Rule Breakers, Soul Takers (Hell Runners Book 1)

by Jacqueline Jayne

  The burn directive was something real to talk about, and he needed to unload the whole ugly mess. With Swift gone, Connie was his last true confidante.

  He settled on the edge of the brown leather sofa and leaned forward. “We have bigger problems than finding an imaginary door. The directive was more than a test about blind loyalty. This is the first mission where I was actually scared. Either someone, for some reason, has targeted me and Prudence. Or else they’re trying to destroy Hell Runners.” He tensed before spitting out what he dreaded most. “Either way, it’s coming from the inside.”

  “You’re right.” She nodded curtly and then sipped from her glass.

  Not the response he’d expected, yet thinking back, Con had played it way too cool from the start.

  His stomach tightened around all the carbonation, and he put the beer down. “How exactly am I right?”

  She drained her wine. “Think. You’ll get it.”

  The beer tossed in his belly as the puzzle pieces started to fall into place. He didn’t like the picture forming. “It was Swift?”

  “Indirectly. But he’s too distant to be useful these days. When I got the call from Jack, begging for a mission Prudence would refuse, I recognized the perfect opportunity to prove she was incapable of quitting. To prove she was more than an ordinary Hell Runner. So I consulted with Deschamps. He’s with us, you know.”

  “You put us in danger?” Jesse jumped to his feet, his anger boiling over. “She almost died out there!”

  “But she didn’t. And she wouldn’t. Swift was at the ready, in case of an emergency. And she always has you, Hell Runner’s Golden Boy.”

  “Fuck you, Con!” He kicked the heavy wooden coffee table so hard his beer bottle tumbled to the white carpet. “That demon was at least Fourth Ring, if not lower. No Hell Runner’s ever faced such a high level of evil.”

  “You have. And worse.” Smooth as the predatory cat chasing them all over Hell, his sister swung her feet to the floor and stood. “If you believed Prudence was less resilient than you, you wouldn’t have promised to go back for the lost mother. Going back means going deep.”

  Jesse cursed under his breath, caught between his fury and the truth.

  “And you’ll do it. You’ll do it because you can’t let her down. You’ll do it because you can’t resist justice.”

  Slowly, she slinked closer and gazed up into his face. “But you have to resist Prudence. She metabolizes Holy Water into a powerful weapon. One that could save thousands.” Her dark eyes instilled hard logic he wanted to deny. “She can never stop drinking it.”

  He swallowed the lump in throat. “I know.”

  “That means you can’t tell her about the trace of demon the possession left inside you. I saw the two of you together. Your kiss wasn’t the start of a one-and-done. Prudence would sacrifice her new gift to be with you.”

  Sacrifice?

  For him?

  A current like electrified water coursed through his blood. There had to be a way around it. A way to keep her gift and touch her as he desired.

  Sacrifice.

  The word reverberated in his head, dragging the truth along with it. No one got everything they wanted.

  Especially not him.

  Staring into the lifeless fireplace, he resigned himself to the facts. Door or no door to Heaven, he could never share his true self with his partner.

  “You’re right. I can’t tell her about me.” He pointed a finger at his sister. “But I’m not ready to tell her anything else. I’m warning you. We’re not your pawns. Don’t pull another stunt like this. Ever again.”

  “We won’t.” She shook her head. “I’ll rein Swift in, too.”

  Deep down he knew that was a promise out of Connie’s control. Swift took his own counsel seriously. The only way to control Swift was to outsmart him. And the only way to best Swift was to know what he knew.

  “No. I will.” Jesse strode into the kitchen, brushed the photos aside, and picked up the translation.

  He turned to find Connie leaning against the door jamb, fingering the stem of her wine glass.

  “When you decide to talk with Prudence about tonight, please tell her I’m sorry. I know she hurts for the mother. I do, too. It wasn’t her fault. We didn’t plan on it being Baalberith that intervened. And if it turned out she wasn’t the Vessel and couldn’t manage both souls, Swift was supposed to take the mother. A total win-win where your careers were safe.”

