Revenant (28 page)

Something moved to my left below, just behind a Dumpster. There was a parking lot behind Opera, and a walkway down. Someone was there . . . lurking in the shadows. I couldn’t actually sense if it was a human, or something else.

“It’s just a Daemon,” TC said, and he was beside me, hovering above the club. “Looks like it’s found it’s way into a bum. Not exactly the smartest move.”

I cursed. “Stop doing that.”

“Your boy’s losing. Might want to get back in there.” He looked at me, and it was so surreal hovering up here above Sunday night traffic in downtown Atlanta. My hair—even wilder when I was Wraith—flew out around my head in the wind. “You know . . . this just screams of a setup.”

I nodded. “How many of you are there?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Of me? Just one, baby. Just one.”

I stared at him.

TC shook his head. “I really mean there’s just one like me. I touched you, and my world changed. Just like it did for you. I’m not like them.” He pointed down.

“But we are linked, like a host and Symbiont.”

He held out his hand and wiggled it in the air, gesturing that maybe kinda. “Eh . . . there isn’t a book about Wraiths and Symbionts. I can say this—a prize of great power would await the Symbiont that claimed you as their host.”

Watching him, I noticed he seemed . . . relaxed. “Why haven’t they? No one’s approached me. Even Jason didn’t choose me as his right.”

“Because he can’t.” TC looked at me and tilted his head. “While you and I are linked, no other First Born can have you. If something happens to one of us, the other suffers for it. You’ve already noticed that.”

Nod. I had. “Why haven’t you demanded to be fused with a Wraith? You already said the power would be a great prize.”

I never thought I’d put the word
thoughtful
with TC. But that’s what he looked like as he chewed on his words. “Because I like it the way it is. Your touch restored me to what I was before—and then some. And I”—he bowed to me—“helped to create a creature of legend in the Abysmal plane. A Wraith. The Phantasm fears you. Fears us. He fears them.” He looked down. “Though I have no idea why. It’s like the bully being afraid of the nerds on the playground.”

I stifled a laugh. “So we—”

But his hand was out, grabbing mine and we plummeted down, back into Opera and back to the two combatants.

I have to admit—I never considered how this might end. Never thought beyond getting it over with so that Joe was back safe. So I wasn’t prepared to see Jason on the floor, a sword sticking out of his middle, pinning him down.

“No!” Rhonda screamed as she ran to him, and was immediately held back by two Revenants.

TC and I materialized beside Jason. I bent down over him while TC drew himself up to his largest, beefiest form. “Let her go! You know the rules of Scorch.”

“Well, well, well.” Lex stood nearby, her arms crossed. “Look what the bat dragged in. Azrael—what a pleasure.”

I was looking at Jason’s face, hoping the death mask wouldn’t appear, and looked up. Azrael? That was his name?

“You know the rules, Yamato. Release the right.”

“Not until I have the boy.”

TC lowered his shades on his nose. “Miss Orly—you can defend yourself anytime.”

Rhonda stopped struggling and straightened up. “By the rules of Scorch?”

TC nodded slowly. “Most definitely.”

Her expression changed and green fire ignited in her hands.

I was amazed at what happened next.

I looked down at Jason. He was looking up at me. Or rather, Mephistopheles was. I bent down over him, pushing his hair back from his forehead. He was sweating and pale. And losing a lot of blood. Shock. He was going into shock. “What can I do?”

I blinked.
She can do that?

I stood just as Rhonda turned and blasted the two Revenants holding her backward. TC moved in to help her and knocked the shit out of a big, dumb, blond one who thought he could get to TC, then pulled her to him before shoving her toward us.

“You heal Mephisto—” TC said as he removed his long leather coat and flexed his bare, tattooed chest.

When did he get all those tattoos?

“I’m gonna bus’ some heads.”

There were a few Revenants who stayed back. Lex for one, along with Emo. I watched the two of them move to the side and talk—but I couldn’t guess about what.

Rhonda knelt, her hands glowing, and put one on Jason’s head and the other on his chest right above where the sword had gone in. “Zoë, I need you to pull the sword out when I tell you to.”

I pulled my gaze away from where dude was busting heads and put my hands around the hilt. “Uh . . . I’m not Arthur here. I’ve never done this.”

“You’re a Wraith, you’ll be strong enough. Just wait for me.”

I tensed, both hands around the hilt even as my gaze traveled back to TC as he head-cracked one of the larger ones. Oh, that was the guy in the Armani suit!

“Zoë!’

Oh! I looked down. Most of Jason’s chest was enveloped in the undulating green light. His skin was pale like bleached bone and covered in a thin layer of sweat.

There was an ooomph nearby, and I looked. One of the other meatheads had TC in a headlock. They moved about until finally TC reached around and grabbed the man’s—balls?

A howl sounded from him, and I winced at the thought that even Revenants could feel that.

“Now, Zoë!”

Oh shit!
I yanked as hard as I could and was amazed at the resistance. With a yell, I pulled it out and staggered back. Wow . . . these things were heavy. And they’d been swinging them around like they were yardsticks. After a glance at the two of them, I bolted into the fray with TC, who was on his back beneath them.

I hacked at their backs and screamed.

