The Mephisto Kiss (The Redemption Of Kyros)

by Trinity Faegen

  “I don’t even know what it means to be Anabo. How can I agree to become something else when I don’t understand any of it?”

  “You’ll still be Anabo, still be certain of Heaven when humanity is gone, but you’ll also be Mephisto.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  Sasha jerked her gaze from the floor and met Jordan’s eyes. “No, never.”

  “Give me something, Sasha. I’m lost.”

  The girl came a little closer, her eyes filled with tears. “If your father took the oath right now, you’d beg us not to take him. You’d be so devastated, it’d break your heart.” She took another step closer. “If you were Mephisto and your dad took the oath, you wouldn’t think twice about sending him down. I don’t just want to take out Skia and lost souls—it’s become an instinct that’s hard to control.”

  Horrified, maybe even terrified, Jordan asked in a whisper, “If your father pledged his soul, you’d take him to Hell on Earth?”

  Sasha’s tears spilled over. “My father is dead, but my mother pledged, and yes, I took her down.”

  Jordan stepped back and bumped against the console.

  “You have a choice, but if you’re a Lumina, you’ll work on a computer, or pop around placing records for us to look like legit people during field operations, or go out on fishing expeditions to look for lost souls. We can find ordinary humans to become immortal Luminas to do all that. What we can’t find are more Anabo. In the last thousand years, only three have been born that we know of: you, me, and Jane, who Eryx killed before she could become immortal.”

  Jordan was even more confused. “If you want me to become Mephisto so much, why are you crying?”

  Sasha stared at her for several heartbeats before she whispered, “Because I know exactly how you feel, except it’s even worse for you, because there’s no time, and you don’t know him at all, and this is forever.” She swiped at her tears again. “My heart’s breaking for you, Jordan.”

  This just got heavier and more depressing. Silently cursing her birthmark, she asked the million-dollar question. “If I’m Mephisto, can Eryx get to me?”

  Sasha shot a look at Jax, who said, “Unless you’re here, behind the Kyanos mists, Eryx can always get to you, no matter what you are. Since you’re now immortal, he can’t kill you, but he can keep you prisoner if he can get you to Erinýes, because you can’t transport away from there.”

  She was well aware. “He’s obsessed with what he believes I can give him. Before Phoenix showed up, he was threatening everyone in my life if I didn’t agree to stay and give him minion babies.”

  She could tell by their expressions that she’d shocked them all.

  Finally, Phoenix cleared his throat and said, “The only thing that can prevent any possibility of your having Eryx’s offspring is if you carry Key’s mark.”

  Jordan looked at Sasha. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

  Her counterpart in Strangeville dropped her gaze and resumed fiddling with the ear mic. “You get the mark through sex, and now that you’re immortal, once you’re marked, it’s permanent.”

  Sasha had to be yanking her chain. “No way. I know these guys like doing things the old way, or whatever, but this … this is barbaric.”

  Sasha looked up. “It’s part of who we are, Jordan. Sometimes it’s important to know where each of us is, and the mark makes it possible—makes you one of us so you can do what we do. If Jax or any of the Mephisto were anywhere in the world, even somewhere remote like Antarctica, I’d know exactly where to find them. I’d be able to transport to where they are.”

  Phoenix said, “Theoretically, anyway. Sasha’s still working on transporting. She knows where to go, but getting there is kind of a challenge.”

  Sasha’s smile was wry. “I do suck at transporting, but the point is, the mark is what makes you permanently with us. Eryx could take you prisoner, but he can never make you have his baby if you have Key’s mark.”

  She remembered Key said he knew Eryx was searching the castle for her. The idea made sense, but the execution completely wigged her out. She didn’t know Key at all, and maybe she was connected to him because of fate, or because he brought her back to life, but did she want to be tied to him forever? He was an autocrat. He was huge. He was a little bit scary. The idea of having sex with him was awkward and freaky.

