Rule Breakers, Soul Takers (Hell Runners Book 1)

by Jacqueline Jayne

  “So are the minions of Sixth Ring. It doesn’t have to be him.”

  “Either way we’re screwed. These flies never leave Hell. Which means Hell just came to us.”

  “What?” The lump in her throat turned into a boulder.

  “The flies, the heat, the stink. The barrier between realms has been blown. A pit’s open. Right here.” He jutted out his chin and pointed to the floor. “I don’t know how, but I’m sure it takes more power than your average demon.”

  “Like the Watcher.” Dread fueled her already racing heart. She dry swallowed around the huge lump.

  “Maybe, but no way to tell.” He motioned for her to join him on the other side of the kitchen peninsula. “We don’t have to worry about breaking the seal anymore, either.”

  She hurried the few steps to stand beside him.

  In the center of the kitchen laid a pile of fabric, not unlike the scrap that once contained the Watcher. Bits of ash fanned out around it, and curls of white smoke dallied between the charred folds.

  Their only plan had evaporated, faster than the smoky residue of the tainted Guardian Angel.

  “He’s gone?” Pulling down the collar of her shirt, she stared up into Jesse’s solemn face. “He’s gone.” This time she stated it, as a realization far too frightening took root in her raw nerves. “He’s gone. Who opened the pit?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer. Couldn’t. Her scream exploded in a rush.

  “Mom!” Her heart pounded so hard, the pumping of her blood was all she could hear. Her vision blurred with bright light and flies and unabashed terror.

  When her mother didn’t answer, Prudence stumbled forward, glancing first to the stairway leading upstairs and then to the basement door. “Which way?”

  Jesse molded his big hands around her head and forced her to look him dead in the eye. “We’ll find her. We’ll get her out.”

  She nodded, feeling instantly calmer. No one was more capable than Jesse. And with her at his side, they were an unstoppable team.

  “We’ll follow the trail.” He pointed up at the heavy cloud of insects overhead and hunched below the flyline. Trotting ahead of her down the hallway, he led her into the back of the house.

  Her limbs went numb, performing on sheer impulse as her mind raced.

  Could one bottle of Holy Water defend them against what lay ahead?

  She wiped her perspiring hairline and swatted at the cloud above before following her partner.

  Flies dropped like, well—flies.

  A good sign. Her gift engaged at least a little. Hopefully, she wouldn’t sweat out all the water before saving Mom.

  “Prudence?” her mother hollered. “Get outta here.”

  Not a chance. Mind whirling as fast as the flies hummed, she burst into the family room.

  Jesse’s enormous hand curled around her bicep, stopping her before she could misstep.

  Her eyes took in the room instantly, her mouth dropping open in horror. The scene surpassed her worst fears.

  Mom hung suspended by a heavy rope wrapped around her waist. The free end inexplicably fed from the ceiling. She wore her favorite summer church dress, the sunny-yellow shift ruined by small burn holes from the spitting fire underneath her feet.

  “I said for you to go,” she insisted angrily.

  Flames kicked up from a ten-foot-wide hole open below her, engulfing the room in unbearable heat.

  Jesse pulled Prudence back until they stood in the safety of the doorway.

  The pit widened as she watched in complete dismay.

  The colorful hooked rug that once protected the hardwood was gone. The jagged edges of the oak floor were charred to an ugly black.

  “I accidentally stepped on the seal and broke it when I put your father’s work clothes in the barn. I think the little shit moved it in my way.” Defiantly, Mom crossed her arms over her chest. “Next thing I know there’s a pile of dead angel in my kitchen. Sorry, baby. The Watcher’s gone.”

  “We saw. But who put you up there? Why is a pit opened?”

  The blazes roared again, and her mother shouted over the noise. “Never mind. Get out.”

  Jesse’s upper lip curled. “I don’t think we’ll have to go looking for the Watcher’s master.” Hands fisting at his sides, his eyes turned to fiery coal.

  The air in the room rocked hurricane-hard, blowing back the flies and setting the rope holding Mom to trembling.

  Prudence covered her mouth and nose with her hands to avoid ingesting any of the hellish insects, but she never closed her eyes beyond a protective squint.

