“I’m sure Swift has the situation under control.” The shade tried to sound reassuring. He didn’t.
Jesse’s heart pounded like he was bleeding into his chest. “Then she could be—”
“Don’t.” Niall flashed ahead and stood in the center of the road.
“Move. I have to find her.” He tried to circumvent the shade, but as usual was blocked. “Cut it out, Niall.”
“Rest before you become useless. Work on seeing Prudence. I’ll be back shortly.”
The shade vanished. No warning. No smoke. Had Niall finally sensed her?
Frustrated and winded, he walked a circle, debating the worthiness of trying to connect to his partner or to continue running blind.
Shit. The not knowing seemed unbearable. The gray sky overhead and the bare forest surrounding him closed in like walls of concrete. A stark contrast to the sunny woods, where he and Prudence had hashed out the mission early this morning.
He recalled that fateful conversation. Every word, every nuance of body language, every place their bodies touched—vivid and pulsating. He couldn't remember why he'd been so upset at her, only that he wanted to hold her close again.
The memory consumed his thoughts. He’d seen her lithe body waver under the pressure of the decision, and for a moment, Jesse thought he wouldn’t reach her before she buckled to the ground. Guiding her into his embrace, she hadn’t protested as he’d nestled her against his chest.
And she’d allowed him to pull her closer. So close, her breasts crushed against him, and he could feel her jagged breaths through his shirt. He’d stroked her lustrous hair, soft strands between his fingers, and she’d calmed with his comfort.
“Jesse! Jesse!”
Prudence?
“Where are you?” It took only a split second to realize the sound came from inside his head and not the earpiece.
She’s alive!
At last, his Blessed Sight returned. Relief churned out as much adrenaline as panic. The vision overlaid everything else, and he tore into the woods on his right.
Thank God. She was headed toward the Gathering Rock, not en route to the border creek. She’d also avoided being corralled to the straightaway. Smart girl.
Barely outmaneuvering the demon, she wove a crisscross path through the trees. Sweat soaked her thin shirt, and it clung to her like skin.
Not more than an arm’s length behind her, the demon swiped the air with a red-tipped claw. She dodged a sharp right, only a hair’s width from being scarred.
Was there blood on the talon? Her blood?
Pumping his legs harder than he ever had in his life, he slapped the ear bud and hollered, “I'm almost there, Princess.”
Of course, no reply came, but the vision remained clear. He reached the Gathering Rock in what seemed like seconds, his Blessed Eye receding as she came into view. He barreled toward them, swinging out in a loop and coming up beside her.
She greeted him with a grateful smile.
“Are you hurt?”
Head shake.
“The blood. On. His. Claw.”
“Not. Mine,” she panted.
Jesse angled them toward the Gate, the demon's breath on his back, hot as brush fire. “Getting. You. Out.”
“No.” Niall materialized beside them.
“What?”
“If you lead him back to the Gate, or to the hole leading to the Second Ring, he will remember. Baalberith is as connected to him as you are to each other.”
So much for not blabbing.
Falling in step beside him, Niall’s reinforcement nodded agreement. Though he wore a hoodie, drawn tight around his face, Jesse knew it was Swift. But his presence was risky, to say the least. Chances were good Prudence would recognize him, too.
Niall spoke to her in a warm, fatherly tone. “Prudence, you can’t deliver Ellie today. Keep the child, but pass her soul to my assistant. He’s not tired.”
“Not. Giving. Up.” Though exhausted, her eyes lit with indignation.
“She'll. Be. Saved,” Jesse said.
“Yes,” the shade cajoled. “Do it. Before you both collapse and the monster claims one helluva bounty.”
“No,” she huffed, shooting Niall the stink eye.
Jesse faltered but regained his step quickly. “Can’t. Run. Anymore.” He didn’t lie to her. Both his legs wanted to give out. “You. Too.”
The beast growled, deep and victorious, and then lashed the air again, missing their backs. He wouldn’t miss next time.
Bleary-eyed, she nodded.
