Free Revenant by Phaedra Weldon Page B

know why I was suddenly nervous about the two of them meeting—maybe it was TC’s original reaction to the thought of Revenants around.
    I moved past him to the door. But as I put my hand out in front of me, intending to move through the interior door—a small cry reverberated within my mind. I hurried into the lobby and listened again. The sense that something was here increased as did the sound of someone’s cry.
    TC moved beside me, watching. “What do you hear?”
    “There’s someone crying for help . . .” I moved slowly through the corridors, listening for the voice, aware that the presence I’d been feeling was getting stronger and stronger. In my head I saw it as a pulsing, moving black mist. It was stationary—staying put. And I was pretty sure it sensed me.
    But it wasn’t afraid. Not like me.
    Again a voice cried out in my head. A woman’s voice.
    I moved into the morgue, past the tables of bodies. The lights were off, but I didn’t notice. Lex’s private room was before me, and I paused only for a second, TC at my side, before I charged in—moving through the door—and stood at the foot of the table where Mialani lay. I was pretty sure I looked scary with my whole Wraithy goodness up and open, but I felt like a male peacock trying to frighten away any adversary in my yard.
    The voice crying for help was stronger than before—loud. And full of terror.
    I realized within seconds that the voice was Mialani’s.
    A man stood beside her—nonthreatening—simply bending over her with his hand on her forehead. And he’d been talking to her, softly, reassuringly. So this is where that old smell was coming from. That sense of old. It was the same sense I got from Lex—the essence of old ghosts and age.
    He was medium height—and well built from what I could see. He dressed nice, in an expensive suit. I could smell a soft cologne as he moved though he didn’t look at me. Didn’t even turn. His hair was dark—cut short in back and on the sides. I could see a well-trimmed sideburn against a strong profile.
    A familiar profile.
    Wait—I’d met this guy before.
    Abruptly, he turned his face and looked at me, grinning. “Good evening, Zoë. I told Mialani if she called out to you, you would come. We need your help.”
    TC appeared between us, actually hissing like some B-movie vampire. “You! How dare you show your face!”
    Oh, get over yourself. I stepped up and moved him out of the way as my wings vanished, and I slowly became myself. Just me. Zoë. I continued moving closer until we were face-to-face.
    Yeah. I knew him.
    He was an old acquaintance of Rhonda’s—someone I’d met back in August of last year. He’d come to Atlanta asking for Rhonda’s help in finding someone.
    I grinned at him. “Jason?”
    He smiled back, white glorious straight teeth and a dimple on each cheek. “Hey, Zoë. It’s nice to see you again.”
    Everything I’d felt since arriving at the morgue coalesced around him—and I realized Lex wasn’t here. I wasn’t sensing her .
    I was sensing . . . “Jason . . . you’re a . . .”
    He moved away from Mialani and tilted his head to the side. “A First Born. Revenant.” And then he smiled. “A vampire.”

9
    TC rushed at Jason then, his fists out. I really don’t know what the asshole intended on doing to Jason at that moment—basically because TC never carried through with the action. Abruptly, Jason wasn’t there anymore, and TC moved past me and through the wall.
    Jason reappeared to my right, standing close. “I hadn’t known you’d be bringing the Archer with you. I see a lot has changed since the last time we met.” He eyed me. “Including you.”
    He was referring to our first meeting. Back in August, Rhonda had introduced me to Jason Lawrence and Nick Shay—old friends she called them. Jason’s looks were classic—with an almost European accent to them. Tall, broad-shouldered, chiseled features with short, curly hair. His eyes were brown, much