  Shadows arced across the other side of the room, gaining substance. Huge black wings unfolded, so wide the tips of the span grazed the opposing walls. The winged intruder glided forward into the light of the flames, the brilliant yellow and orange blazes illuminating the biggest being she’d ever laid eyes on.

  Every feature—nose, cheeks, jaw, and chin—chiseled perfection that glowed warm bronze in the light. Handsome yet haughty, he exuded malevolence incarnate.

  He glowered down his patrician nose at them, a cold, heartless stare from perfect obsidian eyes, and smoothed his manbraid over his shoulder. The color of burnished gold, his hair hung well beyond the waist of his ebony robe. Then his gaze shifted, focusing solely on Jesse.

  “Baalberith,” her partner hissed.

  Not shocked, her heart still kicked up a notch hearing Jesse confirm the interloper’s identity. Part of her wanted to launch across the hole and dig his eyes out. Part of her wanted to collapse from fear.

  She did neither, locking her knees to stand strong beside her partner.

  “He wants Swift,” Mom said, flipping the demon her middle finger. “I told him to kiss my ass. You do the same.”

  “Now, now, Della. What did I tell you? Let the children decide on their own.”

  With a wave of his hand, a sliver of flame coiled around the rope, eating away the outer layer of hemp. Several threads snapped, dropping her mother a foot closer to doom.

  Mom didn’t let out the smallest of squeaks.

  “It’s been a long time, Pathfinder. I believe you owe me a car?”

  “Cut the shit. I’m sure one of your lackeys repo’d the ‘Vette before the seat was cold.”

  “Not the point.” Baalberith pointed a huge finger at Jesse. “You accepted it.”

  “I borrowed it. I couldn’t exactly hitchhike home.”

  The rope swayed, and the fire licked higher.

  Eye on the persistent flame, Prudence couldn’t stop herself from blurting out her thoughts.

  “Get over yourself, asshole. Let my mother go.”

  “If I let her go, she will fall into the pit. A fair trade, if you ask me.” His black eyes narrowed, trying to pierce into her. “Thanks to your handiwork, Vessel, my best tracker died with a blue stain on his face.”

  Died? She shuddered at the implication. No way had her sweat killed the horrific demon.

  “Della’s done nothing. It’s me you want,” Jesse said, his lips taut.

  “Uh-uh-uh.” Baalberith waggled a finger. “You know that’s not how this works. Hostages are more effective than dealing directly with the prize. You should ask your old man. I’m sure you’ve run into him in your travels.” A deceitful grin spread too wide across his face.

  Jesse’s fists flexed, the only indication he wanted to lose his cool. “My dad isn’t in Hell.”

  “But he is. I placed him right under your nose. In the First Ring.”

  They could have saved Jesse’s dad?

  Anguish pulsed off her partner like an exposed electric wire laying in a puddle. Not good. If he lost his control, her mother would pay the price.

  Calmer than she’d expected, Jesse spoke through his tense lips. “What is it you want?”

  “The same as you. Appreciation.” His wings relaxed, the feathers shushing, but his eyes remained hard. “One time of day I was revered. I was Lord”—he pounded his chest once with his fist— “of the Covena
nt. Worshiped and adored.” Another dramatic pound, and then he implored them with his extended open palm. “And simply because they loved me, God intervened.”

  “No one loved you,” she hissed. “You coerced them into worship.”

  “Coerced. Persuaded.” He shrugged. “No different than the way you persuaded Jesse into being your partner. Now you’re lovers.”

  Her chest seized. Heart stopped beating. Lungs stopped breathing. She couldn’t bear he knew so much private information.

  “You judge me, but all I required from my subjects was adoration in return for protection. Real protection, not that free will horseshit. Reward has a price, and the one in power sets it.” Baalberith flashed a capped-in-Hollywood smile. “You wield power.” The smile vanished, and he jabbed a finger at her from across the gaping hole. “You carry a dozen souls. Souls that believe you can set them free. How. Are. You. Different?”

  “In every way.” Jesse jumped to her defense. “She doesn’t expect or want payment for her good deeds.”

  “But Prudence is paid.” The Fallen One leveled his gaze on her. “With. Pride.”

