Swift wobbled as the sword sliced the rope like it was soggy spaghetti, and then he fell free, barely skimming out of the sword’s trajectory. The plate of knives chopped down with a mighty crash that reverberated throughout the cave.
“Where’s Baalberith?”
She looked up to see Jesse had somehow gotten to his feet. He stood hunched and hollow-eyed from the other side of the shattered bed. He raised a shaky arm.
“Where is he?” he repeated. “We need that key.”
“I’m right here, Pathfinder.”
Until he’d spoken, she had no idea the ancient demon stood behind her. Before she could turn around, or run, or think, he’d slipped his arm around her sticky throat.
Easily and without any indication of burning or pain.
Her magic sweat had either worn off or had no effect on him.
She choked and sputtered as he dragged her backward.
“I don’t know how you managed this.” His smooth voice boomed above her. They glided toward the doors as he cut off her wind. “But you have not won, Vessel.”
Willing her eyes open, she focused on Jesse. If she was going to die, she wanted to be gazing upon him.
From across the cave, he raised his hands, and light blistered her pupils.
“Prudence! Catch!”
Catch, Niall repeated. With the aid of the shade and all the souls, she found the strength to raise her arms one more time.
The halo glided, cutting the air with a whiz and then hit the center of her palm. Her hand closed around the cool energy, and it began to glow, its pure light washing over her.
And the Fallen One.
With a shrieked curse, Baalberith crumpled to the ground, dragging her with him, her throat still in his chokehold.
She reached high and back, bashing his head hard with her newfound weapon.
His arms went limp, and he lolled to the side, onto his good wing, and she rolled off, readying to whack him again.
“The key.” Hollow-eyed, Jesse staggered toward her.
Zane followed close on her partner’s heels with her backpack in hand.
“I don’t see it.” She deposited the halo into the bag and zipped it shut, effectively cutting off its overwhelming power.
Jesse fell onto Baalberith’s unconscious body and groped until, at last, he jerked the key free, chain and all.
His fiery eyes glowed with determination and their consciousness entwined. This was what Hell feared most about the Prophecy. Their gifts combined with love. A power too strong to overcome.
Against the far wall, she saw her father clamber to his feet, injured and soaked through with blood. Severely wounded, but alive. From afar, he gave her a reassuring nod.
“Come on, Prudence.” Jesse limped toward the doors, and she caught up quickly, sliding under his arm to lend support. “I can see only one path now.”
Baalberith stirred, scratching at the stone floor. “If you open the door, girl, all you’ll be is a memory.”
“You can’t hurt us anymore.” She spit the words, enjoying her justified anger. “In seconds Heaven will wash this place clean.”
Jesse inserted the key.
The lock clicked without turning the key, and her heart skipped with joy.
Finally, after months of doubts and anxiety and late night searching, they’d found the door. Surely, the Door of Enoch would allow her souls entry along with the remnants of the First Ring.
“Nothing comes in. Only out.”
She barely heard the wounded demon’s rambling and certainly wasn’t interested in engaging in verbal sparring.
Hand on Jesse’s, they turned the knob together.
The door cracked open, and a finger of the white light bleached the doorjamb.
“It’s so beautiful.” The breath sealed in her chest.
The souls inside her undulated, elated and eager to attain their freedom.
“No. Prudence. Shut the door,” Swift yelled, hobbling toward them. “Baalberith is right.”
Dizzy and excited, she could hardly focus. “What?”
“Shut the fucking door. Demon or not, he told the truth.”
She chanced a peek at Baalberith. With his defenses down, she read him and his overwhelming sorrow. Sorrow for his curse—not for the damage he inflicted, and not for his role in torturing innocent souls.
“I know the truth.” The brilliant splinter slowly widening without any help drew her attention back to the door. “It’s so beautiful. So perfect.”
“Stop,” Swift ordered, his breath choking on the end.
“She needs to release the souls,” Jesse shouted.
