He pursed his lips. “I want to believe in it, but I’m cautious. This is where I side with your father. The information in the scrolls could be a trick.”
“Or it could be true. The one thing I know for certain—I have a repentant soul buried deep inside me. She can’t stay there. I don’t know what long-term storage would do to either one of us.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to traipse Hell hunting that door any more than you do. It’s fucking dangerous. And I’m scared. But I’m not, under any circumstance, releasing her back into Hell.”
He expelled a rush of air and dropped his head against the back window again. If it wasn’t for the soul she carried, he might have disagreed. The fact Ellie didn’t release when he knew in his gut she should inclined him to believe Swift. If Swift proved right, they were her only hope.
“Fine. It’s not like I’ve got anywhere else to go.” Disappointment weighed him down.
She wouldn’t stop drinking Holy Water anytime soon. If ever.
“I’ll interpret that as an enthusiastic yes.” She sprang across the seat and wrapped her dainty arms around his neck.
Nose buried in her hair, his head swam with the scent of lavender, and his body screamed for him to pull her flush against him.
The front screen door slammed. Jesse didn't think he'd ever been so relieved to see Swift in all his life. He angled out of her arms to lower the driver’s side window and motioned him over.
“Well, now,” Swift said, leaning deep into the window, brushing his sexed-up hair in Jesse’s face. “I knew she’d come around.” He extended a hand. “Welcome, Pruddy.”
She wrinkled her nose and grimaced in a way that was both funny and fetching. “Okay. You’ve got to stop that. Only my Mom calls me Pruddy and gets away with it. Do it again, and I’m out.”
“What’s wrong? It’s cute.”
“It’s not.”
“Dude, I’m not that stupid.” Jesse palmed Swift’s forehead and pushed him out the window. “Get outta my face, man.”
“Grouch.”
Swift braced two hands on the hood and slung himself across, feet first, and then slid down to Prudence’s side of the truck. He opened the door and horned in, all the while smiling like he’d won the lottery. He reeked of sweat and booze and sex. “Scooch over, love.”
It didn’t get by Jesse she scooted more than halfway across the seat, putting as much space as she could between herself and Swift.
“Okay, hotshot.” She pointed a finger in Swift’s face, and he pulled a comical cross-eyed glare. “How’d you get here so fast? Jesse took off on his own, and you darted back through the Gate at the first sign of trouble.”
“I’ll share my secret after we discussed the details of the Prophecy and you prove beyond any doubt that you are the Vessel.”
“Okay. It's why I'm here. For explanations.”
“Good.” His wicked smile spread wider.
“No.” Jesse was overwhelmed with the desire to belt his friend one across the chops. “She’s not proving anything to you.”
“It’s okay, partner. After what we’ve been through tonight, I can handle anything.”
“Then it’s settled. Jesse, take us to my loft.” Swift stretched his arm over the back of the bench seat and with one hand nudged Prudence his way. “I could explain here, love, but I think it’s too nippy outside. You’ll need to strip down and turn a few times so I can check for the birthmark. And we can’t have you catching cold, now that you’re on board.”
Chapter Nineteen
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Prudence could feel her suppressed irritation kick in. “I have tons of freckles, but no birthmark.”
She stepped off the industrial elevator, following Swift into his loft apartment. In the short ride from McDevitt’s to his home hidden in an abandoned warehouse, he’d not stopped yammering about removing her clothes for more than five seconds. She was going blow her cool if she had to repeat herself one more time. He deserved a good slap in the face.
And he’d get it if Jesse didn’t clean his clock first.
“Listen to her, Swift.” He enunciated each word sternly, like a dad warning an errant child. “I’ve had a helluva night, and my fuse is worn down to the nub.”
“I know. You’re both wound tight, so neither one of you are truly listening. But we’re safe here. Sit. I’ll explain better.”
