Nightwish (An Echoes of Eternity Novel Book 1) (24 page)

“I must have.”

“Maybe she wanted you to feel that way so you’d protect those in her line.” The way Darius revealed his feelings made me want to learn more about him. It displaced some of my fears. “Which reminds me: why do you have to protect the witches in my line?”

“It has always been that way.”

My mouth dropped open at that ridiculous statement. “So if your first memory was of sucking on a pacifier, why pluck it out of your mouth when you’re a few years old? Why not just walk around sucking that baby until they toss your bones into a casket?”

“I don’t have an answer for you. I have long wondered whether Zephora cursed me to protect those in her line.”

“For someone who knew her so well, you sure don’t know much
about
her.”

“That is quite disconcerting. But once she died, I had no other opportunities to learn about her. Your ancestors were not forthcoming with any details that could fill in the gaps of my memory.”

“They weren’t willing, or they didn’t know Zephora well enough to give you any answers?”

“Possibly both. Zephora was quite like your mother: scheming and power-hungry. She lacked the fundamentals of motherly intuition.”

That explanation made me glad to have had Grams in my life. “How well do you know my mother?”

“Not well. Despite Lorraine’s efforts, she could not dissuade your mother from following her own path, one that relied, not on building relationships but on creating them, only to further her own goals and desires. Meeting her again recently reinforced what I have long known: she is
not
a kind person.”

“Ya think?” That understatement made me laugh. And that response meant that I’d let my guard down. Darius had opened himself up to me, and I had to assume he did so to achieve his own objectives. Despite this, I wondered why Darius always protected a witch most like Zephora. Granted, I didn’t know much about the woman, other than the whole lunatic-who-possesses-other-people-thing in an effort to rule the world.

“How are Zephora and I alike?”

“I broke from tradition. As I said, when I chose you, I selected to protect the weakest of your line…I did so because I sensed that you needed protection. Those with tremendous power often draw enemies who wish to take it from them. Just as important, I was drawn by her inherent sense of goodness and fairness.”

“But Grams wasn’t evil like Zephora.”

“True. But Zephora was not always vicious and self-serving. She was once good. Pure.”

“So what happened? How did she lose her marbles?”

“The Witch Trials.” Scowling, he shook his head, making it known that he no longer wished to recall memories from the seventeenth-century. “Until you turned twenty-one, I had seen you no more than a handful of times, but each time I did, I could not overlook the impression that you were quite important. But that is only intuition speaking. You are unlike any witch in the history of your line. You have limited magical power, but your true influence lies outside of the mystical realm. You…intrigue me.”

I acted as if I was unaffected by his stare. In truth, his penetrating eyes made me want to rush out of the shop, but doing so would make me appear weak in his eyes. And since I no longer considered him an ally, I didn’t want to give him any reason to regard me as cowardly and inept.

“You are
not
the first in your immediate family. I noticed this during the duel with your sister. She was so taken aback by your abilities that she didn’t notice you barely managed to repel her power.” He placed an index finger against an unsettling smile before his lips flat-lined a second later. “But your secret,” he said in a conspiratorial tone, “is safe with me.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine. While I believed him, I also sensed that he took plenty of pleasure from knowing what my mother and Alexis didn’t. Instinct told me that he had an ulterior motive, but I didn’t know enough about him to guess what that might be. Rather than disclosing that I knew he had concealed his intentions, I decided to keep that information in the back of my mind.

Nonetheless, another question haunted me, one he’d refused to answer before. “Why not protect Celestina? She’s the youngest, the most vulnerable witch in our line.”

“Your mother and sister are powerful. They will protect her. But as I said yesterday, they need not. Celestina is the most powerful witch since Zephora. She needs
no
assistance.”

Those words calmed me. In fact, they almost made me smile.

Darius made his way toward the exit, but when he reached the door, an invisible force made him shudder. He swiveled around in a loose manner, far from his usual stiff demeanor. “From this moment forth, you are no longer under my protection.” His demented smile returned. All traces of the introspective, complacent gentleman had vanished. He opened the door and stepped out.

A chilly gust of air whipped through the shop and enveloped me like an iron fist.

CHAPTER TWENTY

A minute later, as I reached the hidden door at the back of the room, I heard the jingle above the entrance, despite not hearing the door actually shut. Furthermore, I’d locked it thirty seconds ago! The overhead fluorescent lights switched on.

A stout man wearing a cap atop a thatch of red hair walked into the shop. He spotted me and stopped short, arms spread out as though to regain his balance. A pair of khakis sagged at the foot of his sneakers, while a green polo likely constricted his ability to breathe deeply without fearing that the buttons at his neck would pop off, giving him a hunched over posture.

