Rule Breakers, Soul Takers (Hell Runners Book 1)

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Rule Breakers, Soul Takers (Hell Runners Book 1) Page 11

by Jacqueline Jayne


  Prudence knew then what she had to do. No way would she allow her father to kick them to the curb. “Then we have to be who we are, no matter the consequences.”

  His eyes narrowed, and his bottom lip jutted out. “Are you saying what I think you are?”

  “Yeah. I’m not turning tail, no matter how wrong it feels. It’s one time.” Her tight throat almost pinched off the words. “Too many other souls are counting are us.”

  Jesse shook his head. His whiskey-colored eyes glinted fire. “You surprise me. I expected a different answer.”

  “Why? I’m no different than you. What if the orders had been yours and Swift’s?”

  He snorted like old Jesse. Like teacher Jesse. Like punished Jesse.

  That’s when the full truth hit her. His words repeated fresh in her brain.

  It’s not what he said. It’s what I know.

  This wasn’t Jesse’s first burn directive.

  Her unshed tears burned like alcohol in a wound.

  He twisted and grabbed his helmet hanging from the handlebars and then straddled the motorcycle and pumped the gas pedal until the engine roared.

  She shouted into his face to be heard. “If you've got something to say, then say it.” Even up close, his animal eyes remained unreadable.

  “No, you’re not any different than me, Princess.” He shook his head. “I’d just hoped you were.”

  Chapter Nine

  If she wanted to play by the rules, then by God, they would follow the Hell Runner’s playbook to the letter. Jesse dug his cell out of his pocket and clicked on the video. He’d document every decision, every move, every breath Prudence made on this mission and then see how she felt about the rules after watching it.

  Son of a bitch. Why hadn’t she told her father to shove the burn directive? Before she’d gotten to his apartment, he’d resigned himself to leaving. Part of him welcomed it.

  But had he really expected Prudence to fight her father and lose her job? The truth was insufferable.

  No. Not one cell in his body believed she would leave Hell Runners. Not after all her hard work.

  But he’d wanted her to walk away. From the moment he’d opened the orders in Jack’s office to the point when she’d collapsed against his chest, he wanted her to look him square in the eye and ask him to defy authority or leave. That was the painful part. Knowing he would have left and unsure why.

  He hadn’t been willing to leave for Swift.

  She speed-walked ahead of him, as if anxious to rip away the only consolation a hell-bound mother possessed.

  “Quit dawdlin’, Thorne,” she said over her shoulder. “You sightseeing?”

  “Funny, Luckett,” he said, flatly.

  She did a piss-poor job of channeling him, but it made him wonder how much of his training influenced her decision. A pang of guilt added to the throb in his chest and he turned off the phone.

  No. He didn’t need to document her suffering.

  In two strides, he caught up to her. “I’m observing your soul detection ability.”

  “Unnecessary.”

  “We have to report all details—on the mission and each other.”

  Harder than necessary, she kicked a stone out of her path, and it skittered out of sight. “They’ll get emotionless boilerplate and like it.” She pointed down the street to their left before hurrying ahead. “We’re almost there. The Williams home is at the end.”

  The winding road didn’t take long to navigate, and indeed, she’d located the post-World War II bungalow in record time. If they were going to do this thing, at least it would be over quickly.

  As far as Jesse was concerned, the cottage situated at the end of a cul-de-sac could have been the sweetest place anywhere, let alone in Hell. White clapboard siding, center door with a window on each side, shutters painted a deep Pacific blue, and pink impatiens in full bloom lining the walkway to the door. He caught a glimpse of a rope swing, hanging from a tree branch out back, and the corner of a steel sliding board.

  Jesse had long wanted to swap out the cookie-cutter complex for such a bungalow. He needed a yard to tend and enough remodeling to harden callouses on his hands. He needed something to call his own. And someone who wanted to own him. But intimacy created problems—like sharing secrets.

  With a glance at his partner, he easily imagined Prudence tangled in sheets and sleeping in the crook of his arm.

