Revenant

by Phaedra Weldon

  I smiled at him.

  He smiled at me. And in that smile I saw joy, happiness, fear, confusion, and sorrow.

  So much sorrow. I squelched the urge to run to him and hug him. He looked incredible, dressed in jeans and a soft, light green cotton shirt that laced in front. It looked like the top of a dashiki only without the patterns.

  I squelched it not because I was embarrassed, or was worried about how Rhonda would feel, but because of the girls. They felt—wrong.

  I couldn’t put my finger on it then, but if I had to describe it, I’d say they seemed fake. Like two cardboard cutouts with no substance. I wanted to ask him if he felt that way as well but decided to wait till we were alone.

  Of course with them around, being alone was questionable.

  “So the Phantasm is getting rid of anything that stands in his way?” Mom asked.

  Jason nodded. “Sounds reasonable I suppose. Then all it has to face is just Zoë and the Archer. But I’m afraid we’re not going to go down that easy.” He turned to Dags. “Mr. McConnell here has been able to readily access the book—not all at once. Apparently he’s had practice at using the spells inside during times of duress.”

  Dags grinned. “Meaning when I get my ass into a shitload of trouble, the book always seems to come through.”

  “Except when you touched that other grimoire,” Rhonda said. She looked at me. “I want that book back from Archer. If not, I’m afraid he’ll be on my hit list as well.”

  I nodded. Yeah, yeah. Catch him if you can.

  It’s not like he listens to me.

  I wanted to think about the book back at the shop, and I wanted to tell everyone what I’d found, but I was also not keen on getting sick again. There had to be a way to let someone know what I’d found without heaving out my guts.

  “Zoë? Something wrong?” Mom asked.

  I looked at her and realized I’d been staring at my left wrist. At the golden mark. “No. I’m fine. I’m worried now about who’s trying to frame Dags for these murders.”

  “I’d say the crazy cop,” Jason piped up. “And it is possible he’s being used again, by the way. Rhonda and I have discussed this at length. If he is, we need to find him, capture him, and try and trap whatever it is the Phantasm is using this time.”

  “So you think he’s got most of this spell,” I said. “Daniel does. After being inside a mental ward for a month.” I was hoping she’d see how ridiculous that sounded.

  “The Phantasm could have given it to him.”

  I wasn’t liking this. And I wasn’t going to believe Daniel was possessed again. “Maybe. But why Daniel?”

  Rhonda answered. “What’s the fastest, easiest way to hurt you?”

  I was going to say “Go after Daniel” initially. But even as I thought it, the impact of the act faded in my head. Yes. I cared about him. But a chasm so wide had formed between us—I wasn’t sure that even if he regained his sanity, we could ever close it up.

  And that just pissed me the hell off.

  God, I sometimes wished my life would just go back to the way it was!

  You don’t mean that, Mephistopheles said softly in my head. You’ve done more good than you realize, in the larger picture of the world.

  I looked at Jason. He was looking at me. I looked away. “Will you tell your keeper to stay out of my head?”

  “Zoë?” Dags said, as Jason nodded and stepped away. “What’s wrong?”

  “What isn’t wrong?” I finally did my dramatic walkout. The problem was I didn’t know where I was walking to. I turned down the hall to the left and stepped inside a palatial apartment. This had to be where they were keeping Dags.

  It was more than nice, with a plasma screen, wraparound couch, fully stocked refrigerator, and king-sized bed. I was in the bathroom, looking at the size of the tub, when he came in behind me.

  “Nona’s going to cook,” he said in a soft voice.

  “Mom always cooks when she’s upset.”

  “Mmmhmmm . . . Zoë . . .”

  I turned and found myself face-to-face with him. Well, not exactly face-to-face. He was a little shorter than me. But somehow that never seemed to matter. “I was—” I started to say at the same time he said, “I can’t—”

  We stopped and smiled. He reached up and pulled a strand of my increasingly unruly hair from the side of my face and tucked it behind my ear. Where his skin touched mine, I felt an electric charge. His fingertips were warm. He smelled of Polo, my favorite cologne. But somehow I figured he knew that.

