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

by Rachel Rawlings

He whispered something inaudible, a language I didn't recognize to someone else in the room. Someone who hadn't been there before, who shouldn't have been there at all if I were somewhere other than Hell. That's when the illusion slipped. Just for a moment. Just long enough to see the ripple in the fabric of the artificial world he'd created among the rubble where I'd first crossed through.

  It was all I needed to remember the truth.

  Unaware I'd escaped his mind trap, he continued his advances. Whatever underling disrupted him had gone and the whispers were all for me. I believed his desire was real; however, the object of that desire was irrelevant to him. He was a creature of need and he was used to those needs being fulfilled. Sweet promises of how he felt for me, what he wanted to do to me. Of course none of them involved using me to unlock the fallen. I knew better.

  A gimlet knife had survived the trip to Hell, safely tucked in my back pocket. With the Devil's added weight pressing me against the wall, the handle of the punch dagger reminded me of its presence. Easily concealed, the small t-handle grip and sharp double edged blade that protruded between the index and middle finger made the gimlet an ideal weapon for close combat. The trick was removing it from my pocket without the Devil noticing and before he palmed my ass and discovered it on his own.

  Left with little choice or time, I played into his seduction, deepening the kiss. Surprise, followed by satisfaction and heady need, swelled up inside him when he realized I'd become an active participant. With a millennium to practice, the first of the fallen was masterful at arousal, making my job easier and harder at the same time. I pulled my shirt over my head, tossing it aside as my breasts threatened to spill out of my black demi bra. He busied himself with the soft, supple skin while I unzipped my jeans. Things were about to reach a tipping point in this charade of mine. If I didn't free the blade from my back pocket, I was going to end up in bed with the Devil.

  Thumbs hooked in the waistband of my jeans, I seductively worked them over my hips, hands sliding around to push them down over my ass, providing the perfect opportunity to pull the small dagger out of my pocket and drive it into the Devil's neck. Everything happened in an instant. The punch dagger pierced through skin and muscle, just missing the carotid artery.

  Blood sprayed across my face and chest even as I jumped backward, trying to put some distance between us. Back in his own form, the Devil calmly pulled a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his designer suit and placed pressure on the wound. After a moment, he pulled the bloodied silk away and wiped at the flawless skin on his neck, a stark smear of blood the only evidence I'd wounded him.

  "I love foreplay." Darkness swirled in his eyes as he stalked toward me, a beast after its prey.

  Gimlet knife firmly in hand, I prepared myself as best I could for a physical attack from the Devil. We'd spent the last five years locked in a battle with me on the receiving end of the psychological warfare and this was the first in all that time we'd come to blows. It could have upset the balance and that could have altered events.

  The back of his hand connected with my face hard enough to split my lip and cheek. Blood trickled down my chin and jaw. My legs wobbled but I held my ground waiting for him to come a little closer, close enough to stick him a few times in the ribs. If I was lucky enough, I might land a liver shot. He stepped in with the certainty of any fighter up on the judges' cards. All I had to do was wait for the opening I knew he'd leave as soon as he let his right hand go.

  My body shot was a thing of beauty. Mister Joe often bragged about it to the new guys back at BBC. I buried the short blade over and over again, just like when I sparred in the ring. Blood soaked his jacket, but the stain stopped spreading too quickly for any real damage.

  The next hit I took was to the solar plexus. Air expelled from my lungs before my knees hit the ground. A blade hand chop to the throat caused excruciating pain and instant swelling of my larynx and vocal chords. I wasn't entirely sure he hadn't crushed my esophagus.

  "Some believe asphyxiation heightens the experience. What do you think?" He wiped the solitary tear from my cheek with his index finger, dragging it through some of my blood for good measure before bringing it to his mouth. His tongue snaked around his fingertip, voraciously devouring the small sample. "Ahh, the body and blood." With a feather light touch on my neck, he eased the swelling just enough to allow air to flow back into my lungs.

