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Published by The Hartwood Publishing Group, LLC,
Hartwood Publishing, Phoenix, Arizona
www.hartwoodpublishing.com
Dream Breakers, Oath Takers
Copyright © 2018 by Jacqueline Jayne
Release: January 2019
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Dream Breakers, Oath Takers by Jacqueline Jayne
Zane Gideon is determined to comb all of Hell’s Rings, if he must, to find Wilder Swift. Unfortunately, his employer, the Hell Runners Society, instituted a lockdown on every Soul Saver and all seven of Hell’s Gates.
For more than a hundred years, gifted humans of the uber-elite, ultra-secret Society pledged their lives to rescue lost souls from the First Ring of Hell, but an accident during a covert mission to the Ninth Ring opened a secret door linking Hell to Heaven. Zane witnessed as all the lost souls escaped damnation in one fell swoop, turning the First Ring into an empty, white void. In the process, he lost track of Swift, now MIA for more than two months.
The Society is forced into a risky choice—rescue repentant souls from deeper rings or close its doors. Forever—without finding Swift.
Zane always believed the repentant deserved to be rescued as much as the lost and campaigns for the Society to raise the bar. All he needs to sway the council are two things. One—his guns that shoot holy water-filled bullets. And two—an oracle that can locate the repentant with visions.
But the oracles lost their visions with the closing of the First Ring.
All except one—the cold beauty Zane is hoping to defrost between his sheets.
Protected from the Society by her grandmother, Delphine Claudel never knew her horrific nightmares were actual visions. Her grandmother relents her hold and reveals the truth to Delphine about her gift of sight. With Zane’s help, she asks Delphine to join the Society. Though the cowboy is handsome and persuasive, Delphine declines. The visions drove her mother insane, and she refuses the same fate.
But Zane doesn’t accept her refusal.
Neither does a council member with his own agenda.
To protect Delphine from forced drug-induced visions, Zane invites her to his Montana home. There he offers her a deal—she helps him find Swift, and then her gift will be removed.
She agrees, but being sequestered with the cowboy is dangerous. His intellect, more than his rugged sex appeal, incites changes in the way she approaches life choices. And the way she views this duty-bound man. She succumbs to his passionate kisses, and for the first time, she falls in love.
Located by the Council, they are forced to run and end up confronting the very demon that destroyed Delphine’s mother. Confident in her abilities, Delphine strikes a deal with a demon only to be pitted against the man who stole her heart.
If Zane can manipulate the Lord of the Ninth Ring to withdraw the demon possessing Delphine, he can save her life.
But he might have to sacrifice his life and the future of Hell Runners to do it.
Dedication
To the real Maria and Jeannine. You let me use your names this once, but your friendship is forever. Hugs.
Author Notes
Dear Reader,
First off, thank you for choosing Dream Breakers, Oath Takers as your next read. I promise Zane, Delphine, and the rest of the Hell Runners crew will take you on a hell-of-an adventure full of romance, redemption, and a lot of fun.
Secondly, if you’re reading these acknowledgements then know we are soul family if not blood relations. I read the acknowledgements in every book I pick up the same way I wait through movie credits. It takes a lot of brains and support to produce a good story. All deserve gratitude and credit.
Big thanks to everyone at Hartwood Publishing, especially Georgia Woods, CEO, Editors Lisa Dugan, Christina Silverthorn, and Debra Gillen, as well as Jennifer Roques. These wonderful women offer the very best feedback and guidance.
As in the dedication, my eternal appreciation to fellow romance authors Maria Entenman and Jeannine Standen. I’m damn lucky for their professional opinions, but most of all our easy friendship.
Special thanks to Maggie and Ed Bridge, long-time friends and lovers of Rodin’s art. As I mentioned in Book One of the Hell Runners Series, Rule Breakers Soul Takers, the idea for the Gates of Hell Network began with them.
Can’t close without thanking my BFF, Phyllis Kelly and my loving husband, Michael. They patiently listen to my ramblings as I form random thoughts into solid plot.
Please note – Though I use Rodin and his life as a push-off point, all characters and situations are strictly fictional. No character is depicted as historical or factual—including Maria and Jeannine.
Enjoy!
Chapter One
Two months without running through the rings of Hell, dodging demons, and rescuing lost souls drove Zane Gideon as close to crazy as he ever experienced.
By all accounts, the last rescue mission should have cured his itch to pass through the Gates of Hell for all eternity. They damn near lost every Soul Saver on the mission, either through the open door to Heaven or to the dark powers of the fallen angel Baalberith.
Despite facing the worst evil imaginable, they escaped with their lives and shut down the First Ring of Hell forever. The ache to return to field work—to find the ever-missing Wilder Swift in one of the remaining eight rings, to save suffering souls from damnation—consumed his every thought.
The walls of his bedroom seemed to close in with each day he spent confined to the apartment complex located in a rural suburb of Philadelphia. House arrest instilled by the Councils governing the seven Gates, all to keep Soul Savers from getting near Hell without approval.
