The Mephisto Mark: The Redemption of Phoenix Read online

  “Phoenix met Mariah just after Key brought her here, but unfortunately he won’t make it to dinner. He had to go see Jane.”

  Who was Jane? I felt bad for her having to suffer a visit from Phoenix.

  I’d swear Sasha and Jax carried on an entire conversation without saying a word, then Jax shot a questioning look at Kyros, who nodded. Jax smiled at me again, wider this time. “I’m glad you’re staying for a while, Mariah.”

  “Thank you.” I turned my attention to the last guy, arguably the best looking of all of them, and that was saying a lot.

  “Denys is the youngest,” Kyros said. “He drinks too much and chases women.”

  “Kyros!” Sasha was clearly shocked. She gave me an apologetic smile. “Denys likes to laugh and have a good time. That’s all.”

  I met Denys’s gaze and saw right past his grin. There was agony in his eyes and I wanted to tell Kyros he was an oblivious ass, but I didn’t because Denys’s demons weren’t my business. He made some light quip about girls being more fun to chase than guys and I smiled like I thought it was funny, but he kind of made me want to cry.

  “Well, then,” Kyros said, “now you know the Mephisto. Enjoy your dinner, and Sasha will see to it that you’re comfortable in a guest room.”

  “Aren’t you eating?”

  “I have some things to do. I’ll be back later, with Jordan.” And just like Phoenix and Deacon, he disappeared.

  So this was really going to happen. After so many years and so much dreaming of this moment, I was going to see Viorica. I wasn’t ready and was convinced she would be more upset than glad, but if it was inevitable, I would accept it and focus on my joy. My heart beat a little faster and I was both anxious and delighted.

  When I turned back to the table, the other brothers were still and quiet, staring at me with that same focused attention I’d received from Phoenix, but without the hostility. Something about me was fascinating, which was an entirely new experience. I just wished I knew what it was.

  Jax went to the chair at the opposite end of the table and pulled it out. “Sit in Key’s chair, Mariah. That’ll make it easier for us to stare at you.”

  I was fairly certain he was joking, a tease to clue his brothers in that they were being rude. Didn’t work. They still stared.

  Sasha moved close and whispered, “We don’t have visitors here, especially girls.”

  Ah, so their attention was because I was female. I debated telling her I wasn’t remotely interested in guys, but then I noticed the sparkle in her eyes, her obvious pleasure at having some female companionship, and I didn’t have the heart to be negative. I certainly had no issues with women. Not that I had many friends, but I considered Gustav’s fiancé my friend. She’d just become a teacher, having graduated from university the previous summer. It was Sophia who’d urged me to begin saving for school so I could become something other than a barmaid. Looking at Sasha’s hopeful gaze, I smiled before I went around the table to accept Jax’s invitation to Kyros’s chair.

  As soon as I’d removed my coat and Jax hung it on the back of the chair, I sat down. Jax took his seat, Sasha sat beside him, and Deacon reappeared, bending low to serve from a huge silver tray he balanced in one hand. He set what looked like some kind of beef dish on the thin, elegant china plate in front of me, and it was all I could do to wait for everyone else to be served before I picked up my fork and began to eat. It was, without a doubt, the best thing I’d ever tasted. I’d scarcely taken three bites before Deacon was back to serve tiny carrots with some kind of glaze, a soufflé of butternut squash, and thin, steamed green beans. As soon as he’d finished that round, he came back with yeasty rolls. I was so focused on my food, so hungry and so happy to be eating something this delicious, it was a moment before I realized Zee had asked a question. I looked at him as I took a drink of ice water from a crystal goblet. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “I asked what you normally eat. Do you live alone? Do you cook? When was the last time you ate?”

  “Are you just curious, or was I being overzealous?”

  “Both.”

  Zee was a guy who said exactly what was on his mind. I liked that. “I work at a pub six days a week, from eleven in the morning until three in the morning, so I eat most of my meals there. Gustav’s menu is limited, mostly cabbage soup and sausages. Yes, I live alone, no I don’t cook because I don’t have a kitchen, and the last meal I had was yesterday at four, Romanian time. I had a brown roll and fish stew. Gustav made it because it was Sunday. Hockey day. We have a lot of patrons on hockey and football days.”

