The Mephisto Kiss (The Redemption Of Kyros) Read online

  “In his way, but it wasn’t enough. She died too soon.”

  “Did Eryx find her because she was marked?”

  “He can sense it as well as the rest of us, but we didn’t know until it was too late. Jane was the first Anabo we found, and we didn’t have a clue how things were supposed to happen.”

  “Phoenix must feel guilty.”

  “It makes him overprotective, which is why he’ll continue to argue against your being at the takedown.”

  She turned toward him. “It’s not as if you’re completely sold on the idea.”

  “I’m not even partially sold.”

  “Then why are you letting me do it?”

  Good question. “Because I don’t want this to be something that defines the rest of our lives together. I lead, but this isn’t an absolute monarchy. I have to let the rest of you do what you will, if it’s within the rules. You don’t know what it’s like on a takedown, or how you’ll feel about seeing your dad under those circumstances, but if I assume you’re not up to it, what does that say about me?”

  In boots, she was taller, but she still had to tilt her head back to look up at him. She’d pulled her dark hair into a fat braid that hung to just between her shoulder blades, and tiny wisps curled around her temples and forehead. Looking into her blue eyes, he wanted to kiss her, and he didn’t know if it was a subconscious impulse to apologize, or simple biology. He supposed it didn’t matter. The desire was there, and the convenient excuse of necessity. Reaching for her shoulders, he took a step closer.

  “Really? You’re going to kiss me? Do you think it will make me not be mad at you anymore?”

  “On the contrary. Your anger and my d-baggery have no relation to kissing.” He pulled her toward him and angled his head to meet her lips. Just like before, she was hesitant for a nanosecond, then fell into it with total abandon. Her arms slid around his middle, and he wrapped her up in his. She tasted like honey, smelled like bluebells, and made the world fall away until there was nothing but her, this kiss, and blessed, addictive peace.

  It was over too soon when sounds from the dining room signaled the end of breakfast and an approaching audience. She pulled away and stepped back, her lips wet and full, her cheeks pink, and her eyes slightly sleepy. His mind went somewhere it definitely didn’t need to go, and he abruptly turned away. “Work hard and learn all you can today.” He strode across the hall and was halfway up the stairs before his brothers and Sasha came out of the dining room.

  Well, great, there she went again, kissing Key like there was no tomorrow, like she was some impetuous adolescent hormone, like she didn’t have a critically wounded boyfriend in a Washington hospital. The need for kissing was no excuse for how much she enjoyed it. Maybe it was the Mephisto now running through her veins. If she had the chance and it wasn’t too horribly awkward, she’d ask Sasha if turning Mephisto was the reason she felt like this. She kind of hoped so. Otherwise, she had to face that she was willingly leaving Matthew behind, making her the worst girlfriend in the universe and a lousy human being.

  Jax walked toward her while the rest of them headed up the stairs. “We’ll go to the gym and get started, if you’re ready.”

  She nodded, he reached for her hand, and everything went dark. Seconds later, they stood in the most unusual gym she’d ever seen, with soaring stone walls, windows set way up high, and an exposed wooden roof with log crossbeams. There were basketball nets at opposite ends of the gleaming wooden floor and a set of cabinets along one of the short sides of the rectangular building.

  “This used to be the dairy, back in the day before grocery stores sold milk and butter. We turned it into a gym in the sixties.” He pointed toward the southeast corner. “Through that door is the weight room. You need to work out at least five times a week, minimum two hours, and use every piece of equipment. Your goal is to bench-press three hundred pounds.”

  “You’re funny.”

  “I’m not joking. With the changes you’ve already made, you can probably press close to one fifty now.”

  “No way.”

  “We’ll check it out as soon as we have your first transporting lesson.” He turned her so she was facing the corner. “Stare at a spot over there on the floor close to the door, then close your eyes, concentrate, and imagine you’re standing on that spot.”

  She did exactly as he said, and when she opened her eyes, she was across the gym. Incredible. “How does it work?”

