Soul Cage (3 page)

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 Revenants 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.