The Mephisto Kiss (The Redemption Of Kyros)

by Trinity Faegen

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” She wanted to believe her desire was caused by something other than her own will. He knew without asking that she was thinking about Matthew, feeling guilty, looking for an excuse for the way she kissed Key.

  Jax had told him all about what Mephisto did to Sasha, and he made sure to tell Key he was on his own when it came to sex. “If it happens,” he’d said, “it’ll be up to you, so don’t be thinking you’ll get any help from the Mephisto in her.”

  “This just isn’t like me, Key.”

  He kissed her nose, then her cheek, and said against her mouth, “It’s exactly like you, Jordan, because here you are, of your own free will.” He moved his lips across her beautiful face. “Would it be so bad if you liked kissing me just because you like it? Does there have to be a reason, or an excuse?”

  “What does it say about me? Matthew is still fighting for his life.”

  Key looked deep into her eyes. “And you lost yours.” They were so close, he could feel every breath she took. Their shirts were pushed up, leaving them skin to skin. He lowered his head until his lips were next to her ear, his nose buried in her silky hair, and asked the question he couldn’t get out of his head. “Why did you come back for me, Jordan?”

  Her hands were behind his head, tugging the ponytail loose, combing her fingers through his hair. “I heard you calling my name. Calling me to come back.”

  He kept his head next to hers, his face hidden. “I thought you were gone. I thought …” Closing his eyes, he remembered every word he’d said, and how he said them. He’d been devastated, and the thought of being alone again, when she’d been right there within reach … he knew he had sounded desperate because he’d felt the agony of over a thousand years of loneliness.

  His mood took a dive, and he sighed, feeling like a fool. “So you came back because you felt sorry for me.”

  “Pity had nothing to do with it, Key. The angel had already told me all about you and why you would want me to stay. I felt bad for you, and I liked the idea of fighting Eryx, but living forever seemed too huge and scary. I’d pretty much decided to go with her.” Her hands stilled, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Then I heard you calling my name.”

  He lifted his head and looked into her solemn eyes.

  “I’d just met you, barely knew you, but in that one minute, I knew exactly who you are. I was blown away.” She smiled softly. “So I came back, and no matter what happens between us, whether we’re friends or … something more, I’ll always be with you.” She held his head within her soft, pretty hands, drew him down, and kissed him.

  Three hours into the flight, Jordan had lost the caffeine buzz, and her adrenaline had slid back to normal. When Key insisted she get some sleep, she didn’t argue, except to insist he join her. “You need sleep, too.”

  She took off her running shoes; he took off his boots. She removed her hoodie; he removed his shirt. She slid out of her sweatpants; he turned out the light.

  Under the covers, he gathered her next to him and whispered in the dark, “I haven’t ever slept with anyone. I don’t know if I snore, or kick, or behave badly, so you’ll have to let me know.”

  “Never? Like ever? I thought you’d been with … other people.”

  “We didn’t sleep.”

  “Oh.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “No, but if you intend to be with me, like with me, it will bother me a lot.”

  He held her a little tighter. “Go to sleep.”

  She drifted off and was caught unawares by a nightmare. She was back in Washington, at Matthew’s house. Every moment replayed in her dream exactly like it happened, except when she fell to her knees beside Matthew, screaming, he opened his eyes and looked up at her with accusation. “You betrayed me.”

  “Jordan, wake up! It’s okay. Jordan!”

  She woke up disoriented, crying and gasping for breath.

  Someone was knocking on the door.

  “You’ve got to answer,” Key said somewhere close to her ear.

  Sliding from beneath the covers, she went to the door and opened it just enough to see Ms. Duplessis standing there, looking worried. “I’m sorry,” Jordan said, “I had a nightmare.”

  “Can I get you something?”

  “No, thank you.”

  The woman took a step closer to the door. “If you’d rather not be alone, I understand, Miss Ellis, and I’d be only too happy to sit with you.”

  “You’re very kind, but I’m okay. Will you make sure I’m awake for landing?”

  “Of course! You’ll need to take a seat and buckle up.”

