If he needed space, she’d respect that. But he’d have to say it. She couldn’t bear another hour not hearing his voice. Not knowing if he was okay.
Ring twenty. The line finally clicked.
“Hallo, Pruddy. My, you are persistent.”
“Swift? Where’s Jesse? Why didn’t he answer his own phone? Is he okay? Why hasn’t he answered any of my—”
“Stop. I’ve got to make this fast before he gets back,” he rasped. “He won’t tell you, but I think you need to know. You hurt him, Prudence. Bad.”
“Hurt him? I avoided hurting him. I explained—”
“He’s not an idiot. You cried, alone in his bathroom while you took a soak for the better part of an hour.”
“Shit. I thought I’d hidden it from him. But I couldn’t help but cry. My sweat, my kisses, my tears—all burn him. If I didn’t shut myself off, he’d hold me. Giving me comfort would have scorched a thousand holes in him. I couldn’t let him do it. I refuse to burn him anymore. He’s spent a lifetime of being wounded.”
“You wounded him more by shutting him out. He’s a strong man. Strong enough to say when he’s had enough. You didn’t trust him to make that decision.”
“Now he’s shutting me out.” Her chest felt too heavy to breathe. “Does it mean we’re through? That he’s never going to speak to me again?”
“No. I know Jesse. He’ll pretend everything’s hunky-dory with you in a few days. The hunt for Heaven’s Door is too important.”
“I don’t want to pretend everything’s okay. I want—”
“I know what you want. You want to be free to follow your heart. As Hell Runners that’s a tall order on its own. Now that you carry souls, we desperately need to find at least one of Heaven’s Doors. Everything else takes a back seat. And I mean everything.”
“It’s not fair. He’s suffered so much. He’s—”
“Important to you. And I’m glad for that. You’re important to Jess, too. But know this, he’s important to me just as much. And before you jump in my shit, I meant as a friend, not the Pathfinder. So I’m going to ask a favor of you.” He paused. “Help him.”
“Absolutely. I’d do anything for Jesse.” She meant it with all of her heart. “What does he need?”
“Choose. And quickly. Don’t string it out.”
Swift knocked the wind out of her. She couldn’t respond for a full fifteen seconds. “Choose?”
“You know exactly what I mean.” The sound of a door slamming cut through the line. “Fuck,” Swift whispered harshly into the phone. “He’s back. If you need my help, call. Either way, you decide. It’s possible to make someone stop loving you. I’ve done it a thousand times. It might the kindest thing you could do.”
“I don’t believe that.” Her hands shook from anger. And fear. “You’re too cynical. You’re too—” She stopped herself when she realized he’d gone.
Prudence slumped back in her chair and dropped the phone into her open handbag. The headache she’d been nursing throbbed from the back of her neck to her temples, the result of tension and dehydration from constant crying. She rummaged through her middle drawer until she found a foil packet of ibuprofen.
Rip. Dump. Pop. She rested the pills on her tongue and then opened her insulated lunch bag for a cold water.
Condensation dripped over her knuckles as she cracked the seal of the bottle. The sensation of dejà vu gripped her by the heart. She spit the pills into her waste can and held up the bottle.
Holy Water.
Why the hell had she’d agreed to participate in Deschamps’ experiment? And agreed to keep it a secret to boot? Her father detested the man. Had she shut out the noise in her head urging her to stretch her wings, shut down her ego, she’d have heard her father warning her against false gifts.
Why had she ever believed drinking Holy Water would help her get what she wanted? At the time she’d no idea she’d want so much more than the water could offer.
Swift said he could make someone stop loving. He wanted her to do the same to Jesse.
The real problem was making her stop loving. She couldn’t imagine any action, no matter how drastic, capable of destroying her feelings for him.
But existing as partners in relationship limbo was cruel.
To them both.
Swift was right. She had to choose. But not between Jesse and her gift.
There was a third choice.
Get that fucking demon.
Time to stop feeling pitiful and helpless.
