In a blink, anger suffused her body and replaced the confusing whirl of emotions. She shot to her feet and glared at the demon. “You know, I’m getting pretty sick of hearing that,” she said. “You tell me where he is or I…I’ll banish you!”
His features lit up with shock—and then he laughed. “Banish me, will you?” he said. “I’m afraid full demons are a bit more complicated than Tempters. But I do admire your determination.”
“So you’ll tell me, then.”
The amusement fled from him. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because the situation is…delicate.” He sighed and made a surprisingly elegant gesture in the air. “Sit down. Please.”
She lowered herself back onto the couch, suddenly afraid to hear what he’d come to say. “He’s okay, isn’t he? Please tell me nothing’s happened to him.”
Instead of answering, Kobol walked over to the chair. “May I?”
“Go for it.”
He sat down wearily, and for a long moment he remained silent. Just when Logan decided to prod him, he said, “Jaeryth can’t help what he’s done in the past. Demons have no choices. We obey, we do our jobs, or we’re punished. Severely.” His eyes closed, as if he was in pain. “Emotions confuse us. We’re told that we have none, that feelings are weaknesses visited on lesser beings—in other words, humans. So when we experience them, we’re unable to recognize what they mean. Or we mistake them for something else.”
“What are you trying to say?” she whispered.
“He loves you.”
The words kicked her square in the gut, leaving her breathless.
“He’s always loved you, from the moment he first saw you. But he was unable to even conceive of the idea that he could love—and so the feeling became an obsession. He tried to corrupt you, to bring you into the dark side, so that he could remain with you in the only way he knew how.”
She choked in a breath, and tears scalded her eyes. “I love him too.”
“I can see that.” Kobol smiled, but the expression was tinged with sorrow. “That is the message Jaeryth charged me with delivering, but there is more you must know.”
“Wait. He asked you to tell me that he loves me?”
“Yes. He believes it will sustain him somehow.” A muscle jumped along Kobol’s jaw. “He saved your life, and confessed to you, knowing exactly what it would cost him. Samael set the price for his failure impossibly high—and he chose to pay it for you.”
“Samael?” She swiped at her face, but the tears kept coming.
“The Prince of Hell. Second only to Lucifer himself.” Kobol stared at the floor. “Because he failed to stop you, Jaeryth is to be taken to Tartarus. The hell inside Hell, where the worst of tortures are dealt to the most grievous of sinners.” He lifted a glittering gaze to her. “And there he will remain, for all of eternity.”
“No!” A rending sob escaped her, and she fought to keep from collapsing completely. “I won’t let that happen.”
“You have no say in the matter. His fate is sealed.”
“I’m a Prophet. I’m supposed to save people’s souls,” she said. “I can save his, and then he won’t go to Hell.”
“Ah, you see, that’s the problem,” Kobol said. “Jaeryth’s body has been made mortal, but he has always been a demon. He has no soul to save.”
“There has to be something!” She gulped breath after ragged breath, and her head started to spin. She’d pass out soon if she couldn’t calm down. “Hold on,” she said. “He isn’t in this Tartarus place right now, is he?”
Kobol shook his head. “Not yet. But he will be, once your powers manifest. That’s when Samael will come for him.”
The smallest bit of relief stole through her, and she managed to breathe almost normally. “Okay. Then I won’t manifest my powers.”
“Really. You’ll spend the rest of your life fighting your natural inclinations and running from Tempters while they attempt to kill you.”
“If it’ll save Jaeryth, yes.”
“It will not save him!” As fast as he’d angered, Kobol backed down. “You must complete your awakening, or Jaeryth’s suffering will be in vain. And he will know it.” His shoulders lifted slightly. “Perhaps your miracle will save him somehow. Stranger things have happened.”
The expression on Kobol’s face said he didn’t believe his own words. But Logan had already made her decision, and it filled her with a hollow sort of peace. She just wouldn’t share it with anyone until it was too late to stop her.