“Not through the Door of Enoch.”
“But we’ve won,” she said, feeling dreamy and lightheaded. “The First Ring will close.”
And proof surrounded them. Souls floated toward the shaft of light, filling the cavern with a bubbling sense of hope and low-level chatter.
Swift shouted again, but his words disappeared in the commotion.
Long-forgotten spirits poured toward the opening until the door shifted out of her hand. It swung wide, welcoming all with a magnificence unmatched by anything on earth.
The souls within her sang. How could anything so jubilant be wrong?
Stepping onto the threshold, she stood in wonderment at the mesmerizing expanse of clean blue sky.
Suddenly, Jesse’s authoritative voice cut through the hum. “Close the door.”
Why was he trying to harsh her buzz?
She turned her head and caught a glimpse of him running back to Baalberith. He wasn’t talking to her. He was talking to the black angel. Yes. Angel. Baalberith should become an angel again. Here, he could leave his anger and hatred behind.
Baalberith’s reply filtered to her through her happy haze.
“I can’t. Once it’s open, it will not close until the First Ring is empty.”
Release us. Release us.
The singsong chant filled her head. Of course, she would release them. That was her purpose. She was the Vessel. Relief would not be denied.
Jesse grabbed her arm and pulled. “No. Prudence. No.”
Why was he pulling her?
“I have to let go. I have to let go.” The chant was soft and soothing. Her mind ran blank, the relief extraordinary.
She closed her eyes, drifting on the edge of slumber. The souls disembarked, and she was free. Completely. Wholly free.
Light as air, she no longer felt the tug of Jesse’s hand. Her heart soared, and she opened her eyes, delighted to see Niall clinging to a dark-haired beauty. Rocking her in his arms, the woman’s face glowed with the glory of realized love. His Siobhan.
Warm and tingly, she reached for Jesse’s hand.
He wasn’t there.
That couldn’t be right.
She looked down and saw the top of his head, where he kneeled at the threshold below. He cradled her in his arms.
Cradled her lifeless body.
Whoever said Heaven contained no fear was dead wrong.
»»•««
Panic obliterated her brief dalliance with joy. She swirled in the perfect blue and kicked her feet with all her might. She fought to swim back to the door. It wasn’t far. Only a few yards. But she couldn’t find purchase to push against, couldn’t swim against the tide of freed prisoners.
All around her, thousands of lost souls reunited with their loved ones.
But her loved ones were back at the Door.
Her paradise remained in Hell.
Chapter Thirty-One
“No!” Jesse wailed, clutching Prudence to his chest. “Where is she? I can’t see her.”
“She’s gone.” Swift squatted beside him and braced a hand on his shoulder. “Her soul was so entrenched with the others, that they carried her along. It could’ve happened to any of us if we were carrying only one soul. She carried more than a dozen.”
“Why can’t I see her?” He let the tears roll for the first time since he was a boy. Not si
nce his father had been incarcerated and then died in prison.
“You can see her with your soul,” Baalberith said. “All you have to do is try.”
“Shut up, Baalberith,” Swift gritted the words out.
But the meaning wasn’t lost on Jesse. To see Prudence, he’d have to willingly relinquish his grip on his mortal life.
Standing, he stared out the doorway into the terrifying openness.
What was the worst that could happen? Marked by the demon, he could instantly disintegrate into the atmosphere. Become nothing more than dust.
Or he’d be cleansed.
Man. Hope had a way of rising at the most illogical times.
For better or worse, dead or alive, he wouldn’t inhale another breath without taking that gamble.
Jesse focused into the sea of ghosts, concentrating on Prudence. Not so much her face or the way she felt in his arms, like he always did when trying to find her. Pushed to the brink of death, the thing he loved most about her was her ferocious compassion.
For other people. For lost souls.
For him.
She’d changed his life. Given him a reason to care about—well, everything.
“Jesse.” Drifting on the sweet sound of her voice, he swayed.