Hell Runners had dodged, evaded, and escaped demons by the short hairs for a hundred years. They lived normal lives with spouses, and families, and homes, and vacations.
By God, she and her partner would, too. If he still wanted her.
The solution might not be obvious and damn near impossible to attain, but every problem had an answer.
At last her brain was fully engaged.
Come on. Think it through, Pru.
Getting to her feet, she paced. She’d always thought more clearly while moving. Better when talking it out with a friend. But Jesse was out of the question. So was Zane. He’d shit cinder blocks if he knew what they’d been up to.
When you don’t know what you can do, start with what you can’t.
She mentally counted off the known impossibilities.
One—erasing Jesse’s demon trace was beyond mortal capabilities.
Two—exorcism wouldn’t clear the stain. The demon needed to be present and no way would she risk putting Jesse under his power again.
Three—if they did nothing, would Jesse change? Would he purge the trace over time?
The thought gave her hope. But how much time?
She’d wait for him, no matter what. Five years of training proved her patience. But when she tired of waiting was when she’d finally made progress. With her career, with her dad, and first and foremost, with her partner.
Screw virtue. Breaking the rules kicked patience’s ass.
All she had to do was figure out what rules needed to be broken. And she knew where to find the forbidden set of rubrics.
She shot to her feet with renewed strength and left her office, water bottle in hand.
Through the conference room passage, she marched down to her father’s office and entered through the back door.
In his absence, only the grow light over the tomato plant was lit. The halo of bluish white was all she needed to find the book.
Peritini Inferos.
Translation, Masters of Hell, but she’d always referred to it as the Big Book of Evil. As a child, she’d seen it open on her father’s desk. Written in Latin, with only the sidebar discussions in English, it was too much a textbook to garner her interest. But it was the drawings and paintings on every other page that had burned in her memory.
Vivid, horrific depictions of demons and devils performing the cruelest acts on the damned kept her from wanting to touch it. Now she couldn’t wait to get her hands on it.
“As the saying goes, know thine enemy.” She braced, every nerve in her body prepared to be disgusted, and then grasped the spine and pulled it off the shelf. Steam floated into the air where her hand seared into the cover.
Son of a bitch. How could her father stand having this much evil close to him daily?
Though eager to start compiling a dossier on Baalberith, her research was the second most important item on her short list and probably the easiest.
Placing the book and her water on the massive desk, she picked up the phone and dialed.
Swift picked up on the second ring. “Boss?”
“Well—it beats calling me Pruddy.”
“So, you’ve decided.” He sighed. “At least it was quick.”
“I’m a quick thinker,” she said, backing into the hanging tomato plant. She turned to steady the pot. The leaves had turned brown at the edges, and the green fruit looked ready to fall. “You’re right. I need your help. Meet me at the Main Line Coffee Shop in half an hour.”
She dro
pped the receiver into the cradle and then picked up the water bottle. Her headache raged, and the cool plastic contained all she needed to ease it.
Instead, she emptied the contents into the dry pot.
“Hope this helps you as much as it once helped me.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“I have good news, and I have bad news.” Swift wrenched the cap off a longneck and claimed Jesse’s favorite chair by the fireplace.
He almost yanked him out of this seat, but with only the sofa remaining, he’d get the chance to sit beside Prudence. A rare occurrence since he’d bared his soul more than two weeks ago. She’d stopped all forms of touching, even her arm-punch greeting.
But they were friends again. She’d reset the clock, and he followed her lead. No questions. No mention of his demon possession.
He noticed she did wear his pendant and that, at least, gave him a sense of happiness.
“I’ll start with the good news. I’ve finished deciphering the last scroll. Cheers.” He raised the bottle and then tossed back half the beer in one long chug.
“That was quick. Just the other night, we were baffled by the passage.” Jesse sat on the couch and chucked the extra pillows to the floor, leaving plenty of room for Prudence.
“Ah.” Swift wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and admired the beer’s icy label. “Those Pennsy-boys brew damn good swill.”