  “Thanks. She’ll appreciate it.” Though he’d no intention of telling her about Connie’s involvement. At least not now.

  “It scared the shit of me, watching your mission go tits-up with my Oracle Eye. But now that’s it over. Well, maybe it was for the best after all.”

  “What?” His stomach turned.

  “Experiencing the consequences of failure makes winning all the more important. All the more precious. A smooth sea never made a skillful mariner.”

  “Don’t you care about us at all? You know for a whole minute, I thought you were the same caring sister who’d found me.” He tried to step past her, but she blocked him.

  “Failure is the foundation for success, Jesse. I want to see you succeed. I want all of us to succeed.”

  Her fortune cookie advice pushed him beyond any further courtesy. “Lesson learned. I hope you feel better now.” He shoved her shoulder and squeezed into the hall, heading for the door. “I sure as hell don’t.”

  Though it was late, he needed his own messy bed, his own cluttered space.

  »»•««

  The empty street reminded Jesse of the Second Ring, a place far less dangerous if Prudence ran at his side. Her badass new ability changed everything, not entirely for the better. He straddled the bike and sat back, flipping through the translation pages.

  He didn’t need to see the picture. He’d already seen the mark on her once before—faintly glowing through smooth, summer-tanned skin and bisected by a thin bikini strap. But he wanted to stoke the memory, to feel connected.

  The flat drawing, lifted from what Swift claimed angels provided, left a lot to be desired. Flesh made everything real, especially when the flesh writhed beneath his hands and moaned against his mouth.

  He rubbed through his T-shirt, feeling for the slightly raised skin at the center of his own birthmark. Without his shirt, it wasn’t recognizable, hidden beneath a three-year-old tattoo inked over his left ribcage. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized hiding it meant he’d believed Swift’s story, even back then.

  Jesse never considered himself a coward, especially after tonight. But spitting in the devil’s face wasn’t smart. And balls-to-the-wall-bullying is what it would take to find Heaven’s Door. Dog-tired, he stuffed the pages into his jacket and zipped. He wondered how much would be straight-up translation and how much would be colored by Swift’s desire to be a hero. Either way, a lot of questions needed to be answered before he made a decision.

  If he chose to join Swift in his hunt for Heaven’s Door, Jesse would be engaging in a brand of treason. Not a resolution he took lightly and not entirely off the table.

  But one thing he knew for certain. He wouldn’t decide alone.

  Without Prudence on board, all of Swift’s sneaking and hunting would be in vain. No coercing, she’d have to be willing. More willing than she’d been grinding against his erection.

  A pinch twitched in his left eye, and his head started buzzing like he’d crossed through the Gate. After a crescendo of white noise, his partner came into focus.

  What the fuck?

  He’d never connected to her on this side of the Gate before.

  Sitting up arrow-straight in the bucket seat of her ancient mustang, she sped at least ten miles an hour over the speed limit. At this time of night, or actually morning, she could get away with it.

  But what was she doing out of bed? And where the hell was she going?

  All his muscles tightened with worry.

  He focused on the landscape whizzing b
y the windows and caught a glimpse of a familiar traffic sign.

  Home.

  Prudence was going home to her parents’ farm.

  His heart sank, but he should have seen it coming. Their last moments together were just as confusing to him.

  The vision vanished along with all his hope. In a matter of hours, Jesse was going to lose his one and only ally.

  Unless he could make good on his hours-old promise.

  But he’d need help.

  He swung a leg over the motorcycle and trudged back up Connie’s steps. He may hate eating it, but his sister delighted in serving crow.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Radio blaring and tires spitting gravel, Prudence skidded her Mustang to a stop in front of the barn nearest the back door of the house. The blush of dawn barely pinked the horizon, early even by Luckett standards, but she didn’t care if she woke her parents.

  Fed up and raw, she was going to demand answers.

  What kind of father intentionally sent his daughter on a death mission? Not the man who had led her through the mystical Gate when she was only nine. Yet who else wanted her out of Hell Runners bad enough to sic a demon on her?