  “You look better,” I said, stopping myself from touching his face. His eyes were such a brilliant gray.

  “So do you.” He grinned. Oh God, that grin. “And this new ability—I’d say it’s up there in the realm of the weird. You might even have me beat, babe.”

  “Oh, well, having one book lodged inside your soul is one thing, but to have two? That’s an achievement, Mr. McConnell.” I felt twelve. Awkward. A chance meeting with a crush beside my locker, and it felt like the entire world was watching. “I’m sorry it looks like Daniel is trying to frame you.”

  “Well, he did walk in on us after—” He paused and looked down but didn’t turn his head.

  OMG. He blushed!

  Guys don’t blush!

  My heart melted. I think it was at that moment he had me.

  “Zoë, I—” He looked away, and I scrunched my hands into fists. “I wanted to say I was sorry all this has happened to you.”

  “Sorry? Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault, Dags. You’ve been just as much a victim of events as I have.”

  He turned and held out his palms. I looked down at them, then gasped. The circles that were usually displayed as tattoos were . . . gone. “Where—”

  “They vanished about a week ago. Right after I found the book. What I haven’t told Rhonda or Nona is—”

  I reached up and put my hand over his mouth, pressing firmly. I shook my head and mouthed the words listening devices.

  His eyes widened, and he nodded.

  “Wanna walk?” I said as I took my hand away.

  “First—”

  That was when he reached out with those long-fingered hands and put one to the back of my neck, the other on my shoulder, and pulled me close. I knew it was coming and turned my head to match his.

  The kiss—

  Fireworks shot out in all directions as I reveled in the softness of his lips, the smooth slip of his tongue against mine. I felt it within me, pulling and tingling inside the darkest, neediest parts of my body. I was instantly aroused, wanting him, desiring him, and I dreamed of devouring him.

  I brought my own arms up, wrapped them around him, and cradled his head in one hand, running my fingers through his silky hair with the other.

  He pulled away from me for only a second to shut the bathroom door. But when he turned back, I was already unfastening my shirt, pulling it away and coming toward him, yanking his green shirt over his head. I was careful of the lacing and the bandage covering the wound in his chest, but I wasn’t showing any other part of him mercy.

  My need was ruthless this time—a month of lust and pent-up desire flooded forward as I unfastened his jeans. He moved out of them with a grace I’d never seen before. And even as my own passion flared out of control, so did his. We held on to each other, arms wrapped around one another’s backs, our mouths pressed firmly together, tongues searching. A soft moan escaped him, the sound sending chills along my spine.

  “I missed you . . .” I heard myself say. And I meant it. Oh God, how I meant it.

  “Oh, Zoë . . .” His voice vibrated against my chest as he tucked his head under my chin. “I thought before . . . was a dream.”

  I pulled him from me and put a finger to my lips as I moved to the shower and opened it. Inside this monstrosity were five shower-heads. With a grin, I turned all of them on, setting the temperature to something both of us could stand, and pulled him inside. Again we pressed together, marveling at each other’s
bodies. Reaching down, I wrapped my hands around him, pulling and fondling, keeping him far enough away so that I could see his face. Again and again I pumped, caressed, and rubbed him against my thigh until it was obvious he could no longer take it.

  Dags straightened and seemed to grow even with me as he turned me around in the multiple sprays of water. He pushed me forward, gently, until my hands were pressed against the tile and he was behind me. Then he reached around to caress each of my breasts, firm but with soft abandon. His left hand moved down over my stomach, and he eased his fingers so gently, so lovingly, where I needed him most. I moved my hips against him, feeling him against my backside, wanting him inside me.

  As if he knew my mind, Dags gently pushed my upper back forward, forcing me to give him entry—and I moaned as he slid inside, wanting to hold him. With each thrust, he fondled my breasts, teased my clit, and pressed his lips against my back. As he moved faster, so did my own need, and I gasped as my orgasm caught me off guard—my muscles moving around him, pressing against him, and screaming as he pulled away.