  Closing the door, she made her way back to the bed and slipped beneath the covers, still trembling. “I thought I was under a cloak. How did she hear me?”

  “I took you out of it before we went to sleep, in case anyone peeked in.”

  She couldn’t shake the nightmare. “Key?”

  “Right here.”

  “You were going to take me to see Matthew tonight.”

  “That was before everything went to hell.”

  “I still want to see him.”

  His reply took a long time. Finally, he said, “Then see him. You’ll be in the real world again, so you can visit him all you want, and talk, and … whatever.”

  She rolled to her side, facing away from him, and didn’t sleep again. She was pretty sure Key didn’t either.

  ELEVEN

  WATCHING JORDAN REUNITE WITH HER FATHER WAS HARD. Under a cloak, Key stood on the tarmac a few yards away and heard her father cry. For all his faults as a president, and his weakness in not standing up to people who led him in the wrong direction, he was a good, decent man, and if Key had had any doubts about his love for Jordan, he didn’t now. He felt sorry for Ellis, because in a month, he’d lose her forever.

  Despite the falling snow, they hugged for an eternity, with a thousand cameras snapping pictures and an army of news cameras recording everything from a distance. Eventually, they parted and walked to the limousine that waited, door open. She glanced at Key, just before she ducked inside, and said good-bye with her eyes. He would see her again in a few hours, but watching the limo take her away made him anxious. Eryx had said he wouldn’t take her until she would go of her own free will, but suppose he decided to take her anyway?

  “If he does,” she’d said while they got ready for landing, “he’ll regret it because I’ll make his life miserable.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll find his weakness and exploit it, over and over.”

  Key was doubtful. “You do understand he’s a worse evil than Lucifer?”

  “Don’t worry so much. He really believes he can convince me to go with him willingly, so for now, at least, I’m not afraid. Besides, if he shows up, anywhere, at any time, I’ll transport to the Mephisto house before he can touch me.”

  Watching the limo turn a corner and disappear around the hangar, Key wished he felt as confident as she did.

  Back in Colorado, he went to his rooms, to his closet, and prepared for the Red Out takedown. He was slipping his switchblade into his trench coat pocket when he felt a piece of paper. She’d written a note on a teabag wrapper. Thank you for telling me about Kyanos. Happy New Year, Kyros.

  Was it New Year’s? He’d lost track of the days.

  From his bedroom, he heard Jax on the intercom. “We have a situation. War room in one minute.”

  He immediately popped down, his heart in his throat, praying nothing had happened to Jordan. He was first to appear and looked straight at Jax. “Don’t wait for everyone else. Tell me what’s going on.”

  Jax nodded at the screen, at a news feed about Red Out. Less than an hour earlier, the ATF had stormed the gates and found every man, woman, and child dead.

  “Something didn’t feel right, so I went down to check things out,” Jax said, “and they were all shot, mob style, with one single bullet to the back of the head. They were lined up in rows,
as if they’d gotten to their knees and waited to be executed. When I got back, this was on the news.”

  The reporter voiceover said, “Brandon Holder was found inside the main compound, dead from an apparently self-inflicted gunshot. Federal agents won’t comment, but the head of the task force will be giving a press conference in an hour or so. Speculation is that the recovery of Jordan Ellis prompted the Red Out leader to kill his followers and himself. There’s still a lot of mystery surrounding her disappearance, reported murder, and reappearance in a London crowd.”

  All those lost souls were Eryx’s now. “Holder was Skia, so if he’s dead, there’s no doubt Eryx did it. He’s the only one who could kill Holder.”

  Jax nodded. “He knew we’d show up and take all of them, so he got them before we could.”

  Key thought of all the doppelgangers in the cooler that would have to be disposed of.

  Suddenly, Jordan was there, wide-eyed and breathing hard.

  “Have you heard? They’ve all been shot!”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I’m supposedly in a bathroom at the hospital, peeing in a cup, so I have to go right back. I wanted to see if you knew.”

  He pointed at the screen. “We just found out.” He looked at her hospital gown. “Why are they making you pee in a cup?”