  Unbidden, she was slammed with the memory of Matthew asking, almost every time they made out. She always said no, and admitted it wasn’t only because she was afraid of getting pregnant. She just didn’t want to. Not then, not now. Later, maybe, but she imagined it with someone she loved crazy, a guy who was not a giant, who wasn’t the leader of a pack of sons of Hell.

  While she stood there weighing the decision, allowing her imagination to take her places she really didn’t want to go, Zee said, “It’d be great if you had all the time in the world to decide, but you don’t. Key’s starting to fade, so it’s now or never.”

  Drawing herself up, she moved away from the console, around Sasha, and toward the edge of Key’s bed. His breathing was rapid and shallow, and his hands had begun to shake. Whatever color had been left in his cheeks was gone now. There was no doubt he was in the throes of death. She’d seen it before, when her mom slipped away and left her.

  The rest of them moved closer, circling the bed. Phoenix looked near to losing it; Zee looked angry; Ty was solemn; Denys had no expression at all; Jax was fighting tears; Sasha was staring at her. “He’s what holds us together, Jordan. Please, do this for him, for all of us.”

  Taking the last step to the bed, Jordan bent low, held Key’s face within her hands, and settled her lips against his. She forced his mouth open and gave him the wettest kiss ever, trying not to think of Matthew and how badly it would hurt him if he knew. He’d kissed her a thousand times, a thousand different ways, but always with feeling. Affection. Love.

  This was nothing like that. The kiss was clinical, an exchange of saliva that might or might not help Key, but would change her forever.

  SIX

  SUSPENDED BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, KEY CAME TO awareness in the gardens at Kensington Palace. It was a particular favorite of his, so he supposed it made sense M sent him here to wait it out. Once he crossed over, he’d be with Lucifer in Hell, and while he had absolutely no idea what it might be like, he was certain it wouldn’t be like this. Even in midwinter dormancy, the palace garden was a beautiful place.

  Serene.

  Which paradoxically elevated his frustrated rage to maniacal fury.

  Good thing he was only a spirit. If he had solid form, he’d trash the place. As it was, all he could do was move through the beauty and hate it, resent it, curse it and everyone in it to withering death. He passed a prissy lady in a hat who held the leash of a wee, yippy, defecating-in-the-pansies dog. He rushed at her, hoping he could shove her into the lily pond, but no luck. She walked on with the dog and left its business behind for someone else to clean up.

  He continued to move through the gardens, hands clenched into fists. He’d waited over a thousand years for an Anabo, and after she died right in front of him, along with hope, he’d been desperate to bring her back. Incredibly, Jordan had come back, but now he was gone and would never see her again. The bitter irony ate at his soul like acid.

  Without warning, his father appeared next to him, dressed in a black suit and red tie, looking almost as upset as he had the day their mother died. In the centuries that followed, Key had yet to see anyone lose it like that. Not even Phoenix went as far off the page when Jane died.

  A photographic memory was sometimes essential. Other times it was a curse.

  Right now, M’s misery was so great, dark clouds began to roll into a perfectly blue winter sky.

  “It’s over,” he said to his father. “I always knew this is where I’d end up.”

  “Of all my sons, Kyros, you were the one I never expected to end up here. You’ve always stayed the course, been a responsible leader, taken care of y
our brothers.”

  Hearing the grief and pain in his father’s voice, Key slowed his stride. “All that means is I’m the one with the most on the line, the one with the biggest chance of pissing off Lucifer.”

  M dragged his hands through his black hair. “I swore on your mother’s soul I’d never lose any of you, that I’d make sure you each earned Heaven. After so long, when there were no more Anabo … I decided … I asked …” He didn’t finish, but the anguish in his voice sent all kinds of clues.

  “What did you decide? What did you ask?” Had M done something to bring more Anabo into the world? Key had thought it was miraculous when they’d found another so soon after Sasha. Now he wondered if maybe it wasn’t so much a miracle.

  Instead of answering, M said, “Your mother … she’ll never see you again.”

  Key couldn’t say for sure, but he thought M was close to tears, and that blew him away. “Why are you acting like this is news? From the moment I jumped, I was doomed to Hell.”