  “We learned once, a long time ago, but I don’t remember. Ask Zee. He’s the brainiac in the family. Now come back.”

  She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, Jax was right there.

  “Let’s try popping back to the house. Imagine the front hall, the big M on the floor, and go there.”

  A few seconds later, she was straddling the M, Jax nodding approval. “Now return.”

  Back in the gym, he looked pleased. “You’re catching on so fast, later today, we’ll try transporting off the mountain.” He nodded toward the weight room. “Let’s see what you can do in there.”

  It was a bigger room than she expected, but otherwise looked like any other workout gym, with all sorts of equipment, a plasma TV on one wall, and a freestanding shelf filled with white towels in the corner. Jax slid out of his trench coat and demonstrated how to use the bench press. She couldn’t help but notice how he filled out his T-shirt. His muscles were like Key’s—enormous. “Am I going to look like one of those bodybuilder ladies? I’m on board for being Mephisto, but I’m not going to be okay with that.”

  He grinned at her as he set the weights back in position. “Sasha can press three twenty and she’s very fit, but trust me, she’s not ripped.” Back on his feet, he said, “Take off your coat and let’s see how much Mephisto you’ve got.”

  Tossing the coat across an elliptical, she straddled the bench and lay back while he removed weights and explained dos and don’ts. Right up until she lifted her arms, curled her hands around the bar, and pushed, she expected not to be able to do it. She was wrong. It was heavy, true, but doable. She repeated the up and down five times, then set the weights back. “How much was that?”

  Jax was staring at her. “Key’s been kissing you, hasn’t he?”

  “A lot.”

  “You just pressed two hundred.”

  She sat up. “I feel like Popeye after he eats spinach.”

  Jax extended a hand. “Let’s go get some knives.”

  Hesitating, she looked up at him but didn’t take his hand. “I don’t know if I’m up for knives, Jax.”

  “You have to be able to protect yourself in a takedown. The lost souls and Skia will go to any lengths to avoid capture, and even though we always recover quickly from wounds, the more severe ones will keep you down long enough to become a liability. Somebody will have to bring you back to the mountain, which means two of us out of commission. The other reason you’ll want to protect yourself is because there’s no bypass of pain. Getting stabbed, shot, strangled, kicked, and thrown from windows is as awful as it sounds.”

  He reached for her hand and tugged until she was standing. “You’re also going to be less freaked about cutting someone when you confront a lost soul as a Mephisto. If you’re anything like Sasha, it’ll be a never-ending struggle to keep from killing them.”

  Unable to imagine actually wanting to kill someone, but accepting the necessity of learning knife skills, she followed him back into the gym and stood by while he opened one of the cabinets. Inside looked like a display case at Hunters-R-Us. Jax pulled one from its felt binding and handed it to her. “See if this fits your palm.”

  It felt heavy and cumbersome. “I don’t think this is the one.” He handed her another and another. She went through at least a dozen more until he found one with a white handle that fit her hand perfectly. “This one is good, I think.”

  “Nice. It’s from a shop in Prague.” He began replacing the discarded knives. “Now, let’s see what you’re made of, Jordan. Prete
nd I’m a lost soul and your job is to capture me and take me to the M in the front hall.”

  “I’m not really good at role-playing.”

  Still fiddling with the knives, he shrugged and said, “Not surprising. You’re not very good at real life, either.”

  Stunned, she stepped back. “What?”

  “You’ve had everything handed to you since you were four years old and your parents took you out of that hellhole in Bucharest. What do you know about life, really?”

  Not sure where he was going with this, and not at all liking the hard edge to his voice, she said, “It’s true I’ve never gone without material things, but I’ve lost people, and they’re what matter.”

  “You mean your mom.”

  “And my friend Holly.”

  “Yeah, let’s talk about Holly.” He continued arranging the knives in the display case. “When she went off the rails, you felt bad for her, but you didn’t really understand. How could you? You were popular and rich, and your parents adored you. Holly was a scholarship kid with a chip on her shoulder, an alcoholic mom, and a father who abandoned her. For you, she wasn’t so much a friend as a project.”

