THE MEPHISTO COVENANT Read online

  Turning, Sasha smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Sasha.”

  “Well, of course you are. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then have a nibble, and don’t let Master Jax talk yer ear off.” She turned toward the door. “If you need something, just give us a ring.”

  When she was gone, Sasha looked at him with curious eyes. “Is there a reason you have an English housekeeper who dresses in clothes from the 1800s?”

  He explained about the Purgatories before he said, “Mathilda’s twelve-year-old daughter was attacked by her employer. Trying to protect her child, Mathilda killed the man. He was an aristocrat, an earl, and she was a housekeeper; justice in England in those days was always skewed. Her daughter died, and she couldn’t get past her anger at God for letting that happen. She was executed before she could resolve it. She’s been with us since 1852.”

  “How did Reilly escape?”

  “We’re not sure yet, but she won’t try again. She’ll either agree to stay with us and work to get past her anger, or be sent to Purgatory to figure it out on her own.” He caught the scent of meat, and his stomach growled. He noticed she kept darting glances toward the table. “Would you like to eat something before I take you home?”

  “I shouldn’t, but I’m not sure there’ll be anything to eat at the Shrivers’.”

  “Why shouldn’t you?”

  She looked exasperated. “I don’t want to be here, Jax. I don’t want to talk to you, or know you. I just want my old, normal life back.”

  Now was the time he should tell her it was too late: that she might be able to go back to normal someday, but not anytime soon. Not as long as she looked at him with that paradoxical expression of desire and loathing. Maybe she didn’t want to talk to him, but he’d bet anything she wanted to kiss him.

  He ended up saying nothing at all, but walked to the table and held out a chair for her. When she was seated, he took the chair opposite and prepared to eat without talking. Maybe it would help if he didn’t look at her. He focused on his plate, which was filled with pot roast, potatoes, roasted butternut squash, and fresh green beans, but he couldn’t avoid looking at her. She was gorgeous, her long blond hair pulled back into a braid, some of it escaping to tease her jaw. Her nose was pinked by the outdoors, and her lips were slightly chapped.

  “You’re staring.”

  “So are you.”

  They both dropped their gazes, and he ate a little before he couldn’t stand it and looked up again, catching her doing the same. So it went, and her demand for no talking went south when she said, “My favorite dessert is chocolate mousse.”

  “Mine, too.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “Mathilda will back me up. My favorite color is red.”

  “Mine, too.”

  “Now you’re teasing me.”

  “No. If you looked in my closet, you’d see how much I like red.” She reached for one of the apple dumplings and took a bite.

  Sasha didn’t eat as much as he did, but she ate a lot for a girl. He wondered if she was stronger. Did she think about things she’d never thought about before? He hoped not. That she was changing without knowing it bothered him, but the idea that she’d be dogged by dark thoughts and negative emotions nearly broke his heart.

  And he had done it to her.

  When they were finished, he said, “Unless you have more questions, I’ll take you home now.”

  She stood and moved away from the table to put on her ski jacket, then went to the center of the room, turning all around to look at it once again. “I can’t believe you live here. It’s like a palace or something.”

  What would she think if she saw the rest of the house: the paintings, the library, the front hall? He might never know. She had made it really clear how she felt about him. His earlier depression slid further down, into despair. If only he hadn’t told her so much.

  He stood and walked to the wingback before the fire to get his trench coat, planning to pop her back to town, to the Shrivers’ curb, where they’d find Boo and he would leave her. But when he turned around, she was right there, so close he could smell the caramel salty sweetness of her. It made him crazy, looking down into her beautiful eyes, at her creamy soft skin, knowing he couldn’t touch her. “Ready?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, staring at him.

  He thought he was imagining that her body swayed toward his, right up until her soft breasts pressed against his chest. Never, in his whole life, had he wanted anything more than he wanted to touch her, to kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. But knowing the consequences, that it would speed up her transformation, he ruthlessly squashed the desire and stepped back to pull his coat on, ignoring the look of confusion and disappointment on her face. She wanted to kiss him, even though she despised him. If she knew that kissing him would turn her into what he was, what disgusted her, would she still want to? Not a chance.