  “No!” M grabbed Key’s arm, forcing him to stop moving. “God gave you the Mephisto Covenant! He gave you and your brothers a chance of Heaven.”

  If Key wasn’t so angry and despondent, he’d laugh. “A chance so slim, it’s negligible. Not only are Anabo in short supply, none of us is designed for noble love.”

  “Ajax managed.”

  “Barely. And it’s not the same for me. Even if I pull through and live, the odds of Jordan feeling anything for me but fear and revulsion are close to zero. You can’t see it, or won’t acknowledge it, but I’m the worst of the bunch.”

  “You’re the only one who’s never crossed the line, never been exiled to Kyanos.”

  True, but not because he was any less disturbed than his brothers. M didn’t know the only thing keeping Key from succumbing to the unrelenting lure of wild, destructive lunacy was Lucifer’s threat to obliterate Mephistopheles if Key failed. There was something within M that whispered of what he had been before he fell from grace. For his sake, and for that of the memory of their mother, Key walked the line, but it took all his concentration and self-discipline. So maybe he channeled his rage into taking out the Skia and lost souls, seeing to the needs of the Luminas and his brothers, and tending his greenhouse, but it was a tenuous hold at best. He had it in him to do things his brothers could never conceive, things that would turn Jordan away in horror.

  He wasn’t so sure he’d ever had a prayer of redemption, even with an Anabo served up to him on a plate. “I blew it, M. Accept it and let me go.” He turned away and continued to move.

  M fell in beside him, and they walked on in silence, waiting. After a while, as his father became more morose and anxious, the clouds became darker and rain began to fall. Key was pleased when the prissy lady’s hat was ruined by the sudden cloudburst, but he felt kind of bad for the dog when she took off running and nearly choked it to death.

  He tried not to think too hard about the reason behind the rain.

  “It’s not in me to be noble, either, you know.”

  “Yeah, Pops. I know.”

  M sighed and ran his hands through his hair again. “I loved her. It was madness, and I know what it cost her, but—”

  “You’ve got to let it go.”

  “I just don’t want you ever to think … you need to know that you and your brothers … I wish I …”

  “We know, M. It’s what it is.”

  His father stopped trying to tell him he loved him, which made him glad. Hearing M say it would take awkward to new levels. And he didn’t require an apology for the circumstances of his birth.

  “You’re a good son, Kyros.”

  “Thanks, M.” Let him have his delusion. What difference did it make at this point? He was about to descend into Hell for the rest of eternity. If his father needed to believe he was anything good in order to accept it, Key didn’t mind.

  They were close to where they’d started when M suddenly stopped. “Something’s happening.”

  Key steeled himself for what was coming. He looked all around him and said good-bye to daylight, to the Earth.

  “Jordan is trying to give back a measure of your humanity and keep you from death.”

  Hope rose up, unbidden and unwanted, but it came nevertheless. He faced his father. “How?”

  “She’s kissing you.”

  Key was stunned. Why would she do that?

  “She must like you a little,” M said.

  Yeah. Right. “She barely knows me.”

  M looked up at the clouds he’d created. “Most of her life she’s been asked to set aside what she wants for the sake of others, and she generally complied, maybe because she’s Anabo, or maybe that’s just who she is.” He looked at Key. “I think she sees what your death would mean to the Mephisto and, by default, the rest of humanity. She’s doing it for the greater good.”

  “That sounds real sweet, but I’m calling bullshit. They probably told her she could save me if she shared her spit, but failed to tell her the flip side of what mine will do to her.”

  “Whatever the reason, she’s doing it.”

  Even as M spoke, he was fading. Key looked around and saw that the gardens were losing color, until they faded to black.

  Suddenly, jarringly, he returned to his body, instantly aware he was in his bed, someone was crying, and Jordan was kissing him. The scent of bluebells was all around him. Instinct told him to lift his arms and pull her on top of him, but his muscles said no. All he could do was open his eyes. Hers widened, and she pulled away from his mouth. “Don’t stop,” he managed to whisper. “Not yet.”