He stood and twisted at the waist to get his blood moving. Maybe a long run around the complex track would clear his head. The apartment door opened, and he heard the slam of the knob against the rubber wall stop.
“Yo, bro!” His twin brother Boone yelled as if he were across a field on the family ranch in Montana. “Get your lazy ass out here.” His brother slammed the door shut. “I’ve got good news.”
Good news? Zane’s heart jolted, but he immediately tamped down his hope. With Boone, good news could range from winning a cold six-pack of beer to achieving world peace.
“What’s up, short-stuff?” he asked, emerging into the bright living space they shared.
“We’re getting outta here. Going to Paris for a vacay.” Boone grinned and chucked a manila envelope his way.
Zane caught the packet with both hands against his middle. “Paris? For a vacation? That doesn’t make any damn sense. We’re on lockdown.”
“Not anymore.” His brother moseyed into the kitchen, beelining for the refrigerator.
Instead of asking Boone to elaborate, Zane reached into the envelope. Sure enough, two airline tickets for Paris—plus a letter signed by
the Paris chancellor, Maurice Vipond. He walked to the sofa, dropped the tickets onto the coffee table, and then read the letter. His heart thundered against his breastbone like a thousand hooves racing across a valley.
His brother plopped next to him on the sofa, deposited a beer for him on the coffee table, and flicked on the TV.
“Shit, Boone.” Zane jerked the remote away from his brother and killed the power. “This is not a vacation. This is a hearing.”
“So they’ll ask a few questions. Who cares? We’re going to Paris. Jack will make them understand we had no choice. Aside from Satan himself, Baalberith is Hell’s worst demon.”
“We ignored protocol and closed the First Ring.”
“Protocol-schmotocol. And the Ring deal was an accident. There wasn’t time to ask permission from the Council to launch a rescue mission. Prudence and Jesse called to help save her dad, and we did the right thing. Seriously, would they want us to not save Jack and Swift before Baalberith did God-knows-what?”
“But we didn’t save Swift.” Zane tossed the letter onto the coffee table.
“We did. Baalberith didn’t kill him.”
“He’s still missing.”
His brother rolled his eyes. “Like Wilder hasn’t gone AWOL before. The guy’s about the bravest Soul Saver I ever met, but a total tool. He only gives a shit about us when he needs something. He lives and dies on his own agenda.”
“It’s the dead part we’re all worried about.”
“I’m not. And stop making that dad-face. No one believes he’s dead, not even you.”
True, but Zane detested his brother’s cavalier attitude.
Boone leaned back against the sofa arm. “Most likely, Swift escaped Hell through some secret hatch he didn’t tell anyone about and is living the life with a harem of hotties. Like a horny tom cat, he’ll come home when his dick gives out.” His brother slugged back a mouthful of brew. “So, what do you think would work better with the French girls, play up the cowboy routine or the brooding rebel?”
“Jackass.” Zane stood and paced in front of the sofa. Some of his brother’s rationalizations hit the mark. “As the Philadelphia chancellor, I’m sure Jack has already supplied all seven Councils with the details. Why a hearing? Why fly us to Paris?”
“Again, who cares? For fuck’s sake, they train us to take on demons and rescue innocent souls. We did our jobs. And by the way, the letter actually says ‘official proceedings,’ not hearing. For all you know, they could be honoring us with an award.” Boone hit the power on the TV and threw his legs onto the couch. “Until I feel their collective boots on my ass, I’m not going to worry.”
“You never do.”
“Positive vibes attract positive vibes. That’s why I score all the pretty girls and you get nerds.” He grinned like a teenager on the last day of school and drank more beer.
Zane didn’t believe in vibes or empty platitudes or lazy faith.
He believed in hard work, valor, and in the strength of his conviction.
Consequences belonged to the ungodly and the evil. Yet his gut roiled with tension and doubt.
They broke a dozen rules embarking on a rescue mission to the forbidden Ninth Ring. Wilder Swift remained missing after two grueling months of waiting. Baalberith wanted them all dead.
The Society couldn’t afford liabilities, even if that meant cutting the best and the bravest free.
He’d better start thinking of a new career.
»»•««
At the behest of the Paris chancellor, Zane Gideon rose from his seat at the conference table and flatly recited the fifth rule from the Hell Runners Handbook to everyone in attendance at the closed-door meeting.
Not that the rule needed repeating.
Every Soul Saver employed by the Society memorized all six pages of Section I. Not for the purpose of an impromptu quiz, but because the rules kept them alive. All of them ran through Hell daily, rescuing lost souls while demons dogged their every step.
“Section I, Paragraph E, of the Hell Runners Society Handbook states: No mortal—born gifted or otherwise blessed with the ability to pass through Hell’s Gate unfettered—will cross said Gate without an official mission to rescue a lost soul. Unsanctioned excursions into Hell will result in disciplinary action.”
