Apocalypse Happens (30 page)

“But you’re not my child.”

“Thank God.”

He frowned. “I’d be a good father.”

“Now you’re just freaking me out.” I retrieved my clothes and put them on. “Do I even have a father?”

“Everyone has a father.”

“Every human,” I muttered. “Maybe the Phoenix just dropped me like an egg. She is a bird after all.”

“You have a point.”

“Fabulous. I was hatched.”

His lips curved. “I doubt that.”

“But you don’t know for sure.”

“No,” he admitted. “But I do know where you were found.”

I’d been putting my shoes back on—the better to kick someone with—and my head snapped up. “Where?”

“Cairo.”

CHAPTER 31

“The plot thickens,” I said.

“You remember being sent to Ruthie’s?”

“Of course. I was twelve. I remember pretty much everything,”
in excruciating detail
, “from about three on.”

“You didn’t pop up on the radar until then or the federation would have snatched you long before they did.”

“Bummer for me.”

I had not had a good experience in foster care—until Ruthie. Being strange, knowing things you shouldn’t, getting yourself noticed—the-three-strikes-and-you’re-out-on-the-street plan for foster kids.

“There was nothing in the files about what you could do,” Sawyer continued.

“No?” I wasn’t surprised. Most people didn’t understand why I made them uncomfortable, just that I did.

Oh, sure, when I was little I didn’t at first realize that touching someone, then seeing things in their head was something few others could do, and I talked about it, which got me sent to another home, and then another. But no one with half a brain would say,
Take this kid back; she reads minds
. So I was labeled a smartmouth, even before I was; add to that disrespectful, ungrateful, crazy with a side order of thief, slut and addict as I got older, and you had the recipe for what I soon became.

A runaway.

I did better on the streets. Being able to “read” people told me what kind of people they were, and that kept me out of harm’s way more than most street kids. Worse things happened to me in places where I should have been safe.

“So what tipped off the federation when I was twelve?”

“You know there are members everywhere?”

“Cops, nurses, government workers. I’ll assume that we’ve got a few plants in Social Services too.”

“More than a few. That’s how we find a lot of our recruits.”

Since becoming leader of the light I’d learned that children with special abilities were dumped more often than most. Maybe one of their parents had been a Nephilim slumming on the human side and wound up dead; then the remaining parent was unable to deal with a very strange kid. Or maybe both parents wound up dead and the aunts, uncles, grandparents couldn’t handle it either. Or maybe, as happened to Luther, Nephilim killed both parents for no reason that anyone could fathom and the kid was “hidden” in the system until the federation found them and took them into the fold.

“You’d been bounced back enough times,” Sawyer continued, “that someone got suspicious and forwarded your file to Ruthie. Once she took a peek, she made certain you were brought directly to her.”

“I thought there was nothing in my file about what I could do.”

“There wasn’t.”

“Then what was so damn special about me?”

“Your name, for one.”

I’d always thought some social worker got creative,
or that I’d first been found in Phoenix. But I no longer believed that.

“You were left on a doorstep in Cairo with a note that said you were Elizabeth Phoenix.”

“Interesting.”

“Very. There were no Phoenixes in the area, and every other family by that name did not lay claim to you.”

“So I went into the system.”

Sawyer spread his hands. “In your file there was a photograph. Ruthie took one look and sent for me. I came to Milwaukee as a wolf.”

“The first sight of me must have rattled your cage.”

“So to speak,” he murmured. Then he took a deep breath, in and out. “You smelled like her too.”

“Why don’t I remember this? I know teenagers are oblivious, but being smelled by a wolf should be pretty unforgettable, especially in Milwaukee.”

Sawyer passed his hand, palm up, through the air, and wind swirled through the room, making the curtains sway to and fro, whipping the covers off the bed, ruffling my hair and his. Then he turned his palm downward, and the wind died.

“Magic has its uses,” he said. “I came in the night; I slipped in and slipped out. No one saw me but Ruthie.”

“Weren’t you worried? My mother bought a ticket to the dark-side ball. Pledged her soul, sold it; hell, maybe she even sold mine.”

I frowned. That would be bad.

“She couldn’t sell what she never knew existed. She was dead when you were born.”

