Revenant (29 page)

I sat up. Uhm. “If this is what I think it is—”

“You mean an accounting of the First Borns’ origins?”

“Yeah,” I looked at Tim. “Then Aether wasn’t the first born of the First Borns. Someone named Sophia was.” I frowned and looked back to the book.

I sighed and sat back. Even as I read, it was like being pulled into the story, of seeing them, the children as they were born. And again I heard the name Samael. They spoke that name tonight before fighting. Their father.

I made note of the names. Aether and Hephaestus and Yamato I knew. If Inanna had written this text, then she was there as well, witnessing the whole thing. But where was Azrael?

TC?

And what happened to the real oldest First Born, Sophia? I also wondered if I asked Mephistopheles about this, he’d tell me more.

The journal ended and I flipped pages. There was more—but that was all that translated.
Hey, what gives?

“So,” Tim said. “Who wrote this?”

“I think Inanna—”

“The one that was here?” He looked at me with wide eyes.

I nodded. “Tim—it says that Sophia touched with a Seraphim’s bastard. Wouldn’t that mean—”

“That you’re a Seraphim’s bastard? No.” He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s what that means. But who is this Azrael?”

I blinked. “Trench Coat.”

“No . . . fucking . . . way . . .”

“Uh-huh . . . and I just got the feeling that we’ve read something very important.” I grabbed the book and stuffed it in my bag. I knew then that Dags wasn’t coming. Something had happened.

THE
entire estate was on lockdown when I got there . . . Lockdown for them, not me. I glided down (having hidden the book somewhere else) and sieved through and into the foyer and—

Had about a dozen men pointing guns at me.

“Wait!” came Gunter’s voice. He ran from the side and motioned for everyone to put their guns down. “This phreak is friendly.”

I glared at him and let him see the full Wraith.

He backed up, as did all the rest. I shifted back from Wraith (I was liking this!) and moved to the library. I didn’t need to head down as Rhonda, Mom, and Jason were seated inside. Jason was at Rhonda’s massively large oak desk, and Mom and Rhonda were on the couch. Mom looked at me. “Nothing?”

“Nothing.” I looked around. “Where is Joe?”

“He’s upstairs asleep,” Rhonda said. “He’ll be fine, but he’s going to be a little groggy and grumpy. I’ve got him under guard. He’s not walking out of here.”

“Yeah, about that.” I moved to the coffee table and sat down, facing her. “You care to tell me how that happened?”

She glared at me, and I was all too aware that if something happened to him, she was going to blame me. Well, take a ticket. Get in line. “I didn’t think he’d leave. Why did he leave?”

“And your people said he left with Stella? Anybody tried calling her?”

“Yes.” Rhonda nodded. “She’s at her house, and I had some people stop by. She said she dropped him off at the shop.”

Which was where I was. I wondered if maybe . . . “Tim said he heard people outside just before I showed up. I’m wondering if maybe someone was watching the house and grabbed him right before I got there.”

“I think that’s likely enough,” Mom said. “I’m not as worried about him as I was with Joe. I know that Alice and Maureen will do their best to protect him.”

Only . . . Dags had said the girls weren’t really there. He’d been unable to sense them. Would they be with him if someone tried to remove the Grimoire?

I stood up and started pacing. “So—what do we do? Do you have a tracking device in him? Had you LoJacked him?”

“No, but don’t think I won’t do it in the future.” She sighed and stood up as well. “I’m gonna go check on Joe.”

I followed her, keeping a discreet distance. She never looked back once as we moved through the bookshelf, down the elevator, past Gunter’s station, and into a wing of palatial rooms. I could hear the oh-so-familiar beep of a heart monitor before we came to the door. Rhonda paused only once before opening it and did not bother keeping it open for me.

I stood just outside, my head down. She and I had gone through so much together in such a small amount of time. But there were times in her life I knew nothing about. A whole life of luxury seeded with the grains of power and responsibility. I knew she’d been sent to spy on me and Mom, and I’d been angry at her. And yet through my own hatred she’d kept my Mom’s soul safe, while my split center had nearly killed the man I loved.

And my friends as well.

With a heavy sigh, I pushed the door open.

Joe lay in a soft bed, his chest bare and decorated with sensors, their wires hooked up to various machines that I didn’t recognize. She was taking care of him. Keeping him safe. And I was—

I was useless.

I stood by him, watching him breathe. He looked better, his color good. His neck had been stitched and bandaged where the Revenants had taken their fill and torn his flesh. I reached out and brushed a small strand of hair from his temple. Joe with the spiky, unruly mop. I remembered his kiss—I always remembered it when I looked at him.