“Jesse.” His name again, this time her voice grounded him in urgency.
From out of the crowd, his sights latched onto her heart-shaped face. Her tawny locks floated against a luminous sky, and her eyes shone a brilliant blue.
She fluttered her feet and reached with her hands, but for all intents and purposes, she was treading air. At least she wasn’t moving further away.
He reached for her and missed by no more than two feet.
“Jesse.” She spoke his name, her voice losing her signature sexy rasp. “Go back. Go back before you can’t.”
“Take my hand.”
She reached for him and he stretched, inches short of solid contact. “I can’t. I can barely hold my position as it is. It’s like I’m fighting undertow.”
He stretched closer, but she drifted further away, despite her efforts to stay put.
“Don’t.” She pulled back. “You’re too close to the edge. Return while you’re still connected.”
“Connected?”
“Look at your feet, Jess.”
He stole a glance down. His mortal body lay on the floor behind him, feet dangling off the threshold into Heaven. He’d succeeded. His soul had indeed parted, but the practical side of him kept hold by his boots. An inch too far and he’d tumble after her.
“Say goodbye.” Her voice grew ever distant.
“No! Try harder. I know you can do it.” He felt his heart thunder and a growing sense of panic. What could he say to convince her to fight? “It’s not your time, and you know it. It’s not mine either. Your destiny—our destiny is back in Hell. We’ve so much more work to do.”
“You’ll have to move on. You’ll find—a new partner.”
Desperate, he couldn’t help getting angry. Maybe him being pissed off was what she needed. “Bullshit. You’re seriously infuriating when—”
“It won’t work, Jess. I can’t get mad at you. Save yourself. Hurry back.”
“Fuck no! I love you. You said you loved me. Now prove it. Take. My. Hand.” He reached further and felt one foot release from his boot. The sensation scared the shit out of him. His soul would not find rest here. Not yet. Not even with Prudence.
But he refused to endure his life alone.
A whirl of wind stirred the air, and a jumble of spirits blocked his view. It couldn’t end like this. If Heaven didn’t want the world’s best Hell Runners saving more souls, then so be it.
“Fine. If you’re staying—then so am I.”
Blinded, he tapped the bottom of his strength and grappled forward, reaching for her.
Pain. A cramp in the big toe of his anchored foot made him wince, but the tips of his fingers warmed, and he instantly forgot all about it.
The swarm of souls thinned, and through the crosshatch of bodies, his saw his hand, his fingers laced through to the second knuckle with hers.
His heart soared.
He tugged, and she drifted toward him.
“You really know which buttons to push.” She sounded more like her Hell Runner self, her raspy voice returning. “I seriously can’t believe I moved against the tide.” She stopped, her brow furrowing. “Unless you’ve—”
“I haven’t. One foot, or one toe at least, is still in my boot. Concentrate on the door. On floating back.”
“I’ll concentrate on you. That works just fine.”
With their gazes locked, he eased down and became conscious of the ball of foot in his boot. He anchored the other. The going was slow and took all his concentration to return.
But they were going to make it.
The door behind them was so close he could almost feel it. Suddenly, he realized there was a reason he could sense the door. In his peripheral vision, he noticed steady movement below. He looked back.
No more souls sped through the door. It was closing. On its own. Their lifeless bodies shifted along with the sweep of the door as Zane and Boone struggled to move them before they dropped into blue abyss.
“Don’t move me,” Jesse yelled, not sure they could hear him. “I can still do this. Keep us close to the door.”
“I can see you,” Jack called. “Let go. You won’t make it. Take my baby girl and go.”
“No.” Jesse didn’t know if he was more amazed Jack could see him or at his insistence they give up.
The force of a hurricane blew into Jesse’s face, and he plummeted. He couldn’t feel Prudence’s fingers anymore.
Stone-cold fear replaced every other sensation.
Pain like being hit with a shovel by a gorilla jolted him upright. His chest stuttered with heavy, shaking breaths, and he whacked at the arms holding him back. His eyes bulged as he stared at the back of the door.