  Jordan sucked in a quick breath, feeling like he’d punched her in the stomach. Where did he get off saying something like that? “I loved Holly! We grew up together.”

  “Only because she was the maid’s daughter. While her mother was cleaning toilets in your family’s Maryland mansion, your mother was picking out fabric for seat cushions in the family jet. Holly went home every day to a double-wide with a hole in the roof, a raving drunk for a mother, and a stepdad who knocked her teeth out because she refused to steal your jewelry. You ended up selling the jewelry to pay for her dental work, but what did it cost you to part with it, Jordan? Not nearly so dear as the price Holly paid for being loyal.” He closed the door to the display case, then stared down at his hands. “The day she died, you told her a secret that changed everything. Remember?”

  This could not be happening. Jordan took another step back and considered leaving. Why was he doing this? How did he know about the jewelry, or the day Holly died? The only person she ever told was Matthew.

  “She came to say good-bye. She was running away, going to find her real father.” He turned to face her. “You knew all about him because your dad did a background check on her mom before he hired her, and you snooped in his files.”

  That day was never far from her mind: Holly’s desperation to get away from her stepfather, her certainty that finding her real dad was the answer to everything, the look of complete and total devastation on her face when Jordan told her the truth.

  “He was a wife beater,” Jax said, “in prison for murdering his second wife.”

  “How … do you know all this?”

  “My father is the dark angel who carries souls to Hell. What’s said about suicides is true.”

  She flinched and nearly dropped the knife.

  He took a step toward her. “She was already desperate, and you pushed her over the edge.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  He took another step closer. “How does it feel to be responsible for your friend’s suicide?”

  Images she’d worked hard to banish scattered across her mind, and she held up her hands, as if to ward them off. “Stop it. Just stop talking.”

  His next step brought him inside her personal space. “You didn’t buy the rope, but you tied the noose.”

  Impulsively, she shoved him, but he didn’t budge, and the knife in her hand sliced into his shirt. And his skin. Horrified, she was about to apologize when he spun her around and held her with one arm pressed against her throat and a switchblade aimed at her stomach. “I win this point, Jordan. If I was a lost soul, you’d now have a blade in your belly. Do you know why?”

  “Because you’re a mean son of a bitch?”

  “I got inside your head. You allowed me to get this close, and you let me push you way too far. Now that I’m in a position to hurt you bad, what are you going to do?”

  Swiftly lifting her foot, she slammed her heel down on his. Nothing happened.

  “I’m wearing steel-toed boots. Try again.”

  She tried to bend at the waist to throw him over, but again nothing happened.

  “Considering I have a knife pointed at your midsection, that’d be a disastrous move—if it had worked. What’s next?”

  “I don’t want to hurt—”

  “Do it!” His arm tightened, restricting her airflow, and the switchblade was suddenly slicing into her arm.

  Grasping the knife, she lifted her hand and tried to cut him, but he moved too fast. He cut her again.

  “Are you stupid? Should we assume you’re too dense to be Mephisto and send you to work in the kitchen, chopping vegetables?” He cut her a third time, about the time the first two began to sting and burn.

  “Time out,” she gasped.

  “F that, princess. Are you going to let me slice you into little pieces?” He cut her again.

  Closing her eyes, she imagined she was standing on the Mephisto M, and just like that, she was free. In the front hall, she pumped a fist and hissed a triumphant “Yes!”

  “Mathilda will be displeased, Anabo. You bleed on her floor.”

  Looking down, she saw a lot of crimson on white, but it didn’t curb her enthusiasm. “Tell her I’m sorry.”

  “I will do no such thing. The apology is yours to make.”

  Deacon disappeared just as Jax appeared, looking aggravated. He clearly didn’t approve. “You lose again, Jordan. No matter what the situation, never leave a takedown. I wanted you to transport, but not away from the fight. It defeats the purpose.”

  She deflated. “Oh.”

  “Let’s head back before Mathilda wigs out about the blood.”

