Revenant (24 page)

Though he didn’t look or act German. He looked to be about in his midthirties, with piercing dark eyes and a thick goatee. He kept his head shaved and always wore nice suits. He paced around a lot with a headset on. On the few occasions I’d been down here with Rhonda, I noticed that anytime she asked him something, he had the answer for her.

He was there as we passed around the outside of this central hub, his hands behind his back, his attention totally devoted to keeping things running. Gunter barely even acknowledged our presence with a nod as we passed, but I was sure he could quote back to Rhonda when Mom and I arrived, what time we came through, and what we were wearing.

Now if he told her what we were thinking—I was gonna have to take him out.

From this central hub area were other corridors and rooms. Most of it was archive space. Environmentally controlled. In those archives were ancient texts as well as other objects—most of the contents, she claimed, were from the Library of Alexandria. Lots of things I had no real knowledge of and didn’t care about.

We took a door to the right, then a left, and I found myself in what could be described as a luxury condo, complete with cushy beige carpet topped with the best of Ethan Allan.

Jason and Dags were in a room off to the side. Mom called it the rumpus room.

And I thought that sounded a bit like porn.

We stopped at the door, just inside, where Rhonda was. It was an empty room, with no furniture. Just four walls, ceiling, and floor. I noticed the whole thing was covered in soft material. Not really a padded room, but freak’n close.

Jason and Dags were in the center, facing one another. Dags was glowing—and I mean his entire body was literally glowing a bright white-blue. The girls were there as well, to either side, both in normal clothing. Both watching Dags. And they looked as if they were going to pounce if anything went wrong.

The room smelled like something was burning.

Rhonda turned and smiled at us. “Jason’s getting Dags to concentrate on the Grimoire and visualize it page by page,” she whispered.

Mom stood to one side, I on the other. I leaned in. “You hear from Mastiff about Dags’s hair?”

“Gunter did. The whole thing’s silly ’cause Stella Rosenberg puts Dags with her all the way from California. He was never out of her sight before we left with him at Savage Pizza. So we suspect someone planted it there.”

Mom said, “But who?”

“Dunno.” Rhonda shook her head. “I’m at a loss, which I don’t like. Suspect-wise, there’s Daniel.”

I bristled. I did not want to believe Daniel was doing this. He was the bad guy in the last book.

“Look”—Rhonda turned to me—“Daniel’s been possessed once already. And unfortunately, he remembered everything the Horror did while in his body. That broke his mind and has also made him vulnerable to more possession. It is possible that the Phantasm is using him in order to destroy the First Borns.”

“But why?” I held out my hands and kept my voice a whisper as best as I could. “None of this really makes sense. I defeated him with the Horror. Okay, sure, fine. So it’s natural he’d go around finding a different avenue for chaos. But why mess with the Revenants if for centuries they’ve remained hidden and noncombative? It seems to me they’ve led very sedate, non-Phantasm-threatening lives. Why go off and suddenly decide to possess an insane person and use some arcane ritualistic spell that will obliterate them from the book of life?”

Wow . . . sometimes I impress even myself. And no, I’d never been one for putting things as precisely as I could. I’ve always been more of the one that prefers to put a bit of humor into the darker situations. Nervous habit. Kinda like biting nails.

I’d evidently impressed Jason as well since he turned from Dags and came toward us. He looked impeccable in his soft blue Hugo Boss shirt and casual jeans.

But my gaze traveled past him to Dags, who remained standing with his eyes closed, glowing that blue-white light, with the girls to either side.

“Zoë,” Jason said. “You’re absolutely right that none of this makes sense. My Revenant brethren and I—those of us left—have also discussed this at length. No one knows the Phantasm’s ultimate game or end. Only that he has been—for the past twenty-odd years—a very paranoid being. Terrified that he would lose his power in the plane. And he’s done several things lately—all directed at you—that lead us to believe he fears you, as in the Wraith.”

I nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I got that part.” I kept my voice low. “I, an Irin turned Wraith, am something he fears. And at one point he feared the First Borns. But like you said, there are so few left, and all but one of you made yourself Revenants. You made a non-threatening decision, right?”

“Yes. To him.”

“Okay, and if TC is like the redheaded stepchild of the bunch and is the only one who hasn’t made himself into a Revenant—it would seem he would be more of the target. I mean—he’s a First Born.”

Jason nodded again. “Logically, yes. And the Phantasm has gone after him, by going after you. I don’t know if you’ve figured it out yet, Zoë, but even though he hasn’t joined his life to your soul, there is a connection between the two of you. He became a Revenant on a very base level, and he realizes this now, but he touched an Irin, not a human.”

Rhonda joined in. “That base touch changed him and, I suspect, opened his eyes. Before that, even you said he claimed to have been basically a soldier for the Phantasm. A prisoner enforcer. The Phantasm even took away his voice—a powerful symbol of control.”

I blinked. “And I gave it back to him.”

“Well, technically Dags did.” Jason nodded.

“Eventually,” Rhonda said. “But even we’re not sure what would happen if he and you joined completely, like the other Revenants. Whereas it weakens and minimizes them, it could perhaps turn you and him into something else entirely.”

That thought made me shiver. By just touching, he and I had changed. Especially me. Wraiths were a thing of legend in the Abysmal plane, but none had existed there until I came along.
What exactly
would
we become?

Jason said, “I’m not an expert on this—it’s more Mephistopheles’ area—but I get the impression that the two of you merging isn’t something anyone wants to happen. So far, no one’s captured the real attention of the Seraphim, and we’ve all been left alone. We should keep it that way.”

The Seraphim. The leader of the Ethereal plane and the opposite of the Phantasm. “Yeah. But that still doesn’t tell me why he’d go after the Revenants.”

“Because they’re the last standing threat before you,” Dags said.

We all turned and looked at him. He wasn’t glowing blue anymore, and he’d moved close to us. The girls were there, standing to either side.

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.

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.