He picked up the coffee and stood. “All right, insect…Daan. You want to help me? I need to find a bus station.”
“Are we going on a bus?” Daan scrambled eagerly to its feet. “That sounds fun.”
“I am going on a bus.”
“Then I am too. You should not be alone.” The Shepherd hesitated for a moment, and then gestured past the diner. “This way, demon.”
His shoulders slumped. “Jaeryth,” he said. “My name is Jaeryth.”
Daan smiled. “Now we’re making progress.”
“Oh, bliss.”
As he followed Daan, he considered throwing himself in front of a bus instead of boarding one. At least then he’d be spared the Shepherd’s company.
* * * * *
Logan wasn’t sure how she made it through most of Tuesday. Time passed so slowly, it might as well have stopped. Tex had somehow gotten her excused from Miss Turner’s home visit, though her caseworker would be there the next day. She had to pull herself together by then.
He’d also offered to reschedule band practice, but she insisted on going through with that. The band was all she had left. She wasn’t going to let them down just before what could be their big break.
At least half a dozen times she’d looked out the front window, hoping to see Jaeryth standing on her porch like nothing had happened. She finally had to tell herself firmly that he wasn’t coming back.
She just couldn’t convince herself that she didn’t want him to.
As if that wasn’t enough of a complication, she had this prophet business to sort through. Tex had reluctantly explained the awakening to her after she’d threatened to quit singing if he didn’t. He said that Prophets weren’t exactly born with their abilities. Whatever talents they had grew gradually, until they went through some big event that cemented them on either side—light or dark. Dark Prophets committed an unforgivable sin. Usually murder. And light Prophets performed a miracle.
Apparently once they were manifested, both angels and demons stopped trying to “recruit” them, since they couldn’t change sides. So she’d be safe from the Tempters when she established herself as a full Prophet. But that didn’t help her much, since she was pretty sure she couldn’t walk on water or resurrect the dead.
Funny how it was so much easier to become a dark Prophet. Murder was a lot simpler than miracles.
Tex picked her up at the usual time, and she struggled to appear normal at practice. Her singing only floundered a few times. She explained her detachment by claiming exhaustion, and though Blue didn’t appear to buy it, no one questioned her further. They cut the session short, and when she got home, she went straight to sleep.
She barely got up in time for the home visit. Miss Turner came and went with little comment. Tex must’ve told the woman she was sick or something, because the caseworker was almost sympathetic. Once Miss Turner left, Logan sat alone at the kitchen table and stared dully at nothing in particular.
This wasn’t fair. She didn’t ask to be a Prophet. How was she supposed to change millions of people’s lives when she had enough trouble changing herself? This responsibility was too much for an ex-addict who happened to be able to carry a tune. She couldn’t bring light to the world—especially when her own was looking so dark.
She had no idea how long she’d been sitting there when someone knocked at the door, and her heart thumped and swelled. Jaeryth. She just about ran to answer it, banging her shin on the edge of the couch as she passed it. The pain didn’t even register. She threw the door open, and disappointment instantly dulled her senses again.
“Blue.” She hadn’t even heard the car coming in. “What’s up?”
“Nice to see you too.” Though the other woman smiled, her eyes brimmed with concern. “You look like you slept in a gutter.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Blue frowned. “All right, I’m intervening,” she said. “Go take a shower and get dressed. I’ll wait.”
“I don’t need—”
“Yes you do. Move it, woman.”
“Fine.” With a heavy sigh, she shuffled off toward the bedroom. Blue could be stubborn as hell, and she just didn’t have the energy to fight. She’d just get through whatever this was as quickly as possible.
Ten minutes later, showered and changed, she plodded back to find Blue sitting on her couch. “I’m dressed,” she said. “Now what?”
“Now we get out of here for awhile.”
She allowed Blue to lead her to the car, then climbed in and sat motionless while they pulled out. After a moment of silence, Blue said, “I got a letter from Jacob this morning.”
