Revenant

by Phaedra Weldon

  I licked my lips. She was draining Dags’s spirit. This did not sound good. Nor was I happy to find that Alice had done the same. “Where is Alice now?”

  “Oh, she’s with Dags. They’re both under this room. But it’s too late, Zoë.” She pursed her lips at me. “I got to the book.” She nodded quickly. “I tore out the blank pages—and I kept the ones I needed. And then you came along and yanked out my memories. You stole me from him. And I had to figure out a way to get the book back—but then I couldn’t read it anymore.”

  I think it was at that moment that I realized we weren’t really dealing with Maureen. We were dealing with bits and pieces of someone’s scattered memories. As if those memories had coalesced into an essence of their own and taken over Maureen’s—

  Holy—

  I reached out and grabbed TC. “Where did she put Samael?”

  He stiffened, and I knew I’d hit the secret. How could I have been so stupid. “Inanna changed the spell—I know that, TC. Just like I know that Yamato isn’t gone either. It’s like Jemmy said—how can you kill your own father? She didn’t. She simply locked him in that damned book, didn’t she? That’s why it tried to latch onto Dags—it knew parts of Samael were in that Grimoire inside Dags. That’s why it gave me the translation.” I looked back at Maureen. “And now some of Samael is in Maureen—tainted. Angry. Oh shit.” I hated it when I started thinking deep. But don’t be shocked. I am capable of it. It just gives me a headache.

  But now it all made sense. The book had lodged inside of Dags, the remaining essence of Samael joining with Maureen, the Abysmic part of Dags. That was why Dags had stopped dreaming. Maureen /Samael had taken control, but only when he slept. And they’d killed.

  Two humans, a ghoul, and now three Revenants. All because Inanna had tried to save her father.

  I stared at TC. “Through all this time—all these centuries—it corrupted, didn’t it? And you knew it.”

  TC’s face remained impassive behind his shades. Until, “Yes. When I touched the book, I knew it. I couldn’t get to him, but I could sense him. Pieces of him. And I gave it back to you for safekeeping. I didn’t know it had already given you the spellcaster’s key. The plan was to hold him until the time came to destroy Sophia. And then Samael would take the seat again.” He shook his head. “I knew they never should have trusted the magic of the Seraphim.”

  I blinked. Holy shit.

  Literally.

  “The Seraphim? But what about the Phantasm—”

  “Don’t you get it?” He looked at me with those milky eyes. “He’s already attacked the Phantasm. That’s why Inanna is here. To set things right.”

  “Attacked . . . ?” I shook my head. “Did he kill—”

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Maureen said, and pressed the gun to Jason’s head. I’d been keeping track of the amount of blood he was losing. “Now that I have the last piece, I can begin my obliteration.” She frowned. “No, I don’t like that word. I do like the word redact. Yes . . . all of you naughty children are being redacted.”

  I realized too that Maureen was acting really . . . kinda . . . drunk.

  “So you’re saying . . .” TC lowered his gun. I freaked.

  You lowered your gun. Why are you lowering your gun? Are you nuts. She’s obviously nuts. Put that back up there!

  Shush!

  Ah . . . He shushed me!

  “That you’re solid now. Like . . . human. And you’ve done this by siphoning off the Guardian’s soul?”

  “His spirit, yes.” She looked very pleased with herself. “He’s just below me,” she whispered. Not. You already said that.

  “Oh, I see. So not so far down you can’t find him.”

  “Oh no. Because I have this direct link to him. I can—

  TC brought up his gun and fired six times, point-blank into Maureen’s heart and head.

  Her head exploded as did her chest, showering everything with blood.

  Blood.

  She has blood?

  WHOSE FUCKING BLOOD IS THAT?

  I went incorporeal as fast as I could and sank straight down. Now don’t misunderstand—I did it first to get away from all the blood and gross. Kinda like a reflex. And then I realized it was like she said.

  Dags was there.

  The rooms were identical. He lay on the table, shirtless, strapped down at his ankles and wrists. His chest—

  Oh my God, his chest. The book lay open on his chest, pages scattered about the room. I ran to him and pressed my fingers to his neck. There was a pulse. Weak.

