MySoultoSave

by S W Vaughn

  Instead, he headed deeper into the slums, past the point where Logan had decided they should turn back. The entire place seemed cold and lifeless. The few residents stirring at this hour remained indoors, and occasionally he caught a glimpse of a flickering television or a passing shadow behind curtained windows.

  As he walked, the surroundings shifted gradually from individual houses to duplexes and small apartment buildings, and he soon found himself in a business district of sorts. Shops lined both sides of the street, though most of them appeared closed. And at the end of the block, he discovered a diner.

  It wasn’t the same diner he and Logan had visited. This building was red-painted wood instead of chrome and glass, and it had a name—Rosie’s Eggs ‘N More. There were signs of life here. Through the windows, he could see people seated in booths, enjoying their breakfasts. He watched a waitress pass by the glass door carrying a tray piled with plates of food. The sight of it made his mouth water.

  This was as good a place as any to stop and rest. There was a steel pole at the corner where the sidewalks joined. He sat at the base of it, in the patch of grass bordered by the cement paths, drew his knees up and crossed his arms over them. The sun had more or less risen, and some of the coldness had worn from the morning. Altogether not unpleasant.

  Several moments after he’d settled in, an older woman in jeans and a long blue coat exited the diner. He had seen her briefly through one of the windows and she’d glanced in his direction. She carried a tall, lidded foam cup in one hand and something wrapped in a napkin in the other. And she was headed straight for him.

  Perhaps he’d done something wrong in sitting here. He certainly didn’t know the woman and he couldn’t imagine another reason for her to approach. Wishing to avoid a confrontation, he placed his hands on the ground to push himself up.

  The woman reached him before he could stand. “You look like you could use some breakfast.” She held out the cup and the napkin-wrapped bundle. “Here you go.”

  He frowned. “I’m sorry. I have no money.”

  Confusion flashed across her face and she cocked her head, as though listening for something. Then she smiled and said, “Well, this is a gift. It doesn’t cost anything.”

  “A gift?”

  “That’s right.”

  He reached out slowly and accepted the items. The cup was warm against his hand and the bundle was heavier than it appeared. “Thank you,” he said. The words seemed insufficient, but he could think of nothing else to say.

  “There’s cream and sugar in the coffee. I hope that’s okay.” Once again, she appeared to listen. She unzipped the small purse that hung at her side, produced a five-dollar bill and handed it to him. “Now you have money too.”

  His brow furrowed. This was not typical behavior. Still, the woman had shown him kindness and he would not be rude. “Thank you, again.” He strove to come up with a better expression of gratitude, and finally added, “Have a nice day.”

  Her smile returned. “You too,” she said, and walked away.

  He stared after her for a moment, until his snarling stomach demanded that he investigate the bundle. Inside the napkins, five sausage links rested atop two slices of buttered toast cut into triangles. After his first night of near starvation at Logan's house, he had learned quickly to recognize food. He set the coffee aside and took a bite of sausage. His body reacted instantly, clamoring for more, and he devoured three of them almost without stopping for breath.

  Determined to savor the rest, he sat cross-legged and spread the napkins on his lap, a makeshift table where he laid out the food. He sipped at the sugar-laden coffee and nearly moaned in pleasure.

  When he’d calmed the beast in his stomach, his thoughts returned to the woman and her odd behavior, and a terrible suspicion dawned on him—that she had been listening, to something not visible in the mortal plane. He concentrated on allowing his vision to see further. When his perceptions shifted, he let out a groan. “Not you again.”

  The round-faced Shepherd who had appeared to him at Logan’s house sat on the grass across from him, mirroring his position. “Now, demon,” it said. “Is that any way to greet your guardian?”

  “Guardian!” Abruptly he remembered that no one else could see or hear the Shepherd. At least there were no other humans around. He lowered his voice and said, “Get away from me, you meddling insect. I told you I don’t want your help.”

  “You’re not hungry? Well, then give me the food back.”