Startled by his unexpected appearance, I tried not to show my surprise while searching him for any visible weapons. Seeing none, I felt a little more at ease, since this man didn’t appear intimidating. “We’re closed.”

“I…um…” With a timid expression, he glanced back at the door before turning back to me. “I was um…” Aggravation marked his face, and he swiped a fist through the air as though he’d just lost a bet. “Shoot. So close. I thought you’d left.” The light shined down on a jagged scar an inch wide across his left cheekbone, which appeared at odds with his rather frumpy appearance. Dark rings of flesh sagged under his eyes.

“I’ll say it again: we’re closed. You need to leave.” I took out my cell phone, prepared to dial the police. But considering that this man had entered the shop and tapped the bell, rather than actually opening the door and shutting it, I figured I’d encountered a supernatural being, one whose abilities I couldn’t detect. And really, if this guy could fly or shoot laser beams out of his eyes, how much could the cops do anyway?

Keeping my ears perked for any movement behind me, I strolled over to the front counter to get the Soul Sword. I swung around the counter and grabbed the sword, gratified by the jolt of energy flowing up my arms. I made my way toward the man who looked like a worn-out high school custodian that needed every minute of his three-month sabbatical during the summer to recuperate from the daily rigors of the job.

“My…what a large sword.” His breath caught and his eyes shone bright, admiring the blade as though the weapon held great appeal to him, as though aware that I’d noticed how the sword enthralled him. He redirected his gaze to mine.

“Look, Mr.—”

A pleasant smile appeared. “Please,” he said, trying not to let his eyes wander back to the sword, “call me Mephisto.”

“All right, Mr. Mephisto, as I was saying—”

“No, it’s just Mephisto. Sort of like Beyoncé.”

“But Beyoncé’s last name isn’t a secret. You should have gone with Prince or Bono. At least they’re men. And closer in age to you.”

“Prince!” he said, eyes lighting up. “A musical genius. Not unlike Mozart.” He leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “Would you be surprised to learn that they’re one and the same?”

I wondered if I should call the nearest psychiatric ward.

Mephisto removed his cap with one hand and scratched the bald spot on top with the other, looking unsure what he should do or say. “Well, gosh, I just wanted to come by to get the Soul Sword, and I’d be on my way.”

Dammit! If he’d come for the weapon I now held, he surely knew what it looked like. Considering that I couldn’t pretend it didn’t exist, I said, “It belongs to me. But we’ve got some nice antiques here. How about the first ever made
Miller Light
neon sign?” I’d planned to ask him to leave, so why did I invite him to check out a different item in the shop?

As he removed his cap once more, the man bowed to me, as though he’d traveled back in time to the Victorian Era and now planned to court a woman he wished to dance with. He wheezed for breath as though the motion required the same endurance as running a mile on a treadmill. Mephisto placed his hands on knobby knees that appeared unprepared to carry the weight contained inside his belly. He coughed and shook his head as though he suffered from a dizzy spell.

I immediately envisioned the man having a heart attack, so I made my way over to him cautiously in the event that he used this production as a ruse to lure me into lowering my guard. “Are you okay?” Once again, I was startled by my complacence. Hadn’t I considered calling the cops a minute ago?

Mephisto took a few more moments to catch his breath then rose, his flabby face red from all of the blood rushing to it. “Nope, I just came for the sword.” The blood had drained from his face, and he gave me a vibrant smile as he gestured to the sword. “I’ll just snap that puppy up… and heck…” He extracted a blue and red Spider-Man nylon Velcro wallet from inside his gray Members Only jacket. “I’ll even let you ring me up for it…Savvy?”

“Did you just quote Captain Jack Sparrow?”

“Sure did, little lady. Just had me a Pirates marathon. What a hoot!”

I didn’t know whether to laugh in his face or yell at him to leave the shop. Still, I decided to remain vigilant in case he became hostile, however unlikely that seemed.

“Now then,” he said, licking an index finger and thumbing through a pile of Benjamin Franklins in his wallet, “name the price.” No matter how many bills he flipped past, the stash seemed never-ending, yet the wallet remained the same size.

Mesmerized, I couldn’t help but look into the man’s eyes. “Look,” I said, regaining my wits. “You have to leave. Now.”

His smile folded into a frown. He stopped counting. “I must say, your customer service skills need some polishing. Might I suggest—”

“What? You broke into my store.” Why was I negotiating with him? “Leave now!” 

Mephisto now wore the equivalent look of a sad puppy face. “I’m sorry.” He screwed his lips together like a defiant child who felt he had suffered wrongdoing. “I can’t leave without getting what I came for.”

Sensing the situation transforming from comical to potentially dangerous, I slipped my phone out of my pocket and raised the sword, willing to cut him down if it came to that.

“That would be a mistake.”