  And then Alice appeared as a ghost hovering over him. She turned to me. “Bring . . . the witch . . .”

  The witch.

  What witch? “The book is—”

  “Bring her!”

  The only witch I knew was Rhonda . . . who was so far away. I couldn’t possibly bring her—

  Or could I? We were technically between. Maureen had to have been able to bring bodies in and out, right? To perform the spell here, then drop them where they could be found. So—why not bring Rhonda here.

  Uhm, how do I do that?

  I looked around at everything. The room was a blank, simply a holding place. Except there was a door to my left. Was the door there before? I went to it, thought of Rhonda, and opened it.

  Air-conditioned cool blasted in at me as I looked out at the library at Rhonda’s estate. She, Mom, Joe—the Revenants. They were all there.

  “Zoë! Where did you—” Rhonda stood and ran to me. I’m sure it was kinda odd, seeing a door appear in the middle of your library.

  “Get in here! All of you! I found Jason and Dags!”

  Everyone piled through the door, Rhonda and Nona first.

  Rhonda stifled a scream, but Mom took her hand and put her in front of Dags, facing the book. “Girl, you’ve got to keep it simple. You put him together once, you can do it again.”

  I moved to the side, wringing my hands. When I saw Erishkegal, Loki, Dagda, and Brahma, I pointed up. “Jason’s upstairs. I think if you go back out that door without thinking of where you’re going, you’ll see the stairs. Go up. He’s there. I’m not sure if he’s going to make it.”

  All of them left then, except for the one called Frejya. She moved in close to Rhonda and put a hand on her arm. “I will help you.”

  And I watched them raise their hands together, close their eyes. Pages rattled off the floor and rejoined the spine as the book flipped this way and that, turning left and right, as if it were re-sorting everything. And once the book was whole again, both of them put their hands on the spine and pressed it into his chest.

  Dags’s torso heaved upward, and his eyes came open as he yelled out—a bloodcurdling sound. The only thing that kept him still were the bindings. Once the book vanished, he lay still, and Mom put a finger to his neck. I waited an eternity to hear her say, “He’s alive.”

  My heart wrenched in my throat as I helped them untie him. And then I saw his left palm and gasped. Mom and Rhonda came to look at it. The circle was completely black—the skin burned and charred.

  Oh my God . . . what had TC done?

  “He’ll survive,” Frejya said. “Maureen’s not dead, this servant. She is merely . . . damaged. Time. Time is God’s bandage.”

  I looked at her, and though her face was that of an Egyptian beauty, she had a Norse name, and her voice was that of age and wisdom. With a nod she moved with ease to Dags and picked him up, tilting so that his head rested on her shoulder. She looked at me. “We will take care of things here. You have business in the other world.”

  Business. The book. The Phantasm. Where was TC? I straightened and nodded, understanding what she meant. “I don’t know what’ll happen to her.”

  “It’s okay,” Frejya said. “Sophia has had a hard and long life. She deserves a rest. Can you give it to her, Wraith? Can you feel it in your heart to forgive her?”

  I looked at Dags resting there and thought of the pain he’d endured. And I thought of Joe and of
Jason. I hoped Jason would live.

  At that moment, the door opened, and Nick came through, carrying Jason with him. He’d draped a sheet over him, and it was sticking to the bloody cuts. “He’ll live . . . I hope,” Nick said. “But how do we get back?”

  I moved past him to the door and opened it. The library was back, and all of them filed through. All but Mom and Rhonda.

  “Where are you going?” Rhonda asked.

  I put a hand to her cheek and felt an overwhelming sense of . . . loss. “To grant forgiveness.”

  34

  WHEN the last of them had left, I stood in front of that closed door for a long time. I knew where I had to go . . . I just wasn’t sure I wanted to. I needed answers. A lot of them. And I knew that TC was already ahead of me. But would he allow me to do what was right?

  With a sigh, I touched the door handle and thought of the Phantasm, of Sophia, the first of the children of Samael.

  When the door opened, it wasn’t to the city I remembered from before or that alley. There were no talking bricks, not even a talking mailbox. There was only—desolation.

