece of shit like me. And once she knew what really happened with Jane, she’d despise me. Better that I step back and leave her alone.

And so I wound up
in the Arabian desert in the middle of night, chanting the ancient words that would open the gates to Hell on Earth. It was all I had, the only possibility of calling Lucifer. He would know the absence of any Skia or lost soul, and pay close enough attention to realize I wanted to talk to him. Would he come? I didn’t know, but I had to try. If this didn’t work, I’d be forced to call M and solicit his help, which would mean telling him everything – and Lucifer’s rage couldn’t compare to my father’s if he knew the whole truth.

Lucifer had a flair for drama, and he didn’t disappoint. The wind began to blow ferociously and lightning crackled across the cloudless night sky. I
n the midst of stinging sand, I ceased chanting and lowered my arms to wait, but instead of Lucifer appearing, a piece of paper flew at me, plastering to my chest. I peeled it off and saw that it was a handbill from 1968 for a Beatles concert at the Royal Albert Hall in London. It was an odd place for a meeting, but I wasn't about to question it.

Folding the handbill into my coat pocket, I popped myself to London and landed just in front of the beautiful
round hall Queen Victoria had built in memory of her husband. No one was about. It was almost one in the morning, and I stood well away from pedestrian thoroughfares next to the huge statue of Prince Albert at the top of the steps to the south entrance on Prince Consort Road.

A voice came to me from the other side of Prince Albert. “You’ve more nerve than any of your brothers, Phoenix. I’m not quite sure if this elevates or lowers you in my regard.”

He stepped out and I was instantly freezing. It was cold in London and the sky threatened snow, but this was a different kind of cold. This was the coldness of death, absolute and eternal. “Do you know why I’m here?” I asked him.

“Not entirely, and I could guess, or mine your mind, but I believe I’d rather you tell me why you’ve called me into the light.”

He didn’t have a memorable presence. He had face and form, but I forgot it even while looking at him. I questioned my fortitude, yet again, and clung to thoughts of Mariah. And my brother.

I didn’t preamble, didn’t go into any explanation. There was no need. He knew everything. “I want Mariah to be his.”

“You’re assuming I can do this, even though she was made how she is by God, and sent specifically for you. He will have his, someday, but it won’t be Mariah. She is for you and it’s not in my ability to change that. You need to ask God.”

Was he joking?
No, couldn’t be. Lucifer was many things, but not a jokester. “He can’t hear me.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then how can I ask?”

“You can love her, find your redemption, and talk to God for hours on end. He’ll hear every word.”

“But then—”

“You’ll love her and have to give her up.
Ironic, yes? You took what was your brother’s, and now, to repair what you destroyed, you’ll have to sacrifice what you want most, what’s yours to have, if only you deserved her. You’ll love her, but have to watch her with him all the rest of your life, and know that it would have been different had you not given in to your selfishness. I wonder, when it comes down to it, if you’ll give her up for him? Or will your basest nature, what makes you Mephisto, rise up again and deny justice?”

I honestly didn’t know.

“Your first step, to exemplify sincerity in your quest, is to tell him. You’ve procrastinated this duty I demanded for well over a century. If you fail in this, I can’t help you at all and, even were you to love her and be redeemed before God, he won’t take you at your word. Lies and secrets between brothers are as gangrene to a limb, eating away at the lifeblood, killing it. Come clean, Phoenix. Once you do that, you can move forward.”

“He’ll despise me. He’ll never trust me again.”

“Man up. Tell him.”

I swallowed, imag
ining his reaction, already hurting for him, for the pain I would cause.