“There is just something so wrong about that statement.”

“Would you have preferred that she raised you?”

I thought about the woman I’d seen in Sawyer’s head—the early years. She might not have been so bad.

Then I remembered the psycho downstairs. Perhaps the foster homes
had
been the lesser of two evils. At least there’d been Ruthie. Although lately, Ruthie was scaring me.

“You told me once that you knew no more about my parents than I did.”

“I lied,” Sawyer said simply.

“Ask a stupid question,” I muttered. “So why should I believe what you’re telling me now?”

“I didn’t tell you. You saw it for yourself.”

“For all I know you’re perfectly capable of making me see whatever you want me to.”

“I can’t.”

“But you lie.”

His gaze flicked to the door again, and I spun just as it opened. The Phoenix stood there with a knowing smile, fingers wrapped around Jimmy’s forearm.

There wasn’t a mark on him, though I had to assume there had been. Sawyer had knocked him out—jaw, forehead—Jimmy had no doubt sported a bruise that had already faded. He did appear hungover and pretty pissed off. I couldn’t blame him.

His lip curled as he glanced first at me, then at Sawyer. “Jesus, Lizzy, have some pride. He’s Satan’s pool boy.”

I opened my mouth to explain, then thought better of it. Sawyer had showed me a lot last night. Probably not a good idea to let the Phoenix know that. Jimmy could just live with it. We all did what—and sometimes who—we had to do.

“I know he’s been doing you for the past few months.”
The Phoenix leaned over and lowered her voice. “But that was his job. He loves me. The only reason he was ever interested in you was so he could pretend I was back. Now I am.”

I glanced at Sawyer, but his face was as inscrutable as always. Maybe she was right. Maybe Sawyer had only been with me because I looked like her. Maybe that was why he’d insisted on showing me the past. So I’d understand whatever he might do in the future.

“He’s yours,” I said. “Not a problem.”

“I know you hear the voice like I do.”

She changed topics so fast it took me a few beats to catch up. “What?”

“The voice in your head. Who do you think that is?”

“My demon.”

“Sweetie.” She made a tsking sound. “The voice isn’t your demon. It’s
the
demon. Samyaza.”

“No,” I said, too quickly and too loudly, “it’s the vampire inside of me.”

I glanced at Jimmy, who was staring at me with an expression I didn’t like, and that was saying a lot considering the disgust that had so recently been there. Instead his gaze had become predatory. I suddenly knew what it felt like to be the next Nephilim on his to-do list.

“Right?” I whispered, and Jimmy shook his head.

“Fuck me,” I muttered.

“That seems to be everyone’s favorite pastime,” Jimmy said.

I narrowed my eyes and thought about slugging him.

“We both hear the voice,” the Phoenix continued.

“How do you know what I hear?”

“Samyaza told me.”

Of course he did.

“Why don’t we just call him Satan and be done with it?” I snapped.

“Satan. Samyaza. Abaddon. Whatever,” the Phoenix agreed.

“I thought Satan, upon being released, would possess the one who released him,” I said.

“He would have. Except you tore the head off the woman of smoke, then tossed her body to the four winds.”

“Ah, the good old days.”

The Phoenix smiled. “And don’t think I don’t appreciate it.”

“Here’s a question—how did the woman of smoke open the gate?”

“From what I’ve read, the opening of Tartarus is a process—there are a lot of little things that put cracks in the door. For instance, Doomsday being set in motion. Imbalance between the forces of darkness and light.”

I felt rather than saw Jimmy wince. Though it wasn’t truly his fault, he still blamed himself for the deaths of so many seers and DKs.

“What else?”

“Moral decline. Hatred. Racism. Concern for others grows cold.” She waved her hand. “Blah, blah, blah. Once there’s a fissure, the Benandanti descends. If she wins, the door slams closed. If she loses—”

I glanced at Sawyer. We’d met the Benandanti—a crone who’d turned young overnight after she’d helped make Sawyer’s curse more manageable. For a price. I’d been sorry to hear that she’d died defending the door, even sorrier now that I knew her losing the battle had opened it.

“If the Benandanti’s death opened Tartarus, where does the woman of smoke come in?”