“Good.” The shade dropped behind them, slicing into the creature’s path. He melded to the demon, and a smothered screech filled the forest. Without question, it belonged to the shade.
Swift flanked her, grabbing her arm with a gloved hand and pulling her to an abrupt stop.
She stumbled, falling to her knees. “What are you doing?”
“Niall hasn’t bought us much time. You need to talk to Ellie.”
“I don't like this.”
“It’s okay. He’s—” Jesse glanced to Swift, and he shook a definitive no.
“A gifted monk. Niall trusts him, and you trust Niall.” He hoped she’d buy his lame ass cover, at least for the moment. “Tell Ellie someone else will complete her trip.”
“It’s too awful.”
“She hears, so she knows already. If you give her permission, she’ll let go.”
The old spirit shrieked again, but this time his cry wasn’t muffled. All three of them jerked around to see behind them. Slumped in a heap on the stone path, the shade rolled onto his back and then stopped moving.
“Niall!” She scrambled to her feet, but Swift held her back with both his hands.
He wanted to help the shade, too. But he saw the whole picture, not just a friend in need.
The beast charged, steam rolling out of bullish nostrils.
Pressing both his hands over her heart, Swift mumbled, and Ellie floated free.
A thunderous force rippled the air, and the demon bore down on them.
“No!” Prudence screamed, anger reddening her face.
The panther lunged forward. Airborne, he stole Ellie from Swift’s strong pull and then turned, positioning to devour the best team Hell Runners ever produced.
Free of Swift’s hold, Prudence flung her right arm back, damn near whacking Jesse in the head. She thrust it forward, open palmed, and using her entire body, she walloped the would-be panther square across the chops. Her hand branded him with a bright blue smudge the size of her splayed fingers.
The demon whelped in surprise and hunkered back.
Jesse watched in nothing short of awe as the beast transitioned, shrinking into a normal, mortal man.
Wailing, the demon covered the seared flesh on his face with a hand the size of a porterhouse. A look of bewilderment filled his once-feral eyes. Gaze intent on Prudence, he backed away, and then turned and loped off through the woods, escaping with Ellie William’s soul.
Pale and wasted, Prudence collapsed against the nearest tree. Resting her forehead against the dried-out bark, she hugged it with one arm and extended the other to him, palm out.
He could tell she struggled to hold back the tears and wished she would have turned to him for comfort instead.
But it was right to give her space. He needed to speak with Swift first, anyway.
Looking behind him, then to the right and the left, he found no trace of his former partner. He’d vanished, leaving Niall sprawled on the ground.
Typical Swift. You could count on him for enough and no more.
Up on one elbow, the shade looked less ragged than Jesse had imagined he would.
He strolled over, filled with newfound respect for the spirit. “How you doin’ old man?”
Niall stood as if he’d not gone three rounds with a demon. “Fine. It’s been a while since I tangled with a beast. In a way it’s invigorating.”
“I, uh—” Jesse cleared his throat, searching for words t
hat wouldn’t come off as false or syrupy. He decided to keep it simple. “Thank you.”
“I hope this incident changes your mind about me.”
“Maybe.” He wiped the stream of sweat off his forehead and back into his now-loose hair.
Niall stood and brushed at his imaginary clothes, concern in his eyes. “Have you two consorted with an angel?”
“No. What makes you say that?”
“Then how did Prudence injure the demon?” The shade glanced around the woods, eyes constantly darting.
“I have no freaking idea. Somehow, I don’t think she does either.” Jesse scratched at his itchy whiskers and considered shaving tonight. “We’ll debrief as soon as she’s—”
“Gone.” The shade held up a hand, his face long and solemn. “Jesse, Prudence is gone.”
Chapter Eleven
Prudence’s first taste of divine light couldn't counterbalance the enormity of her failure. She released the soul of the now-motherless child as anguish swallowed the intense rush of endorphins, and then her tears broke free.
She had a ten-minute lead at best, enough time to purge her cries before Jesse emerged through the portal. He’d be red-hot angry and rightfully so.