  “Must be hard to work in a pub,” Denys said.

  I nodded and continued eating. They all exchanged glances, silently communicating something, but I didn’t much care. If the food was always this incredible during my stay, I intended to take full advantage of it. And if they thought I was curious because I was so involved with my plate, I was fine with it. I wondered what would be for dessert?

  Deacon came back with a fruit and cheese board and I thought I might laugh with happiness. It was simply marvelous. I’d just taken a bite from a slice of a crisp pear when Phoenix walked through the doorway, which I was directly facing, being situated in Kyros’s chair.

  That was terribly unfortunate. Just when I was having such a lovely time, Mister Thundercloud had to show up. Maybe Jane told him to scram.

  The atmosphere around the table changed immediately, and I sensed an enormous amount of anxiety.

  Jax again took the lead. He said a little too loudly with an edge of forced joviality, “Glad you could make it, Phoenix. Hans has outdone himself tonight.”

  Phoenix came to stand at the other end of the table and ignored Jax, all of his focus on me. “Where did he find you?”

  I swallowed the bite of pear. “At Gustav’s Pub in Bucharest.”

  “So you’re a drinker.” His voice indicated he wasn’t at all surprised. Why did he have such a low opinion of me? He didn’t know the first thing about me.

  “I work there, and no, I don’t drink. I can’t afford it.”

  “You’re poor.”

  “Very. Is this why you’re so offended by me? Because I’d much rather be poor than shallow.”

  “I’m many things, but I assure you I’m not shallow.”

  “But you are offended by me. Don’t deny it.”

  “I want you to go away.”

  “We don’t always get what we want.”

  I was aware of the others moving their heads back and forth in unison as we sparred, and I had the urge to laugh.

  “You think this is funny?”

  “I think it’s ridiculous. You don’t know me at all, but you’ve decided to dislike me based on my appearance.”

  “That shirt is too low-cut, and your pants are too tight.”

  “I told you, I work in a pub. Provocative clothing earns me better tips.”

  He looked ready to explode, he was so very angry. “You’re a whore.”

  Sasha gasped. Jax stood and said, “That’s enough.”

  “Is that it, Mariah? Do you dress like this so the men in the pub will pay you extra in hopes you’ll go home with them?”

  “That’s it exactly.”

  “And do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Do you go home with them?” His hands were clenched into fists and his handsome face was flushed with fury.

  There was a time when I’d have been frightened, but those days were long over. I would never be afraid of an angry man again. Whatever he said, whatever he did, I would separate myself from it and nothing would bother me. So let him be mad for no reason other than his prejudice and egotistical need to hold himself above me. His opinion meant nothing. “Whether I do or don’t isn’t up for discussion. Back off.”

  “Answer me! Now!” He positively bellowed.

  I opened my mouth to answer so he’d shut up and leave me alone, but never got the chance. With such speed, he moved in a blur, Zee was out of hi
s chair and knocking Phoenix to the floor.

  The fight that followed was bloody and vicious. The other brothers surged to their feet and rushed to that end of the dining room to break it up. Sasha looked at me and said, “I’m so sorry, Mariah. He’s . . . Phoenix has some problems.”

  I didn’t bother telling her it was all right. Why lie? The table shook, and china and crystal crashed to the floor.

  While I listened to the sound of fists hitting flesh, of grunts and curses and shouts of fury, certain boxes tried to slip free in my mind. I ate more of the pear, some of the cheese, and concentrated on holding the boxes in place, but they kept sliding out and I couldn’t stop them. Determined to stay calm and above what was happening right in front of me, my mind took me where I always went as a last resort – home. Not my tiny, dilapidated apartment. The home where I lived until my parents died.

