Free Only You (The Mephisto Covenant Series) by Stephanie Feagan

apocalypse?”
    He immediately bent to get his coat and I was positive it was to keep me from seeing his tears. I was astounded all over again. Kyros was cold, distant, and hard. Always. He was all about his job and his duty as the head of our family, as leader of the Mephisto.
    When he straightened up again , his coat folded across one bloody arm, he had himself back under control. “I wish I’d known she’s Anabo so I could have warned you. I’d never have done that to you, but I just didn’t know.”
    I believed him. He was sincerely sorry. It had been a misstep, and Key never made mistakes. He hadn’t known Mariah was Anabo – but he knew she was exceptional because he could feel what was within her, what set her apart from all other humans. A well of goodness, of kindness and compassion that didn’t judge, that wasn’t selective. Born without Original Sin, Anabo were unique, and very rare. Mariah was different, though. Something was wrong with her. The blue of her eyes was dark, and she’d lost her light. “Why can’t we see it?”
    “Because of her life. She’s been . . . things have ha ppened that caused her to . . .” He stopped talking and sighed.
    I watched snowflakes land on my brother’s dark hair and waited.
    Finally, he said, “She’s broken.”
    That hit me hard and I flinched before I quickly refocused on Jane’s grave. “Go home and eat, Key. You’re still bleeding, and you’re pale as a ghost.”
    I suppose he understood that I couldn’t talk anymore. While I stared at Jane’s gray, dreary headstone and wondered what had happened to break Mariah, Key disappeared.
     
    ~~ Mariah ~~
    My reunion with my sister was bittersweet: extremely joyous and heartbreakingly sad, all at once.
    We sat on the chairs in front of the fire and b efore I’d talk about me or our shared history, short as it was, I insisted Viorica tell me about her life, about her adoptive parents and being the First Daughter. When she told me about her mother dying of breast cancer four years ago, she cried, but there was something more, something beneath her tears that was infinitely more tragic than Mrs. Ellis’s too early death. I watched her carefully as she spoke, noticing the feminine way her hands moved, the light in her eyes, the confidence in her voice. What bothered me was her Romanian. She spoke it perfectly, just like all the others who called themselves Mephisto. Zee had said they knew every language on Earth. I was certain Viorica knew far more than the average teenager, and she undoubtedly studied French, Spanish, maybe even German, or Chinese, but would she know Romanian? Perhaps she remembered bits and pieces from her early childhood, but what were the odds she’d speak it so fluently now?
    With dread in my gut, b efore she was done telling me her life since I’d seen her last, I interrupted and asked, “Why are you here? Who are these strange people to you?”
    She turned her bluebell eyes toward the fire and fell quiet.
    I waited.
    Finally, she said, “I’m as strange as they are, Mariah. I was killed when I was kidnapped, and Key brought me back to life. We were going to let the world believe that my abductors dropped me into the ocean, but on a training mission in London, I was recognized, and had to make up a story to explain where I’d been. I came back to the States, to my dad at the White House, but I’m going to fake die at my birthday party in a couple of weeks and after that, I’ll be here permanently.” She turned to look at me. “I’ll never die. I’ve agreed to stay here with the Mephisto and do what they do.”
    Concentrating carefully, I kept my face devoid of any emotion. I s wallowed the overpowering need to cry and scream and rail at God, opened a new box, put this inside, firmly affixed the lid, and slid it on the shelf next to the others. Instead of screaming, I asked, “What is it that they do?”
    “Have you ever heard of Mephistopheles?”
    The night Emilian died,