“If you want the scroll, you must deal with me.” Tapping some inner strength, Ugolino straightened his back and squared his shoulders. “I may be damned, but I was once a great man.”
One time of day, he could have been worthy of admiration had he not succumbed to the temptation of power. Captured by his enemies, he’d been locked in a thirteenth-century tower and then left to starve. With his family.
She voiced her distaste on a whisper. “Not great. You chose sin over honorable death.”
“And I repeat my sin each and every time the sun slips beyond the hedgerow.” His chest heaved and his upper lip curled into an ugly snarl. “Believe me when I say, I wish I could take it all back.”He glowered at the retreating sun. “You are the prophesized liberators in search of Heaven's Door. And you need my scroll.”
“Your scroll?” Niall stepped up, eclipsing her view of the setting sun. “Don't you realize the information on the scroll might someday save the likes of you?”
“I can't ever be saved. No amount of repentance can undo my sins.” He snorted softly and turned to Prudence. “Dante was right. I deserve to be damned. But my children—do not.”
With the sinking of the sun, the feeble old count transformed into the muscular nobleman of his youth.
He glowered at Prudence, projecting the full weight of his lengthy torture.
Ensnared, she struggled to keep from hurling up the knot of despair in her stomach.
The intrusion was clearly intended to elicit her most heartfelt empathy.
It worked. Her heart shattered, but she stood strong. No one so damned, so bereft of remorse would move her to tears.
“My children deserve better. Better than to suffer my damnation.”
She answered him through her tight lips. “Yes.”
“See that hideous grotto?” He pointed to a replica statue of Rodin's rendering of him.
The artist viciously depicted the count’s suffering as he crouched over his dying sons. Though unusual in its horizontal design, like all Rodin sculptures, he’d captured the emotional tension of the moment. The moment when Ugolino realized he was losing all he’d held so dear.
Surrounded by topiary shrubbery and short stone wall, a giant demon wielding a mace stood guard in front of the statue.
“The demon. His name’s Felix. And he's been aching for the day I betray my deal with the devil. The day I lose the protection of my boys. I'll give it to him. Today. I'll let him pound me straight to the Ninth Ring. But only if the Vessel absorbs my children first. Without Felix, you can retrieve the scroll easily.”
“Prudence already has a full house.” Jesse bore down on the intimidating man. “She can't handle any more souls. We'll come back for your children. We promise.”
“You have plenty of room for my two sons. The Vessel can carry a nation.”
“We don’t know that.” Jesse spit through his teeth. “Too many could hurt her.”
“The sun is almost set,” Ugolino urged. “And Felix gets restless in the dark. Say yes, and I’ll call my sons now. They always come for me to feast.”
“He’s right. I can save his children.”
Jesse shook his head. “I don’t like it. Bribes never end well.”
His comment stabbed right into her heart. She’d tried to bribe him their one night in Swift’s bedroom.
“This one will,” she assured him. “And there’s no way around it. We need that scroll.”
He swore hoarsely. “Fuck you old man. You got your way.”
Ugolino bellowed, and all the phases of his children ran toward him.
“Now, Vessel. Now.”
She turned to watch the stages of Ugolino’s sons running to their father, abandoning all thoughts except saving these long-forgotten souls. Waving her arms and shouting, she beaconed them to her. “I’ll save you. Quickly. Fold inside me.”
The conglomeration of boys blurred until they reunited into two perfect young men.
She felt the demons Jesse saw with his Blessed Eye disappear.
The only one that remained was the one they might have to fight in order to leave.
Felix howled, guttural and feral as an angry bear. In the space between the boys, she could see the demon prepare for battle. He began swinging his mace in small vertical circles, and his bare, barrel chest seemed to widen.
With a final wave to their father, the boys joined hands and then slid into her.
Her knees gave out from the sheer weight of their misery.
Jesse scooped her up before the grass stained her jeans, cursing the old man as he placed her on the bench.
