Soul Cage Page 2

  And she had Zoë.

  It'd been an impossible friendship. The latino bombshell with the incredibly long legs who just happened to have the ability to go out of her body—friends with the shorter timid geeky gothy introvert with wanna-be witch. Rhonda had dabbled in magic back then. Been successful with the occasional spell, but everything changed once Nona started teaching her.

  Her magic bloomed. A new door opened for her and a new world was born.

  And then…he walked through that door. Darren Gregory McConnell, III. Cute, compact, smart, a dazzling smile.

  But it became painfully clear Dags only had eyes for Zoë.

  They always had eyes for her.

  Why? She was too tall. She had freckles on her cheeks. She had some seriously big feet—couldn't they see that from the size of those bunny slippers?

  But always…always…men were drawn to her.

  Rhonda stayed close anyway to support the work her uncle wanted done. She still monitored Zoë, witnessed the changes the symbiont / First Born TC, aka Azrael, had wrought on her Irin power. She'd even endured Zoë's wrath after Rodriquez felt it necessary to expose her to Zoë. And for the first time, one of their group had actually noticed her.

  Joe.

  He'd kept her sane when she took over the Society after Zoë killed her uncle.

  But then he too had returned to her side.

  Then Zoë finally tossed Daniel aside and took Dags as a lover.

  The very thought of her using them the way she did galled Rhonda. No…it fucking pissed her off. And then Zoë was gone, and Dags was there. Even though he was little more than a vegetable, he was hers. She'd taken care of Dags when Maureen scrambled the pages of the Grimoire. She didn't want him like that…and it hurt her down to her soul to see him stare into space. But she could touch him, love him, take care of him.

  She tasked their group to find the pages, those friends of Zoë. The ones that wanted to find her. Azrael, Joe, Jason, and even Daniel.

  Daniel, so dark and brooding now. Beautiful as a Revenant and so sad. He carried a burden he didn't deserve. Possessed by Zoë's darker self, her Horror, and made to kill again and again. And then the death of his captain who saved Zoë…

  When they had the pages—all but the one—Rhonda worked the spell she'd learned that day in Rodriguez' chamber of horrors where they'd found Dags, barely hanging on to life. He'd been burned, flayed, beaten, tortured. He'd been dying.

  Arranging the pages had been simple—their secrets revealed themselves to her as she'd worked that day—

  He was awake and whole again, even if he couldn't access the Grimoire.

  But still he wanted Zoë. He pinned for her.

  Zoë…

  She balled her hands into fists as she listened to Manuel drone on about…Zoë. How he wanted to be partnered with Zoë on his last assignment because they'd faced that Dominion together.

  Zoë….ZoëZoëZoë.

  You hate her.

  "No. I don't." She fired back at the voice in her head.

  You want her dead.

  "No…"

  Yes you do. Otherwise, why did you start listening to me after you healed the Guardian? You wanted what was rightfully yours. She had the cop, and the cop turned Revenant. And I helped you get what you wanted, remember? I helped you forge that page so that he would love you.

  "No you didn't. I learned how from the knowledge Geist gave me. You…you just showed up, annoying me."

  But since then, haven't I remained by your side? Warned you when danger was near? Helped you keep your little boy toy safe?

  "Yes. But I as the one that worked the spell to dissolve those memories. Me."

  And when Dags woke that day, he kissed her…

  He kissed…Rhonda. And Dags was hers, just as Geist promised.

  But it was a short lived happiness—Zoë recovered soon enough and then discovered what had happened. And somehow, she hadn't been told the standard story, the one Rhonda had written, that somehow the prolonged exposure to the Abysmal Throne had damaged the last page and erased some of Dags' memories.

  No… when Zoë had come for her that day of the welcoming home party, the bitch had been told the truth.

  Which meant they knew the truth. Daniel, Joe, Azrael, and…Nona.

  She didn't want to see Nona as an enemy…but she was Zoë's mom. And that was where her loyalty would always remain.