“And?” Prudence strolled in from the kitchen, swirling a spoon in a tall glass of iced tea.
Though he’d watched her walk up the steps from the front window, he couldn’t resist surreptitiously staring at her legs once again.
He’d never seen her in short-shorts before, and the white denim revealed nearly every inch of her tanned, lean legs. Closing his eyes, the vision burned into the backs of his lids.
“And what?” Swift tipped the bottle to his lips again and sipped. “I said it was good.”
“The bad news.” Her voice carried a hint of restrained exasperation.
“Don’t look so glum, little one. It’s not so bad.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’m not there yet. I’m starting with the good news. Sit. Make yourself at home.” He gestured to the sofa.
She rolled her eyes and sashayed over to the couch.
Jesse couldn’t resist letting his gaze wander to her ass as she eased onto the cushion. Fuck almighty. How did she sit with the way those shorts stretched over her bottom?
His chest clutched with disappointment. Why would she torture him in such an obvious way? He’d never known Prudence to be cruel.
Swift scooted to the edge of his chair and slammed the empty beer bottle on the wooden coffee table, cueing his audience to pay closer attention. “Mark this as the day our lives change,” he announced with his usual dramatic flourish. “This last passage we deciphered is the key to all that is Holy. At least what’s Holy in Hell. With it, we have most of what we need.”
“Most? Not all?” Jesse's heart rolled. His hopes for an immediate end dashed to dust.
“Most might be all we ever get. But it might be enough, and the hole in my map is no longer a hole. With what we have, I believe we can find more than one of the doors into Heaven.” He reached over his shoulder to literally pat himself on the back. “If we can locate the key of Jerahmeel and the Door of Enoch, we could close down the first ring altogether.”
“You're shitting me.” Jesse leaned forward, anchoring a hand between them on the worn cushion. The side of his hand grazed Prudence’s knee.
“I take it you know what he’s talking about?” She slanted her gaze toward him, a little accusatory. “I hate feeling out of the loop.”
“We discussed it last night. For the first time.” He held up his right hand, palm toward her. “I swear.” Eager to hear more, he refocused on Swift. “How can that be? How can the First Ring be closed?”
“Because of people like us. People with vision. And angels, of course. Jerahmeel was or is, well—who knows the shelf life of angels.” He shrugged. “Anyway, he’s the Angel of Pity. I know Pruddy doesn’t care for history lessons, so I’ll make it brief. He felt sorry for the humans so easily duped by the guile of Hell. Though powerless to change the rules, with the help of Enoch they rigged a self-destruct device from Heaven’s side of the border. Long and short of it, when that specific door to Heaven opens, the First Ring closes.”
“Which Enoch?” Prudence asked. “Son of Cain or The Enoch, as in—”
“The Enoch, the Metatron. The only man to enter Heaven without dying and personal assistant to the Big Guy.” Swift winked. “Nice pickup. So you don’t hate history after all.”
“I excelled in Bible studies. And it makes sense. Enoch was put in charge of all celestial beings. Of course, he’d work with an angel.”
Her words came faster as her thoughts fell into place.
“And as the Metatron, the Voice of God, it’s like the Big Guy intervening. Breaking his own rule and instituting a loophole in free will. Albeit a small, obscure loophole, but I’ll take it. Good bet he had Enoch arrange for the other doors to be created, too.”
“I’d take that bet,” he said, liking her rationalization.
Her face lit up like the fire within couldn’t be contained. “God does care. I hate admitting to doubt, but sometimes—well, you know.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“But he’s like us. Or really, we’re like him.” She placed a hand on Jesse’s knee, and her infectious grinned broadened. “Rule breakers.”
“That we are.” A sense of relief washed over him. He didn’t understand the rationale of God’s setup. Probably wasn’t supposed to understand. Until now, he hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted to wrap his mind around the big picture and not just work the job.
Not that the little bit of information they’d gleaned changed things all that much, but he took comfort thinking God rooted for the home team.
“Okay, man-of-the-hour.” He nodded at Swift. “What do we do next?”
