Revenant (27 page)

“Ah!” TC put up a gloved finger.

I realized at that moment the Archer had a name—“Wait—what were you going to call him?”

“His real name,” Rhonda said.

TC shook his head. “Nothing important. Just an old name I no longer go by.”

I could hear him laugh in my head.

He frowned behind his glasses and continued carrying on a conversation with Mephistopheles. “Old Scorch?”

Why not?
TC said in my head.

Jason nodded. “Same rules apply. Though I put in the stipulation that the scapegoat not be sacrificed and returned to me or my right regardless.”

Because I don’t want them worrying about that book right now. If it means nothing, then it’s better off—Wait—what does he mean
scapegoat
? What the hell is
Old Scorch
?

TC glanced at Rhonda by turning his head. He chuckled and looked back at Jason. “Good right. You picked a powerful one. She know the rules?”

“You’ll be there for the show?” Jason said calmly, as if asking if TC was going to a movie.

“If she chooses swords, I’ll be front and center to watch you get your ass handed to you.” He reached out and touched the back of Rhonda’s chair. “And I’ll be there to watch your life get fucked up forever.”

I pursed my lips. I was missing something. “Can someone please explain to me what a right is exactly?”

It was Rhonda who turned and looked directly at me. “A right is the one chosen by the First Born to succeed the present host.”

I shivered and looked at Rhonda. “Succeed them? Like if he falls, you go to battle?”

“No.” She smiled. “If he falls, he dies. And as his right, I become Mephistopheles’ next host.”

THE
very real and very disturbing thought that I could lose Rhonda to a First Born if Jason died was both upsetting and kinda exciting. I was pretty sure that if Mephistopheles did join with her soul, that would make her a vampire.
Oh God . . . how big of a dream come true would that be for übergoth girl Rhonda Orly?

Why are you assuming Jason is going to lose?
Mephistopheles sounded amused.
Please, have a little confidence.

I felt sheepish.

I was still chewing on that when we reached the place of battle.

I’d expected something a bit more—well—more. I think I kinda figured they’d break into the Dome downtown and have the fight there, or even get into Turner Field.

I did
not
expect pulling up to Opera.

Opera was a downtown hot spot, combo nightclub and events venue. Located down on Crescent, it was a block from the Four Seasons. The club kept the hours of Thursday to Saturday, nine in the evening until three in the morning—closed on Sundays.

But tonight it looked pretty much open.

“Lex booked the place for tonight,” Jason said as we got out of the car. TC vanished and didn’t reappear. But I figured he was close by. “We’re to go in the front entrance. Zoë. Once inside, I need you to be the Wraith.”

“Why? Brute Squad or something?”

He nodded. “Yes. I have the Wraith on my side. Better they understand that. As well as the leader of the Society of Ishmael.”

I guess that made us celebrities in a way?

A wrought-iron stairway led up to an entrance, where two very large men stood. They were dressed as polar opposites. One was in a tee shirt, with RULES SUCK on it. He wore red-and-black plaid pants, boots, and lots of gaskets on his wrists. His face was unshaven, and he had heavy thick eyeliner and mascara on. His hair was dyed matte black, and the cut—well—it looked like he’d used a hacksaw.

The other guy?

Armani. African-American.

They nodded as we moved in, both of them stepping back as I shifted into Wraith, my wings furling behind me, my skin darkening. Even my clothing shifted to create the illusion of something Abysmal.

Once inside, we moved past a reception desk and into a side room. The floors were hardwood and already well-worn. I thought the club was called Petra’s once, but don’t quote me on that. I just knew I had to be here once for an Advertiser’s Award Banquet and got sloppy-ass drunk. Wheee.

The walls were painted cream and red, and modern light fixtures like twinkling stars hung from the ceiling. Three more interestingly dressed people filed in, all different races. I was impressed at the rich flavor each of them brought to the table. And how flamboyant they were. It was like being in a roomful of peacocks.

And I was the old gray goose.

Jason in his Boss suit looked slightly downplayed and normal.

More filed in, and I tried to talk to Mephistopheles.
How many of you are there?

He sounded kinda surprised, and so was I. I really hadn’t considered they’d bring their ghouls with them, not after what happened to Mialani.

The group parted as Lex made her way in. She looked different out of her lab coat. Feminine in an Amazonian way. She wore a red dress—was she going to fight in that?—that clung to her curves. Her hair was pulled back and her lips painted ruby red. Wow. Mata Hari come to life.

And then I thought . . .
This might really be her, come to think of it.

She sneered when she saw me, then looked at Rhonda. “You chose the Society’s head as your right?”

Jason nodded. “And she has agreed.”

“You realize that if you fail, that puts you at the head of a very powerful organization.”

He smiled. “I’m not playing around here, Lex. What you’ve done is inexcusable. Using a human life as the scapegoat is forbidden.”

“We’re talking about our survival. We need that book.”

With a sigh, he shook his head. “There is no evidence the spell is in that book. We’ve examined it; even the caretaker has looked at it. But you would take an innocent life just to see?”

“If it means preserving our own, then yes.”

I looked at the others. To be honest, they didn’t look too sure. They looked . . . frightened.

“Where is Joe Halloran?” Rhonda said in a surprisingly strong voice.

“He is safe.”

“No fight until we see him,” Jason said.

“That is against the rules.”

“You disregarded rules, Yamato. You no longer have rights behind them.” Jason straightened, and I could see the shadow of Mephistopheles there. Jason might seem small in stature compared to Lex—hell, everyone did—but his First Born seemed to radiate power. And authority.

“Follow me.”

We followed her through the small crowd in the room and into an open area. A stage decorated the back wall, complete with ruffled curtains and a chandelier in the center. On the sides were booths, and above us a loft rimming the entire room, with smoked-glass fronts. Behind those were more tables.