  The Society Council, set up by Nona and agreed upon by Rhonda, had refused to remove any of them from the Society—mainly because Rhonda didn't have a reasonable excuse. And…they all liked Joe, and Nona, and Daniel. Though Daniel had proven to be a liability a few times. He might not be the killer he'd been before Inanna bonded with him—but he still had the same face, which remained inside of a law enforcement's database on dangerous criminals.

  Since Zoë's emergence into the Society's working pool, since he'd seen her that day in his room, when she hugged him, not knowing what had changed, Dags asked questions about her. No matter how many times Rhonda told him Zoë was dangerous, she was Abysmal, to stay away from her and that she was Daniel's...he wouldn't leave it alone.

  Even that morning he'd asked about a dream he'd had…about two women. An older one and a younger one…and they were telling him to wake up…

  Alice and Maureen.

  No…shhh…don't fret. You silenced them as well, didn't you?

  "Yes. But for how long?"

  "—even listening to a thing I've been saying," Manuel finished and crossed his arms over his chest. He was a pretty one—very young when his First Born took him. Zoë had always said he looked like Enrique Iglesias…only more attractive.

  You could kill him.

  "Shhh."

  You could. You know the spell. It's in the book.

  "I haven't taken it."

  But you will. You're half-way there, Rhonda. You have half of the Grimoire copied.

  "Rhonda?"

  "I don't have that spell. It's part of Inanna's diary…in a place I can't get to."

  Yes you can—you're just afraid.

  "Hey, Rhonda…who are you talking to?"

  "She'll know when I take it. She's still connected to her words."

  So? Daniel is the weakest of them, easy to destroy first. The voice laughed in her ears. Yes, yes…that would be fitting wouldn't it? To kill Inanna with her own spell.

  "Who is that, Rhonda?"

  Take it next time you open up the book…find Inanna's spell and make Morgan your first…

  No…she had something better hidden upstairs, something she'd been saving to use on Jason.

  She felt something around her neck and realized it was Manuel's hand. His eyes were dark pits, his First Born up front. His teeth were also extended. Oh God…

  "Who were you talking to, Rhonda? Who wants to kill me?"

  No! He…she…they heard the voice? She grabbed at Manuel's wrist and called up the first spell she thought of—one that would flay the skin.

  But fast as she tore the skin on his forearm, muscle and flesh grew back.

  "I'm not afraid of you, Rhonda Orly…" Morgan/Manuel smiled as he held her by the neck and she tried to pry his hand free. "And now I have something to take to the council…there's someone else in your head, isn't there?" he leaned in close to peer into her eyes. "Well, well…come on out and play—"

  And it did.

  •••

  Neither of them said another word after Dags shut off his iPhone. Truth be told, Jason was trying to figure out what to say. Where to begin? How does one say things like Your girlfriend is insane? Your girlfriend ripped the memories of your lover from you so she could have you?

  And worse to him, Your girlfriend locked away half of your power so she could control you and has upset the balance again.

  None of it was going to be easy to say. He wasn't even sure Dags was going to swallow it. But he was sure as long as they were tucked away in his condo—the one only he and Nick knew about, not the one the other Revenan
ts used now and then—he would have time and opportunity to come up with something.

  But as he turned the car into the underground garage of the high-rise in Buckhead near Lenox Mall, and not too far from the joint condo, Jason felt a slight nudge against his senses.

  Old man?

  Yes…I feel it.

  What is it?

  I…I don't know. It might be Powers.

  Damnit. Jason continued into the parking garage and passed where his car was usually parked. No need being routine. If these were Powers he was sensing, then they'd somehow figured out where he really lived and which was his parking spot. Slipping the car into an open slot at the far end, with no other cars around so he could see the garage better, Jason reached under his seat and pulled out his Glock.

  Dags frowned. "What's going on?"

  "Can you sense it?"

  The boy shook his head, then his gray eyes widened. "Yes I can. What is that?

  "Not sure. Might be Powers."