  Also so safe!

  I turned then, nearly passing out at the rush of blood away from my head, and I held him as his body shuddered. His arms came around me, and I half held him up beneath the water as it bounced off our skins. I pulled him beneath my chin once more and kissed his face. His eyes were closed and his breathing heavy. Slowly, he opened those incredible gray eyes, flinching just a bit as the water sprayed against them.

  “Zoë—”

  I put a hand to his face. “I love you . . .”

  I said it first. And for the first time in a long while, I meant it. From my heart and my soul. There was no doubt in my mind at that moment.

  He smiled at me, that adorable smile. “I love you . . .” he said, and we held each other for a long time under the spray.

  23

  THAT BITCH IS GOING TO DIE!

  Okay, that brought me out of a dead sleep.

  I recognized it as the voice of Mephistopheles.

  Dags and I were asleep in his bed. He stirred and wiped at his face. “What the hell was that?”

  So he’d heard the First Born as well.

  “It’s Mephistopheles.” I kissed his lips before he was fully awake, then moved out of the bed. My clothes were still on the bathroom floor, as were his. I grabbed both, and the two of us got ready to look presentable.

  We walked out, hand in hand, through the door, back out to the rumpus room.

  Jason was there, as were Rhonda, Gunter, and Mom. They turned and looked at us, and I realized we might look a little . . . rumpus’d.

  “What?” I said with my arms out. “Why did you scream like that?” I directed that to Jason.

  “Because she’s insane,” Jason said, his phone still clutched in his hand.

  “Who?” I said, looking from Jason to Rhonda and then to Gunter.

  Rhonda nodded in Gunter’s direction, but she was looking at us.

  Gunter gave me and Dags appraising looks but remained quiet.

  Rhonda turned and nodded at Gunter. “Go ahead.”

  He looked around at everyone.

  “They can be trusted.”

  He nodded. “A woman calling herself Lex wanted me to relay a message to the head of the Society of Ishmael that she and the others have Detective Joe Halloran. And if anyone wanted to see him alive again, then they are to turn over the Guardian within the hour.”

  Oh well, shit fuck. Now, that’s just peachy.

  Rhonda tensed, and Jason continued to pace, and rant. Not verbally, but damn loudly in the astral. But now I understood his outburst. Lex had gone off the deep end.

  “What will Lex do if we do not comply?” Dags asked.

  Gunter fixed Dags with a harsh stare, and I could only assume he was accustomed to Detective Halloran being around, since Joe and Gunter’s boss were dating. “She and the others will drain him dry.”

  You have got to be shitting me.

  No, he isn’t, came Mephistopheles’ voice again, still angry but not so loud. She’s let anger and fear cloud her reasoning—and turned on the only human that would have defended her.

  Jason spoke up. “She’s convinced the others that the spell in its entirety is inside of the Grimoire in Dags. And she’s convinced them that all they have to do is reach in and take it.”

  “Surely, being First Borns, they have to realize it’s not that easy,” Rhonda said. “It exists on the astral plane—and it’s a part of Dags’s astral being.”

  “I know that!” Jason held up his hands. “Sorry—I’m just pissed off. I can’t believe she’d do this. It’s irrational.”

  “She’s hurting,” Mom said quietly. “Mialani’s gone, and the spell is the reason. Or a botched version of it. She’s alone, and she wants revenge. I don’t care how old you grow, or how wise, the heart is a delicate thing, and sometimes we don’t know how to . . . ignore it.”

  I watched Mom and realized right then that she understood Lex’s grief more than anyone. What must it have been like suddenly to be alone with a four-year-old? No one in the world to turn to who didn’t want to take your daughter and experiment on her? And no one to lean on, no one to share the good and the bad.

  Just . . . alone.

  I felt awful for Lex. But there was no way in hell she was going to drain Joe or rip Dags’s heart out. Not without coming through me.

  “That isn’t an excuse for stupidity,” Jason said. “We don’t know that the spell is in that book. From what Dags has seen, I’d say no. What worries me most are the blank pages.”