Without another word, Ugolino fulfilled his promise. He let loose a blood-curdling battle cry and then charged straight at Felix.
Niall whisked along in the count’s wake.
“Go,” she ordered Jesse. “Follow him. The sun’s almost down. We won't have much time.”
He dashed across the lawn, faster than she’d ever seen him run.
The enormous guard-demon hurled his massive bulk toward Ugolino, the circles of his swinging mace growing larger and faster until the spikes on the weapon couldn’t be distinguished. His tree trunk legs pumped hard as pistons, and she feared Felix’s leather shorts would rip right off. He grinned wide, and a wicked laugh rocked the staid air.
The sun dropped until only a halo of light illuminated the garden, but their collision caused a burst, loud as a bomb and radioactive bright.
She squeezed her eyes closed and plugged her ears with her fingers, but Hell wouldn’t permit her to shut out his torment.
The old Count’s blood-curdling screams rattled her nerves right down to her core. Each soul she carried writhed in sympathetic agony that twisted her insides into painful knots. Her head throbbed, and her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest or implode trying.
She rolled off the bench, exchanging the unforgiving wood surface for the comfort of the grass. Sweet smelling and damp, the simple reminder of home eased the restless souls and allowed her to concentrate deep into the darkening sky.
When all went silent, she sat up, searching for any sign of Jesse and Niall.
The pounding of footfalls forced her to her feet. Two running shadows swerved away from the sliver of sun behind them, becoming more distinct. One hulking and skirting along without touching the ground, the other pumping his arms and legs so fast his limbs blurred in the dark.
“Jesse,” she whispered with relief.
But they weren’t alone. Felix followed hot on their heels.
Behind them, a shaft of firelight burned with vigor. It came from the grotto. She could see the statue had been pushed to the ground, and a hole gaped in the wall like a giant missing tooth.
Before she realized he was upon her, Jesse thrust the scroll into her hands. “Hold on tight.” He scooped her off the ground into his arms.
No argument about being capable. She could look right into the snarling, leather-covered mug of Felix. Weighted with the agony of her new souls, she’d have never gotten up to speed in time to outrun the demon.
Gladly she wrapped both arms around his neck, burrowing against his warm face. Crazy to think it, but cradled like she was, the souls within her calmed almost instantly. She felt complete peace. Well—not complete. But she would, once they were out of Felix’s domain.
“Squish,” he ordered, drawing his arms closer together as they approached the waterfall.
She pulled her feet toward her butt and molded against him, so not a hair extended beyond the illusion. Bunched so tightly in his grip, she could barely breathe, and her muscles ached from curling. But they were through and up the incline almost as fast as their ghostly partner.
The air changed on the other side of the waterfall. No longer charged with urgency, she relaxed.
“I'm okay.” She patted his back with the scroll she clutched. “Put me down. I can run.”
Without complaint or some trumped up reason for holding her, he set her down.
“Then le
t’s go, Princess. I want you in bed as soon as possible.”
She nodded and hustled ahead of him, running straight for Swift’s secret door and wishing with all her heart Jesse meant his bed.
»»•««
“I know we need to find Heaven’s Door as soon as possible, but I could use a long break.” Prudence looked flat-out bushed with the bluish-gray circles under her eyes and her hair all windblown.
A week off, while Swift worked on the new scroll and the old ones stored in Jack’s treasure box, hadn’t been enough rest for her.
And too much rest for him.
Jesse jammed his hands in his back pockets, resisting the urge to smooth the loose strands away from her face with his hands.
While waiting on Swift to perform his magic reading skills, they’d no real reason to see each other.
So they hadn’t.
Better not to draw undue attention.
But he missed her. More than he ever imagined missing anyone.
She pushed off the gray padded wall as the elevator to Swift’s loft locked into place. “Better yet, a vacation. Yeah. I’d like a vacation.”