  "I don't remember Powers ever feeling like this." He started patting himself down. "Oh shit. You have a spare? I didn't come prepared to fight."

  "No. I don't. This'll dispatch them if they are Powers," he opened the door.

  "And if they aren't?"

  Jason didn't answer as Dags also exited the car. Instead he held up his hand toward the younger man—even though physically they were around the same age—in a gesture of 'stay back.'

  Two figures in black dropped from the ceiling at that moment and landed in front of Jason. They both had guns, and marks on their faces. They were Powers, all right. And from the marks, they were Adiran's.

  Made by Zoë's father.

  "Well, well, well…looks like he was on the money," the male said on Jason's right. Shaved head, pierced ears, and tattooed body, he loaded his weapon. "Look back there. That's the Grimoire, ain't it?"

  The other was female. Only the body shape gave it away, as her head was shaved as well. Her face was pierced in several places. Both wore black leather and black jackets. The reality was both of them were technically dead, their bodies reanimated by Ethereal magic.

  "Yeah, that's him. I can tell from the pretty face. They say he's a looker. I say we get rid of the old fanger here and have a bit of fun with the Magic Book. I could take a piece of that—"

  Two shots, both through the center of their foreheads. The smoking gun rested in Jason's hand as the Powers fell and then dissolved into black goo.

  "Idiots," Jason said. "All that talking was going to get them—"

  Something hard slammed into him. The gun clattered to the ground as he hit the concrete wall behind the car. His head slammed into the solid wall and was more than sure he left a blood trail behind as he slid down and lay on his side. The air was gone from his lungs and his vision was fuzzy.

  Jason!

  …what…what was…

  It's a Dominion! You have to get Darren out of here! It could kill the boy!

  But Jason was having trouble just getting up. "Dags…."

  "I have come to judge you—you possess a book you have no right to wield. That book belongs to the Seraphim and I claim it in their name."

  The voice boomed. Literally. Jason felt his teeth rattle. He pulled himself from behind the car—his legs weren't working. He had to get Dags out of there—

  And then he heard the sound of metal clanking against metal. It sounded like…

  Swords?

  Fighting the need to pass out, Jason continued to pull himself around the car to see—no. Was it possible?

  Dags was fighting the Dominion…with a huge freak'n sword!

  The Dominion was dressed in a white cassock like something out of The Matrix. His sword burned with red fire as he leapt and parried, thrust and swung at Dags—

  And Dags kept up with every attack like an expert swordsman. Since when could Dags actually wield a sword—and where did he get it?

  It's the Familiars. They've somehow appeared.

  But…how? No one's seen Alice or Maureen since Rhonda replaced the pages.

  They exist to protect the Guardian, Jason. Their power, when in need, is greater than that of any magic.

  And as if to prove Mephistopheles' declaration, Dags feigned a right attack, doubled back and swung the sword low. The Dominion—assuming he knew the move and bending low to avoid the initial swing—had laughingly positioned his neck in the path of Dags' sword.

  There was a flash of light, thunder that shook the garage again, and then silence.

  Jason felt that darkness he'd been fighting cover him from the shoulders down. Now it was creeping up to swallow him whole.

  "Jason?"

  Darren—he has a bad concussion. I need you to carry him to our home.

  "Okay. Sure. I just…where did I get the sword? And where did it go?"

  In time, Darren. We will speak.

  Before Jason lost consciousness, he thought he saw the faintest image of a semi-familiar face superimposed over Dags' more than troubled expression.

  That of Maureen Lafferty.

  -3-

  Jason?

  Jason Lawrence heard the voice of the Old Man in the distance. He turned toward the sound, narrowed his eyes as he peered through the trees, past the budding azalea bushes and spotted a figure walking toward him.

  "Is he coming around?"

  I can hear him, and I can see him, but he's not answering me. He's looking somewhere else.

  Jason didn't want to answer the Old Man right away. He watched the person approaching him and concentrated on the details. Male appearance. Suit. Hands in pockets. Short hair. Face…familiar. "Who are you?" he called out when the man was close enough.