“All right,” she said, hoping that she sounded firm enough. “Will you give Jaeryth a message for me, then?”
“Possibly. What is the message?”
“Tell him that I love him.” In spite of her newfound calm, a few stray tears traced her cheeks. “And that I want to see him, before…the end. Ask him to come to the concert tonight.”
Kobol’s lips firmed. “I don’t think that’s the best idea. He is staying away from you to keep you safe. He’ll be tempted to break his resolve.”
“Please, just tell him what I said. Let him decide for himself.”
After a long hesitation, Kobol huffed. “Very well.”
“Thank you.”
She saw him to the door and made her way back inside on shaking legs. Kobol and Tex and her fucking destiny could all take a long walk off a short pier. She wasn’t the only Prophet in the world. And if there was a chance she could stop it, she wasn’t about to let Jaeryth be tortured forever—especially since he’d done all of this just to save her.
She’d throw the concert tonight. Sing so badly that no one would ever want to hear her again. And then she wouldn’t manifest.
Jaeryth had sacrificed everything for her. So she’d do the same for him.
* * * * *
Morning became afternoon, and then early evening, with no sign of Kobol.
“Well, Jaeryth? It’s your move.”
Daan sat across from him on the bed, with a game of checkers between them. Kobol had insisted that Jaeryth needed rest and food to recover from the thugs’ beating. He had somehow obtained a credit card to check him into this small roadside motel. Jaeryth hadn’t asked where the card had come from. He knew that Kobol had lived as a human for quite some time, for reasons he’d never explained. Likely the elder demon knew certain tricks that mortal authorities would frown upon.
He’d slept as long as possible, eaten all the food his stomach could hold and attempted to watch television for a while, but it had bored him. About an hour ago, Daan had discovered this game in the closet and had cheerfully insisted over Jaeryth’s protests that the rules were easy.
Jaeryth was skeptical about the Shepherd’s claim that the object of the game was to move the pieces around on the board until one player saw a picture in them, and then make the other player guess what it was. But at the moment, he had nothing better to do.
“Jaeryth. Are you going to—”
“All right,” he growled, and pushed a black piece one square ahead.
Daan stared at the board for a moment and then pointed to a red piece. “This one, here,” it said, and tapped an empty square. Like Tempters and Shade, Shepherds couldn’t move entirely out of Citadel, and therefore could not physically affect things on the mortal plane.
Jaeryth sighed and moved the piece.
“I see something!” Daan grinned at him. “Go on, guess.”
“It’s a cloud.”
“You always say that.”
He made a perfunctory effort to look. However, just like the last seven times, he saw nothing but a jumble of round, plastic red and black discs. “I give up,” he said.
Daan pouted. “You always say that, too. It’s a man fishing. See?” The Shepherd gestured along a diagonal line of red checkers. “This is his pole, and that black one is his hat. The fish is getting away.”
“I see.”
“You didn’t even look.”
“Mm-hm.” He turned to regard the clock
on the table. It was a few minutes after five. “Damn it, Kobol should have returned by now,” he said. “What is taking so long?”
“I have no idea,” Daan said. “Perhaps we should start a new game while we wait.”
“Enough of this!” Jaeryth batted the flimsy board, sending it and the pieces flying across the room. A few of them passed through Daan, who flinched as though they’d struck it. “I can’t sit here idly and wait for some random human to shoot me, or whatever Samael has planned. I’m leaving.” He slid off the bed and headed for the door that opened onto the parking lot.
“Where are we going?” Daan called.
“I am going back where I belong,” he said. “I don’t care where you go.”
“Jaeryth—”
“Stop bothering me, insect.”
He was halfway across the room when Kobol phased inside through the door and crumpled to the ground.
“Kobol!” Jaeryth hurried over and knelt beside him. He tried to help the demon up, but his hands went right through him.
“Oh, good. You can see me.” Groaning, Kobol pulled himself into a seated position.
