Payable On Death: A Jax Rhodes Novel, Book One (The Jax Rhodes Series 1)

by Rachel Rawlings

  "He's on no one's side. That's the problem." Thomas's voice was about a decibel below a shout. "That's always been the problem. He upsets the balance, defies the rules, and cares for no one except himself."

  "I care for her." Tired of everyone talking about him like he wasn't there, Dane came to his own defense. "I care for Jax more deeply than I have for another in all the years I've roamed this Earth."

  He spoke to Thomas, but looked at me, willing me to believe what he said was true. His eyes begging me to choose him over Thomas because he couldn't bear it if I walked away again, forcing him to stay in the shadows, following me, with only stolen glimpses and no contact.

  He loved me? I must have heard him wrong. My chest tightened, my stomach flipped. I wasn't sure if I wanted to jump in his arms or throw up. My emotions warred with my body as elation over those three words competed with fear that I'd screw it up.

  "I must say, you're pretty convincing, and yet you can't honestly expect her to believe anything you say. Not after you lied to her before. About Joan, about who she is, who you were working for." Thomas went in for the kill.

  "He told me the truth when he realized what was happening. That he was being used, he told me." I stepped between them, coming to Dane's defense when he clearly didn't need me to.

  "You mean all the things that you knew about her? The things you've known since the moment of her conception? When her Nephilim father fell? When the rest of the Elioud fell, ensuring she became the Chosen? When she almost fell herself? When demons haunted her every step, whispered darkness in her ears, tormented her sleep for the last five years? Those same things?" Dane cut the legs out from underneath Thomas's argument and went in for a kill shot of his own. His was by far more effective than the angel's.

  Thomas's crumpled expression gave him away. The truth hurts and Dane's words had been devastating. My angel ward clenched his fists, prepared to defy further orders and possibly cross the line, increasing the ranks of the fallen by one.

  "Enough," Joseph roared, interrupting the argument before it came to physical blows. He knew the dangerous path his brother walked and would see me with Dane for no other reason than to save him. "Tobias is waiting back at the apartment. The Sin Eater comes with us."

  The walk back to Bolton Hill was awkward, to say the least, with Thomas brooding beside his brother leading the way. Dane and I fell in step behind them with our hands locked together. It felt a little bit like rubbing salt in an open wound, but Thomas needed to see it, needed to believe what Dane said, and that I felt the same before he did something rash and it was too late. He was a power, pure in heart and deed, and he needed to remain so. I wouldn't allow that to change for some misguided infatuation with me.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Tobias greeted us at the door, a dire look on his face as we shuffled into the apartment. He caught sight of Dane and nodded in my direction, relieved I'd understood his message. I hadn't chosen one way or the other because of what Tobias, Thomas, or even Dane said. It was something I felt—maybe it was destiny or fate. Whatever it was, Dane and I were supposed to be together.

  I went to the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water, a platter of meats and cheeses, and a bowl of grapes, setting them down on the coffee table by the couch. I'd eaten both Pop Tarts and all of the crackers on the way home. The carb-laden snacks barely put a dent in my hunger. I needed to eat, to rebuild my strength, if I had any hope of making it through whatever bad news Tobias had to tell us.

  "They found the book."

  Thomas stopped moping, his expression changing to one of shock at Tobias's statement. Joseph seemed stricken. I shoved a piece of cheese in my mouth as Dane settled in beside me, both of us trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

  "What book?"

  Thomas opened his mouth, no doubt to snap at Dane again, when Tobias spoke up. "The book that chronicles the history of the Spear and its movements."

  "What spear?" Even as Dane asked the question, I could see realization dawn on his face. "The spear? The Spear of Destiny?"

  Just when I thought things were bad, they got worse.

  "The only weapon that can kill me, completing my contract with the Devil and, through my death, unlock Tartarus, freeing the ninety remaining fallen who've no doubt become darker in their imprisonment than the ten who remained behind and became demons." I suddenly lost my appetite, taking a swig of water to rinse the taste of cheese turned to ash from my mouth.