“He loves you, you know,” Rhonda said from the window.

I looked up from Joe and looked at her silhouette. It was past three, and dawn would greet Atlanta early, at five thirty or so. I was exhausted—more than I would ever tell anyone. My muscles felt as if they had lead blood flowing through them.

The curtains were parted—and as I came near, I realized the window looked out onto an underground pool. It was empty, and the only light came from beneath the still water. Ripples moved along the walls and on Rhonda’s face as I stood beside her.

“They all love you,” she said.

I caught the taint of something bitter in her tone. “I don’t ask them to.”

“No, you don’t.” Her voice was deep, and again I wondered how old she really was. Deep inside. “I watch you—have watched you—all these years. Irreverent, bitchy, bitter at times for no reason. And completely unappreciative of what you have. I don’t understand most of the time, but I stayed and watched. And when I learned what you could do—I was fascinated. To have that kind of power—moving out of your body.”

“But you have power.”

“I have taken power, Zoë.” She continued to look out the window, her arms folded over her chest, her right elbow propped on her left as her right hand fingered a chain about her neck. “Learned, siphoned, stolen. Books, mostly. And things my uncle taught me. It wasn’t until I saw and touched the Bonville Grimoire that I understood it. My first spell, the Veil.” And to demonstrate, she reached her right hand in the air and pulled a box of tissues out. She took a few, then placed the box back into the invisible sphere around her. “It’s getting pretty junky up there . . . my own Clarke Belt.” She wiped at her eyes and blew her nose.

I hadn’t realized she’d been crying. “I’m sorry, Rhonda.”

“Why are you sorry? I honestly can’t say it’s your fault. You didn’t know what you were. Nona refused to tell you—she wanted a normal life for you. And I didn’t blame her. I liked our life before. I liked being a sidekick. I liked being just the one that made the gadgets, knew the spells, could spout what you needed. And then the Archer came and changed everything. Daniel, then Dags.” She smiled and sniffed again and folded her arms back. “When I first saw him, I knew in that instant I loved him. Beautiful, smart, and gifted with magic. I thought I could cure him, you know? Take away the pain those damned tattoos had brought him. And then—” She gritted her teeth. “And then you had to fucking take him to Bonville, who used that screwed-up spell.”

“Hey, I did not take him there. He was being summoned, and that bastard dragged Dags through the Abysmal plane to do it. If I hadn’t been there, holding on to him, he might not have survived at all.”

“Oh yes. I know.” She swallowed and continued to stare at the reflecting pool below. “I know. He’s told me so many times how it was that you saved him. Back then. And then it all ended for us—you and me—after all I’d done, you shut me out of your life, and Nona told me to leave you be. Do you know how hard it was to learn that Dags had been kidnapped? That he was being physically and mentally tortured because Rodriguez had to have that damned book? It was all about that book.”

I swallowed and stayed where I was. “Rhonda . . . what happened? Exactly?”

She took in a deep breath. “Joe and I found him—and you know Joe and I started seeing each other as mutual Zoë addicts recovering from your presence. He wouldn’t tell me why on his part—only that he needed to distance himself.” She frowned. “His exile was self-induced. Mine was forced on me. So when we found Dags . . . he was nearly torn apart. The Familiars called out to me. And we came. Rodriguez was there, torturing what was left of him. Joe shot the motherfucker—but he didn’t die. He just faded away.”

And resurfaced again in Atlanta. I was happy then that he’d met a messy end. Knowing that he’d tortured Dags—I called it a blessing.

“Dags was dying—the bastard had flayed his skin from his ribs, cut him up so badly.” She sobbed. “I used everything I knew . . . every spell I had in me to try to save him. Alice and Maureen—nothing was working.” She wiped at her eyes. “And then it called to me. Something in the book. I found myself reaching for it, pulling it out of the Veil.” She mimicked her motion for me, remembering that instant. “Rodriguez came back with a gun, and he and Joe fought. The bastard called up Fetch after Fetch, but the Familiars and the cop fought that bastard off. And then, when I wasn’t sure if I could save him, the book opened for me, and the spell was there.”

I stared at her.

“I—I could see it so clearly in my mind. The book wanted it, called for it to be done. And I knew what it meant. I knew it meant linking his life again to forces beyond his control. It would change him, outside and in. Physically and mentally he would no longer be the same man. It never occurred to me that he would hate me for it.”

I stepped forward. “He doesn’t hate you.”

“Yes.” She nodded and looked at me, and I could see how hard it was on her. The expression on her face. “I summoned the magic to fuse his soul with that book, to keep him and it safe. I never wanted it to fall into the hands of those who would use it for bad. Ass-hats.” She smiled.