But she had to run on ahead. No way would she let him see her bawling like a baby. Not after she swore that she wasn’t a crier.
Grabbing her handbag and jacket from the portico, she galloped down the museum’s main stairs, heading for the one blind spot where the cameras couldn’t see her. The outside wall across from the Three Shades. More concerned with protecting the statues, all lenses pointed away from the museum walls.
A chilly breeze stirred up the sweet scent from nearby flowering trees to mix with the ever-present exhaust from the highway. The familiar perfume of Philadelphia should have grounded her. This was her home, after all. Her place of refuge. Of destiny. Of her own free will.
Dear God. Free will. Zane sounded more logical all the time.
Head aching from crying, she squatted and rummaged through her purse. At last, she found the foil pack of ibuprofen buried at the bottom. Hands shaky, it took her teeth to tear the seal. She dumped both pills onto her tongue and then chugged from the bottled water she’d tucked in the outer pocket of her tote.
She stared at the label. Deschamps’ Holy Water. Possibly the reason she’d marked the demon. She should be happy to have something to report. Deschamps would be thrilled, but she was a long way from happy. Still cool to the touch, she held the empty plastic against her hot eyes.
“Prudence!” Her partner’s deep voice cut above the constant roar of speeding cars along the Ben Franklin.
Startled, she dropped the plastic bottle onto the ground.
So soon?
“Prudence!” His yell sounded like an urgent plea.
She almost didn’t answer him—her need to be alone so strong. But that wasn’t fair. It was bad enough she’d run out on him.
Standing on wobbly knees, she quickly swiped the tail of her shirt over her face and then pinched her tear ducts until they hurt, hoping to staunch the flow. “Over here.”
She slung her handbag on her shoulder and walked toward him as he rounded the corner of the building. Not ready for his fireworks, she picked up speed, intending to pass him.
“Come on. I could use a cold one.” She popped his arm like she always did and then winged by. Hopefully, she’d plunk down her helmet before he could notice her tearstained face.
Instead, he caught her by the arm and spun her around. “Why did you leave without me?”
Emotions too raw to control, she avoided eye contact. And speaking. Too many words, and the sobs would restart.
A familiar tingle radiated from where his warm hand clutched her arm. The buzz in her brain wasn’t merely from the crying jag. Her empathetic senses refused to shut down. It took all her concentration not to succumb to her gift.
“Let’s go,” she whispered. “I want to go.”
“You’re in no shape to balance on the back of my bike.” He guided her to the blind spot again. “And we need to talk. Now.” His voice had turned from desperate to hard and edgy.
“I’m sorry for leaving.” She said it quickly, feeling her apology down to her toes. “But I don’t want to talk.” She tugged to get away from him, but he didn’t relent.
“Then I’ll do all the talking.” He backed her against the wall. “It’ll be a nice change.” Letting go of her arm, he placed his hand flat against the building, caging her in on one side.
He leaned in so close. Too close for her comfort, yet comfort was exactly what he exuded. All that post-battle heat and masculinity invited her to wrap her arms around his waist and bury her face against his strong chest to hide.
But there’d be no hiding. Not from Jesse.
“You crossed over the line tonight.”
The remark shocked her sober, and her head snapped up. He must have felt the tingle of her gift this time.
He held her chin with crooked fingers and lifted, forcing her to meet his stare.
“You’re no longer a rookie—or innocent. It’s not a fair system, but we’re all that stands between these souls and eternal damnation.” Hoarse from shouting, his drawl sounded sexier than ever. “I’m proud of your choice, and I’m sorry I was going to make it for you. I should have trusted you’d change your mind.”
“Yes.” She stood a little taller. “You should have.”
“And you should have trusted me. You should have told me what you were going to do first. Kneejerk reactions will get us all in trouble. Sometimes this job is emotional suicide, but you’re not alone.”
His eyes shined like dark honey, sweet and ever so deep.
