The Mephisto Mark: The Redemption of Phoenix (6 page)

With fury in his black eyes, he
looked up from the crack and spat at me before he disappeared from the war room.

“Damn,” Zee murmured, “shit just got real.”

I took a heavy breath and said to all of them, “It’s best if I leave, at least for now. I’ll figure things out, and she can be here and get to know Jordan again without any more drama.” I said to Sasha, “I’m sorry,” because she knew what this meant. She understood like they didn’t. Mariah was my responsibility, and I was abandoning her. Until Jordan came to be with us permanently, it would be up to Sasha to walk Mariah through the minefield that was our lives.

At her nod, I left.

Chapter 4

~~ Mariah ~~

Olga meowed.

I jerked awake, then lay utterly still, eyes squeezed shut while my mind took me away from what was about to happen. I waited on the braided rug by the fire and listened to the wind at the windows and said little girl prayers and, in the part of my mind that could never entirely leave, I prayed he’d be too drunk.

I came awake more fully and remembered he was dead and wanted to weep with
relief. But Olga had meowed. Someone was here.

Opening one eye a tiny bit, I remembered where I was.
I lifted my head and saw Mathilda sitting by the fire, reading a book. A bottle of Tylenol sat on the desk, alongside a glass of water. And leaning against the wall next to the door was Phoenix – the reason for Olga’s meow. He was dressed as Kyros had been, in black leather pants with heavy black boots and a long, black leather trench coat. I wondered what it was that they did. I would ask Viorica.

Thinking of seeing her, my
anticipation returned and I wished I had something nicer to wear. For all that I was insulted by what Phoenix said, he was spot on with his critique. My clothes were fine for pub work, but inappropriate for anywhere else. If I could go to my apartment, I would change into a sweater and my jeans.

He pushed off
the wall to stand straight. “I’m here to apologize, Mariah.”

I wondered if
Sasha and his brothers made him do this, although he did actually sound sincere, so maybe not. I closed my eyes and stroked Olga’s soft fur. “Apology accepted.”

He didn’t leave. I could still feel him watching me.

After a while, he said, “How long will you stay?”

“A week.”

“I’ll be gone, so I won’t see you again.”

“Okay.”

He still didn’t leave. I opened my eyes and looked across the room at him. He stared at me with a contradictory expression of anger and need. “Was there something else?”

“No, I
. . . no.”

“Well, goodbye then.”

“I really am sorry, Mariah. Whatever my problems are, it’s grossly unfair to make you suffer for them.”

I wondered what his problems were, then decided I didn’t care. I would never see him again. “Everyone has problems, and sometimes they bleed over onto others. It’s okay, Phoenix. Let’s just forget it.”

Still, he didn’t leave. I rolled to my back and sat up, disturbing Olga, who jumped to the floor and went straight to Phoenix. She purred loudly, butting her head against his boot. When he reached down to pick her up, I knew he wasn’t going to leave right away. I was cursing this fact when he looked at me again, only this time, there was no anger, no hatred. Instead, all I saw was yearning. Not sexual, exactly, although there was that, but more a plea, a want of some kind. Mesmerized, puzzled, and improbably sad, I couldn’t look away.

Mathilda continued reading, and maybe she was listening, maybe she wasn’t, but I had a feeling she knew every tiny detail of what went on in this house, so
there was no point worrying about her presence. I asked Phoenix, “What is it about me? Do I remind you of someone?”

“Yes.”

“Was she friend or enemy?”

“Friend.” He continued petting Olga, who continued to purr.

The room was darker than before, only two of the six candles in the candelabra lit, lending an air of intimacy that was helped by the light of the fire. Something far beyond my comprehension tugged at me, demanding my attention, but I was lost and didn’t know what to do. Our eyes met again and I had the sudden certainty that I’d remember this moment all the rest of my life. “Did you love her?”

I saw it in his eyes,
no
, but he said out loud, “It doesn’t matter now. She’s gone, long ago.”

“Did she leave you?”

“She died.”

“Do I look like her?”

“No. But you’re like her in another way.” He walked toward the bed and stopped just at the edge to set Olga down. Tail straight with indignation, she went to curl up at the end. He loomed over me and I bent my neck to look up at him.

“
Let me touch your hair,” he whispered. “Just this once.”

It was a strange request, something I’d never allow any guy to do for any reason, but the way he asked, the look in his eyes
. . . I couldn’t refuse. Reaching behind my head, I pulled the ponytail loose and my hair fell across my back and shoulders. He lifted one hand and gently stroked down before slipping his fingers into the middle to cradle my head. I could feel his warm palm against my nape as he bent lower and whispered, “Don’t stay, Mariah. They’ll try to talk you into it, but don’t. Go home, marry a nice boy, have some babies and live to be very old.”

His face was scarce inches from mine
. He was closer than I ever let anyone come, and I began to feel anxious. I caught the tangy sweet scent of oranges, which seemed very odd. “I intend to go home.”

“Good.” I thought he might kiss me, but he didn’t, and I was glad and sad all at the same time.
I’d never been kissed. I’d never wanted it. Never expected to want it. How strange that my first stirring of curiosity was for a guy who’d insulted me. He did seem genuinely sorry, and now his gaze moved across my face as if he was memorizing it, as if it mattered.

His expression was sad when he
released me and stood straight. “Goodbye, Mariah. I wish . . .”

“What do you wish?”

He huffed out a breath and said, “A happy life for you.”

Then he was gone and I stared at the
imprint of his boots on the rug where he’d been. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something momentous just occurred, but it hadn’t. He petted my hair, told me to go home and have a happy life, and he left. Other than him disappearing into thin air, nothing at all out of the ordinary about it.

So why did I feel as if someone just walked over my grave?

***

I’d
gotten out of the shower, which Mathilda insisted I take, and slipped back into the white robe when Sasha knocked and came in. I was struck all over again by her beauty. Small wonder Jax was in love with her.

She saw me in the doorway to the bathroom
and said with a wide smile, “Key just called. He’ll be here with Jordan in about twenty minutes.”

“I’ll get dressed.”

“Yer clothes are clean and waiting for you in the closet,” Mathilda said.

“Thank you.”
It was a very big closet. I went inside, closed the door and quickly dressed, wishing all over again that I had something else to wear. Back in the bathroom, I blow dried my hair, pulled it into a ponytail, then returned to the bedroom.

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 s
aid, “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 ~~

I
n 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, s
liding 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.”

“T
hat’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—”