Vague interest stirred in her. “You did?”
“Yeah. He apologized to me, said he needed to clear his head. He wasn’t happy performing—he likes to sing, but audiences were never his thing.” She slowed and stopped at a red light, and a smile surfaced. “He still loves me. He’s coming back when his tour is done, and he’s going to stay.”
“That’s wonderful,” Logan said with real enthusiasm. “Blue, I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks. But mostly I wanted you to know that if it wasn’t for you, I never would’ve gotten that letter.”
“Huh?”
“Your confusion is encouraging.” The light changed and Blue eased across the intersection. “Here’s the thing,” she said. “Before you came along, I was planning to quit the band. I didn’t think anyone could take Jacob’s place. Besides, I’m only a bassist. I could stop playing in the middle of a set and no one would notice.”
Logan shook her head. “That’s not true,” she said. “There’s no rock without bass.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t feeling that. In fact, I was not only going to quit, I was going to move to another state. No announcement, no forwarding address. Performance is addictive, so I figured the only way I’d make it out was a clean break. The way Jacob did.”
“So you were just going to disappear.”
“Pretty much. I was so pissed at Tex when he said he’d found some chick he wanted to try out with us. Three more days and I would’ve been gone. It was that close.” Blue turned to look at her with glistening eyes. “And then I heard you sing.”
She snorted. “And it changed your life,” she said. “Right?”
“Actually, it did,” Blue said quietly, without a hint of malice or sarcasm. “I wanted to be part of what you had. No, that’s not right.” She gave a quick frown. “I was honored that I’d be making music with you. Playing bass didn’t seem pointless any more.”
“Honored.”
“Yep.” Blue paused. “Does that sound weird?”
An actual smile forced itself across her lips. “No,” she said. “I’m honored to make music with you too.”
Blue grinned. “You should be. I totally rock.”
“So you’re taking lessons from Reid now?”
“Babe, I taught him everything he knows.”
They shared a laugh, and Logan almost felt like she could breathe again. “All right,” she said. “You never told me where we’re going.”
“To dinner!” Blue pumped a fist in the air. “Straight ahead. Best pie in town.”
Her stomach twisted, even before she looked out the window and saw the familiar chrome-and-glass building, the nameless diner she and Jaeryth had gone to that night. A pang of loss hit her hard, and she almost asked Blue to pick a different place. But then she’d lose the first scrap of emotion she’d had since Monday night.
She could handle this. It was just a diner.
“What’s wrong?” Blue shot her a concerned look. “You don’t like pie?”
“No, I love it.” She sounded normal enough. That was good, wasn’t it? “Thanks for taking me out.”
“No problem.”
Blue parked in the lot and they walked inside. Logan didn’t even get past the Please seat yourself sign before she was tackle-hugged by a girl in a black apron.
“Logan!” The girl drew back, beaming. “I’m so gl
ad you came in today. I just got tickets for the show. I can’t wait!”
She blinked a few times, and almost asked the girl who she was. And then she saw the nametag—pinned straight this time. “Melody?” The waitress was completely different. Gone was the blank expression, the listless shuffle. She hadn’t bought a new wardrobe or changed her hairstyle, but she still looked like a new person. “It’s really good to see you,” Logan said. “Wow. You look great!”
“I feel great.” She held up a hand to show a slim gold band with a small, sparkling diamond, and a blush crept into her cheeks. “Matt and I are getting married.”
“Oh, Melody. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Still smiling, she glanced at Blue—and did a double-take. “Oh my God. You’re Blue. I love you!”
Blue’s bemused grin turned shy. “Um. I’m just the bass player.”
“Are you kidding? You’re, like, the second coming of Flea.” Melody shoved a hand in the pocket of her apron and rummaged around, and then stopped. “Oh. I didn’t ask. Do you think I could have your autograph?”
“You want my autograph?”
“Yeah.” The waitress produced a pen and a blank diner check. “Please?”
“Oh. Okay.”