  The punch dagger still in my grasp, I drove it down through the top of his fancy leather shoes straight into the top of his foot. His uninjured foot connected with my ribs, knocking me on my back. If my voice worked, I would have cried out in pain from the coughing fit started by the cloud of dust stirred up when I landed. The Devil was on me in an instant, not giving me a chance to recover.

  "We'll be at this all night, Jacqui girl." The pleasure he took in causing me pain was glaringly obvious as he straddled me, the fabric of his tailored pants straining to contain him. "I'm confounded as to why you are making this so hard for yourself. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I enjoy pain as much as the next man, well, probably more so, but the pleasure? It's not often I allow myself such indulgences. Your rejection wounds me, your refusal cuts deeper than that puny blade you carry. And so we journey down a darker path and you shall experience my mastery of the art of torture."

  Silently mouthing the banishment prayer was an exercise in futility since we were already in Hell. I mean, where else could I banish him to? Still, it didn't stop me from doing it anyway. Or from scratching the angelic script used to close the portals into the dirt-covered street. Relief flooded me when I saw the smallest twitch once I'd completed the first symbol. I drew another right beside it, a stronger reaction this time. A third and he all but seized on top of me. When I'd drawn the fourth symbol, he fell beside me, his body shaking uncontrollably. I realized a moment later it was from laughter and not some mystical power the script held over him.

  Too exhausted and beaten to make a run for it, I rolled onto my stomach, got to my knees and began to crawl away. The Devil wrapped an iron hot hand around my ankle, searing the flesh as he yanked me back down. He jumped on top of me again, this time sitting with all his weight on my ass, grinding my hip bones into the pavement. His hands ran along the span of wings on my back, paying special attention to my shoulder blades.

  "Magdalena does remarkable work. Such attention to detail, such realism. She's a true artist. There's just one thing missing. One teeny little detail that would really make them come to life." Cold steel pressed against my skin and I instinctively tried to jerk away. "Hold still. We're finishing a masterpiece."

  With the precision of a surgeon, he sliced two deep lines into both sides of my back where each wing appeared to burst through my skin. A small sliver of tissue removed from each incision to ensure scarring.

  "There, now it will appear as if they've ripped free from your back. This one's my favorite." He pressed his finger into the seeping wound beneath my Elioud wing. "Feather and leather alike. Feather and leather alike. Joan used to say that over and over again when I visited her each night after your father fell. She still muttering that useless drivel, your mother? Oh, wait, she can't. She's dead."

  A strangled sob wrenched itself free despite tremendous effort to keep it lodged inside. The weight and pressure on my lower lumbar eased as he stood. Grabbing a fist full of hair on his way up, he dragged me down the center of the street. Every brutal inch covered my body in road rash. Once the healing process began—if it began— the scratches and scrapes would turn into one giant scab. He kept going toward some unknown destination further away from the spot where I'd slipped through.

  Behind us, the fabric of time and space splintered with a thunderous crack. Familiar voices I never expected to hear again shouted my name, demanding the Prince of Darkness release me. Tobias escorted Dane across the same boundary I'd accidentally crossed, offering safe passage into Hell to search for me. Something screeched in agony behind them. Hog tied with blessed rosary to bind hi
s hands and feet, Lazarus was apparently in a similar predicament to me. I doubted the Devil cared about the well being or safe return of his minion as much as Dane and even Tobias cared for me.

  "Tobias, good of you to come. And you brought a mutual friend. So nice of you to join us, Sin Eater. You still owe me for the last soul you lost me. I intend to collect."

  "You play a dangerous game, brother. It's gone on long enough. So close to breaking the rules and the fragile balance they maintain." Thomas stepped out from behind Dane. I hadn't even known he was there until he spoke.

  "Tsk, come now, Thomas. Given my history and current position, do think I care about the rules? Look around you, brother. Nobody is playing by them anymore. Not even you. Besides, we're just having a bit of fun." He pretended to check his watch for the time. “She’s only been here five minutes according to the mortal clock. That barely counts as an out of body experience."