“Glad you asked. I’ll read you the passage.” Swift consulted his typed transcript, flipping to a page marked by a yellow sticky note. “The door will not open with a knock. You must use the key guarded by the lock. All the souls will be set free, by the bravest deemed in the Prophecy.”
“Seriously. It does not rhyme.” Jesse shook his head. “You’ve taken—”
“Actually, it does. Before and after translation. Cool, huh.” He smiled hard enough his lips could have slit his ears. “That be us, my friends. All we need to do is find The Door and The Key.”
“Ah. Well. Is that all?” His intuition refused to indulge in Swift’s joy-party. No way would this be as simple as he would have them believe. “What happens if we close the First Ring, assuming we find The Key and The Door? What happens to the souls?”
“The lost—the souls Hell Runners built an entire society on saving, will be released into Heaven. The remainder will either fall into the Second Ring or be reborn for another chance at redemption.”
Prudence shifted, edging closer. “I can't decide if it’s wonderful or reckless. I want the trapped set free, but so much evil swirling with them if only for a few seconds, might invite trouble.”
“Don’t think like a doomsdayer. How could it not be wonderful?” Swift veritably bounced off the chair. “If we could find Enoch’s Door, if we could close down the First Ring, well—Hell Runners as we know it will be no more.”
“Your enthusiasm reeks of spite,” Jesse said.
“Not spite. I don't want to shut down Hell Runners. I want to make them better. I've been preaching for years we could go deeper, save more than the low-hanging fruit. You know as well as I do, good souls trapped below are highly desirable. Their torment is better fuel for the demons. Don't you want to put a stop to that?”
“How about we start with finding one Door so Prudence can release her riders?” He angled to face her. His bare knee brushed her thigh, and he couldn’t ignore the little zing shootin
g through him. “You’re putting up a good front, but,” he said as he traced a finger over the puff below one of her eyes, “I can tell the souls are keeping you awake at night.”
“They can’t help it. And don’t worry. I’m fine.” Turning her back to the armrest, she bent her leg and slid her smooth shin against the length of his thigh.
Sweet Christ. Was she trying to prove his demon mark wouldn’t interfere with their partnership or plain kill him?
Shit. It didn’t matter. After weeks without any contact, he’d take her teasing.
He cupped her cheek and then stroked small circles over her temple with his thumb. “I should have never let you take on more souls.”
“You didn’t let me do anything. I make my own decisions.” She jabbed a finger into his shoulder. “Remember that. Partner.” Not huffing, but definitely with attitude, she pushed up and crossed to the kitchen with her empty glass, her rearview mesmerizing him with its sway.
“See, she's fine,” Swift said. “We don't have to worry about Prudence. I haven't met anyone tougher. Which is a good thing. In order to find any of the doors, I'll need one more scroll first. This brings us to the bad news portion of the evening.”
“There's more bad news?” She turned and leaned against the counter separating the living area from the dining. “What was the good news?”
“Good news and bad news are all subject to point of view. A hero to one person is a villain to another by the same action.”
“Too much philosophy. You're making my head hurt,” she said.
“Get to the point.” Jesse perched on the edge of the sofa cushion, an elbow jamming into each knee.
“The scroll is guarded by Naamah, the female demon of seduction. I'm sure you won’t be surprised to learn the location of her home base. Hint, you’ve had a run-in with one of her minions and caused quite a hoo-ha.”
Prudence groaned. “Not the Passion Pit.”
Stirring her tea, the spoon and ice cheerfully tinkled, and despite her exclamation, her tone matched the sound. Odd, considering this time she probably wouldn’t let him protect her at all.
“Bingo.” Swift jabbed a finger into the air. “I'll try to phrase this delicately. You and Jesse displayed some interesting behavior the last time you were there. But you must return. There's no getting out of it.” He got up abruptly. “That said, it’s my cue to leave. I suggest dealing with your issues before the mission.”
Rule Breakers, Soul Takers (Hell Runners Book 1) Page 27