  He sighed. “Fine. Thank you. Now leave me alone, pest.”

  It grinned at him. “I am called Daan. Not insect or pest.”

  “And I am called go away.” Jaeryth started on a piece of toast in defiance of the Shepherd’s attempt to take it back. “You angelic beings are such a pompous lot,” he muttered. “Tempters have no names.”

  Daan crossed its arms. “I am not pompous.”

  “You are annoying.”

  “At least I’m not cranky.”

  Jaeryth ignored it. He finished his food, down to the last crumb of bread, and stared at the grease-stained napkins. The anger that Daan’s appearance had invoked faded quickly and fresh hopelessness filled him. Why had he bothered to eat? He was only prolonging the inevitable. Even if he managed to live, Samael would come for him—if not now, then once Logan manifested as a full prophet. He refused to believe Ronwe would succeed in his mission. She was too powerful now and she had Tex to protect her.

  But perhaps there was a way for Jaeryth to turn himself in after all. The woman from the diner had given him money. He could use it to return to Philadelphia, and there he could seek out Ronwe. The head demon would no doubt delight in contacting Samael and arranging for him to be delivered to Hell. And if he failed to find Ronwe, at least the city offered endless possibilities for death. Surely he could manage to destroy himself there.

  And it would keep him away from the temptation of Logan.

  He picked up the coffee and stood. “All right, insect…Daan. You want to help me? I need to find a bus station.”

  “Are we going on a bus?” Daan scrambled eagerly to its feet. “That sounds fun.”

  “I am going on a bus.”

  “Then I am too. You should not be alone.” The Shepherd hesitated for a moment, and then gestured past the diner. “This way, demon.”

  His shoulders slumped. “Jaeryth,” he said. “My name is Jaeryth.”

  Daan smiled. “Now we’re making progress.”

  “Oh, bliss.”

  As he followed Daan, he considered throwing himself in front of a bus instead of boarding one. At least then he’d be spared the Shepherd’s company.

  * * * * *

  Logan wasn’t sure how she made it through most of Tuesday. Time passed so slowly, it might as well have stopped. Tex had somehow gotten her excused from Miss Turner’s home visit, though her caseworker would be there the next day. She had to pull herself together by then.

  He’d also offered to reschedule band practice, but she insisted on going through with that. The band was all she had left. She wasn’t going to let them down just before what could be their big break.

  At least half a dozen times she’d looked out the front window, hoping to see Jaeryth standing on her porch as though nothing had happened. She finally had to tell herself firmly that he wasn’t coming back.

  She just couldn’t convince herself that she didn’t want him to.

  As if that wasn’t enough of a complication, she had this prophet business to sort through. Tex had reluctantly explained the awakening to her after she’d threatened to quit singing if he didn’t. He said that prophets weren’t exactly born with their abilities. Whatever talents they had grew gradually, until they went through some big event that cemented them on either side—light or dark. Dark prophets committed an unforgivable sin. Usually murder. And light prophets performed a miracle.

  Apparently once they were manifested, both angels and demons stopped trying to “recruit” them. So she’d be
safe from the Tempters when she established herself as a full prophet. But that didn’t help her much, since she was pretty sure she couldn’t walk on water or resurrect the dead.

  Funny how it was so much easier to become a dark prophet.

  Tex picked her up at the usual time and she struggled to appear normal at practice. Her singing only floundered a few times. She explained her detachment by claiming exhaustion, and though Blue didn’t appear to buy it, no one questioned her further. They cut the session short, and when she got home, she went straight to sleep.

  She barely got up in time for the home visit. Miss Turner came and went with little comment. Tex must’ve told the woman she was sick or something, because the caseworker was almost sympathetic. Once Miss Turner left, Logan sat alone at the kitchen table and stared dully at nothing in particular.

  This wasn’t fair. She didn’t ask to be a prophet. How was she supposed to change millions of people’s lives when she had enough trouble changing herself? This responsibility was too much for an ex-addict who happened to be able to carry a tune. She couldn’t bring light to the world—especially when her own was looking so dark.