  “To see if my kidnappers gave me any drugs, and to check for other … things that might have happened to me. They’re taking blood next. Is it going to be weird that I’m immortal? Will something show up in my chemistry?”

  “Your enzyme levels will be off the charts. Can you get them to skip the blood test?”

  “I’ll try.” She glanced at the screen and grimaced, then said, “I gotta go,” and disappeared.

  She fake cried and got semi-hysterical when they said they wanted to take blood, claiming that she’d had enough and wanted to go home. “Please, Dad, I’m fine. They didn’t do anything to me, didn’t give me anything except water and crackers. Don’t let them stick me!”

  Poor Dad. Today, she could ask for anything under the sun, and he’d move mountains to get it for her. If she didn’t want to get stuck, she didn’t have to. He brushed off Dr. Kirk’s insistence on the necessity of it, and Jordan went to get dressed.

  In the hallway, before they began walking toward the entrance where the limo waited, she asked, “Can I see Matthew before we leave?”

  “He’s still in intensive care,” Dad said. “Family only. You can visit him as soon as he’s in a regular room.”

  She was disappointed, but then it occurred to her that she’d rather see Matthew without her dad waiting for her in the hall or, worse, standing right there in the room with them. A few minutes later, they were back in the limo, headed for home.

  “Do you still want to go to Camp David? It’s New Year’s Day, so we can watch some football, maybe a movie. Whatever you want to do, Jordan.”

  Looking at his tired face, the mess he’d made of his graying hair, and the random coffee stains on his white dress shirt, she thought he needed a break even more than she did. “That sounds perfect, Dad. Maybe Betsy will make something delicious for dinner.”

  “Says she’s making a ham and black-eyed peas for New Year’s.”

  Looking out the window at Washington, at the newly fallen snow beneath circles of light from streetlamps, she wanted to be elated to be back, but it was bittersweet.

  “Ron’s funeral is scheduled for Thursday, so we’ll have to be back tomorrow night, but one night away is okay, right?”

  “Sure, Dad.” She’d have to figure out a reasonable excuse to skip Mr. Trent’s funeral. No way would she go and listen to a minister talk about how he was now in heaven and how God forgives, and yada yada. Mr. Trent wasn’t in heaven, and God couldn’t forgive him because he’d blown God off. She wondered what Dad would think if she told him his chief of staff and longtime best friend had known who was behind her abduction. Then she wondered who Eryx would choose to approach her father again. Key had said that Dad didn’t remember any of what Mr. Trent told him about Eryx, or even that he’d been there the night of her kidnapping. All he knew was that Ron Trent had a heart attack and died. “What about Maggie’s and Paul’s funerals?”

  “Maggie was taken to Kansas, where she was from, to be buried with her family, and Paul was buried yesterday in Virginia.”

  “Oh.” It bothered her not to go to Maggie’s funeral. She’d been with Jordan so many years, she’d become like part of the family.

  “Jordan, you don’t have to talk about it, but I’d really like to know, did anyone hurt you?”

  “No, Dad. I was alone most of the time.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m mad and sad and all kinds of upset about Matthew, and about Paul and Maggie, and I hate that this has been so hard on you, and it was freaky wondering if they would kill me, but I’m okay.”

  He stared out the window with her. “Patricia suggested you see someone at Bethesda, a therapist who specializes in post-traumatic stress disorder. Will you do that?”

  Someone else to lie to. Awesome. “Yeah, Dad, I’ll see somebody.”

  Back at the White House, she went to her room, supposedly to rest before she got ready for their departure at eight, but she didn’t feel like resting. Instead, she sat at her laptop and opened the First Daughter e-mail, watching in amazement as the program downloaded over fifty thousand, most of them sent since she had been discovered in London. She picked a few at random to read, and it made her sad that some of them were so hateful. Why did people think it was okay to write to tell her what an idiot her dad was? Or that she deserved to be kidnapped? How did somebody have such a cold heart that he could send a message that said her father was as guilty of what happened to Matthew as the guys who shot him?