She wished he wouldn’t look at her like that, making her long for more than she was allowed to have. “I know, but—”
“No you don’t, or else you wouldn’t have up and run out on me.” Jesse shook his head, and she could see the muscles in his jaw pulse. “I can’t abide running off, Prudence. You know, for a minute, I thought you chased after the demon. You can’t imagine the terror I felt wondering how far you’d run into Hell. Then I remembered you still carried the child. Your first duty would be to bring him home.” He released her chin and pointed at his chest, his face turning ruddy. “But I refuse to suffer losing another partner. Swear it won’t happen again. Swear it, or we’re through.”
Swift. She’d never thought of that. Guilt nearly choked off all her words. “Oh, Jesse. I’m so sorry. I never stopped to think.”
“Do you swear?”
“Yes.” Though her throat felt thick, she repeated it with complete sincerity. “I swear.” Afraid to touch him, she pressed her back against the cold museum wall and then confessed her deepest secret. “I swear. With all my heart. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”
Eyes freshly wet, this time she didn’t try to hide her tears. “Sorry. Again.” She slid the back of her hand under one eye and then forced a smile, trying to make light of her outburst. “Bet Swift never cried over losing you.”
Jesse cupped her face with one hand. Lips parted, his expression grew softer, except for his furrowed brow. “No one’s ever cried over me—for anything.” He plucked the bandana from his back pocket and blotted the last tear off her cheek. “Not sure I like it,” he said quietly.
Instead of handing her the kerchief, he continued stroking the wet tracks staining her face. Tenderly. Slowly.
“What do you like?” she ventured in a whisper.
He paused and averted his eyes. “You always ask the damnedest questions.”
“Sorry, I—”
“Don’t be. No one’s ever asked that before, either.” With a half-grin, he caressed her face with the bandanna one last time before jamming it back into his pocket. She noticed he didn’t elaborate. “Better?”
She may have been done crying but not done with regret. “Not really. I didn’t let only you down tonight.”
“Prudence.” He shook his head.
�
��I was supposed to save Ellie. I know it.”
“You were supposed to save the baby. And you did. Along the way, you were nothing short of amazing.” He slid his coarse fingers lightly from the hem of her short sleeve shirt down her arm, and the tingle of her gift reignited. “Slapping the demon. Shit. I don't think I've ever witnessed anyone as courageous as you. We’ll have to figure out how you wounded him.”
She almost broke down and told him about Deschamps’ experiment. Instead, she uttered the only truth that mattered.
“Doesn't matter. I failed. I lost a needy soul.”
He lifted her hand, the one that hit the demon, and slowly rubbed his thumb over the skin on top. The tingles delightfully increased, not all of them from her gift.
“We'll go back for her.” His voice was quiet but determined. “I don’t know how we’ll do it yet, but we’ll figure it out. We’ll save Ellie.”
“We will?” The weights lifted off her heart.
“Yeah. That’s my promise.” With one finger, he stroked the soft flesh of her jawline.
Sensitive to his touch, both her secret longing and empathetic gift begged to be satisfied. Her willpower was sorely depleted. No question, this time he’d feel her intrusion, and she couldn’t bear disappointing him twice in one night.
“Let’s get outta here.” She pressed a palm against his chest and shoved him back, hard enough for her to move away from the wall. “We’ll talk it out at McDevitt’s.” She turned to walk away.
He snared her around the waist with a strong arm and pulled her against him, her back to his chest. “You asked what I like. I’d like not to go to McDevitt’s tonight.” His mouth hovered near her ear, his whisper a tease that couldn’t be resisted.
Much as she wanted to see how far he’d go, she needed to be free before her gift ran roughshod.
“I need a cold beer.”
“Liar.” He turned her, so she faced him. “I may not be an Empath, but…”
“I. Am.” Every nerve in her body fired. She wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.
He raked her face with a look of curiosity. “You’re trembling, but you can’t be afraid. Not after all we’ve been through.”
Rule Breakers, Soul Takers (Hell Runners Book 1) Page 13