  "Release her. Neither of us is in our own realm. This may not be neutral ground but we are still equals here." Thomas extended his hand, waiting for me to reach out and take it. "Give her to me."

  Five minutes? I'd only been gone from the safe zone for five minutes? It felt like hours since I managed to let myself get taken. The amount of pain he inflicted in three-hundred seconds terrified me. I wished I could go back in time to tell seventeen-year-old me not to deal with the Devil. That none of the bastards the woman who masqueraded as your mother shacked up with would ever hurt you the way he could. Nothing they said would be worse than the hours of mental torture inflicted by his demons. No bruise or belt mark could compare to the pain he inflicted with one touch.

  I tried to close the distance between us so I could grab Thomas's hand and be pulled to safety but the Devil stepped on my hair, jerking my head back and halting my escape.

  "I always felt Purgatory was closer to my domain. Fire is more my thing, don't you think?" Taking his foot off my hair, he looked at the blistered and beaten demon Thomas pulled forward. "You're offering a trade?" The Devil steepled his hands in front of his face, taking less than a minute to consider the deal. "Fine. Release Lazarus from his bonds and we shall make the exchange."

  Thomas and Tobias quickly set about removing the rosaries binding the demon and pulled several smaller strands used as a gag from inside his mouth. Dane started to come for me but I was already on my feet walking as quickly as I could. The span of the road from one curb to the next seemed to expand, increasing the distance between me and safety.

  My least favorite demon made the same journey in the opposite direction, giving me a wink as our paths crossed yet again. To which I gave him the finger, muttering promises to mark his skin with angelic script the next time I saw him. I wasn't sure if it worked the same way on demons as it did on the portal but I'd try anything once. After the demon was a few steps behind me, I refocused my attention on the man waiting for me.

  Dane's intense gaze locked on mine and I knew once he'd made sure I would survive my injuries and held me in his arms again, he wasn't ever letting go. He rushed from the curb to meet me, arm extended to grab me and pull me to him the second I was close enough. Something changed in his expression, in the urgency with which he rushed to reach me. He screamed for me to move, to watch out, but my battered body was too slow. Whatever was happening behind me, it was too late to stop it. I glanced over my shoulder and my heart nearly stopped.

  Lazarus had cut open his thigh with his scalpel-like claws, pulled a spear head free of the muscle and sinew, and was poised to drive it into my back. The Spear of Destiny. I knew it as certainly as I knew my own name. When had it come into his possession? Were the hours I'd spent getting the shit kicked out of me in purgatory an entertaining way to pass the time until the witnesses for my execution arrived? It certainly seemed like something the Devil would do.

  Dane roared my name, barreling forward in a last ditch effort to save my life. He grabbed and spun me in one fluid movement so his back was exposed to Lazarus as the Spear hurtled toward us. I felt the metal tip protrude through his blood-soaked shirt. Slack jawed and wide eyed, he fell to his knees taking me with him as I struggled to support his weight.

  "Dane, please. Don't leave me. You can't leave me. Please." His head sagged against my shoulder and I knew he didn't have much time. Afraid the carefully built dam inside me that I'd walled my emotions behind would burst, releasing the unbearable pain losing Dane brought, my plea came out as a whisper. "Help him." My eyes flicked between the two angels. "You have to help him."

  Tobias knelt beside me, resting a heavy hand on my shoulder, saying everything I didn't want to hear with one touch. Tears flowed down my cheeks, streaking through the red dust that coated my skin.

  "At least make him comfortable. Take the Spear out so I can lay him down." I choked back the gut wrenching sob trying to break free, unwilling to give the Devil the satisfaction of hearing my pain. Knowing he felt and relished it was enough.

  "I always collect my dues." With that last parting shot and warning, the Devil and his minion disappeared.

  "It's not the relic." Thomas pulled the spearhead free, tossing it on the ground, and pressed the jacket Tobias handed him over the wound before laying Dane on his back.

  "You're certain?" Tobias picked it up to examine it for himself before throwing it down in disgust with enough force to pierce the pavement. "A cheap reproduction."