Swift flipped several wall switches, and soft spotlights illuminated the renovated space. What must surely have been the pride of his loft caught her attention. Mahogany cabinets and expensive stainless-steel kitchen appliances lined the back wall. A hint of fresh herbs and tomatoes scented the air. A cook definitely lived here. Probably a good one. There was a certain sensory talent essential to crafting flavors, and if she’d learned one thing about Swift tonight, he oozed sensuality.
“Come.” He strode across the cavernous space to a perfect square of furniture, two sofas facing each other flanked by mismatched upholstered chairs. “The heat will kick in soon, but there are blankets in the meantime.” He flopped in the center of a couch, sinking back into sofa cushions the colors of toast and sand. “To beleaguer a point, it's not a regular birthmark. The mark only becomes plain when triggered by the presence of the Prophet and the Pathfinder.”
“For the last damn time,” Jesse said through gritted teeth. “You’re not searching her naked body.”
“But it may show up in a place she can't see for herself. And since you were too much of a gentleman in the Passion Pit to risk admiring her, I guess I’ll have to be the one to authenticate the mark. As the Prophet—”
“You’re not in charge so stop bandying about Prophet like I’m gonna kowtow.”
“But I’m the one with the information.”
“You’ve got a picture of the mark and bathroom with a mirror, don't you?” Almost as cold inside as out, she rubbed her arms, deciding not to take off her jacket, let alone anything else.
“His bedroom has more mirrors than a fun house.” A humorless smirk teased one corner of Jesse’s lips.
Their host leaned an elbow on the back of the couch, grinning without shame. “I do like my fun. And certainly we can—”
“No!” Jesse glared, pointing a finger at him.
Ruddy-faced with his shoulders squared, any fool could see him boiling over.
His deep voice rose and rebounded off every surface. “She's not here for fun, and neither am I. This isn’t a game. We’re in as much danger if the door is real than if it turns out to be a trick. You’ve known from the get-go I didn’t want to involve Prudence. She isn’t like most women.” His golden gaze landed on hers. “She’s different.”
Her heart tripped, overwhelmed at the way he defended her.
“Of course she's different.” Swift spoke far too calmly for someone about to take a punch in the nose. “I’m ninety percent sure she’s the Vessel. But I need to be one hundred percent before sending you two anywhere.” He set his mischievous gaze to the front of her shirt. “And you can’t blame me for wanting a teensy peek at Luckett’s spectacular—”
“I swear to God.” Jesse kept his arms at his side but curled both hands into fists. “I don’t care how long we’ve been friends.”
“Fine.” Swift waved his hands in surrender. “I like my pretty face, so I’ll stop. For now. We’ll deal with verifications after you come to understand—”
“Keep it up. I’m dying to lose my patience with you.”
Swift’s cocky grin faded as his hands disappeared to the second shelf of the coffee table. “Lighten up, Thorne. You know me, I meant no harm.” He placed a photographer’s portfolio on the table top.
“I do know you, that’s why—”
“It’s okay.” Prudence lightly tapped his rigid bicep with relaxed fingers. With a tired smile, she spoke to Swift. “I accept your non-apology.”
“Then shall we get down to brass tacks?”
Barely calmer, her partner angled past her and snapped his fing
ers at Swift. “Move over, douche. Make room for us.”
“You’d both see better with me in the middle,” Swift said but complied all the same.
Still in protective mode, Jesse flopped beside their incorrigible host, and she sank into the inviting cushion next to him. He stretched behind them and pulled the crocheted afghan off the back and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“I have so much to show you. Some stuff Jesse hasn’t seen before.” Swift donned a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, and then, like a gleeful child, he kneeled on the floor and spread out the pages.
Leaning forward, they both hunched in Swift’s direction.
“As you will see, these sheets on top are copies of the scrolls discovered by Jack.” He turned each page in slow succession, as if she could read what amounted to something akin to hieroglyphics. “Once he realized what I was up to, a serious plan to find Heaven’s Door, he confiscated the originals.”
Prudence picked up one of the sheets for a closer study and tilted the shiny paper to cut the glare. “Prophecy or not, these scrolls are an incredible find. The paper appears intact and undamaged. That box or Hell, as a whole, acts like a hermetically sealed vault. Or they aren't as old as they appear.”