  Her cheeks burned hotter than ever. He’d hit a mark. One that shamed her to the marrow.

  “All of you Hell Runners are alike. Thinking you’re invincible and working your asses off to impress God.” He pierced her again with an arrogant gaze. “Begging for the chance.”

  “Of course we do—you condescending, manipulative snit.” Swift squeezed through the doorway behind her and strutted into the room. “You may be cursed to always tell the truth, but your interpretation is clouded by jealousy. As. Always. There are many kinds of pride. Good people take pleasure—joyful, selfless pride—from helping others. You’ve confused pride with boastful. Hubris with honor. But you wouldn’t know jack shit about honor.”

  “Well, well. The band’s back together.” Baalberith sneered. “This will be easier than I thought.”

  “I brought what you want.” Swift held up his canvas messenger bag.

  “The scrolls?” Baalberith’s laugh boomed like the blast of a shotgun. “What good does paper do me? You’ve already translated and copied the information a thousand times over. And if you didn’t, you can’t forget what you learned.” His black eyes glowed like newly lit charcoal. “Tell that sniveling Dechamps the deal’s off, too. I’ll get what I want without him.”

  “Deschamps? Made a deal with you?” Swift sounded as confused and betrayed as she felt.

  “You don’t know?” The demon’s maniacal chuckle reverberated off the paneled walls, and then his smile faded. “Well, who’d have thought? I sure didn’t.”

  “Thought what?” Swift’s face blanched.

  “That you weren’t part of the deal. So, Dechamps used you. Double-crossed you. Will probably try to do the same to me once the doors open. I see by the look on your face you don’t understand.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  Baalberith nodded. “With pleasure. You translated the scrolls. The chancellor shut you down. Because Dechamps has hidden surveillance devices all over the compound, he knew everything. In exchange for assembling the Pathfinder and the Vessel, he offered out of the ordinary financial support, which you accepted. Greedily. I thought you were his assistant, not one of these blind do-gooders.”

  He glared at her and Jesse again.

  From that point forward, her fear diminished. Baalberith might possess extraordinary power, but his psyche had been stunted. He was no more than an opportunistic thug.

  “After that,” he continued, “assembling the Prophecy was easy, despite Jesse’s reticence. And why? Because it was deemed by above.” He pointed a finger to the ceiling and scowled. “Lucky for me, you still cling to free will.”

  Swift looked like he could cry. “I thought Dechamps was like me. That he wanted to find Heaven’s Door to better the Society."

  “He wanted to find Heaven’s Doors for immortality.”

  “The scrolls said nothing about becoming immortal,” Jesse said.

  “They don’t. It’s the deal I offered Deschamps. Find the doors, and I’d make him immortal.”

  Her partner nodded. “I figured out long ago—you possessed me so you could find the doors. Open them for yourself—”

  “I don’t want them open. Never did. In fact, I want to keep them locked. That’s why I possessed you. Plain and simple.”

  “Then why only Jesse? Why not me, or Swift, too?”

  “Because I’ve been protecting you.”

  Surprised to hear her father’s voice, Prudence swiveled around.

  Dad moved in from the hallway. He placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. With puffy eyes and hair that seemed grayer than two weeks before, he looked like he had run from across the country.

  “When I realized you had the mark five years ago, I…” He compressed his lips hard and forced a lungful of air through his nose before finishing. “Well, I made a pact.”

  Pact. He meant deal. Like Dechamps.

  Her jaw dropped, rocked to her gut by his confession.

  “With—that?” She pointed back at the smirking monster. “What kind of pact?” She spat the words out like hot venom.

  Baalberith rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his massive chest. “The kind where you steered clear of the Pathfinder. As long as you didn’t search for the doors, all Hell Runners would be safe. But he couldn’t keep you apart, could he? I saw it coming even if he didn’t. So I made a new pact with Deschamps.”

  “Cut to the deal, demon.” Dad’s voice was rough with emotion. “What will it take to free my wife? Say it, and it’s yours.”

  “Hm. Quick to bargain with the devil? Again. I’m not really surprised. Everyone does.” Baalberith waved his hand, and the heavy rope disintegrated to a one-inch clothesline.