  Did Jesse secretly want her out, too? Had Dad instructed him to drive her away if the demon didn’t work?

  Twenty-four hours ago, the thought wouldn’t have crossed her mind. But what kind of cruel bastard seduced a woman into exposing her secret desire and then pushed her off as if her kisses were lethal? As if her heart wouldn’t break? And that shot of darkness he’d emanated right at the end—where had that come from?

  Wanting her to quit was the only thing that almost made sense. And she desperately needed something to make sense.

  Ready for the first showdown of the day, she got out of the car, slammed the door, and marched toward the two-story farmhouse she used to call home.

  Ten feet before she reached the steps, the screen door swung open and Mom leaned out, holding the door wide. “Mornin’ Sunshine. If I knew you’d be here for breakfast, I’d have made hotcakes,” she said with her usual lilt. “The bacon’s damn near jerky, but at least your father didn’t eat it all.”

  Dressed in paint-stained jeans and a button-down shirt, she sipped coffee from a mug large enough to be a flower pot.

  “Where’s Dad?” Prudence demanded. “I need to—”

  “Right. Here,” he growled, pushing past Mom and stepping into the dewy yard. He wiped his hands on the front of his oil-stained jumpsuit and frowned at her. “Don’t speak to your mother in that tone. You’ve come here fixing to raise hell with me.” His gaze angled up at the sky, and his voice lost the hard edge. “Can’t say as I blame you.”

  “Can’t say as you blame me?” she exclaimed, astonished he’d soft-peddled the deadly mission. “That’s hardly—”

  “Not here. Take it into the barn and yell to the rafters if you want”—he strode past her without meeting her glare— “but I gotta get under the GSX before Phil Stevens gets here with his new lease.” On that note, he speed-walked to the barn.

  “He’s a little testy because I was right.” Mom stepped off the bottom step and leaned in for a hug. “I warned him you wouldn’t back down from the burn directive.”

  “He told you about the burn directive?” Shocked, Prudence recoiled from her mother. “If you knew, why didn’t you warn me?”

  “Pruddy. I’m surprised at you. You know that’s against the rules.” Mom shook her head of soft brown curls. “I never would have thought you, of all people, wanted special treatment.”

  “Believe me I don’t want his brand of special treatment. I want—”

  “Everyone to be saved,” she said, cutting her off. “Your father was counting on you feeling that way. And for good reason. You’ve always led with your heart and paid a pound when a penny would do.” She emptied the rest of her coffee onto the grass and shook the cup. “But I had faith in my girl. Your moral compass puts saints to shame, even when it breaks your heart.” Her smile extended all the way to her warm brown eyes. “And separating those brothers was the right thing. The good one deserves his divine reward. The bad one needs to answer for his crimes.”

  Good brother? Bad brother? Crimes? Did Dad tell Mom a half-truth?

  “Don’t look so stricken. It was drastic but necessary. You won, Pruddy. Your father’s finally giving up.” Mom backed toward the house. “Come on now,” she said, motioning for Prudence to follow. “How do you want your eggs? Dippy or scrambled with ketchup?”

  Her stomach tossed, the mere suggestion of food revolting as a scary realization gelled.

  Either Dad had lied to Mom, which he’d never done before—or he hadn’t lied. Hadn’t lied because he never saw the mission details for himself. Only talked about the plan. Considering the possibilities wasn’t a relief.

  “Heavens Pruddy. You’ve turned white as new lard. What’s wrong? You should be happy.”

  She hesitated and then raised her chin, putting on her most professional facade. “I am. But I’m anxious to debrief with the chancellor.”

  “Debrief?” She sighed, and her heavy breasts deflated behind her button-up denim shirt. “All right. Go give your boss the what for. You’ve earned the right.”

  She offered Mom a weak smile and then turned and walked slowly toward the barn.

  If she had ever needed to consult with her partner, it was now. But too much had changed between them. She rubbed her fingers over her cheek where the sting of a whisker burn still lingered. Jesse had kissed her into submission and then left her with an insatiable ache for his touch and too many questions to pretend like nothing happened.