  Most of the ones she opened were sweet and kind, with wishes for her to be okay, but at least a third were just plain mean.

  She went to her private Facebook page and saw a ton of posts on her wall from friends at school, which made her feel a little better.

  Tessa had sent her a message. I don’t pray much, but God’s sick of me after this weekend. I am SO grateful and happy, Jordan. I can’t WAIT to see you and hug you and cry on you and make your sweater snotty. I LOVE you! She followed the message with a stack of heart emoticons.

  Somewhere around six thirty, her house phone rang. Thinking it must be Dad, checking to see if she was awake and packing, she grabbed it and said, “Hey.”

  “Why aren’t you asleep?” Key asked in a low voice.

  “How are you calling on a house phone?”

  “I’m in the Oval Office, just because I can be, and thought I should call before I popped in. I thought you might be asleep. Or naked.”

  “No, I’m reading e-mails, fully clothed. Come on up.”

  The line went dead, and seconds later, he appeared in the middle of her room, his trench coat swirling around his biker boots. “What’s the story?”

  “We’re leaving at eight a.m. for Camp David. I think I’ll be okay there, Key, so you should maybe get ready for school. It starts Thursday.” She eyed his boots. “You have to go shopping.”

  “I’ll send Mercy to pick up some things.”

  She remembered Mathilda had mentioned that Mercy had purchased Jordan’s new clothes. “Who’s Mercy?”

  “A Lumina who loves to shop. Trust me, she’ll find the right stuff.”

  “So you’re going with me to Camp David?”

  “I’ll just check in from time to time, so you and your dad can be together. He seemed pretty broken up.”

  She nodded, then got up and walked over to her closet to get a bag. She opened it on her bed and went to the bureau to get pajamas and underwear. “I didn’t get to see Matthew because he’s in intensive care and nobody but family is allowed.”

  He sighed. “And I suppose you want me to take you?”

  “I’d take myself, but I haven’t learned how to be invisible yet.”

  “I don’t want to. You know that, ri
ght?”

  “Please, Key. Just for a few minutes.”

  “Oh, hell.” He sighed again before he set her bag on the floor, then went around the bed and tossed aside the covers. He arranged her pillows, then covered them up and tucked them in so it looked like she was under there, asleep. Turning, he looked at the light switch and it was instantly dark—except she could see him just as well—then reached for her hand. “George Washington University Hospital?”

  “Right.”

  Seconds later, they stood in the entrance vestibule. Key scanned the directory, then they were gone again, to a dimly lit hallway. “He’s in one of these rooms, and it looks like the names are posted by the room number.” They started walking, looking at each name until they reached the end of the hall, and there it was: Matthew Whittaker.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Jordan? There’s just no way this will end well.”

  “I’m sure.” But she wasn’t one hundred percent sure. Now that the moment was upon her, she had a million butterflies in her stomach.

  “He can’t see or hear you, but he can feel you if you touch him, so not too close.”

  She nodded, and they popped into the room.

  Nothing could have prepared her for Matthew. He was hooked up to all kinds of wires and tubes, his hair was a tangled mess, his skin was white as snow, his eyes were sunken with deep, dark circles beneath, and he held a wrinkled picture of her in one hand. But that wasn’t what made her burst into tears. He’d been shot. He was paralyzed. He still might die or he wouldn’t be in ICU. He looked like he ought to look, considering all of that. But the look in his beautiful, soft brown eyes—always so full of life and warmth—was of a rage so violent, her heart broke all over again.

  “You had to know he’d be extremely upset,” Key said. He nodded toward the muted TV, tuned to CNN, which was replaying video of her arrival at Andrews. “He thought you were dead. Now he knows you’re not. He’s afraid you’ll come here to see him.” Key walked toward the door. “Don’t do it, Jordan. If you love this guy, if you really care about him, don’t come back in real life. Let him go home, or go to rehab, or wherever he’ll be after this hospital. Let him get some help and regain at least some of his dignity before you see him. You can call him, send him text messages, e-mails, candy-grams. But don’t come see him in person.”