  "What were the odds of the book being in that church? If I'd have thought for one moment it was here in the city, I'd have torn Baltimore apart myself." Thomas shoved his hands through his shoulder-length blond hair, taking his frustrations out on his beautiful locks.

  "I'd say pretty damn good, considering she's here." Tobias pointed at me. "For some reason, everything is converging on this city. The Chosen, the Chronicle, an infestation of demons influencing the populace. We should have expected this. We've been two steps behind, out-maneuvered at every turn. It's time we went on the offensive. Strike now while they least expect it."

  Dane and I looked at each other, coming to the same conclusion. Tobias was right. If the demons found this book, basically a map to the Spear, it wouldn't be long before they found it. And then found me.

  "What do you have in mind?" I leaned forward, elbows on knees, and started to rest my head in my hands then thought better of it when I felt my stitches tug.

  "We start taking out the nests." Tobias unrolled a map of the city, sliding the plate of food to the side to make room, and spread it out over the table. "I've highlighted around the areas where the highest concentrations are and circled the buildings they've taken refuge in."

  "These are all old churches." I'd familiarized myself with most of the churches in the area a couple years ago, back when I was still trying to figure out if I was banned from just one or all of them without my soul. Even then, the majority of them were closed down. "How can they be hiding out on holy ground? How were they at that church tonight?"

  "A church only remains sacred so long as it houses the followers of God. Once the people and the prayers have moved on, there's nothing left to maintain the holy consecration." As if sensing my next question, why had I been prevented from stepping foot on the grounds, Tobias continued. "There's residual power for a year or two. After that? Nothing. It is officially up for grabs."

  "I never realized how many abandoned churches there were in the city. That's a lot of ground to cover." Dane poured over the map, trying to figure out where we were earlier in conjunction to the others.

  "Congregations merge as the flocks thin. Hard times and a lack of faith have primed the city for an insurgency. I think we should start here." Tobias tapped his pointer finger on a circle just outside neutral ground, a few blocks from the apartment. "If we need to beat a hasty retreat, we won't have far to go. If we're successful in annihilating the first nest, we press on before the demons can sound an alarm."

  "We'll need supplies. Weapons." Thomas began pacing, making a list of the things we'd need in order for our operation to succeed.

  Tobias rose from his position, bent over the map, and looked at Thomas. What did I say before? From bad to worse. If I didn't know better, I'd have sworn this hunter gig came with some psychic abilities. Tobias cleared his throat, not once but twice, displeased with whatever it was he had to say and dreading the reaction he'd receive once he did.

  "You'll be working directly with the Principles, Thomas. They've asked that you fulfill the position of herald, bringing news back and forth between us and them. I am your primary contact, from my position here, which will continue to serve as our home base. I'm sorry, Thomas, truly."

  "A messenger? How am I to help her from there?" Thomas voiced his frustration, even though he knew he could not defy his orders.

  "You will be a great help, providing information the Principles procure from negotiations only they have the authority to approve. Without it, we could be fighting blind. Joseph is in charge
of munitions. If he has need of a specific relic, he is to bring his request to you. You are overseeing the entire operation from a vantage point we all envy." Tobias did his best to defuse the anger rolling off of my ward, highlighting the importance of his new role.

  "And what of Jax?" The pain and regret in Thomas's eyes rocked me to my core.

  So many things unsaid between us. Most of them would and should remain that way, as if giving voice to his feelings gave them life and by doing so propelled him into damnation. Knowing it was for the best, that nothing came of our time together, didn't make it easier to say goodbye.

  "The time for us to take up the sword has long since passed us by, brother. We serve in other ways, influencing the course of events, never the driving force behind them. Jax has chosen who will stand by her side in the face of evil and she has chosen wisely. I've engaged in more than one negotiation with the Sin Eater and have always found him honorable. One misguided decision should not be cause for immediate condemnation. The Principles have accepted my recommendation on this matter. I ask that you do the same." Tobias moved closer, clasping Thomas's forearm, pulling him into a half-hug. "You need time to atone, for prayer and reflection, reconnect with the host. Rejoice in your time with Him, serving Him and your brethren."