“I second that.” Jesse grabbed the strap that opened the big slatted door and yanked. It rattled and groaned while sliding up and out of sight before finishing with a mighty clank. “I’ve never had a real vacation, would like to see how the other half lives.”
“Really? Never? Of any kind?”
“Nope.”
“And you’re not getting one now.” Swift waved them into his giant lair while heading into the kitchen. “Either one of you.”
“I guess our voices carry.” He stepped off the elevator, with Prudence beside him.
“Yes. Especially yours.”
“Spoilsport. You can’t keep us from dreaming.” She waggled a finger at Swift’s back. “Hey. What’s that delicious smell?”
Jesse had already filled his lungs to capacity, appreciating the aroma of savory meat. Probably slow-roasted and smothered in herbs and garlic. Saliva floated over his tongue, and his stomach growled.
She exhaled a long, loud ah. “Osso bucco? For us? What’s the occasion?”
“It is a special occasion. But dinner’s not for you. I’m having…a guest after we’re done.”
“Well, at least you won’t run on like you usually do.” She plopped down in the corner of a sofa and pouted.
Swift closed the oven door. “I don’t run on. I’m thorough.”
“Demon. Devil.” She shrugged. “We’re still calling dibs on leftovers. And there’d better be leftovers.”
“Got any chips?” Now starving, Jesse crossed into the kitchen and opened the snack cabinet.
“Have I ever been out of chips?” Swift slammed the huge door on the sub-zero fridge with his foot and placed three beers, one-handed, on the counter. He strode to the dining table and picked up a huge cylinder, the kind architects used for blueprints, and then proceeded to the furniture pit. “Help yourself to whatever. Except the veal.”
Jesse clenched the bag of chips in his teeth and then nabbed all three brews along with the bottle opener. He hightailed it back to the living room to make sure he got the seat beside Prudence.
Still as limber as a teen, he didn’t bother walking through the big square of furniture. In one leap, he cleared the back of the couch and landed ass first on the cushion beside his partner.
She bounced and giggled. He liked hearing that giggle.
“Nice. I only felt one spring give out.” She shook her head and took the bag of chips from between his teeth. Tossing the little clip aside, she placed the open bag between them.
After popping all three tops on the bottles, he handed one to her, left one on the table for their host, and settled back in the overly soft cushions.
“I don’t think I’ve said this enough, but we do outstanding work.” Thumb working under the tube’s plastic cap, Swift joined them in the living room. He grinned like a jackass. “Thanks to the last scroll and the pages from the safe, I’ve nearly finished creating something I’ve worked on for years.”
With the bottom of his sneakered foot, he shoved the coffee table against the far sofa. He removed the lid from the tube with a pop and dumped the contents to the floor.
“What is it?” Prudence scooched to the edge of her seat.
“You’ll see.” Swift slipped a tight band off the four-foot-tall roll with a snap. “Help me spread this on the floor.” He unfurled the heavy paper, and it rolled out over the beat-up hardwood like a fine white carpet detailed with an intricate black design.
All three of them dropped to their knees, and Jesse anchored the uppermost corners with the stubby sofa legs and then studied the diagram.
No. Not a diagram.
Taken aback by Swift’s ingenuity, he slapped his old buddy on the back. “You’ve mapped Hell.”
His partner stamped a sneakered foot on the lower left corner. “I thought Hell couldn’t be mapped. Too hard, especially the way the First Ring keeps changing.”
She stretched her curvy body along the side border of the huge page to hold it flat. She probably had no idea how sexy she looked in her snug jeans and loose T-shirt.
“All naysayers are lazy bastards. I’m a bastard, but not lazy.” Swift stretched past her to the coffee table and grabbed a pack of stapled pages. “This is the transcription of Ugolino’s scroll.” He placed the packet on top of the map. “I'd love to tell you this is the final scroll, but—”
“You keep saying that,” she said, her disappointment evident.