  "Looking somewhere else?" There was a pause with this younger voice. "Where—inside his head?"

  My being is a vast record of memories, Darren. I carry with me the knowledge and experience of the hosts that came before Jason, including that of his lover, Bethany. He's fixated on one of my earlier memories—

  The figure became clear as he stopped across the street from where Jason sat on a bench in a park bordered by moss covered oaks. He'd seen the face before. Knew the swagger. The blond hair so perfectly coiffed—only it'd been longer when he'd met this man.

  Recently.

  The suit was black but had no real definition. No pockets to see. Only a dark abyss. He looked back at the man's face—

  And it was inches from his own.

  Jason yelled out as he sat up. His forehead connected solidly with something just as hard and unforgiving. Pain shot to the back of his head as he heard a thump and Mephistopheles' voice ringing between his ears.

  That was terrifically ungraceful.

  "Screw…you…" Jason mumbled and put his hand to his head. He didn't feel blood but he knew he'd have a bruise until he fed—

  That's when he remembered the Dominion. He'd been thrown against the wall—the back of his head smashed. He reached back to find everything in place. Mended. Jason opened his eyes to see Darren reaching up and over the side of his bed as he pulled himself up from the floor. The split of skin and blood between Darren's eyes revealed exactly what he'd hit when he sat up. "Oh…hell Dags, I'm sorry."

  "You…" the younger man said as he plopped down on the edge of the bed. "Have a fucking hard head." But when Jason reached out to him, Dags waved his hand away. "I got this," was all he said as a small white light blurred the injury away. Within seconds, it was gone.

  He's mastering his Guardian abilities quite well, even after all of the witch's meddling.

  "I can still hear you," Dags said.

  I intended you to hear that. Which is why you must hear more.

  Jason took that opportunity to look around. The soft scent of lilac told him they were in his bedroom. Lilac had been one of Romina's favorite scents, and one Nick often used as incense.

  As if on call, Nick entered the bedroom. He was tall—taller than Jason by several inches. Blond, blue eyed, a handsome face marred by a permanently placed smirk
that pulled at the side of his mouth. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail that lay across his shoulders and down over the right side of his chest. He held a tall, thin glass in his hand, filled with a red liquid and a stalk of celery sticking out of the top.

  Nick Shay was a Ghoul—more importantly—he was Jason's Ghoul. Jason hadn't created him with his Abysmal blood. Romina had, the host Mephistopheles' had bonded with before Bethany, Jason's lover. Romina had done it to save Nick's life, and to keep him with her always. It had been the only way as there weren't any First Borns around to bond with his body.

  Unlike the folk tales and bad Hollywood movies, Vampires, or Revenants, couldn't be made by drinking blood. They were only made when the essence of one of the Phantasms' First Borns bonded with their souls, locking them into their physical existence. To save Nick, Romina did the only thing she knew to do.

  After drinking her blood, Nick's wounds healed and his spirit was forever bound to his physical body. He was ten times stronger than he had been. Faster. And his body would never age. But in order to remain this way, he had to feed from the First Born that made him.

  That would always be Mephistopheles, in whatever body he bonded with. Nick had lived through two of those bondings after Romina's body had died. Bethany, and now Jason.

  But he would never be with her again, though Mephistopheles possessed all of Romina's memories.

  Jason took the Bloody Mary from Nick and sipped it. It was spiked with just the right amount of tomato juice, Tabasco sauce, and blood. The juice and hot sauce for his human host to wake up the senses, the blood for Mephistopheles. After finishing half of it, he looked up at Nick and noticed the man's peculiar expression. "What?"

  Nick glanced at Dags. "Mephistopheles didn't tell you?"

  I didn't want to alarm him.

  "Alarm me about what?"

  "He lost contact with Morgan, and Manuel's not answering his phone."

  Jason slumped his shoulders. That didn't sound good. Certainly Rhonda wouldn't do anything to him, would she? Could she?

  Jason, why were you looking at that memory?