“Oh, the Benandanti’s death didn’t open it,” the Phoenix said.

I wanted to smack myself, or her, in the head. “What
did
?”

“Sacrifice.”

“Of what?”

“I’m not sure. There was blood and death. A life freely given.”

“Damn,” I muttered. Who had the woman of smoke killed so she could become ruler of the world and all the demons in it?

“So the door to hell cracked when Ruthie died, the state of the world made the opening bigger, the Benandanti lost, the woman of smoke sacrificed”—I spread my hands—“someone, the demons flew free, I killed her before Satan got there, and now he’s looking for a host. Does that cover it?”

“Yes,” the Phoenix agreed.

“What would have happened if
you’d
managed to kill Ruthie all those years ago?”

“Same thing. Except there wouldn’t have been any you to interfere.”

“Why’d you change sides?” I asked.

Her lips curved. “Why did you?”

“I like to back a winner.”

“Like daughter, like mother. He promised me the world; who was I to turn it away?”

“But you screwed up. Ruthie lived and the man you loved killed you.”

“All I had to do was try. If I failed, we knew I could rise again.”

“Aren’t you a little pissed about the woman of smoke? What if she’d managed to steal your demon king? You’d still be six feet under.”

“No.” She shook her head as if I were incredibly
stupid. “Samyaza promised to raise me when he was released. Either I’d be the Prince or I’d be his right hand. I would definitely not be left beneath.”

I wanted to point out that the Prince she was talking about was the Prince of
Lies
. But since he’d actually kept his promise, I figured the point was moot.

“What’s Satan waiting for? You’re back; he’s free; let the possession party begin.”

“Not that simple. Since I didn’t actually release him, I have to prove I’m worthy. I must command all the demons of the pit.”

Guess we’d been on the right track.

“How you gonna manage that?” I asked.

“By a sacrifice of the innocent and the damned.”

I cast a quick glance at Jimmy. That did
not
sound good.

He lifted his eyebrows, tilted his head—a shrug without the shrug. Sawyer refused to look at me. He knew something, but if he was going to tell me, he already would have.

I returned my gaze to hers. “How does that work exactly?”

“Samyaza said the one I needed would come to me here. So I’ve sacrificed every being that has managed to enter this town, but I’m still me.” She lifted her hands to her head and pulled at her hair, yanking out several strands. “And Samyaza just keeps whispering.”

Her voice, when she spoke again, reminded me of Danny Torrance in
The Shining
.
Redrum! Redrum!

“Find him,” she chanted in that creepy-crawly voice. “Find him.”

The Phoenix was channeling crazy again. I guess if my demon—or
the
demon—never shut up I might start to lose it too.

“Him?” I asked.

She breathed in and out, then slowly lowered her arms. The tendrils of hair she’d yanked out stuck to her sweaty palms. “Or her.” Her voice had returned to normal, thank God. “But I think I’ve found the answer.”

“What’s that?”

“Seize them,” she said.

CHAPTER 32

Revenants, which must have been slinking around in the hall waiting for her signal—two words stolen from a late-night movie—crowded into the room. They snatched both Jimmy and Sawyer, then dragged the two men out.

I tensed, waiting for more to march in and grab me. But they didn’t. “What’s going on?”

“Choices must be made,” the Phoenix said.

“I chose you.”

“Now you get to prove it.” The Phoenix walked out, leaving me behind.

Holy hell. This was going to be bad.

I hurried after, catching up as she reached the ground floor. The house was empty. Tracks in the dust left from last night traced a path to the wide-open front door.

The sun was full up, the sky clear and bright. There was no mistaking Jimmy and Sawyer being trussed like twin Joan of Arcs to a pair of electrical poles at the right edge of the yard. I expected to find a pile of wood at their feet, but there was nothing.

The Phoenix strode through the door, and I was forced to catch up again. She stopped several feet from the men, looked back and forth between them. Jimmy struggled even though they’d bound him with
gold hand, foot, waist and throat. Sawyer had been bound too, but he didn’t bother to fight. Which made me really nervous. He’d only give up if there were no way out.

“Choose.” The Phoenix flapped her hand in their direction.