  Duly chastised, she closed her eyes, but hadn’t even begun to imagine a spot inside the gym before she was knocked off of her feet by a force so strong, she flew through the air, landed on her back, and skidded all the way to the wall. While she was thinking this must be how victims of vehicular manslaughter feel, Jax was stalking across the marble with murder in his eyes.

  Ignoring the pain in her back and the burning cuts in her arm, Jordan rolled to a sit and sprang to her feet. Incredibly, she still had the white knife in her hand, and she held it in front of her to keep him from attacking.

  “Am I supposed to be worried?” He kept coming. “Because I’m not. You’ll let me cut you again because you’re a weak, soft, spoiled princess. It’s why you never really understood Holly. She was a fighter.”

  “She killed herself! How is that fighting?”

  They were circling each other now. “In every war, there’s a loser, but not until there’s a fight. She gave it all she had before she surrendered. You haven’t given anything, so you don’t win or lose. You just take up space.”

  She didn’t move fast enough to get away before he lunged at her, and she gasped in pain and shock when his blade sank into her side. Jerking back, she spun around and ran to the stairs, up three steps, then shoved off on the fourth and did a backward flip, landing just behind him as he followed. Without hesitating, she stabbed him in the shoulder, and he let out a mighty roar before he turned and dove for her legs. Then they were rolling across the floor, through the blood, across the M, fighting for an opening to stab each other. She got him three times. He got her five.

  She managed to get her legs beneath him, then bent her knees and shoved as hard as she could, gratified when he grunted in pain and rolled away. Scrambling to her feet, gasping for air because every breath was agony to her wounds, she stumbled for the door. She had to stop, at least for a while.

  She was reaching for the egg-shaped knob when she felt his blade in her back, right between her shoulders. Then the door was meeting her face and she slid all the way to the floor. Dazed, she saw his boots next to her head, felt his hands against her back, watched while he wiped his blade clean on her sleeve. He squatted next to her a
nd tipped her face to look up at him. “I win again, Jordan. Do you know why?”

  “I hate you so much it’s a sin.”

  “I was down. You kicked me in the nuts, which was a most excellent move, but then you walked away, leaving yourself wide open for my blade in your back.”

  “I needed a break.”

  “There are no breaks in takedowns. You should have incapacitated me while I was unable to defend my position. Best way to do that is to cut the hamstrings. Nobody can get to his feet with severed hamstrings. Got it?”

  “I’d like to kick you in the nuts until you sing soprano.”

  “Your only objective is subduing your prey long enough to transport him to the gate. Once you’re there, the pull of Hell will keep him pinned to the ground until you send him down.”

  She was in so much pain, her hair hurt. “The pull of gravity is keeping me pinned to this floor. I need a doctor.”

  He frowned and reached down to feel the pulse at her neck, which gave her the perfect opportunity to stab his arm. Seconds later, they were circling each other again. “Faked you out, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. I believed you because you’re pale as a ghost and covered in blood. Mostly yours. Nice job.”

  “Give me a point.”

  “Done. So we’re at five to one, which means you’d better get on it if you have a prayer of catching up.”

  “Five to two. That backflip totally counts.”

  “Agreed, but you’re still three points behind, about to be four.”

  “Says you.” Determined not to be stabbed even once more, she shoved everything out of her mind, focused only on Jax and the knife in his hand, and grimly soldiered on.

  EIGHT

  AFTER SEVERAL HOURS SPENT LOOKING AT PROPERTIES, KEY was hungry and frustrated. Adding to his annoyance, the leasing agent was overly anxious and jittery, even though Key wore Wayfarers to hide his eyes and kept his distance. He had to go through the usual Q&A about his age and his finances. He had an ID putting his age at twenty-two, and a wallet filled with cash and every major credit card. His credit score was sterling. He dropped a few well-placed comments about his trust fund, and eventually the guy lightened up and showed him the kind of places he was interested in. He settled on a Capitol Hill town house and signed a six-month lease, then ran an errand in New York and grabbed some lunch. It was almost three in the mountains when he popped back to Colorado.