  Turned out, I wasn't the intended target after all. It was worse and just as I feared. The Devil knew how much Dane meant to me. And that made him an easy target.

  Dane grunted as I mopped the sweat from his brow with a piece of fabric torn from Thomas's shirt, the only sign he'd given of the pain we all knew he felt since being impaled. Careful not to jostle him and cause him anymore pain, I nuzzled in beside him. I needed to touch him, as much of him as I could. To memorize the way his body felt next to mine and how perfectly we fit together. He came into my life unexpectedly and just as unexpectedly, despite our flaws and the circumstances we'd found ourselves in, still managed to nurture that first spark of attraction into something more.

  With my head so close to his chest, I heard every beat of his heart, counted the growing seconds between each beat and knew it wouldn't be long before he left this world, taking a huge part of my heart with him.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Dane's labored breathing slowed to match the pace of his heart. Tears flowed freely as the realization of his mortal resting place dawned on me. He carried the weight of all the sinners he'd helped over his long existence. The black smut of their spiritual crimes marked his soul and barred his admittance into Heaven. Destined for damnation, he'd spend eternity in hellfire.

  Unless I did something to change that.

  I'd seen him perform the ritual on Joan, my real mother, and knew enough Latin to understand the words he spoke over her before she gasped her last breath. Offering him the same salvation he'd offered so many people less deserving than him was the least I could do. He may not have consumed my sins but he'd saved me in other ways and if this was the only way I could repay such an enormous debt, then it was the least I could do.

  On my knees, I gingerly patted him down until I found the small velvet bag containing the necessary items to complete the ritual. Carefully removing the items from their case, I set them down beside him and prepared myself for the metaphysical smack down I was about to receive. Shifting the balance didn't seem painful when I'd witnessed Dane's performance, except he'd had centuries to get used to the sensation and Joan's burden of sin was small compared to some. The amount I planned to take on far exceeded anything he'd consumed in one service, but I refused to allow him to burn for all eternity.

  "Jax, no! You'll seal the fate of all mankind. If you do this, you will become one of the fallen. Do you understand? You'll be one of them. You'll unlock Tartarus." Thomas realized what I planned to do after I'd anointed Dane's body with oil and began reciting the words I'd heard when my mother was saved by a Sin Eater.

  Ignoring the
angel's cries for me to stop, I placed the wafer on Dane's lips, continuing with my recitation. There was no room in my mind to process Thomas's warning or the dire consequences. There was only room for one thought. Save Dane's soul. There was no room in my broken heart to care about the rest of the world. Each shard held a piece of my love and pain for the man dying in front of me.

  One by one, each sin soaked into the wafer, turning the linen colored cracker a moldy black until it couldn't absorb any more. So much time, so much sin. One wafer and one ritual wouldn't be enough to absolve him of all that he carried. With the last word, I reached for the blackened wafer and braced myself for the pain. Thomas snatched it from my hands, swallowing it before I even fully understood what had just happened. He collapsed, gripped in convulsions as the sin consumed him instead of the other way around. Born into sin, a mortal is better equipped to carry the weight of someone else's burdens than a creature born from divine light.

  A physical transformation began the same instant as digestion. Thomas's eyes morphed into bottomless black orbs. Sin seeped into his pores, giving his previously perfect complexion a grey pallor. The beautiful blond hair adorning his head turned black from root to end. Massive wings once covered in opalescent feathers burst from his back in a pewter ombre. Even as he became the sin he consumed, he instructed me to place another wafer on Dane's mouth and begin again.

  I refused.

  Watching Thomas destroy himself to prevent me from doing the same was more than I could bear. He sacrificed everything he was to keep the doors of Tartarus locked and the evil housed within from getting out when I would have watched the world burn to spare Dane all the pain that awaited him in Hell. Crushing the remaining wafers in one hand and pouring the small vials of wine and oil out with the other, I put an end to the ritual and my chance to save Dane. The cost of one soul, however important it was to me, was too great. Dane didn't spend his life offering people a way into Heaven when the church would not just for me to condemn them all in order to save him.