  Who was he kidding? He could never share his bed, let alone his secrets, with Princess. Her father raised her to be a company girl. Saving souls was the only thing that meant something to her. He wanted more. He wanted—

  “Earth to Jesse.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face.

  He’d zoned out and almost stopped walking.

  “You want more than what?”

  Shit. He’d spoken aloud.

  “To get this over with,” he said, focusing ahead and stepping onto the walkway leading to the bungalow’s front door. Before his next breath, a shadow, as long and wide as an oak tree, stretched across their path. Jesse cringed. Could things get any worse? How Niall evaded detection by the Blessed Eye baffled him to no end.

  Without another choice, he slow-turned in the shade’s direction.

  Niall emerged from between two overgrown hydrangeas with sagging blossoms. Still dressed like his ridiculous clone, the son of a bitch was starting to piss him off. He could easily conjure a costume more fitting to his own time.

  “What are you doing here, ghost?”

  “Informing and assisting. Today—you’ll actually need my help.” Niall’s troubled gaze met his. “I have information not provided when you were ordered to extract the child. And a plan for escape.”

  “Escape?” He narrowed his eyes at the shade.

  “We don’t need a plan for escape,” Prudence said, matter-of-factly. “We grab the kid, and we’re out.”

  “This time will be different.”

  “And how do you know why we’re here?” she said, without the sweetness she usually reserved for the shade.

  Niall cleared his throat. “I'm not at liberty to say.”

  “Not an acceptable answer.” She crossed her arms, resting them on her T-shirt-covered breasts. Maybe his warnings about Niall had finally taken hold. “You and I are empathetically linked—and of your own doing. But I feel you blocking me out. And on the day we, supposedly, most need your help?” She shot him her famous granite stare. “That’s not trust.”

  “You have my trust, but I also protect someone else’s trust. Right now I can’t be open.” Niall pressed his palms together. “Someday you’ll understand, but I’m begging you—do as I say. I only have your best interests at heart.”

  “Not good enough.” Surprising Jesse, she walked away first. He glanced at the shade’s grim face and then followed her.

  “The coroner pronounced the mother intoxicated at the time of the car accident,” the shade blurted across the little yard. “But my source knows the coroner was bribed to lie.”

  She halted. Palm pressed over the pendant beneath her T-shirt, she bit the corner of her bottom lip. Thank God. She was second-guessing her decision. The impudent spirit had dangled the right bait.

  “What’d we do, Jess? We have our orders.”

  “Like I said, it’s your call. But he had me at escape.”

  They turned in unison, but she spoke. “We don’t have any backstory on the mother or how they wound up in Hell.”

  “I know. Someone high up wanted it that way. Trust me—it’s an ugly and all too common tale.”

  Trepidation zipped up Jesse’s spine. He glanced over his shoulder, Blessed Eye tingling. “Then tell it. Fast.”

  “That is best.” Niall waved them in close. “Eleanor William’s estranged husband followed her from work one summer evening. Always cautious, she recognized his car following her. Instead of picking up their son from her mother’s house, she led him home. Alone, they argued. He demanded to see his son. She refused, afraid he’d take her b
aby. The husband beat her brutally. And not for the first time.”

  Stomach twisting, bile crept into Jesse’s chest. He couldn’t understand the compulsion toward cruelty and abuse.

  “He emptied her wallet and left her bleeding on the floor. Ellie, the mother”—he pointed at the front door— “thought the money might have appeased him. She downed a single hit of scotch for the pain, not enough to affect her judgment, then cleaned up and left to get her boy.”

  “That's awful.” Prudence rubbed at her pendant again. “I'm sure the council doesn't know about this.”

  Not daring to comment, he didn’t even shake his head. A council who could locate lost souls through divine miracle knew details. In spite of learning about the burn directive, his partner continued to be a blind idealist.

  “It gets worse. The husband lay in wait. He followed and watched while she loaded the toddler in the car. Once the boy was settled, he attacked his wife. Coming to her daughter’s defense, Ellie’s mother walloped his knee with a baseball bat. But the man’s an animal. He recovered quickly. Though Ellie sped away before he got to his feet, he caught up fast. She’d planned on leading him to the police station. But her husband ran them off the road and—” The shade swallowed hard, his opaque stare watery pools of blue.