  Her mother dropped four feet. This time the room filled with her scream.

  “A simple exchange. Will you sacrifice your wife or—your daughter?”

  Fists clenched at his sides, Dad refused to look at her.

  She wouldn’t force him to make the choice.

  “No one can sell me. I choose.” She swiped her right hand across her soaked face before offering it. “Me for her. Shake on it.”

  Jesse pulled her back and whispered in her ear. “You haven’t built up enough for the likes of him. You’ve been drained too long.”

  “He’ll kill Mom.”

  “No, he won’t.” Jesse crossed in front of her, skirting the rim of the flaming hole. “Back to your original plan. I’ll go with you. Leave this family alone.”

  Her heart lurched forward, and so did her body. “No!” She grabbed for his hand, but Swift held her back.

  “All this self-sacrifice. Ah! So touching.” He narrowed his hateful stare at Jesse. “It’s not enough.”

  “It’s enough to keep the doors closed. They can’t find them without me.”

  “True.” Baalberith stroked his long braid and pretended to consider. His black eyes lit up like deep blue flames burned within. “I’ll take you as a guarantee the doors stay closed. But I want more. I want what’s mine.” His unholy glare seared into her. “Return all of the stolen souls, Vessel. They are my property.”

  Excruciating pain tore into her middle, doubling her over until she teetered on the edge of the pit. She let loose a strangled cry as the combined fear of the spirits she protected flooded her system.

  Her heart shattered, and the sharp edges cut into her insides. In the snap of a finger, this condescending bastard would steal everything she held dear.

  “If you do not hand over the souls immediately—if you continue to search for the doors without the Pathfinder—you will die. The souls will destroy you. They will turn you mad. It’s happened before. Release them and save your life.”

  “Do it, Princess.” Jesse looked back at her over his shoulder. More than sweat dampened his face.

  The weight of despair dropped her to her knees. Her strength had all but given out. She didn’t w
ant to go on if she couldn’t save the souls. Wouldn’t go on if she couldn’t save Jesse.

  “You know Baalberith speaks only in truths.” Like the loose cannon of his reputation, Swift seemed to have recovered from his shock.

  The epitome of bad-boy cool, he skirted the pit’s far rim and walked right up to the Fallen One. Standing close, he flicked the feathers on a black wing. “These even real or a cheap prop?”

  The former angel didn’t react but slanted his gaze away from Jesse and onto Swift.

  Too short to get in his face, he goaded the angel with his arrogance, speaking to them as if he wasn’t a foot away from a being capable and willing to turn them all to dust. “You know, he can’t help it. He can’t lie. I meant it before when I said it was part of his curse.”

  Baalberith’s eyes seethed hatred, but he pulled his lips tight as if biting off another bit of truth.

  “Because of it, even the worst devils keep their distance. No one wants a narc for a friend.” Swift elbowed the enormous knee covered in flowing robes. “Hey—remember the time you took part in a mass possession of a nun? Really? A complete innocent. With a gang? How challenging was that?” He snorted derisively. “And because you can’t lie, you ratted out all the other demons during the exorcism. You named the saints who could destroy them to save your own ass. Isn’t that why the Order of the Blackwings shun you? You’ve got no one.”

  “Swift!” Dad had snapped out of his stupor. “Stop it. Right now. I order you.”

  But Swift didn’t. Maybe he couldn’t.

  Cocky grin in place, he looked like he always did—a man following his conscience. A man used to living life on his own terms.

  “Tsk. Tsk. To not know the companionship of a good friend. Or love. Sucks balls, don’t it? In fact, the only love you’ve ever known is forced adoration and that’s not love.”

  Much to her amazement, Baalberith froze statue still and didn’t utter a single word. She suspected a storm would let loose the second Swift ran out of rhetoric and braced against Jesse.

  “You’re powerful, but not popular. Not in Hell. Not even on earth before your banishment, when they called you Lord of the Covenant. Your temper and your need to dominate gets in the way. It’s why God cursed you with telling the truth. Trust is built on truth and trust is the crux of love. If you’d only humble your ego and learn the lesson—your banishment would end.”