  Small and cozy, set back from the road in a copse of trees, it was just a few miles from the nearest village. There was a stone fireplace and a braided rug and a little dog named Beet, because he liked beets. And Mama in her chair by the fire, darning socks, replacing buttons, telling Viorica and me Romanian folktales. Nothing bad could ever happen to me when I was there, stretched across the rug petting Beet, or sitting cross-legged with Viorica while we sang for Papa, or drinking warm cider after playing in the snow. The sum of all contentment was that braided rug by the fire.

  So I finished eating the pears and cheese and stayed there on the rug and hardly noticed when Sasha reached for my arm and said it was time to go upstairs and rest. Olga would be there. She’d snuggle up against me and we would sleep and when we woke up, everything would be better. Mornings were my favorite. Emilian never got up in the mornings. I always had them to myself, to read, or walk in the park, or sit on the roof and dream.

  I smiled at Sasha while I slowly withdrew my arm from her grasp and stepped away. She took my coat from the chair and led me from the dining room. Other than blood on the rug, there was no evidence of the fight. The chairs had all been righted, the broken dishes swept up. I said, “Crushed eggshells will get that out.”

  Sasha gave me a peculiar look.

  “It’s true. I cleaned for Marta, so I know lots of housekeeping tricks.”

  We were halfway up the stairs. “Who is Marta?”

  “She was Gustav’s mother. She was one of those hard women with a rough voice. She was strict, but kind. I went to live with her after . . . when I found myself alone at fourteen.”

  “Will you tell me how you came to be separated from Jordan?”

  “No.” I followed her up another flight of stairs and down a wide hallway with beautiful paintings and more candles. “I don’t talk about my sister to anyone.”

  “I understand.”

  “No, you don’t. Let’s not talk any more. I have a headache.” I needed Olga. I wanted to lie in the dark and be very still, and then no one would find me. I’d be invisible.

  “Mariah,” Sasha said when we were inside a pretty bedroom with pale pink walls, a crackling fire and a beautiful candelabra on a beautiful desk. “You’re not making any sense. Look at me.”

  I turned from searching for Olga and looked directly into her eyes. “What doesn’t make sense?”

  “You said you will be invisible.”

  “Did I?” Oh, God, I was losing myself. Viorica would be here soon. She couldn’t see me like this. I sucked in a deep breath and tried to smile while I lied. “It’s just that these headaches make me slightly disoriented. If I lie down in the dark for a while, I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll have Mathilda bring some medicine.”

  I didn’t need medicine. I needed to be alone. “Yes, that’d be lovely, thank you.” Who was Mathilda? How many strangers did I have to meet today? I wanted to go home to my apartment, where I’d be blessedly alone. And safe.

  She went to a small plastic box on the wall by the door, pressed a button and said, “Mathilda, would you bring some Tylenol to Mariah’s bedroom?”

  I’d barely had time to sit on the chair by the fire before a plump woman appeared in the center of the room. She wore a long brown dress with a crisp white apron and her brown hair was in a tidy bun at the nape of her neck. Something, her smell of gingerbread, I think, reminded me of my mother, and I instantly liked her. She came toward me and reached for my hand and patted it while she smiled down at me with soft, warm brown eyes. “There now, puir lamb, Deacon told me how you came to be here. ‘Tis a disgrace the way those boys act sometimes, pilfering sweet girls right out of their homes, brawling in the dining room, talking disrespectful to a gentle soul. But ye’ve naught to worry about. Mathilda is here now, and our Sasha. We’ll have you right as rain in no time.”

  I blinked up at her, completely confused. “You spoke English and I understood.”

  “’Tis because I’m of the spirit world, child. I can’t really talk, but your spirit hears mine and there’s no language.”

  I wasn’t sure what entranced me more – my ability to understand her thickly accented English, or how much I enjoyed her holding and patting my hand. I typically couldn’t abide anyone touching me.

  She looked at Sasha. “What’s Tynedol?”

  “Tylenol. It’s medicine for headaches. You’ll have to ask a Lumina to get some at a drug store.”

  “If there’s no Tylenol,” I said, wishing I hadn’t lied about the headache because this was becoming way too complicated, “I can take anything. Plain old aspirin will be fine.”

  Sasha said, “There’s no medicine of any kind in the house. Nobody here ever needs it. We’re immortal, so we don’t get sick, and if we’re injured, we heal very quickly.”