And without another word from him, I said, “I agree.” Then I lowered the blade without a second thought. A moment later, after wondering why I’d relaxed my fighting stance, I realized that Mephisto had somehow tricked me.

“Don’t feel bad.” A beaming smile revealed teeth so jagged, crooked, and discolored that they looked like a white picket fence battered into submission by decades of environmental weathering. “The power of persuasion is a strong ally.” His grin brightened.

“Did you just do a Jedi mind trick?” I asked, now realizing why I had gone along with his humorous asides over the past few minutes without forcing him to leave the building.

He clapped his hands. “A wonderful analogy. And yet another entertaining series. I pulled a marathon on that one a while back as well. That Darth Vader: such a sympathetic leader. I was rooting for him through all the films!” He glanced at the Minnie Mouse watch on his left wrist. “We can talk films all day, but I promised my lady friend that we’d start watching
Sex and the City
tonight.” He let out a heaving sigh. “Seems another marathon is in our midst.” He patted his belly, making the cellulite there jiggle. “I’ll need to store up for the long-haul.” He cocked his head at me. “There are 94 episodes, plus two feature films. I’ll have to make another beer run before the night is over!”

Doing my best to ignore the misdirection of this pop culture enthusiast, I said, “You will not leave with my sword.”

Mephisto bent over and looked into my eyes, all pretense gone. “How disconcerting.” He stood upright, disheartened. He blinked and the irises in his eyes turned into flaming red orbs. He blinked once more, and they returned to normal.

Startled, I lifted my sword, aiming at his heart. “You’re a demon!”

He clicked his tongue against the bridge of his mouth, eliciting a tsk-tsk-tsk sound. “Indeed. I thought it was only good taste to disclose my identity. But do you greet all of your customers this way? That’s just unacceptable. In fact, I’d like to see the manager.”

“I’m the manager. And the owner.”

He cringed as though the news induced physical pain. “How unfortunate…for your customers, that is.” Then his face flattened. Expressionless, with eyes that looked as bright and turbulent as the planet Venus, Mephisto now appeared void of emotion.

“You know things you shouldn’t,” I said, focusing to prevent Mephisto from pushing his thoughts into my brain. Too bad he didn’t use the same wavelength that Alexis applied while trying to access my brain. Otherwise, I would have caught him. I figured that our connection as twins had something to do with my ability to catch my sister the moment she tried to enter my mind. I appreciated that level of twin-tuition.

“And unfortunately, you don’t know what you should.” He stepped forward, no longer moving awkwardly but spry and sleek, until the tip of the blade poked his chest. “My underworld brethren know your grandmother has passed, and I assure you, once they enter this dimension, they won’t be as genial or understanding as I am.”

It occurred to me that Mephisto hadn’t recently slipped into this dimension. Otherwise, based on the way he stared at the sword, he would have no doubt shown up earlier to confront me. As a demon, he surely had supernatural powers other than the power of persuasion. So why didn’t he try to forcibly take the sword?

“What do demons want with me?” I asked.

“They want the weapons your grandmother had tucked away. Afterwards, of course, they’ll want to kill you.”

Mephisto hadn’t glanced at the secret chamber, which meant in all likelihood, he didn’t know it existed. “What’s so important about them?”

“Now that’s intriguing!” He stared at me for a long moment, fascination flashing across his face. “Your grandmother didn’t prepare you for her passing, did she? Such a shame.” He cocked his head with empathy. “And yes, I’m a demon. I can be friendly…” His kind expression vanished, once more replaced with dead eyes. “Or I can be deadly. It all depends on your level of cooperation.” He smiled. “Moving on...” He gestured to me then motioned to himself. “You and I seem to have built a foundation of trust.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“That’s why I said it for you.” He stepped to my right and slowly circled me, beaming like a pompous child whose parents spoiled him by granting his every wish. “Now then, you have questions, and I have answers that no one else can provide. A trade is in order, is it not? I give you the answers you seek, and you allow me to
reclaim
the Soul Sword.”

That meant it had once belonged to him. Darius said that he’d once owned the sword as well. Did he steal it from Mephisto? “We’ve made our intentions clear. I’m not going to hand over this sword. Please leave before I remove you from the premises.”

“Now
that
would be a sight.” He let silence fill the air between us for a long moment.

I recalled Darius telling me that in the presence of humans, demons needed to blink three times, revealing black irises each time. However, Mephisto blinked just once, disclosing blood-red orbs. I assumed that he was not a typical demon. More than that, my intuition told me that he was much wiser and more powerful than the average demon.

“Mark my words: one day, you will regret your decision. When that day comes, you will
beg
me to take that sword from your hands.” Then his face brightened, once more revealing the same jolly behavior he’d carried during most of our conversation. “But until that day…” He snapped his fingers. And disappeared.