Jaeryth gasped aloud. Bruises and dribbling puncture wounds covered the entire right side of Kobol’s face—as though he’d been hit full strength with a spiked club. Like the one Kyr carried.
Kobol waved a hand at the damage. “Superficial.” He chuckled, but a pained snarl cut the sound short and he curled an arm against his torso. “A rib or two,” he gasped. “Nothing serious.”
“Oh, Kobol.” Jaeryth’s eyes stung. “What happened?”
“I was…detained.” He winced and shifted his position. “One of the Tempters in Crystaltown reported recognizing you. Ronwe wanted to know where you were. I told him I had no idea, but he didn’t believe me. So Kyr helped me convince him.”
His stomach gave a sickening lurch. Kyr’s idea of convincing someone was to beat them until they couldn’t stand, and then beat them again. “You shouldn’t have saved me,” he said.
Kobol glared at him. “If I had the strength to shift into your plane, I’d break your jaw. I did not go through all this just to hear your woe-is-me whining. Be grateful, damn you.”
He slumped in place. “I’m so sorry, old friend.”
“Why, Jaeryth.” Kobol’s lips twitched up, just a bit. “I never knew you cared.”
“Nor did I.” Unexpected pain welled in his heart. Here he’d thought there would be nothing more to lose—but he was losing a friend, too. Some day he would make this up to Kobol. Even if he had to do it from Tartarus. “Can I do anything for you?”
“You can, actually.” Kobol lowered his arm slowly, and Jaeryth saw the blood that soaked his shirt. “Go and save your Prophet.”
“What?” he rasped.
“Eventually, Ronwe decided it didn’t matter where you were. That’s why he let me go. He has some grand design for that concert of hers tonight. Every Tempter and demon in the city will be there.” He coughed, and blood bubbled from his lips. “You must stop him.”
“Oh, I will.” His hands clenched tight enough to dig his nails into his palms. “Will you be all right, Kobol?”
“Well, I am immortal.” He levered a grim smile. “And you are not any longer. Please keep that in mind tonight.”
He nodded. “I’ll save her,” he said. “You have my word.”
“She’s full of fire, Jaeryth. I can see why you love her.”
“Yes, she is.” He got to his feet and sent a fond glance down. “Goodbye, my friend.”
Kobol waved a hand. “Go on,” he said. “I believe I’ll stay here. This room is paid for the night, after all.”
Jaeryth looked over at the Shepherd, who’d remained seated nervously on the bed. Probably not wanting to get too close to a full demon. “All right, Daan,” he said. “Get me to Festival Pier before seven, and I’ll never call you insect again. I might even decide to like you.”
Daan perked up. “Are we going on a mission?”
“Yes.”
“How exciting! I know just where to begin.” The Shepherd stood and rushed toward the door—and then straight through it.
He sighed. “Daan! I can’t phase through things any more. Wait for me.”
Daan’s head pushed back inside, sporting a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Jaeryth.”
Scowling, he opened the door and strode out, with Kobol’s laughter chasing him.
Chapter 24
Jaeryth sat stiffly on the hard plastic seat, glaring through the window beside him as the bus wheezed and lurched to the curb to pick up yet another passenger. They hadn’t gone five minutes without stopping. His hands rested on his knees, and he drummed his fingers impatiently. “Could this damned vehicle possibly move any slower?” he said under his breath.
“It will be on time.” Daan, sitting next to him with legs swinging happily, offered a thumbs-up. “Six thirty-five, Festival Pier.”
“It had better be.”
One of the women seated in front of him turned around. “Are you talking to me?”
“No,” he snapped.
She glanced at the seat next to him, shrugged and turned back.
Jaeryth looked out the window again. He was no longer concerned whether people thought him mad for appearing to talk to himself. He faced greater problems—such as challenging a few hundred demons, armed with nothing but his determination and one slightly addled Shepherd. The odds were impossible.
But he had to overcome them, because failure was unthinkable.