  It was a city street, complete with blinking traffic lights. Cars were parked in a scattered fashion, as if their drivers had simply vanished. Dust and debris moved with the wind as it blew the lights on their wires.

  I moved along the street, letting a familiar presence pull me forward, guiding me. I came to what looked like a theater, the old kind, with a marquee. Above it read SOPHIA IN PHANTASM!

  Moving past the ticket box, I pushed the double doors aside. Inside, the stage was lit, and all around in the plush red velvet seats were brilliant incandescent balls of light. They pulsed and moved as I passed them. And I felt as if—I knew them. They were everywhere, illuminating the dilapidated theater. As I moved down the far left row, I saw TC moving down the middle, and behind him was—

  Daniel!

  Oh my God. How is he here? He can’t survive here. Not like that. Not as a—

  And then I realized he wasn’t in pain, but walking evenly, his face forward. He wore a green peacoat, the hood back. His glasses perched on his nose. Jeans. Sneakers. So normal.

  I continued walking to the front and looked up onstage.

  There, in the center, bathed in light, was a woman. Or what was left of one. Her skin was withered, her hair gray and lifeless as it covered her body. She rested, curled inside a floating gray ball. An egg of sorts. And when I looked at her, I felt fatigue, and anger, and regret.

  Adiran Martinique came to me at that moment, and I could see him clearly. I gasped when I saw him, so beautiful, and I wanted to hide in shame because I was ugly.

  “No, no,” he said as he took my hand. White and dark. “You are to me the loveliest of creatures. You are my daughter. And like the Guardian, you are a creature of both worlds.”

  I looked around then and realized that the glowing orbs of light were the Seraphim foot soldiers I had been told about. “You’re here to destroy her?”

  “No.” He smiled. “Never destroy. We cannot truly destroy God’s work. But her time has come.”

  “What will happen to her?”

  “That is up to you,” he said. “We simply guide, but we don’t lead. You and the Last First Born must figure this out on your own.” And with that he stepped back. TC and I looked at each other and moved up the stairs on either side of the stage. Daniel—Inanna—moved as well, coming up behind TC, and we all three stood facing the egg.

  TC pulled out his gun and aimed it.

  I put up my hand, and Daniel raised his as well. “No,” we said in unison.

  TC snarled at Daniel. “You don’t get to decide. Now do what we promised to do.”

  I watched as Daniel pulled the small book from his coat pocket and held it out. “I’m sorry, brother. But I can’t do that. I can’t murder my sister.”

  “Yes, you can!” TC roared. “It’s what we promised to do. You said when the time came, we’d bring Father back . . .”

  Oh no . . .

  I put my hands to my face. This . . . this he kept inside of him all this time. Even I hadn’t seen it?

  “Azrael,” Daniel began, and suddenly I didn’t see Daniel anymore, but a tall, dark-skinned woman with plaited hair and black eyes. She shook her head and held out the book. “There is so little left of him, and what there is, is corrupted. Sophia tried to use the Guardian’s Familiar to kill him, but he was too cunning and evaded her. But now those pieces of him, those things we still remember, are gone. Father is no more, Azrael.”

  I looked at TC and gasped.

  I no longer saw Vin Diesel but a small child of maybe eight. He wore the clothing of a Sumerian prince. His head was shaved, and he was crying. “No . . . you said one day . . . we would bring Father back.”

  “I know, little brother. And all these years I’ve kept him. And still . . . until the Guardian came, and then I saw how corrupted and bitter father’s soul had become.” She held the book out and up. It disintegrated in front of us, simply melting into the air like ashes.

  TC went down on his knees, no longer the child. And Daniel lowered his hands, no longer the daughter of Samael.

  “I’m sorry, brother,” Inanna said through Daniel. “I failed you.” And with that, he turned and moved down the stairs.

  All eyes in the audience turned to me. Though they didn’t have eyes, I just knew it.

  I moved to TC and stood over him. I bent down and touched his back, but he flinched and pulled away. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

  “No,” I said. “Whether you like it or not, we’re joined. For how long, I don’t know. Your pain, in a way, is mine. I’m sorry, Azrael. I really am.” With that, I moved to the egg and looked inside.