  She had no idea how long she’d been sitting there when someone knocked at the door, and her heart thumped and swelled. Jaeryth. She just about ran to answer it, banging her shin on the edge of the couch as she passed it. The pain didn’t even register. She threw the door open and disappointment instantly dulled her senses again.

  “Blue.” She hadn’t even heard the car coming in. “What’s up?”

  “Nice to see you too.” Though the other woman smiled, her eyes brimmed with concern. “You look like you slept in a gutter.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  Blue frowned. “All right, I’m intervening,” she said. “Go take a shower and get dressed. I’ll wait.”

  “I don’t need—”

  “Yes you do. Move it, woman.”

  “Fine.” With a heavy sigh, she shuffled off toward the bedroom. Blue could be stubborn as hell and she just didn’t have the energy to fight. She’d just get through whatever this was as quickly as possible.

  Ten minutes later, showered and changed, she plodded back to find Blue sitting on her couch. “I’m dressed,” she said. “Now what?”

  “Now we get out of here for awhile.”

  She allowed Blue to lead her to the car, then climbed in and sat motionless while they pulled out. After a moment of silence, Blue said, “I got a letter from Jacob this morning.”

  Vague interest stirred in her. “You did?”

  “Yeah. He apologized to me, said he needed to clear his head. He wasn’t happy performing—he likes to sing, but audiences were never his thing.” She slowed and stopped at a red light, and a smile surfaced. “He still loves me. He’s coming back when his tour is done and he’s going to stay.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Logan said with real enthusiasm. “Blue, I’m so happy for you.”

  “Thanks. But mostly I wanted you to know that if it wasn’t for you, I never would’ve gotten that letter.”

  “Huh?”

  “Your confusion is encouraging.” The light changed and Blue eased across the intersection. “Here’s the thing,” she said. “Before you came along, I was planning to quit the band. I didn’t think anyone could take Jacob’s place. Besides, I’m only a bassist. I could stop playing in the middle of a set and no one would notice.”

  Logan shook her head. “That’s not true,” she said. “There’s no rock without bass.”

  “Yeah, well, I wasn’t feeling that. In fact, I was not only going to quit, I was going to move to another state. No announcement, no forwarding address. Performance is addictive, so I figured the only way I’d make it out was a clean break. The way Jacob did.”

  “So you were just going to disappear.”

  “Pretty much. I was so pissed at Tex when he said he’d found some chick he wanted to try out with us. Three more days and I would’ve been gone. It was that close.” Blue turned to look at her with glistening eyes. “And then I heard you sing.”

  She snorted. “And it changed your life,” she said. “Right?”

  “Actually, it did,” Blue said quietly, without a hint of malice or sarcasm. “I wanted to be part of what you had. No, that’s not right.” She gave a quick frown. “I was honored that I’d be making music with you. Playing bass didn’t seem pointless any more.”

  “Honored.”

  “Yep.” Blue paused. “Does that sound weird?”

  An actual smile forced itself across her lips. “No,” she said. “I’m honored to make music with you too.”

  Blue grinned. “You should be. I totally rock.”

  “So you’re taking lessons from Reid now?”

  “Babe, I taught him everything he knows.”

  They shared a laugh, and Logan almost felt as if she could breathe again. “All right,” she said. “You never told me where we’re going.”

  “To dinner!” Blue pumped a fist in the air. “Straight ahead. Best pie in town.”

  Her stomach twisted, even before she looked out the window and saw the familiar chrome-and-glass building, the nameless diner she and Jaeryth had gone to that night. A pang of loss hit her hard and she almost asked Blue to pick a different place. But then she’d lose the first scrap of emotion she’d had since Monday night.

  She could handle this. It was just a diner.

  “What’s wrong?” Blue shot her a concerned look. “You don’t like pie?”