“Shadow boxes,” Lex said, as if to give me an answer. “That is where you will watch me win.”

We moved through another door to the left of the stage.

In the center of that stage sat Joe, bound to a chair. He was slumped over, unmoving. And as I ran toward him, I could see the open skin on his neck and his forearms. “You bitch! You drank from him!”

Rhonda and Jason turned on Lex, and she took a step back before regaining her composure and standing her ground. “He was uncontrollable. I controlled him.”

“Lex . . .” Rhonda’s voice cracked. “Joe was your friend. He trusted you. He always came to you. How could you do this to him?”

“We are talking about survival!” Lex hissed. “Joe would not come . . . quietly.”

I knelt beside him, touching him with my Wraith skin. Too late, I realized what would happen and pulled back even as I felt his soul cling to mine.

“Zoë, get back!” Rhonda yelled at me.

I did . . . feeling doubly bad. A Wraith, harbinger of death, wasn’t what Joe needed right now. I moved back and shifted to myself. At least like this I could control it better. “Is—is he alive?”

Jason moved in and put his fingers to Joe’s neck. “Yes . . . but he’s unconscious. He needs medical attention.” He turned to Lex. “I demand he be given to me now so that we can save his life.”

I could see her hesitate. It would be easy to say no. But then she’d already agreed to it.

“Lex,
please
, because he was your friend,” Jason began, and he looked past her and nodded to someone in the shadows.

Nick appeared then, and it was my turn to gasp. Jason had sent him away—but here he was—and from the look on Jason’s face, I knew he’d called him back for a purpose. Tall and graceful, blond and well built. I’d only seen Nick once since they’d arrived. He wore jeans and a shirt, with sneakers. He looked incredible for someone who was technically dead.

And had been dead. For a very long time.

Lex turned to Nick, and I noticed her expression change. I guessed they could sense ghouls, and maybe seeing Nick reminded her of Mialani. She looked at Jason. “Yes . . . but you and your right will come with me. The Wraith stays where we can see her. Nick . . . Nick can take Joe.”

Jason nodded to his assistant, and the man immediately reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pocketknife. He had Joe free in seconds and just as easily had him in a fireman’s carry. With a glance and a wink at me, he moved back into the shadows.

“He’ll take him to the van,” Jason said. “Nick was a doctor once. He’ll know what to do.”

I trust him. Trust Nick
. And then I shifted again, and this time felt the little surge of the small touch of Joe’s soul. So delightfully rich and creamy!

We followed Lex back out, and once I was free of the back-stage, I drifted up and into one of the shadow boxes and then, just for effect’s sake, perched on the railing’s edge, squatting, my wings out. I figured I either looked like an imposing, menacing Wraith—or a big, dark, goofy dodo bird. I was alone there and watched as Revenants filed out of the room up front, and Lex and Jason moved to the center of the floor below. Rhonda moved to the side.

If Jason’s body is killed,
Mephistopheles began in my mind,
then I will move to Rhonda, and she will be my new host. I need you to make sure no one interferes with that. But I do hope Jason can win.

“Me too,” I said aloud. “I want all of us to win.”

I also wanted to go back and get that damn book.

Abruptly, everyone below me fanned out, and I put my hands to my sides as I looked down. I couldn’t see. I felt too far away, and levitated upward and hovered above the show below. I didn’t want any glass between me and Jason if I felt I needed to get down there fast.

Lex and Jason stood in the center, and someone said something in a language I couldn’t understand. And then—uh-oh—someone brought out a set of swords. This didn’t bode well.

“Yamato,” Emo Revenant boomed from the side. He’d been the one to bring out the swords. “Do you agree to the terms set before Old Scorch?”

Why did Old Scorch sound familiar?
Because it is one of the names given to Lucifer, the light bearer.

“Yes, I do,” Lex said.

“Mephistopheles, do you agree to the terms set before Old Scorch?”

“I do.”

Emo Revenant raised his hands, the silver on his rings twinkling in the lights. “By the name of our father—Samael—commence!” He lowered his hands and stepped back.

Lex attacked first, brandishing the sword as if she were, like, born to it. She came at Jason, hacking away at him. Jason parried and defended as best he could. I moved to get a better view as I felt TC’s presence. He was there, somewhere in the darkness nearby.

I ignored him and watched.

Jason moved backward into a table as Revenants moved out of the way. Lex stabbed at him with the sword, but he deflected it, pushing back and rolling off the table just as she recovered and came down hard again, her sword striking the wood where Jason had been seconds before. He moved out of the way and came in behind her, his sword raised, and yelled as he brought it down. The blade would have sliced her back wide open if she hadn’t turned and moved her sword sideways, blocking Jason’s sword with a crash.

She then brought her heels up and shoved Jason backward, planting her shoes against his middle. He sailed back through the air, sprawling into one of the bars. I put my hand to my mouth as Lex came barreling at him, her sword out, pointy side aimed directly at him.

His eyes came open, and he moved to the side just before the point lodged in the bar wall. Rolling away, Jason came back up on his feet, his shirt untucked and torn open. I noticed Lex’s dress was also hopelessly damaged, the skirt split up to her waist. But I got the impression nobody in this room was looking. They were too focused on the battle.

Too
focused. They were all paying attention to the battle.

And nothing else. And that feeling of vulnerability came back to me.

I didn’t like it.

I moved up, then became incorporeal as I moved through the ceiling. Once above Opera, I continued to move straight up and felt out around me, sensing for anything out of the ordinary. I know Jason felt this wasn’t a dangerous event, that all of them together was good. But I just didn’t think so—