  Taking a deep breath, reminding himself over and over that kissing her wasn’t a good thing, he moved close again and slipped his arms around her. She was so small next to him, her hair so soft against his cheek. When her arms slid around his back beneath his trench coat, he almost caved. Not kissing Sasha was the hardest thing he’d ever done. A few seconds later, they stood on the street in front of the Shrivers’ house and he let go of her immediately.

  “Jax, I don’t feel right about any of this. I like you, I do. I want to be with you, so much, but I … it’s such a strange thing, what you do and who you are. Please understand.”

  “Sasha, all I’ve ever wanted, since I was old enough to know what was what, is to be like everybody else. I understand. It’s killing me, but I understand.”

  “I guess after this, unless I’m abducted by another rogue Purgatory, I won’t see you again.”

  “You’ll see me Monday, at school.”

  “What? Why? I thought you lied about boarding school and all that about your dad.”

  “I did, and it’s not like I need to go to school. We have tutors who teach us constantly, so we can keep up. I’ve been educated my entire life, and I’ve lived through a lot of written history, so nothing taught at school will be anything I don’t already know. But my brothers want me to go so I can keep an eye on Bruno and the Ravens. Planning their takedown has become complicated.” He could see the panic in her eyes. “I’ll stay away from you, and we can pretend we don’t know each other.”

  “Yes, that’s what we should do. Maybe we won’t even be in the same classes.”

  “You won’t let on to anyone who I am, will you?”

  “Like you said, who would believe me?”

  “Be careful around Bruno, Sasha. Try not to be so afraid of him, like you were of Alex Kasamov. Don’t give him any reason to suspect you’re Anabo. He’s much older than Alex was, with years of experience, so he’s triple the threat.”

  “Older? He looks about the same age.”

  “Eryx makes some of the lost souls immortal, then sends them out to recruit. Bruno has been Skia for over two hundred years, which means he’s extremely cunning and clever, because he escaped our notice until now.”

  “What does Skia mean?”

  “In Greek, it means shade, or shadow. The eyes really are a window to the soul, and Skia eyes are in a dark shadow to us because they have no soul. Unlike the lost souls, who keep their spirit until they die and it’s released, the Skia give it to Eryx when they become immortal, so they’re like an extension of him, almost like a clone, or a robot.”

  “So that’s how you know someone is Skia, but how do you know someone is a lost soul?”

  “Their eyes are also slightly shaded, just not as much as the Skia. They’re almost always part of some secret society that’s supposed to look appealing to outsiders, like it’s special to be invited to join. And they hang around the Skia, looking for favors. Once someone pledges, they regret it immediately, because they understand they were tricked and lied to, they can’
t go back, ever, and whatever chance they had for Heaven is history. Even Hell looks pretty good to a lost soul. Knowing you’ll be obliterated when you die is a hard truth, and their only goal becomes to be made Skia, so they’ll live forever. The more people they get to pledge, the more they’re noticed, and the better their chances that Eryx will make them Skia.”

  “So that’s why Melanie was trying so hard to get Chris to become a Raven. Wow, that’s severely sick and twisted. Her own child.”

  “They have no conscience, Sasha. Just be careful, okay?”

  “I’ll be careful.” She shot a nervous glance at the house.

  Jax whistled, and Boo came bounding out of nowhere, tail wagging as he loped to Sasha’s feet and sat, gazing up at her like she was his own personal goddess. “If anyone bothers you, he’ll be there to help. He’s a good dog, and his only purpose is to keep you safe.”

  “Where did he come from?”

  “My brother, Titus, who we call Ty, found him in Mexico. He was bait for the dogfights.”

  “You mean, he’s not … he didn’t come from—”

  “No, he’s just an ordinary dog, but Ty has a way with animals, and he uses a little magic to get them to do what we need.” Moving farther away, he said, “Good night, Sasha.”