  “No, I love it.” She sounded normal enough. That was good, wasn’t it? “Thanks for taking me out.”

  “No problem.”

  Blue parked in the lot and they walked inside. Logan didn’t even get past the Please seat yourself sign before she was tackle-hugged by a girl in a black apron.

  “Logan!” The girl drew back, beaming. “I’m so glad you came in today. I just got tickets for the show. I can’t wait!”

  She blinked a few times, and almost asked the girl who she was. And then she saw the nametag—pinned straight this time. “Melody?” The waitress was completely different. Gone was the blank expression, the listless shuffle. She hadn’t bought a new wardrobe or changed her hairstyle, but she still looked like a new person. “It’s really good to see you,” Logan said. “Wow. You look great!”

  “I feel great.” She held up a hand to show a slim gold band with a small, sparkling diamond, and a blush crept into her cheeks. “Matt and I are getting married.”

  “Oh, Melody. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” Still smiling, she glanced at Blue—and did a double-take. “Oh my God. You’re Blue. I love you!”

  Blue’s bemused grin turned shy. “Um. I’m just the bass player.”

  “Are you kidding? You’re, like, the second coming of Flea.” Melody shoved a hand in the pocket of her apron and rummaged around, and then stopped. “Oh. I didn’t ask. Do you think I could have your autograph?”

  “You want my autograph?”

  “Yeah.” The waitress produced a pen and a blank diner check. “Please?”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Logan hung back and watched them, with warmth spreading through her that refused to dissipate. She really had changed things—at least for one suicidal waitress, a worried cook and a bass player who’d thought she didn’t matter.

  Maybe this prophet stuff wasn’t so bad.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  As difficult as it was for demons to find individual humans, it was proving infinitely harder for a human to find a demon.

  For two days, Jaeryth had wandered the streets of Philadelphia. Though he’d forced himself to look almost constantly into the Otherworld and frequently exhausted himself in the process, he hadn’t seen so much as a single Tempter. And he couldn’t enter the places that existed only in Shade. He could see the doors, but they remained closed to him.

  His failure was exacerbated by the constant presence of Daan. The irritatingly cheerful Shepherd kept ensuring that other humans
offered him food or money when he needed it, and had even convinced a young couple—musicians, ironically—to give him a bed for the night. None of them had expected anything in return.

  Shepherds, it seemed, had easier jobs than Tempters. Most humans were inclined to do good things, given a nudge in the right direction. It surprised Jaeryth to learn this.

  He’d managed to keep from thinking about Logan, for the most part. Only in sleep was he vulnerable to his memories. He had never dreamed as a demon—in fact, he’d never slept. But last night, Logan had invaded his mind, and he’d woken with tears in his eyes and a deep ache in his heart that still lingered.

  He was more determined than ever to find a way into Hell.

  As night fell, he found himself on the borders of familiar territory. Crystaltown, the neighborhood he’d almost single-handedly nurtured into abject corruption, lay before him in all its broken glory. Even without altering his perception, he could feel despair and darkness radiating from the place like a plague.

  Here, he’d be constantly reminded of Logan. But he was also practically guaranteed to find a Tempter or two—or better, Lazul and Kyr. Ronwe’s lieutenants were frequent visitors to Crystaltown.

  “You’re not going in there, are you?” For the first time in his recollection, Daan’s voice held a trace of worry.

  “Yes, I am,” Jaeryth said.

  “But it’s not safe.”

  He faced the Shepherd with a dry smirk. “You don’t say.”

  “I do say.” Daan’s bright blue eyes dulled a few shades. “Jaeryth, if you enter this place, I can’t follow you.”

  “Really? Well, all the more reason for me to go.”

  “I have to protect you! It’s my mission.”

  “No, you don’t.” He let out a breath, and relented slightly in the face of Daan’s dejected expression. “Tell you what. If I don’t find what I’m looking for here, I’ll come back and let you bother me all you like. All right?”

  Daan raised a skeptical eyebrow. “What are you looking for?”