  The last bit was meant for Thomas alone, but it was impossible for the rest of us not to hear him. Joseph went to his brother in life and in service to God, offering consolation and a prayer he find peace and purpose once he rejoined his fellow powers. With an arm slung over his shoulder, Joseph walked his brother toward the door. Their wings, in all their glory, were visible as they turned away. Thomas was leaving without so much as a backward glance.

  I didn't blame him. I don't think I could bear it if he did.

  With each step, the brothers faded, their physical forms dissipating until there was nothing left apart from a single feather on the floor. I rushed to pick it up, recognizing the opalescent sheen as Thomas's, my fingers absently stroking the soft down. I took it to my room, carefully stowing it in the top drawer of my nightstand as a keepsake before rejoining Tobias and Dane in the living room.

  Dane took my hand in his, giving it a squeeze before entwining our fingers, acknowledging losing Thomas was difficult for me. He'd been a part of my life in one form or another for the last few years, a rarity since I didn't let many people in. Without realizing it until he'd gone, Thomas was my touchstone. And I missed him instantly. Adjusting to life without him, without the consistency of his presence, would be painful, awkward. The hole left behind would eventually fill with other things. But I'd always know what I had and what I lost because I couldn't be more, couldn't feel more for him. And even if I could, it was forbidden.

  With a heavy heart and mind, I raised Dane's hand, placing a kiss on his knuckles and turned my focus back to the problem at hand.

  The demons.

  "Are you ready?" Tobias asked, more than one or even two meanings to that question.

  "As I'll ever be."

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Evidently, Tobias had been planning the campaign for awhile and gave very specific orders to Joseph regarding our supply list. Dane and I were loaded to the teeth, looking pretty badass, if not like something out of the Punisher comics. Two Desert Eagle .50 cals loaded with custom-made blessed rounds engraved with a cross straight from the Vatican rested in holsters on my hip. A belt of holy water hand grenades were strapped across my chest and the daggers Dane gave me were fastened in sheaths on each thigh. Both of us were dressed in black from head to toe, leather pants and Kevlar-infused tops to protect us from the razor sharp claws. The only differences in our outfits were the heel of our boots, mine slightly higher, a woman's boot, and the length of our coats; Dane's the traditional length, hitting his ankles where mine stopped just at the knee.

  With dawn still a couple hours away, we decided to move while we still had the cover of darkness to conceal us and the arsenal we carried. We left the two angels behind, keeping to the shadows, and made our way to the church. The minute we crossed the edge of the neutral zone, I felt them, my internal demon alarm on high alert. A distinct sulfur-like odor wafted out from the dilapidated building, bringing on a wave of nausea strong enough to make me gag.

  "Here, try this." Dane handed me a small jar. "It helps, trust me."

  "Vicks vapor rub?" The unmistakable menthol hitting me as soon as I unsealed the container.

  "The smell of decay, of death, is a part of my job. Doesn't mean I enjoy it."

  He had a point. I swiped a finger through the rub, drawing a small line beneath each nostril, the gagging stopping almost immediately.

  "Nice trick." I tossed the jar back to him. "Maybe Vicks should start a whole new marketing campaign for medical examiners and homicide detectives."

  "And demon hunters?"

  "Definitely—I could read a testimonial in a commercial. Four out of five demon hunters approve."

  "You ready?" Dane flipped a mental switch, his tone serious, putting an end to our light banter.

  "Are you ready? Why does everyone ask if I'm ready? I'm not the only one going into a nest of demons."