  “Jax, wait. I …”

  He waited, but she couldn’t finish the thought, so he said good-bye again and disappeared, headed for home to find Key and request that someone else be assigned to go to Telluride High and spy on Bruno. If he had to see her all day, every day, knowing it was hopeless, he’d go insane.

  SIX

  AFTER RETRIEVING MELANIE’S SKIS AND BOOTS, WHICH she’d dropped when Reilly grabbed her hand, Sasha walked back to the house, Boo trotting along beside her. She was nervous when she opened the front door, unsure what she’d find, but was relieved when she discovered Tim snoring in his recliner, no sign of Melanie, Brett still not home from the party at the ghost house, and Chris, as usual, in his room playing a video game.

  She stowed Melanie’s ski stuff back in the hall closet, then prepared to take a shower. When she heard a soft whine from outside, she whispered, “Boo,” and there he was, wagging his crooked tail, looking up at her like she was all that. She bent and scratched behind his lopsided ears, surprised he was soft instead of wiry.

  Fifteen minutes later, dressed in a robe with a towel on her head and Boo curled up at her feet, she sat at the little desk and logged onto Facebook. Just as she’d suspected, everyone from St. Michael’s was talking about the Ravens. There were all sorts of wild theories about what had happened. Some swore they were Satan worshippers, others said they were a coven of witches, while still others said they were just a group of losers who invented the Ravens so they’d have at least the illusion of cool. But pretty much everyone agreed, they’d committed suicide. The lack of compassion made her a little nauseous.

  Lots of her friends had written on her wall, asking why she wasn’t at school yesterday, and was it true she’d moved, because somebody overheard the headmistress talking to the librarian about it.

  She replied to a few and ignored the rest, then opened the Word doc that was her college essay about her intention to study art history and become an expert at restoration. It was something she had to do in order to apply, but her enthusiasm was zilch.

  Wiped out, she gave up and closed the laptop, ready to go to bed. As she lay down and turned off the bedside lamp, her thoughts inevitably turned to Jax, imagining he was just an ordinary guy, that they went out, that he kissed her—lots of those amazing kisses—that they started school and everyone knew they were together. It wasn’t fair at all that she met a guy she liked this much and he was someone she could never be with.

  Boo curled up at her feet and sighed, like he was happy, and that was the last thing she remembered before she woke up the next morning to find Brett standing next to her bed. Boo was gone, hiding somewhere, she supposed. “I’m not going skiing again, so save your breath.”

  Unlike yesterday, when he woke her when it was still dark, the sun was up and she could see him clearly, standing there in a pair of black boxers, his hair sticking out at weird angles, his eyes swollen with sleep, and his color just to the left of green, almost yellow. She decided he was hung over. Or his kidneys were failing.

  He also looked severely pissed. “What were you doing at the ghost house last night, and why did you say that to me about Reilly? Where did you go?”

  She stared at him as if she had no idea what he was talking about. “Ghost house? You’ve gotta be kidding. I never saw you last night, or yesterday afternoon. Thanks a lot for leaving me. If a guy I met hadn’t offered me a ride, I’d have had to walk back to Telluride from Mountain Village.”

  “Where were you last night?”

  “I went to dinner with the guy who brought me back to town.” She’d never been a good liar, because she didn’t lie much, but she told this whopper and almost believed it herself. “Somebody must have played a prank on you, and you were too drunk to know it.”

  “Julianne did go up with East, earlier. That’s something she’d do, for sure.” Brett stepped back to sit on the other twin bed. “Swear you weren’t up at the ghost house last night?”

  She rolled her eyes and huffed out a breath. “No, I’m lying, because I totally know about a ghost house, since I’ve lived here all of one day and made so many friends who’d tell me about it and take me there.” Staring up at the ceiling, she wished he’d go away. Knowing he was a murderer made her skin crawl. She remembered how devastated Reilly had been, her whole life over almost before it started, all because Brett Shriver was a guy who couldn’t stand that she’d said no. He’d have dealt with her rejection before he pledged his soul to Eryx, but now that he was lost to God, he had no conscience, nothing to keep him from acting on his impulses. Reilly had told him she wouldn’t go out with him, and he’d shoved her off of a cliff.