  “What worries me are the copied pages that one Revenant stole.” Rhonda’s eyes widened. “Jason, you don’t think the Revenant that stole those pages gave them to Lex, do you?”

  “And you think maybe she saw something that reinforces her belief that she can take this spell and use it on the Phantasm?”

  Mom frowned. “Is that what she said, Jason?”

  “Yes. And she’s a fool. They’re all fools.”

  Dags ran a hand through his hair. “Are they all with her? All the remaining Revenants?”

  “Most of them. There were several who, when I contacted them, told me in no uncertain terms to fuck off. I don’t know who’s in town and who isn’t. But if Inanna did take the copies and give them to Lex—Lex is no magician. Magic is something she’s never fully comprehended. That would be Morgan, and if Morgan is here, that means Hermes is here as well.”

  I raised my hand. “What is with these names? I’m assuming you mean Morgan as in Le Fay? And Hermes as in Trismegistus?”

  Rhonda’s gasp was a bit irritating. “I’m amazed you knew those names.”

  Here. Have a bird. Middle finger, hut!

  There was a twinkle in Jason’s eyes. “The myths had to come from somewhere.” With that he turned to Rhonda. “I’m going to need help if I’m going to do this.”

  “Do what?” Dags and I said at the same time.

  Rhonda looked at us. And I mean she looked at us. And I wasn’t very happy with the look on her face. “Jason has challenged Lex for leadership.”

  “Leadership.” I shook my head. “I didn’t know Lex was the leader.”

  “She’s taken on that role with Aether gone. Usually it would fall to the next-oldest Revenant, but apparently Lex had usurped that role. So I challenge her to a battle, and the winner is king. Then I can save Joe and get them to listen to me.”

  I shook my head. “What about the loser?”

  Jason’s jaw set. “The loser dies.”

  APPARENTLY even though they’ve lived for all these centuries, the Revenant troop as a whole hasn’t made it past the Dark Ages in group dynamics. They still elect a king, so to speak. A leader. And they usually do this by way of power, which is assessed through age. Which I find to be just bogus. Since, as Jason told me, the power of the First Born itself increases with age, but every time they take a new body—that body has to catch up to where they are.

  And Aether was reported t
o be the first to become Revenant.

  Which made me think back to that book and the passage I’d read . . . “And he named him Aether to light the way . . .” Is it some kind of diary? Or journal? Ah, hell, I wish I’d brought it.

  But now, with Aether gone (released by yours truly and with no thanks for that), apparently they’d decided to go with who had the strongest host. And hands down, that was Lex. Though—whoever that was who attacked us at the shop certainly had a body capable of physical exertion. He’d been hard to hit, and strong.

  Jason could only guess at how many had answered the call. Who really knew how many Revenants were now in the city? But we could only assume that those who were here were with Lex in her bid to retrieve the book from Dags with the hope the complete spell was in there. What rattled me was how—if these creatures really did believe in protecting the physical plane as well as their existence—they would do this, put an innocent man’s life at risk, for an uncertain goal?

  And then another of those alien, brainy moments struck me.

  We were sitting out on the back deck . . . or one of them. There was a full buffet of roast beef, salmon, asparagus, Caesar salad, and garlic new potatoes. I wasn’t eating because I was worried about Joe. So were Rhonda and Dags. Only Jason seemed not to be concerned and ate salmon and bread with abandon.

  After he was finished, Jason moved a crystal chess set into the center of the table where we sat. They sat. I’d started pacing. I watched him move pieces here and there while on the phone. Which was often. That BlackBerry of his was getting a work-out. He hung up. “I’ve gotten hold of Re and Sigyn. They know about what Lex is doing, and they said they’d be there and stay neutral.”

  The deck looked onto a maze, and I noticed several dead ends from my vantage point. “What does that mean?”

  “Means”—Jason started pressing buttons on his phone with his thumbs—“that they’ll be waiting in the wings at the event, just on the outside. Not a part of the audience.”

  “Where is that?”

  He looked up at me. “Zoë, if I tell you now, you’ll run off and try to save Joe.”