Hell would never tempt minor offenders off the light to Heaven ever again. The door closed with a soft thump and then disappeared like a used-up mirage. With the First Ring emptied, the door was no longer needed.
Except to rescue Prudence.
His circulation tightened from throat to toes, and he lurched forward screaming. He strangled, getting her name out. “Prudence.”
The pain in his chest exploded. He struggled to breathe as hands clamped down on him from all angles.
“He’s in shock,” a voice said, muffled and far away. “Pound his chest again.”
No point in saving him. He’d rather be left to die in peace and tried to roll away.
A scuffle of feet and a change in the air over his face. Somehow, they’d read his wishes. At least he’d die knowing one of them would get him out of here. Then he could find Prudence.
The old bandana slipped from his belt, and a gentle hand dabbed his forehead.
“You’re not getting away from me. I worked too hard to win you over.”
Prudence? Unable to open his eyes, he thought he was delirious, teetering on the brink of crossing over.
Warm lips pressed onto his cheek, and a veil of hair tickled his skin.
Could it be another one of Baalberith’s cruel tricks? Using the last bit of energy he possessed, he squinted. His eyes opened a fraction at first, then a little more.
Prudence’s sweet valentine-of-a-face came into hazy focus.
Blood rushed through his veins, and his heart pounded like a jackhammer. There wasn’t a muscle in his body that didn’t hurt like a son of a bitch, but nothing would keep him from touching her, holding her against him. He forced himself upright. “It’s you.” He cupped her cheek with his shaky hand. “It’s really you.”
“You had me worried there, partner.” This time she kissed his lips lightly. “Lay back.”
She pressed a palm to his chest, but he pushed against her.
“Whoa.” Zane pulled him back down and guided him to the wall. “You were harder to jum
p start than Prudence. I think we can spare a few minutes for you to pull it together.”
A vision of Baalberith crossed through his mind. “No.” He struggled to get his feet under him. “We’ve got to get out of here. Baalberith—”
“He’s gone.”
There was a catch in her throat, but he failed to register the significance. He was too relieved she was safe.
“No Baalberith.” He panted in relief.
She nodded, and he grabbed her, holding her tight to his chest. Never in his life had Jesse experienced such great happiness, such abandon.
“We did it,” he chanted. “We did it.”
“We didn’t do it alone.”
Nerves prickled at his neck, and he pulled back.
“Nothing comes without a price, Jesse. For some, it is greater than others.” She glanced up, and he followed her line of vision.
Niall stood close to the group, but apart. He held his head regally high and refused to meet his gaze.
Jesse didn’t need to be an Empath to feel the waves of intense sadness emanating off the big Irishman.
“We wouldn’t be here without him,” she said, her eyes filled with gratitude. “I don’t know how, but he was stronger than the undertow on the other side. When the door was closing, he joined with me and forced us back before it shut.”
“He…left Heaven?” A lump formed in Jesse’s throat and he raised his gaze to Niall, though the shade refused to face him. “You left Siobhan. For us?”
The words martyr and Niall never seemed to fit together before. Now Jesse knew that reasoning was wrong. The old soul’s life fit the pattern. Niall would always act for what he believed was right. No matter the consequences.
With Prudence’s help, he hobbled to his feet. “Niall.”
The ghost made eye contact, at last.
“Why? Why would you do that? All you’ve ever wanted—”
The shade held up the flat of his palm. “Stop. Neither Siobhan nor myself would wish on others the years of grief we have borne.”
He paused and regarded Jesse for a moment. Some of the old ire lit his eyes. “Though I don’t see how Prudence could possibly moon over a jackass such as yourself.” The corner of his mouth quirked, painfully. “Siobhan understood, and I know she is waiting for me. To see her, though for a brief moment, was enough. For now.”
Rule Breakers, Soul Takers (Hell Runners Book 1) Page 35