  I heard him move behind me, heard the cock of the hammer. “You move away from her. She doesn’t deserve salvation. No rest. Only an eternity of pain.”

  I shook my head. “No. She doesn’t. No one does, don’t you see?” I turned to him. “All this time, I’ve been so worried about my own soul that I forgot I have a larger purpose. I’m here to release those souls who have lost their way. And Sophia lost hers a long time ago. Now it’s time for her to rest.”

  “No!”

  I turned to him and pointed. “YES!”

  And the power was there. I held out my hand and forced him to drop the weapon, to drop on his knees and bow to me. I was his keeper, he was not mine!

  Daughter . . .

  My dad’s voice made me blink. The power I had. It would be so easy to give in to that anger.

  To the hate and resentment that Samael and Sophia had.

  I lowered my hand and released him. TC stood, and fixed me with the coldest gaze he’d ever used on me. “Fine—I warned you. Don’t. Trust. Anyone.” He grabbed his gun and left the auditorium.

  I looked back to the egg and pressed both hands to the outer shell. It gave like any shell would and crumbled away, though not like pieces falling to the floor, but changing to dust and vanishing around us. I wondered if the shell had at one time been her protection against the world. She remained suspended before me, bathed in an incandescent green light. I touched Sophia’s face, and she opened her tired eyes to look up at me.

  “Why?” she said in a quiet voice. “After everything I’ve done to you.”

  I shrugged. I was surprised I wasn’t angry. Or hurt. Just . . . sad. “I don’t care about you, Sophia. Not one bit. I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do. If it weren’t”—I smiled at her—“I’d gut you myself.” And with that I shoved my hand into her chest. She screamed as I rooted round for her soul, surprised even now that First Borns had souls.

  I grabbed it and pulled it out. It was a twisted thing, like a walking stick from a gnarled oak. And with a final breath, I cut her cord and released her.

  The power that surged through me was incredible. I lifted my arms high and yelled out with joy! Oh . . . the power that coursed through my joints, healing the muscle aches and pains. I felt myself lifted, hig
h over the stage, above the remnants of the egg. I glowed as my father below me glowed, and I felt everything. And . . .

  Nothing.

  With a sudden snap, I was in darkness. Total and utter darkness. I couldn’t move, and my screams resounded in my own ears, deafening me. My knees were in my chin and I was surrounded by—

  The egg.

  I was in the fucking egg!

  Quiet, Zoë, came my father’s voice. The universe cannot have a vacuum. And it cannot exist without a Phantasm. For now, you will be that creature.

  Wha . . .

  NO.

  DADDY!

  Quiet, child. Soon you will grow accustomed to the position just as Sophia had before. I’m afraid you won’t be able to move much, or leave, until Azrael is destroyed.

  Destroyed? Daddy . . . what are you doing?

  Taking control. Soon our soldiers will find him, and you will become the Phantasm. One under our control. For now, just sleep. And rest. You deserve a rest.

  And then there was silence.

  Utter silence.

  Daddy?

  Nothing.

  DADDY?

  SOMEBODY!!!!!!

  EPILOGUE

  MORNING sunlight brushed against his face, luring him from sleep with the promise of coffee. The smell of it was intoxicating. Rolling over in the bed, he blinked several times and focused on a lamp with a headless Mary Had a Little Lamb.

  I’m in Zoë’s room. WTF?

  Sitting up, he looked at the clock. Eleven in the morning. It was Monday. With a groan, he shuffled into Zoë’s bathroom, showered, shaved, and dressed in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt laid out for him. Running a brush through his unruly hair, he made his way down the stairs.

  Dark . . .

  Nona was in the kitchen, sliding a panful of eggs into a bowl. He could smell the butter, and his stomach growled. She turned and looked at him, a smile on her face. “Well, about time you got out of bed. Sleep well?”

  “Yeah,” he said, and took the bowl she gave him. He moved from the kitchen to the tea shop. The table was set. Rhonda sat in her place, dressed as usual in black, reading a book. Jason sat to the left of her. He looked better—the scars were nearly healed, and soon his skin would look as if he’d never had an obliteration spell carved into his flesh.