An eternity or two later, the bus entered thick traffic and slowed to a crawl. It progressed in fits and jerks for a few moments, and finally stopped altogether with the engine still rumbling. Jaeryth craned to look through the windshield. Far ahead, across medians and parking lots, he made out an arched sign that proclaimed Festival Pier Parking. And between the sign and the bus, a twisting half-mile of gridlocked vehicles.
They’d never make it in time.
He stood and stared down at the oblivious Daan. “Move. We’re getting off here.”
Several heads turned in his direction. He ignored them. Once the Shepherd scrambled clear, he stepped into the aisle and strode to the front of the bus.
“Stay behind the white line,” the driver droned without looking at him.
“Let me out.”
The driver snorted. “You see a bus stop here? You can only exit the bus at a bus stop.”
“I have to get there by seven.” He pointed ahead to the archway. “Open the door.”
“Buddy, I could lose my job if I let you out in the middle of the road. Take your seat, please.”
“This is an emergency! I—”
“Jaeryth, wait.” Daan drifted in front of him. “Let me convince him.”
“You can’t.”
“Hey.” The driver turned toward him. “I said, take your seat.”
“I can do it, Jaeryth.”
“No, you can’t!”
“All right. If you don’t calm down, I’m going to have to call Transit Authority.”
Daan walked to the driver and leaned toward his ear. “The poor man is obviously disturbed,” the Shepherd said in dulcet tones. “He could be a danger to the other passengers. You should let him off the bus.”
The driver sent Jaeryth a critical look, grunted and swung the door open in a hiss of air. “Go on,” he said.
Jaeryth hurried down the steps without a word. Outside, he made his way through the stopped cars to the nearest concrete median and headed for the sign. This would still take longer than it should, but at least now he had a chance.
Daan caught up with him easily. “See? I told you I could convince him.”
“Obviously disturbed, am I?” Jaeryth smirked, not breaking his stride. “Well, I am no longer on the bus. So…thank you. Daan.”
“You are welcome.” The Shepherd practically glowed. “What can I do now?”
“I don’t know yet. Er…stay alert.”
“Of course. I will be ever vigil
ant.”
Though it took only ten minutes or so to reach his destination, it seemed far longer. A digital clock set into a short column in front of the archway informed him that the time was six forty-five. And he might have actually reached the stage, where Logan would be, in fifteen minutes—if it weren’t for the eight thousand people packed between here and there.
His heart sank. It just wasn’t physically possible to push through all those people in time. And he probably couldn’t even enter the concert area without a ticket.
Daan shivered beside him. “There are so many demons here. It’s not safe.”
“Yes.” With nearly all the concert-goers clad in black, he couldn’t actually see them—but he felt their presence, like a massive gathering storm.
And at once it occurred to him that while he might escape their notice for a time, as one human among thousands, Daan certainly would not. A lone Shepherd didn’t stand a chance against a hundred Tempters. They’d tear it apart.
“Daan,” he said gently. “You can’t come any further with me.”
“Why not?”
“You know why.”
Daan’s smooth brow furrowed. “They’ll hurt me?”
“Yes. I want you safe, so you must stay behind.”
“But you need me.” Daan stared ahead for a moment, and then a grin surfaced. “We’ll disguise ourselves!”
He frowned. “How can you possibly—”
Before he finished speaking, the Shepherd’s garb had changed from pale blue to the simple black of a Tempter. Daan’s eyes remained blue, but the shade was so dark that from a distance, they would look black.
“All right.” Jaeryth laughed and shook his head. “I suppose you’ll do. But I don’t have a disguise, so…”
“There.” Daan pointed.
He followed the gesture. Just inside the archway stood a narrow, windowed booth. No one occupied it, and a sign on the front said Parking lot full. For an instant he wasn’t sure what Daan was indicating—and then he saw a black jacket and cap hanging on a hook inside the booth, each printed with SECURITY in large white letters.
That would not only disguise him. It would get him through the crowd.
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