  Somehow, she’d have to clear the air and salvage their partnership. If it turned out Dad wasn’t the orchestrator of the burn directive, then Hell Runners needed their best team to secretly investigate who tampered with their orders.

  It was a shame she couldn’t actually debrief the chancellor. Jack Luckett could single-handedly smoke out the traitor and never tip his hand. But he’d already proven to be more protector than bigwig. At the same time, only Dad knew how many hands touched those orders. And she needed to know who ASAP.

  Prudence stood at the big open bay of the barn-turned-mechanic’s paradise. Though it had been wise to lease out the field to Stevens when Dad’s career consumed his life, it still seemed strange to smell motor oil and not the musky odors of fertilizer and seed.

  “Mom said you’re giving up,” she shouted, not immediately seeing her father. “That true?” When he didn’t respond, she stooped for a look under his prized Buick.

  He wasn’t on the dolly, strong-arming a bolt off the muscle car as she’d expected.

  “Where the hell did he go?” she said, getting to her feet.

  “Lower your voice, Prudence.”

  She swiveled around, catching sight of him standing behind the half-wall cordoning his office from the rest of the shop. Hands on his hips, he faced away from her.

  “You promised I could yell to the rafters,” she said, approaching him.

  Dad continued to stare out the window over his desk, and his intent gaze remained fixed on something in the distance. His mouth turned down, and the muscles in his jaw flexed. “Save it. Stand here”—he reached without looking and grabbed her arm, pulling her beside him—“and look up over those trees.”

  Both curious and worried by the edge in his voice, she did as he asked. Her eyes followed the line of his nose and out the window to the woods butting against the closest field. A hawk skimmed the new leaves, swooping in wide low circles.

  “Flying kinda low, but what’s interesting—”

  “Look harder,” he ordered, sounding like he used to when he’d trained her himself. “Use your gift.”

  Though surprised he’d insist she engage outside of work or training, Prudence did as he asked. She focused so intently, her peripheral vision blurred. In a moment, she noticed what any passing glance would not.

  “Holy shit.” She stumbled back in shock.


  Dad turned away from the window then, his face still grave. “So you see it, too? I thought I might be imagining it.”

  “No. I mean, yes. I see him. Wow!” A little breathless, she couldn’t believe her eyes. “You have a Watcher. A verifiable Guardian Angel.”

  She couldn’t help but feel a sense the divine presence had been sent to help them flush out whoever had screwed with the burn directive.

  “How long has he been here?”

  “Hard to say.” Dad frowned ruefully and reached behind him. “I tripped over this a little while ago when I went for the motor oil.”

  He picked up a heap of white cloth from his desk and held it from shoulder height, letting it unroll to the floor.

  “Is that a shroud?” Every nerve in Prudence tingled afresh.

  “I’m thinking more like a cocoon than a burial wrap.” Dad turned the cloth around. “The back of this covering is ripped clean through, but”—he flicked his wrist and flipped up a pure white fold, revealing a giant, thick red coin the size of saucer— “this clump of sealing wax that binds the ends together hasn’t been broken. I figure there’s a good reason for leaving it intact. Notice the impression stamped into it. Like some kind of insignia?”

  She nodded, unable to stop staring at the used angel wrapper. “What does it mean?”

  “I don’t know. The symbol is unfamiliar. But—I think he wants me to know he’s here.”

  “You don’t sound like you’re happy about it. Everyone wants an angel on their shoulder.” Tentatively, she reached out to touch the scrap of divinity. “Especially a Watcher. Their job is to protect. To roam the realm between dimensions and keep all supernatural beings on their own turf. We’re part of the realm they protect.”

  “That’s debatable.”

  Not to Prudence.

  Smart enough to avoid the seal, she couldn’t resist touching the cloth. She slid her fingertips along the perfect cascade until the need to coil it in her hand overtook her. Without warning, her head buzzed with a stabbing ache right before she connected to a whirlwind of residual emotion. A sensation of uncontrollable stress assaulted her, and she dropped to her knees onto the concrete floor, dragging the material with her.