  “With his own son in the car.” Prudence pinched her eyes shut.

  He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but his Blessed Eye ached too much. His attention drifted to the houses across the street. An amorphous demon loomed several streets over, wavering and confusing his sight. Fuck.

  Niall whispered. “Another you know—like me—is nearby.”

  “So is something else,” he said through clenched teeth. “What’s trailing you?”

  “Exactly what you think. The First Ring has been breached.” Because her eyes were still squeezed closed, Niall leaned down and spoke to Prudence, his brogue softer and clearer. “This is a dangerous mission, lass. The child has kept the mother safe all this time. Demons cannot torment the truly innocent. But once you extract him, she will be dragged into one of the lower rings of Hell. She’s watched by a minion of The Fallen.”

  Her damp eyes opened wide as she stared up into the ghostly face. “The Fallen?”

  “A damned angel.” He turned his head, his solemn gaze meeting Jesse’s. “Baalberith.”

  Shock had his knees wobbling. He grabbed at the shade’s transparent arm to keep steady and yawed forward.

  Hyper-observant, Prudence popped up under his armpit, jabbing her shoulder into his side. Though at half-pint height, she lent a great deal of support. “What’s wrong? You keep fading out on me. Who’s Baalberith?” She fired the questions, none of which he wanted to answer.

  He’d tell her only flat facts. “Before he became chief asshole and resident ballbuster for the Ninth Ring, Baalberith was known as The Lord of The Covenant. His subjects loved him. Worshiped him. Until his true darkness was exposed.”

  “He was banished? Like Lucifer?”

  “Didn’t need to be. Addicted to adoration, he set up shop in the only place left for an immortal. He damned himself.” The fallen angel was so much more, but he couldn’t bear to tell her. Not now. Hopefully, not ever. “We’re in deep shit.”

  The shade nodded.

  Jack was either the cruelest bastard to ever become a parent, or someone else in the Hell Runners wanted them out.

  Permanently.

  A sickening wave of anxiety added to his nagging fears. His sharp mind deduced the simple truth.

  The chancellor wanted to discourage his daughter—to protect her, not kill her.

  Jesse circled away from them, wishing for a wall to punch. Their lives were in real danger for the first time. If they fucked up one iota, they’d never see home again.

  “This goes way deeper than simple damnation,” he said. “What does Baalberith want with this woman?”

  “She will be tortured and tormented, of course, but why her specifically?” Niall shrugged. “We don’t know.”

  “This is screwed up.” Prudence shoved her fingers through her hair. “She's not a murderer. Why didn't the light take her?”

  “Same as everyone else.” He nodded toward the perfect cottage. “One glimpse of home, peaceful and safe, and she condemned herself and unwittingly, her child.”

  “Not to mention, life in Hell breeds resentment,” the shade added. “If I were her, I’d be wishing my husband was here instead. But who wouldn’t? Her anger will feed the demons and make them stronger, more powerful. They will exploit her, forcing her to wallow in her horrific memories for all eternity. It doesn't matter she didn't commit the sin. She believes she did.” Niall pleaded with all his might, his form wavering like a mirage. “You must either abandon this mission for now or take both their souls.”

  Eyes wide, she started backing away. “This is too much. Don’t we have a benevolent God? Why did he do this to her?” Hand to her forehead, she turned away.

  “God didn’t do anything to her. It’s free will.” The shade followed her. “We must go to him.”

  “Niall,” Jesse called him back. “She knows all that. Give her a minute.”

  Reluctantly, the shade stepped back and stood beside Jesse. “I have a plan. It’ll work.”

  “It’s not up to me. This is her carry. Her decisions.”

  She leaned against the house and hung her head. If she was anyone else, he’d carry her out of Hell right now. But his partner was the shining star of the First Ring. A superior Hell Runner born to beat the odds.