  Jax’s voice came through the plastic box. “War room meeting. Now.”

  I was wondering what a war room was when Mathilda said, “Go on, Sasha. I’ll look after Mariah. I’ll call Brody and have him go get the Tynedol.”

  “Tylenol.” Sasha looked at me. “I’m sorry I have to go. I swear I’ll be back as soon as possible. Are you going to be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.” I hated that she’d seen me crack around the edges. “I’m tired and it’s been a very strange night.”

  “I’m sorry to say it’s going to get stranger still. I’ve been here just over a year. I know how you feel right now.”

  “Thank you,” I said, mildly curious to know how she came to be with the brothers. How had she met Jax? How did she become immortal?

  She disappeared and I looked up at Mathilda. “Have you seen my cat?”

  “Yer kitty is still in the kitchen, enjoying a second dish of cream. Dani will bring her up directly.”

  “I can’t go to sleep without her.” She was my warning system. Olga meowed whenever someone came close to her. If I was asleep and she meowed, I knew what was about to happen. I could be ready. I could go home in my head and be ready.

  “She’ll be here, never you worry.” Mathilda let go of my hand and bent to pick up my foot. “For now, let’s get you comfortable so you can have yer lie-down.” My right boot came off, followed by the left, and before I knew it, I was dressed in only my bra and panties. My very old bra and panties. She looked me over and tsked. “We’ll be finding you some new unmentionables. For now,” she went to a door and opened it, revealing a closet, and unhooked a fluffy white robe from within, “slip this on and get into bed.”

  The robe was heavenly. The sheets were even better. And the bed was amazing. Soft and warm and comfortable. I felt a thousand times better. I listened to her tell someone on the other end of the plastic box to go to town and buy some Tynedol. A male voice replied, “Tylenol?”

  “That’s it,” she said. “We’ve a guest and she’s needing a headache powder. Sasha says Tynedol is the thing.”

  I could hear a smile in the guy’s voice. “I’ll get your Tynedol right away and bring it right up.”

  “Thank ye, Brody, there’s a good lad.”

  “Mathilda?” I asked.

  She turned from the plas
tic box. “Yes, child?”

  “Why are you here? What happened to make you mad at God?”

  Moving to the chair by the fire, she sat and arranged her skirts before she said quietly, “In eighteen-fifty-two, I was housekeeper to an aristocrat at a manor house in Surrey. I had a daughter, a bright, happy girl I named Prudence – Pru for short – and she lived with my sister, but I always brought her to be with me for the week of Christmas. When Pru was twelve, she came to visit and all was fine and good, except she’d learned to read and I couldn’t keep her out of his lordship’s library. One night, I woke up and she wasn’t in bed with me, so I went to find her.”

  Mathilda paused, and I stiffened. I knew what was coming. I wanted to stop her, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I’d asked, and if she was brave enough to tell me, I had to be brave enough to listen. I hadn’t seen it going this way, but I was in it now.

  “I found her in the library with his lordship. She were on the floor and he . . . even after more than a century, I remember just the way she sounded, breathless and scared. She kept whispering, ‘Mum,’ and he said if she screamed, he’d sack me and I’d never work again. He never knew I was there, he was so busy violating my girl. I grabbed the fireplace poker and whacked him on the head. Killed him. Pru didn’t last the night before she passed on. She bled and didn’t stop. The constable came and I was arrested. They said at the trial that I hit him fourteen times. I don’t reckon I remember, but I suppose they were right, and the day after they found me guilty, I was executed for killing a titled gentleman, but he weren’t no gentleman, Miss Mariah. He was an animal and if I had it to do over, I’d kill him just the same.”

  I swallowed again and again and barely managed to whisper, “Why do you blame God? You should be angry at the devil.”

  “For taking my baby. He could have let her live. She would have healed.”

  I stared up at the ceiling and mentally stood on that box. I would not let the lid come off. “Her body would have healed, but not her mind. I think God was merciful, taking her to Heaven so she didn’t have to finish growing up with . . .”