“I’ve never said it outright. I insinuate. Look,” he said as he patted the center of the paper, “this is amazing progress. Thanks to all we’ve learned from Hell Runners, from your secret trips, from all the scrolls to date, I’ve filled in so many missing areas the picture is almost complete.”
He eased back on his haunches and sighed. “But it’s not enough.” He waved a hand over a big open area. “This has to be the location of Heaven’s Door. The Sixth Ring.”
“That’s the deepest yet.” Prudence pinched her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’re sure it’s the Sixth Ring.”
“No. I may be able to transcribe the prose, but this is a giant word puzzle. With missing pieces. We need another scroll, I think, and our collective genius to solve it. I can’t do it on my own anymore.”
“You were never doing it on your own, Boy Wonder.” Jesse sipped his beer, not really wanting it anymore. He glanced over at Prudence, surprised she hadn’t given Swift shit as well.
She’d nestled her head in the crook of her arm and closed her eyes. Normal breathing. Not asleep, but sure as hell not awake. Thinking? Worrying? Suffering the weight of alien souls?
The hand supporting the brown bottle went slack.
Diving across what was probably the only copy of the map, he grabbed the longneck before it spilled.
“What?” She sat up abruptly, the top of her head slamming into his chin.
“Come on.” He pushed off the floor and offered her his hand. “You’re done here. Time to go home.”
“We haven’t started—”
“Swift and I can play think tank without you tonight.”
She pushed up, resting on one hip and ignoring his proffered hand. “No. I refuse to be shut out because I zoned for a minute. I'm a valuable member of this team.”
“You are, Pruddy.” Swift began rolling up his map.
“But you look like you’re about to drop.” Jesse stretched down and hooked his hand through her elbow. “Which you did.”
Once he had a good hold, she let him guide her to her feet.
“But—”
“Trust me. We won’t be solving the puzzle tonight.”
He ushered her toward the big elevator as she stumbled along beside him. Grabbing her handbag off the floor, he slung the long strap over her head.
“I don't want to see you again until you've had a solid eight hours. Better yet, call in sick and sleep the whole day if the souls
will let you.”
“They don't mean any harm.” Her voice was soft. “They don't have any sense of time or what it means to sleep.”
“Here,” Swift had slipped in and out of his bedroom. He extended a plastic container to her. “Sleeping pills. They’re safe and should be strong enough to override the voices or…” He waved his hand in front of her face. “Whatever’s keeping you awake. Jesse should drive you home. I have a guest coming over anyway.”
“No. I’m good.”
“No, you’re not. But to be honest, neither am I.” He lied, not wanting her out of his sight so soon. “I'll drive you to my cabin. It's closer, and with Jack away on business, you don't have to worry about prying eyes.”
“Jess, really—”
“Don’t worry. I'll take the sofa or come back here later.”
“How much later?” Swift cocked an eyebrow.
“Fine. I’ll sleep in the truck.”
“No.” The strength returned to her voice. “Stay. Please.” She gazed up at him, her eyes shimmering the color of rainy skies. “I feel—I mean the souls feel better when you’re around.”
The unending ache in his chest throbbed harder. He wished he could make her feel better. In fact, he’d like to make her feel incredible.
The noisy lift rumbled to a halt.
“It must be the Pathfinder Vessel thing.”
An acceptable rationalization.
She stepped into the elevator. “Of course. What else could it be?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Personally, I hate the stuff, but some herbal tea might help you nod off.” He handed Prudence a steaming mug.
She accepted it with both hands and then settled back onto the porch swing. “Thanks. I don't want to take Swift's sleeping pills if I don't have to.”
The night was comfortably warm and the sky above clear, sparkling with stars.
Romantic.
If she were someone else—anyone else—he wouldn’t hesitate to make the most of the moment. Instead, he nabbed one of his beat-up wicker chairs and dragged it across the porch.
“Funny as it might be, I have to warn you. Your ass is going to bust right through that seat.” She grinned and then sipped from her cup.
Rule Breakers, Soul Takers (Hell Runners Book 1) Page 25