  Trouble was, Baalberith and his servants didn’t operate within the confines of first ring rules. Despite rigorous training, she’d never been confronted with the overwhelming strength of pure evil.

  Yet, he trusted, if she wanted to kick serious demon ass, she could. Prudence couldn’t stand to lose. Not to Zane or Boone at poker and definitely not against injustice.

  She pushed off the wall and walked toward Jesse. No eye contact.

  In that instant, he felt a part of his own resolve wither.

  “Look,” the shade said, bending low so she could follow his line of vision. He pointed down the street to a flowering dogwood, growing between two houses. “There is a fissure in the facade behind that tree. It's a straight drop into the Second Ring, but a shortcut back to the Gate. The demon won't suspect either of you possessing knowledge of Hell's sub-corridors. I’ll lead you back.” He straightened. “I assume Jesse will carry Ellie.”

  “We’re leaving her,” she said, with a catch in her voice. “We have no choice.”

  “No choice?” His ghostly eyes sank deep into his head.

  “We don’t need you. Not this time.”

  “I see.” His voice hissed like a radiator ready to blow, but his face sagged as if he might weep. “You—”

  “Follow orders. For the greater good.”

  “Greater good?” He huffed and stepped back, his clothes dissolving with each step.

  Without another word, she walked, death-march slow, up the sidewalk.

  Shit. He knew damn well his partner wouldn’t be able to live with her decision. Not to mention his long-standing grudge against Baalberith. He’d pay heavily for disobeying orders. But he’d deal with the consequences later.

  If he survived.

  Before Niall disappeared, he motioned for the shade to move in close.

  “She’s hell bent on following the rules, but I’m not. Get Prudence down the rabbit hole,” he whispered. “No matter what. I’ll take care of the minion.”

  “Jesse—”

  “I know. Save your breath. The only way out of Hell tonight is the hard way.”

  The shade placed a hand over his heart, sighing through a grin. “Railing against authority. I've so missed that. I’ll stay close at hand. Be aware, my friend, the demon will be upon you as soon as you exit. Confuse him with speed, if you can. You won’t like it, but Prudence runs fastest, it would be best if she took the mother and led the beast away.”

  �
��No.” He shook his head emphatically. “We don't split up. Ever. Especially not now.”

  “Might I remind you, the child is off-limits? He only wants the mother. Though out of sight, Swift and I will be with her. By the time he realizes he’s been chasing the wrong Runner, you’ll be gone. We’ll follow you once the demon is out of sight.”

  A rumble, deeper than thunder, filled Jesse's brain. His head snapped from side to side searching for the source.

  Brazenly close, the demon shimmered like a hologram, rapidly changing shapes as if considering his best self for the job. A brutally scarred man morphed into a crimson-skinned demon with elephant tusks and a long tail whipping electric sparks. In a blink, he crouched into a muscular panther, as sleek and shiny as a Maserati with protruding fangs and huge claws curved like Death’s scythe.

  More firepower than needed to extract the mother’s soul. A demon so determined wanted extra recognition.

  Like the kind earned by delivering a live Hell Runner to his master.

  His heart pounded hot fear into his veins, quickening his thought process.

  If Prudence couldn’t ditch the beast, she’d have to take to the woods. She'd never outrun it on the straight way home. This time she didn’t have the advantage.

  But he did. He could see the beast if it chose invisibility at any point.

  Before he could change his mind and leave the mother behind, he stomped up the walk.

  Niall’s plan belonged in the shitter. His partner was going into the fissure first, even if he had to toss her in.

  With luck, he’d lose the beast in the maze of houses and follow them soon. Without luck, he’d have to stare down Baalberith for the third time in his life.

  Third time was so not the charm.

  ∙•∙

  Eleanor William’s essence radiated so strong through the walls of the little house, Prudence’s empathetic senses throbbed to the point of physical pain. And she knew there’d be no relief until the wicked deed was done. She rapped on the pretty red door with the brass knocker like she was a guest, not the woman condemning a mother to eternal torment.

 

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