“I thought about carbon dating, but I couldn’t bring myself to mutilate even a corner from one of the sheets.”
“Age doesn’t matter anyway.” Jesse leaned back.
“True,” she agreed, looking up at Swift. “Do you know which Ring of Hell contains the door? How long will it take to travel there? And what kind of obstacles will be in the way? Will I be able to smuggle bottled Holy Water with me?”
“Slow down.” Swift glanced up over the top of his glasses. “I can’t answer any of those questions. At least not yet.”
“What?” She was astonished, since he’d been so eager to share. “Why not?”
He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The scrolls aren't complete. There are clues in each one, but we’ll need the rest before we launch a search for the door. You’ll have to scour Hell for the missing scrolls first. On the upside, you’ll get familiar with the various Rings before the final mission.”
“Doesn’t sound like an upside to me.” Deflated, she flopped back, the cushion pushing her chin to her chest. “Maybe Dad’s hiding the rest.” She glanced to Jesse, knowing how close he used to be with her father.
“Don’t think so. He didn’t know what he had until Swift translated the display copy he used to keep in his office. He was so excited, I’m sure Boy Wonder got all he had in one shot.”
She shrugged against the soft pillow molded around her neck and head and then held the page up to face level. “Then I guess we’re on a treasure hunt.”
“No worries,” Swift said. “These pages contain clues where the other scrolls might be stashed. And I believe Jesse’s new ability to see Hell’s hidden path will enable you to locate them without too much trouble.”
“You mean trouble like today?” she said offhandedly while staring with wonderment at the ancient lettering. The symbols were pretty and artistic and as irresistible to ponder as an unwrapped chocolate bar. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. “What language are these written in? Spoken, I bet it sounds like music.”
“Probably. It’s angelic code. Most likely developed by a Messenger, one of the subcategories of archangels. Except for the outside text.”
She heard the rustle of paper and only casually glanced his way before returning her attention to the sheet she held.
“The first page is a warning written in the Word of the Damned.” In a dramatic voice, he translated for them. “He who breaks the seal endures my wrath.”
“Whose wrath?” Jesse sounded more worried than angry.
“Don’t know yet. You’d think important information like that would be on the label. And the seal was broken when I got the pages, so I’m hoping we’re in the clear.”
“Yeah. Right.” He scoffed and rightly so.
Suddenly, four fingers darted into her sights, and the page was snatched out of her hand. “Be careful, Prudence. They have a certain seductive power.” Swift tossed her page with the others on the table. “And you have proven exceptionally susceptible to seduction.”
He said it flat, without innuendo, but she still felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She stole a quick sideways glance at Jesse. Thankfully, he had the grace not to look at her. She felt sure he’d be able to see her heart pounding against her chest.
“Here.” Hands diving to the second shelf again, Swift produced a softbound pack of typed pages. He dropped it onto the table with a thud. “I suggest you stick to my translations.”
“Holy smokes.” She leaned forward and riffled through the half-inch thick stack. “How long did it take you to translate this?”
“Literal translation only a couple of weeks. But the meanings…” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “That's tricky. It’s one long word puzzle without all the clues.” He nodded at the packet. “You'll want to study later. Tonight we’ll talk background.”
He hoisted himself up onto the couch, kicked off his sneakers, and settled against the rolled arm. With a tired groan, he flung one bent leg up onto the sofa, his knee punching through the tattered hole in his faded jeans.
“In order to understand and navigate Hell, one must also develop an education in the intricacies of Heaven. I don't know if you realize this, but all realms of the afterlife function on a series of levels. There are nine rings of Hell, but do you recall there are seven levels to Heaven?”
“Of course. Seventh Heaven is from Rabbinical Judaism. Araboth. The seventh realm is the home to God and all the unborn souls.”
“Show off.” Jesse stretched back and unfolded his long arms across the back of the couch.
“I was an A student in religious origins. And in case you didn’t know, Hell is located on the third level, Shehaqim, along with the Garden of Eden and the Tree of Life. Technically, Hell is a branch of Heaven.”