  His brothers all began to shout at once—why were they always so f’ing loud?—and he heard Sasha gushing thanks to Jordan, but he ignored them and closed his eyes again, waiting for Jordan to kiss him. When nothing happened, he opened them to stare up at her lovely face, still close to his. “Please.”

  This time, he was awake. This time, he kissed her back. Other than her soft hands against his face, they weren’t touching at all, but it was deeply satisfying. His anger dissolved, and he was enveloped by indescribable peace. When she pulled away again, he could see confusion and fear in her expression.

  He wondered why she had brought him back from the brink of death, and, evidently, so did she.

  She did the right thing, Jordan was certain, but instead of feeling happiness that he’d come around, she had an overwhelming desire to bolt, to run far and fast and never look back. The first kiss saved his life, but she felt nothing. Then he woke and asked her to kiss him again, and she’d forever regret going through with it. She imagined this must be what it felt like to be struck by lightning. Her body tingled, as if every limb was asleep, and she was infused with heat. Staring into his black eyes, she heard him whisper, “One more.”

  Run.

  She had to get away from him. Pulling back, she stood up straight and moved away from the bed, all the way to the door, into the hall, and back toward the stairs. Miraculously, in spite of her speed, she didn’t trip on the way down. She ran across the great hall to the gigantic front door and was opening it when she heard a deep, solemn voice from just behind her. “It is snowing, Anabo. You will find misery there.”

  Pausing with the door barely open, she glanced over her shoulder and saw an extremely tall guy in a turban and Aladdin pants, staring past her from dark eyes in a dark face. “I just need some air.”

  He nodded. “I will bring a coat.” He disappeared, then reappeared seconds later, holding a leather bomber jacket. “You are smaller than the other Anabo, but this will suffice for now.” He opened it and held it out.

  Turning, she slid her arms into the sleeves of Sasha’s jacket and asked, “Who are you?”

  He rattled off a name she couldn’t repeat if she tried, then added, “The Mephisto and others here call me Deacon. I am the butler.”

  “Are you a Lumina?”

  “I am a Purgatory, one who is spirit only. Until I am able to forgive God for allowing my family�
�s slaughter, I will remain in servitude to the Mephisto.”

  Facing him again, she noted he wouldn’t make eye contact. Really old-school Muslim, a Moor, she guessed. “How long have you been a Purgatory?”

  “Very soon to be nine hundred years.”

  She decided Deacon must be really mad at God if he still hadn’t forgiven him after nine hundred years.

  He stepped around her and opened the door. “Do not stray far, Anabo. The snow masks dangers for the unwary. Immortality won’t ease the pain of a broken limb if you stumble into a crevice hidden beneath the snow.”

  “My name is Jordan.”

  “This is a boy’s name.”

  “Maybe so, but as you can see, I’m not a boy.”

  “Indeed, Jordan, you are not.”

  She stepped outside and was struck by a blast of subzero air, but she still felt hot from the inside out. There were steps down to a curving drive that circled a frozen fountain and looped to a long alley of aspens and old-fashioned gas lamps, but she turned instead and headed around the house. It was huge and gray, with lead-glass windows and gargoyles, but she didn’t pay much attention to the architecture, her mind completely absorbed with all that had happened to her since eleven o’clock last night. It was probably close to four o’clock in Colorado, already getting dark.

  Not even twenty-four hours and everything was changed in a way she couldn’t have imagined yesterday. She thought of her father and what he must be going through, but it was too painful, and so she shoved the thoughts away. She couldn’t think about Matthew, either. Especially Matthew.

  Determined to get a grip on her spiraling emotions, she focused on walking. The snow was up to her knees in some spots, and she welcomed the cold. Turning at the corner of the house, she saw a cluster of stone buildings across an open meadow and wondered what they were, but hiking that far through knee-deep snow wasn’t possible right now. Not only was it almost dark and snowing, she was so hungry her stomach hurt. As soon as she cooled off and was a relatively safe distance from freaking out, she’d head back inside and eat. Then she’d go to sleep. The thought of unconsciousness appealed to her—and not only because she was exhausted. Sleep meant escape from reality.