  He evidently bought that Sasha hadn’t been at the ghost house. He relaxed a little, looking around the room. “Have you thought some more about joining the Ravens? We have a meeting tomorrow night.”

  “I’m not sure. On Facebook, kids at my old school are talking about the Ravens who died. They think they committed suicide.”

  “Are you afraid we have a suicide pact?”

  “Maybe.”

  He laughed. “I can promise you, the last thing we’ll do is off ourselves. Why would we? It’s like we have everything we want, whatever we have to have. I was flunking biology when I pledged. Now I have an A. I’ve got a perfect life, so why would I kill myself?”

  Sasha could see how someone who didn’t know the truth would think it all sounded awesome, a gimme for anything they wanted, without all the work, or the sacrifice. She’d thought it was BS, but she still went to a meeting, thinking she’d say the oath so she could get what she wanted: to find out who had killed her dad.

  Looking at Brett, at his expectant expression, she wondered if he knew about Jax and his brothers. Did Mr. Bruno tell the Ravens about Hell on Earth? “I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

  He stood and went to the door. “Don’t mention it at school where other teachers can hear. There’s a rule that we aren’t supposed to have secret clubs, and Mr. Bruno could get fired for starting the Ravens.”

  When he left her room, she let out a long breath, unaware until just then that she’d been holding it. Boo came out from under the bed and jumped up to lie on her, half on, half off, his front paws on her chest. It was Sunday, and she was thinking about what she’d do today, wondering if she should get up and go to church, when she drifted back to sleep.

  When she woke up again, she heard Melanie shouting and Tim speaking in his low, even voice. Throwing the covers back, she crept to the door and opened it a crack to see what was going on. Melanie stood outside their bedroom door at the end of the hall, dressed in some serious hoochie-mama jeans that had cutout diamonds across the backside, showing lots of skin. Her blouse was low cut, showing cl
eavage so deep, she could hide a small child in there.

  “I want her out of this house. It’s only a matter of time before they start snooping around, looking to see if that bitch is communicating with her.”

  Who was they?

  “Of course she’ll communicate with her. Sasha is her daughter. Your paranoia is getting on my nerves, Melanie. Take it somewhere else, and for God’s sake, wear something that doesn’t announce to the whole town you’re a cheap tramp. Everyone knows you have a thing with Bruno. Leave Chris some dignity, at least.”

  “Chris! Chris! It’s always about Chris with you. Have you forgotten you have another son? Remember him? You never even look at him, much less speak to him.”

  “I could say the same about you and Chris.”

  “You know exactly why, you son of a bitch! Don’t go laying some guilt trip off on me, not when we both know who’s the guilty one when it comes to him. You think you can look down your nose at me, when you were over there in Moscow, with that—”

  “Enough! I’ve had enough, Melanie. Shut up or leave.”

  Turning, she stalked away from Tim, toward the stairs, which meant she had to pass Sasha’s door. Sasha hurriedly pulled it closed, then stood there, breathing fast, waiting for Melanie to pass before moving an inch. Except Melanie didn’t pass. She flung open the door and shoved it so hard, it banged against the wall, then she got in Sasha’s face. “In case you missed any of our private conversation, I’ll fill you in. Tim got an e-mail this morning from his old boss at the CIA. They want to know if your mother has contacted him, because they’ve lost track of her. They think maybe she’s dead.”

  Tim filled the doorway with his huge bulk, glaring at Melanie. “It’s like you enjoy being a nasty bitch.” He looked at Sasha, his eyes softening. “No one said anything about your mother being dead. It’s standard to keep tabs on someone like Katya after deportation. They wanted to know if we’d heard from her, and I said no, but that I’d ask if you have.”

  Slowly, Sasha shook her head, hands clenched into fists at her side. The impulse to punch Melanie in the face was as foreign as it was overwhelming. She’d never felt moved to violence like this. “I’ll let you know when I hear from her.”