Logan hung back and watched them, with warmth spreading through her that refused to dissipate. She really had changed things—at least for one suicidal waitress, a worried cook, and a bass player who’d thought she didn’t matter.
Maybe this Prophet thing wasn’t so bad.
Chapter 22
As difficult as it was for demons to find individual humans, it was proving infinitely harder for a human to find a demon.
For two days, Jaeryth had wandered the streets of Philadelphia. Though he’d forced himself to look almost constantly into the Otherworld, and frequently exhausted himself in the process, he hadn’t seen so much as a single Tempter. And he couldn’t enter the places that existed only in Shade. He could see the doors, but they remained closed to him.
His failure was exacerbated by the constant presence of Daan. The irritatingly cheerful Shepherd kept ensuring that other humans offered him food or money when he needed it, and had even convinced a young couple—musicians, ironically—to give him a bed for the night. None of them had expected anything in return.
Shepherds, it seemed, had easier jobs than Tempters. Most humans were inclined to do good things, given a nudge in the right direction. It surprised Jaeryth to learn this.
He’d managed to keep from thinking about Logan, for the most part. Only in sleep was he vulnerable to his memories. He had never dreamed as a demon—in fact, he’d never slept. But last night Logan had invaded his mind, and he’d woken with tears in his eyes and a deep ache in his heart that still lingered.
He was more determined than ever to find a way into Hell.
As night fell, he found himself on the borders of familiar territory. Crystaltown, the neighborhood he’d almost single-handedly nurtured into abject corruption, lay before him in all its broken glory. Even without altering his perception, he could feel despair and darkness radiating from the place like a plague.
Here, he’d be constantly reminded of Logan. But he was also practically guaranteed to find a Tempter or two—or better, Lazul and Kyr. Ronwe’s lieutenants were frequent visitors to Crystaltown.
“You’re not going in there, are you?” For the first time in his recollection, Daan’s voice held a trace of worry.
“Yes, I am,” Jaeryth said.
“But it’s not safe.”
He faced the Shepherd with a dry smirk. “You don’t say.”
“I do say.” Daan’s bright blue eyes dulled a few shades. “Jaeryth, if you enter this place, I can’t follow you.”
“Really? Well, all the more reason for me to go.”
“I have to protect you! It’s my mission.”
“No, you don’t.” He let out a breath, and relented slightly in the face of Daan’s dejected expression. “Tell you what. If I don’t find what I’m looking for here, I’ll come back and let you bother me all you like. All right?”
Daan raised a skeptical eyebrow. “What are you looking for?”
“Death.”
Before the Shepherd could protest, Jaeryth strode away and let Crystaltown swallow him.
He did feel a bit guilty about leaving Daan behind. He’d grown accustomed to its presence, even grateful on occasion. But he could never escape what lay in store for him, even if he hadn’t been rushing to meet it. He had no soul. Therefore, Heaven itself could not reverse Samael’s claim on him—let alone a single Shepherd. Perhaps it was better for Daan that he’d left this way and spared the Shepherd witness to his demise.
The neighborhood was just as filthy and sinful as he remembered. Trash littered the sidewalks and overflowed from public wastebaskets, and graffiti adorned nearly every flat surface. Rats darted among the shadows of more than one alleyway. Defeat resided in the dulled gaze of every human he passed, from the handful lounging on the stoop of a squat brick tenement and passing a crack pipe among them with no apparent concern for discovery, to the gaunt and rag-clothed man in the boarded doorway of a small shop, obviously afflicted with some disease, who begged passersby for change.
Women in scant, tawdry clothing lingered on corners and near lampposts, beckoning to the men. One of them sauntered up to Jaeryth as he approached and looked him over with a fevered gaze. “You look lonely, baby.” Though she made an attempt to keep her lips still when she spoke, he caught a glimpse of her rotted, blackened teeth. “How ’bout a blow? For twenty bucks I’ll send you to heaven.”
He held back a laugh at her unintended irony. “No, thank you.”