And then I SCREAMED.

OPERA
was a very quiet place when nobody was inside. Just us. Sitting on the floor in the center of the dance floor. Rhonda had Jason’s head in her lap and was taking in deep breaths. I sat down nearby, back to human form, the sword in my hand.

TC came over, limping a little, his coat back on. He leaned over and touched my shoulder. I felt an electric current—not the same as with Dags or Daniel . . . or Joe. Something more familiar.

And then he was gone.

Rhonda’s phone went off, and she pulled it from her back pocket. Looking at the display, she answered it. “Hey, Nick.”

“Yeah, they’re all gone. Zoë did a bit of her mojo, and they scattered. I don’t think she actually killed any of them, but they’re gone. Jason will be fine. Soon as he gets a good drink—parking lot? Be there.” She disconnected.

“Good drink?”

“He’s gonna need it in order to walk out of here. I’ve helped with internal, but Mephistopheles is gonna have to help. He needs to have blood to ground him.” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a pocketknife.

Getting squeamish, I waved at her. “No . . . no. Don’t do that. Just wake him and let him do that slash thing.”

“He’s unconscious,” she said, then hesitated. “I don’t have a way to ster—Oh yeah.” She ignited her left hand and held the blade inside it. After a few seconds, she pressed the knife into her wrist. Blood pooled fast, dark and red, and she let it drip over his lips. Within seconds, the magic in the blood brought Jason/ Mephistopheles to life, and he was moving, reaching up, and grabbing her arm, pulling it to him. I could hear him swallowing and felt the warmth return to his body.

I jumped up and dove behind the bar, searching the cabinets for linens. Finding a stack, I ran back around and helped her disengage her arm from him just as he blinked and sat up. Blood colored his lips, and he looked . . . a bit frightening.

Slashed, torn, bloodied shirt. Wild black eyes, the pupils dilated and covering his irises. His teeth—wow, his teeth looked long and sharp. His hair stood up on end.

I wrapped Rhonda’s wrist in one of the napkins while he wiped at his face. “Thank you. Both of you.” He looked around. “I lost?”

“Yes,” I said. “And TC helped me get rid of them for now.” I paused. “His name is Azrael, isn’t it?”

Jason nodded to me. “Yes. His given name. The one the Phantasm gave him.” He stood and helped Rhonda to her feet. When she nearly fell backward, he picked her up in his arms and carried her.

“Should you be doing that?” I asked. “I mean, you just got stabbed.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’m nearly whole again.”

Rhonda’s phone rang. I moved closer to her and got it out of her pocket as we walked to the entrance and stepped out into the cold night. The van was right outside, and Nick was halfway up the stairs as I answered it. “Hello?”

“Zoë?”

I blinked. “Mom?”

“Where is Rhonda?”

“She’s in the van. What’s wrong?”

There was a pause.

“Mom, if you’re calling about Joe, we got him. And Jason’s not dead and Rhonda’s not a Revenant. We’re on our way back—”

“It’s Dags.”

Oh. Hell.
“What?”

Another pause. “He’s gone.”

 

 

 

I
relayed the news to Jason as he and Nick bundled Rhonda into the backseat of the van. I caught sight of Joe. He was still pale, with dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked sunken. Ill.

“He’ll be okay,” Nick said as he put a hand on my arm. His touch felt similar to Jason’s. But then it made sense, since Jason’s blood is what kept Nick alive. “His vitals are stable. He only looks bad.”

An IV connected Joe to a clear bag, and a small screen showed a steady heartbeat. “You gave him blood?”

“Not enough was taken to warrant that,” Nick said. “But he’ll be weak though back to his old self in no time.”

“Zoë.”

I turned to Rhonda. She was buckled in the seat I’d used on the way down. “Find Dags.”

“I will.”

The story from Mom was that Dags had left. None of the employees or guards had been told that he couldn’t go. He wasn’t a prisoner. So a redheaded woman had showed up, and Dags had gone with her.

Rhonda had been livid. “Do I have to tell them everything? Where would he go? I mean, doesn’t he know that they are out there looking for him?”

I had an idea I knew where he’d go and promised them I’d go and look. Nick promised to get them to the estate in one piece. I shifted into Wraith and jumped up into the air.

I suspected he’d gone to the shop to get that book.

When I arrived at the house, Tim greeted me. Steve was still noncorporeal. “Dags been here?”

“No.” Tim shook his head. “But there were some other people here about fifteen minutes ago.”

I pointed to the floor. “They got in here?”

“No, but they were snooping around outside. Even up on the porch. There were some loud noises, then they were gone.”

“Did you see them?”

“No.”

I moved from the kitchen to the botanica and looked for the book. It was still there, and I took it before running upstairs to grab an old messenger bag of mine. After I had that, I grabbed more clothes and stuck a sign on the door outside announcing that the shop would be closed on Monday.

Then I waited.

I was sure he was coming here. I called his cell.

No answer.

So I sat in the tea shop and opened the book. It was unreadable as usual, so I held it with my left hand and turned to page one.

I looked up and pursed my lips. Tim was there beside me, reading over my shoulder. “Who is this?” he asked.

“I’m not sure, but I think this is technically a journal. Written by a First Born.”