Even if you risked your ass every day for the past ten years because you believed in a greater good, he thought, easing into the cushy chair once more.
“Thank you, Monsieur Gideon.” Paris chancellor Maurice Vipond closed his eyes and frowned. Dark bruises circled his deep-set eyes, and wrinkles etched lines as defined as knife slits around the corners of his mouth. He’d been the Paris chancellor since Zane’s father ran missions through Hell, and every year showed on his wizened face. “I need a moment. Before we commence.”
Oldest trick in the book. Vipond didn’t need the moment for himself, but wanted the silence to instill a sense of dread in the accused. Like the hours flying over the Atlantic hadn’t been enough.
Could the Council actually consider saving the lives of the Society’s best Soul Savers a punishable offense? All because they’d not obtained permission first? He glanced across the table at the Philadelphia chancellor, Jack Luckett, the man they’d rescued from the whims of Baalberith. Vision blurry with anger, he couldn’t decipher his boss’s expression.
Without a doubt, Zane believed adherence to the rules was paramount. But the rules had been written a hundred years ago by the Society’s first benefactor, Gilles Deschamps. Deschamps brought order to chaos when Rodin wanted to run roughshod over Hell. But Deschamps either lacked foresight or else never considered the Society would last, let alone grow.
Since that time, a training program had been developed and six more Gates opened around the world, including his home base in Philadelphia where their stellar reputations for safety during soul extraction shined brighter than Heaven’s light. These days, Soul Savers walked into the field with a hundred years of experience in their back pockets and the mental acuity to evaluate every unique situation.
And evaluate an emergency situation is what he’d done. What they’d all done.
Baalberith left his fiery realm to stop the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy by collecting on a series of bogus debts. Debts incurred by Hell Runners trying to maintain order, including his good friend Jesse Thorne and their boss Jack. The demon lord opened a flaming pit into Hell right in the boss’s living room, and then had the gall to torture Jack’s wife by suspending her over the pit.
A physical battle with Baalberith ensued. Not a wise course of action, but sometimes lashing out is all you have left. Jack, along with rogue Soul Saver Wilder Swift, dropped the demon down to the burning floorboards, only to roll into the pit with him.
Despite all his years as a company man, Zane didn’t waste a second to call the Council when Jesse contacted him with the news. Instead, he grabbed his brother Boone and joined Jesse and the boss’s daughter Prudence on the biggest rescue of their careers.
Of course the unsanctioned mission wasn’t the only reason for the meeting in Paris.
Prudence performed nothing less than a Society-changing miracle. With the key from around Baalberith’s neck, she opened a secret door between Heaven and Hell. All of the lost souls trapped in the First Ring released with a rush into Heaven. A millennium of reclamations accomplished in a single action.
Then the First Ring of Hell closed down, and a white void filled the expanse from Gate to Gate.
No souls to rescue.
No job.
Unless they grew some cojones and started saving the repentant from deeper Rings.
A long overdue goal, in Zane’s opinion.
And he intended to prove it was possible. He planned to leave Paris in the afternoon and travel across France on an archeological research expedition. If he could locate the diary of Julian Eymard, then he could produce evidence the saint not only blessed Rodin with his gift to cross into Hell, but possessed countless secrets about
the lower realm. With a book of answers in hand, they’d be in business again.
The time had come for change. The Council must realize that too. Otherwise, why fly them across the Atlantic? For a pointless hand slap?
Vipond opened his eyes, his gaze stern.
Zane wasted no time on formalities. “Chancellor Vipond?” He rocked forward in his chair and leaned both elbows on the conference table, prepared to lay out his plan for the future. “Before we begin with the proceedings, I’d like to offer some food for thought.”
The chancellor didn’t respond, so Zane took his silence a please-go-on.
“I’m glad you asked me to recite Paragraph E. All of Section I is tremendously important. But—”
“But?” The nucleus of the harshest criticism, Councilman Emil Savard interrupted. “But you don’t like this rule, so you ignored—”
“We didn’t ignore anything.” He spoke firmly without raising his voice. “But I think it bears consideration that we faced a crisis without clear direction. As with so many of the rules, newer Sections contradict Section I. The handbook is not cohesive, not to mention some of the security measures are counterintuitive to our training, besides being restrictive to the cause.”
“We no longer have a cause since the First Ring closed.” Savard scowled and smoothed the lapel of his gray suit jacket. “And condemnation of the rules is not a defense.”
“I didn’t know we needed a defense.” He did, but that wasn’t the point. The meeting wasn’t presented to them as a trial, and by God, he’d do everything in his power to keep that from happening.
“Of course not. You’re like all Americans. The rules don’t apply to you.” Savard sneered and counted off their indiscretions on his fingers. “You’re too self-important, too arrogant, too belligerent, too stubborn, insubordinate—”
Zane considered shutting him up—the cowboy way. A career ender for sure, but instead of defending his country and colleagues, he chose the rational path for the greater good.
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