  Dane smiled, brushing a strand of hair that escaped my ponytail out of my face and tucking it behind my ear. I closed my eyes, imagining for a moment what life would be like if we were just two normal people. But we weren't normal. Never had been, never would be. I was born into this life, the last Elioud, the Chosen, and so was Dane, fulfilling his familial duty, becoming the next Sin Eater in a long line of Sin Eaters. It's who we were and nothing would change that.

  "You going to stand around until the sun comes up or are we going to do this thing?" Mustering all the bravado I could find, I stepped onto the soiled church grounds.

  "That's my girl." Dane chuckled, falling in one step behind me and just off to my right side.

  After canvassing the exterior and quietly dispatching two lesser demons lurking by the tombstones disintegrating in the small cemetery behind the church, we moved in, entering through a back door by the pastor's office. Carpet, once plush and no doubt a lovely shade of rectory red, had become a blackened, mold-ridden mushroom farm, emitting funky puffs of air with every boot step. Every cross, every statue, had been removed. Stark outlines on the wall from where paint became dirty and faded around them were the only reminders they'd been there at all.

  Rotten trash and stale urine permeated the air, unfortunate remnants from the homeless taking shelter before the demons took over. Small beams of moonlight through the holes in the roof cast eerie shadows on the wall as we crept past the pulpit to the basement door on the other side of the dais and before the parish hall. Rats scurried beneath the pews and along the walls and we crunched roaches beneath our feet. Something indecipherable crawled through the organ pipes. It was no longer a house of worship. This was a house of horrors.

  Dane reached the basement door before me, ready to pull it open once I got in position. I braced myself for a wave of demons rushing up the steps at the sound and nodded for him to go ahead. The door swung open, pulling up a draft of hot, foul air from the lower level. The stench, a hundred times worse than outside, rendered the menthol rub ineffective. My eyes watered and my nose burned as I fought back the urge to vomit, grateful I'd lost my appetite earlier.

  One foot in front of the other, I forced myself to go down the steps to find the source of the wretched stench. With our backs to opposite walls, Dane keeping an eye on anything behind us while I watched the front, we made our descent. An orange glow, soft and warm, became visible as we reached the last two stairs.

  "What the hell?" I stepped off the last riser, careful not to get any closer to the source of the light.

  "That looks about right." Dane quickly swept the area for demons, giving the all clear before we examined it further.

  "What is it?" I asked, hoping he at least had an idea of what we were looking at.

  "Best guess? A portal of some kind."

  "To Hell?"

 
; "From Hell. I have a terrible feeling they didn't get round trip tickets."

  A large fissure opened up the floor, cracking clean through the old linoleum, the foundation, the packed earth beneath the church, all the way to the first level of Hell. Apart from the faint sounds of despair and pain from the tortured and tormented souls of the damned, the portal remained quiet. It occurred to me that one of those wailing voices could have been mine. I'd been a hair's breadth away from going the other way when I finally died. Instead, I'd been given quasi-immortality in exchange for slaying demons. My decision to become a hunter solidified in that moment.

  "We have to close it." Pulling two grenades free from the belt across my chest, one in each hand, I slipped my finger through the pin loop and held in the triggers.

  I popped the pins and tossed the explosives into the center of the portal, hauling ass up the stairs behind Dane. Like a magnitude seven earthquake, the ground shook violently beneath us as the grenades went off, causing the stairs to break away before we reached the top. Fire and debris erupted from the floor, engulfing the staircase. We lunged, Dane easily clearing the distance from his higher position. My feet hit the edge of the floor, the tips of my toes barely finding purchase. I grabbed hold of the doorway, holding on for dear life. So much for all the parkour training. Joseph would not be pleased with my performance.

  Dane grabbed my wrist to pull me into the hallway just as another tremor rocked the church. The doorjamb I'd been holding onto broke away at the same time as the section of floor beneath me. Flames licked my feet as I dangled from Dane's hold on my arm. I reached for the jagged edge, my fingers clutching desperately, and tried to help pull myself up. Before I could hook an elbow on the floor, a wave of torment hit me, gnawing at the empty space where my soul used to reside.