“Psh.” She scowled, flapped a hand at him and turned away—and he saw the tiny infant, just a few months old, sleeping in a carrier strapped to her back. His stomach clenched. That child’s life was ruined before it had begun.
And in a very real way, he’d been the cause of it.
He moved on, feeling as though he’d been scraped hollow inside. Everywhere he turned, he encountered human suffering. A teenage boy seated on a curb, head cradled in his hands while a woman who was apparently his mother screamed obscenities at him from the doorway of a building behind him. Two girls, no more than fifteen, made up like whores and shivering under a streetlight while a pimp glared at them from the shadows. An old man in a wheelchair, the pinned length of his pants denoting where his legs ended at the knees, loading a syringe with trembling hands. Flint-eyed youths with handguns stuffed into their waistbands, on the prowl for blood.
A crushing weight settled in Jaeryth’s chest. He walked quickly, blindly, until he reached an area that was devoid of humanity—and then collapsed to his knees with a grinding gasp.
He deserved eternity in Tartarus. He had condemned these people to a living hell on Earth, long before they would ever arrive in the real Hell and suffer yet again for sins they would not have committed, given the chance to escape.
Eventually he staggered to his feet and leaned against a light pole, attempting to regain his breath. He had to do something. Atonement was out of the question, but perhaps he could make some small difference before his end came.
No sooner had he stepped onto the sidewalk then a slight figure came barreling from a dark alley and collided with him, nearly knocking him down. The figure cried out and reeled back. It was a teenage girl, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, panting and holding the front of her torn shirt closed with one hand. A thin stream of blood ran from one nostril, and her eyes were wild with fear.
Recognition slammed him like a bolt of lightning. Her name was Elizabeth, though everyone called her Liz. He’d corrupted this girl personally a few years back. She hadn’t gotten along with her parents—typical teenage angst—and he’d persuaded her to run away from home with her older, alcoholic boyfriend.
Her gaze locked with him. “Help me,” she rasped, throwing a glance over her shoulder. “Please.”
He followed the
glance. Four men emerged from the alley she’d escaped, all of them swaggering and heavily muscled. The apparent leader wore a shark’s grin as he located his target, and his hard gaze shifted to Jaeryth. “Hey, man,” he called. “You found our toy. Thanks. How ’bout you back off now, a’ight? We’ll take her from here.” Rough laughter bounced among the thugs when he finished speaking.
The girl sobbed and stared at the sidewalk, obviously expecting him to comply.
Jaw clenched, Jaeryth shuttled her behind him. “Find another toy,” he said to the men. Without observing their response, he put an arm around the girl and began leading her away. “I won’t let them hurt you,” he murmured.
Rapid footsteps echoed behind him. The thugs would catch up soon.
Jaeryth bent toward her ear and whispered, “Can you run?”
She gave a vigorous nod.
“Stay with me. When I say go…” He lowered his arm and grabbed the girl’s hand. At least his experiences as a demon had given him a slight advantage—he knew every inch of this neighborhood, every shadow and hiding place. With a bit of luck, they could escape.
The footsteps ramped up to pounding speed. He squeezed once. “Go.”
He ran. And she stayed with him.
* * * * *
Thursday night practice ended on a jubilant note. There was a good possibility that in less than twenty-four hours, Ruined Soul would be a rising star in the music world, pinned on a rocket to success. It was a dream come true.
Logan only wished she felt better about it.
Without Jaeryth, the whole thing seemed like a dull victory. She’d given up hope that he would come back—and just about convinced herself to go out and find him. If she had a vehicle, she would’ve headed after him already, though she had no idea where to look.
After hugging Blue and Reid goodbye and promising to get plenty of rest for tomorrow, she and Tex got into his car. She hadn’t decided yet whether to confide her thoughts in him. If she said she wanted to find Jaeryth, he might offer to help. But he also might tell her to forget it.
She had no idea what angels could do, but she suspected he could probably stop her.
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