All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [273]
The heroic drama would be irresistible to Eliot; that, and the honey-dipped, platinum-bleached bait.
Mephistopheles nodded as he saw her get it.
“What about me?” she asked.
If Jezebel had pulled Eliot into this, how was Mitch supposed to have gotten her involved? They’d been friends . . . he’d taken her on those wondrous walks . . . and there’d been that kiss. There could have been a lot more, too. Fiona had been willing and ready, but it’d been Mitch who’d stopped.
“I was supposed to bring you in,” he told her with a sigh. “Everything fell into place. The Stephenson boy was going to Paxington. I have a connection with their clan from the time of Dr. Faustus, so I approached him.”67
“You killed him?”
“No . . . and yes,” Mephistopheles said slowly as if he were explaining this to a child. “Young Master Stephenson saw the wisdom of an alliance. I could help him in school and he would succeed beyond his wildest expectations.”
Fiona shook her head. Mitch would have never done that.
But what Paxington student wouldn’t have jumped at the chance at passing their classes—guaranteed? Mitch had been the only boy at school not obsessed with winning . . . but maybe that’s because he knew he already would.
“All he had to do was let me possess him—but as deep a possession as our kind can commit to with mortals to avoid detection of the other Immortals. It is a melding of personality and souls.”
“So you’re Mephistopheles and Mitch?”
“Yes.” Mephistopheles examined his bare hand. “But in truth, very much more of one . . . and very little of the other.”
Her stomach twisted. She had kissed him! The thing that had fangs and claws and had been a hundred-foot tall monster. She struggled to push down her rising bile.
Months ago Mitch had used white magic in that alley by Paxington to repel shadows creatures. He’d looked pained, and she’d thought then it had been the strain of producing such a powerful magic. But that hadn’t been it at all. The white magic had burned him because he was part, or mostly, Infernal.
Fiona wasn’t strong enough to stand . . . so she scooched back from him. “Was everything you said to me this past year a lie?”
She bet normal girls didn’t have to go through this when they broke up with their boyfriends. A little shouting, some hurt feelings, and it was over. Not a full-scale war; fighting with your about-to-be-ex until he almost kills you; and having thousands of broken, damned souls lament along with you.
Lucky her.
Mephistopheles looked as if she’d struck him. “I have never lied to you, Fiona.”
Fiona looked into his smoky brown eyes. She didn’t believe that. . . .
He took a step closer. “Everything changed once I knew you. I could not use you and I would never endanger you.” He glanced away. “So I left school to finish this war without your involvement, even if that meant losing my lands . . . and my life.”
Fiona snorted. “Looks like you did okay to me.”
Mitch smiled. It was the same smile that made her feel warm and loved, but there was an edge to it, something that reminded Fiona of a wolf.
Mitch’s voice became deeper. “Sealiah lost focus on the war, obsessed with wooing Eliot to her side. She succeeded, but his help was too little, too late.”
Eliot. And Robert.
Fiona had almost forgotten them, she was so engrossed in her own drama.
“Then why kill Robert?” she said, struggling to keep her voice from breaking with sorrow. “And why fight me if you cared so much?”
“I didn’t realize it was you and Robert until too late. I mean, I knew . . . but the blood . . . when it burns . . .” Mephistopheles looked exasperated as he tried to explain. “I would have never consciously harmed you.”
Fiona had felt that way before. When her blood ran hot—she could have killed without thinking.
But what about Robert? Dead on the field somewhere. How could she ever forgive that?