“Correct. Entry into each realm is through a door, be it figuratively or literally,” Swift said. “For now I'll focus on the doors exiting Hell.”
“I thought we were looking for one door. The one that will let me release Ellie.”
“There are doors all over Hell. It's a veritable webwork of passageways.” An adventurer's spark twinkled in his plain hazel eyes. “But I don't know where all the doors lead. Some definitely lead into elevated levels of Heaven. I'll need the rest of the text to understand it. And understanding may take a while.”
“If Dad took a stroll back into Hell, maybe the rest of the scrolls will appear to him. I could ask Dad —”
“He's not going to. I've tried that suggestion more than once,” Jesse said. “Jack is dead set against finding this door, let alone any others.”
“But it makes no sense. As Hell Runners we are sworn to save the lost. Why deny anything that would help the cause?”
Jesse shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. “Swift and I were talking tonight.”
“Be honest, Jess. We’ve talked about this before tonight. Lots.”
“Not seriously.” He leveled his gaze at her. “I didn’t want to tell you this but…we think there’s a big reason why Jack is against our exploration. He um…might owe a favor.”
Dread tightened around her heart. “A favor? To who? No one else knows. He’d have kept this secret to his grave if I hadn’t been brought in.”
He blinked, slow and solemn. “Deschamps knows, so someone or more than a few someones could as well.”
“Are you saying Dad’s in cahoots with a council member?” She shook her head vehemently. “It’s not possible. The entire council agreed unanimously for us to be partners, against his single vote.”
“It's not a council member.” Swift tossed his glasses onto the table.
“I don't follow.”
Swift opened his mouth to answer, but Jesse held up a palm before he uttered a word.
“I'
d better do it.”
His old friend slowly pursed his perfect lips together.
He faced her, and she could see a thin layer of perspiration forming along his hairline. Nervousness? Not at all like her partner, but the blowers above didn’t produce that much heat.
“There’s no way to soft-pedal this, so I’ll spit it out. We believe Jack has made a deal with an Agent of Hell.”
A pang of horror shot through her, vibrating and jolting every nerve along her spine, but it lasted mere seconds. Quick to recover, she remembered the Watcher flying over her parents’ farm. All her anxiety eased, and she exhaled a sigh of relief.
Jesse was wrong. The Guardian Angel wouldn’t protect a man that consorted with evil.
“No. Not possible.”
He didn’t get in her face for not agreeing, but he did rationalize their theory. “It could be someone he wouldn’t recognize as bedeviled, like one of the fallen. The Blackwings are notorious deceivers, both by word and appearance. He may not have realized what he’d gotten into until it was too late.”
The desire to tell Jesse about their own personal angel was overwhelming. She desperately wanted them all to know they would be protected.
But she wasn’t a risk taker, and breaking the Watchers one hard-and-fast rule was too much of a gamble.
“We can’t prove it.” She spoke without an ounce of anger. “And I refuse to believe it without validation. Dad’s a lot of things, but not treasonous.”
“One time of day, I’d have agreed with you. Still want to, but something isn’t right. I know he’s a good man. He saved me when he didn’t have to.”
As she had so many times, she wondered why Jesse needed to be saved.
Swift plowed dirty fingers through his hair and groaned. “I know he’s your father, but you’ve got to question what you know.” He hopped to his feet and paced around the back of the sofa. “Haven't you ever wondered why we don't go beyond the First Ring? You've seen the second and third levels. They're harder but doable. Yet we’re kept out.
“And the demons. Sheesh.” Shaking his head, he parked his butt on the chair arm closest to her. “Ever notice how easy it is to escape the demons? Especially for super gifted runners like us. For decades, saving souls was an arduous, dangerous task. Then your father comes along and is hailed as the most blessed runner in fifty years.” He slapped his denim-covered thigh. “Suddenly, it’s easier for everyone.”
Rule Breakers, Soul Takers (Hell Runners Book 1) Page 21
