MySoultoSave (25 page)

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?”

“Death.”

Before the Shepherd could protest, Jaeryth strode away and
let Crystaltown swallow him.

He did feel a bit guilty about leaving Daan behind. He’d
grown accustomed to its presence, even grateful on occasion. But he could never
escape what lay in store for him, even if he hadn’t been rushing to meet it. He
had no soul. Therefore, Heaven itself could not reverse Samael’s claim on
him—let alone a single Shepherd. Perhaps it was better for Daan that he’d left
this way and spared the Shepherd witness to his demise.

The neighborhood was just as filthy and sinful as he
remembered. Trash littered the sidewalks and overflowed from public
wastebaskets, and graffiti adorned nearly every flat surface. Rats darted among
the shadows of more than one alleyway. Defeat resided in the dulled gaze of
every human he passed, from the handful lounging on the stoop of a squat brick
tenement and passing a crack pipe among them with no apparent concern for
discovery, to the gaunt and rag-clothed man in the boarded doorway of a small
shop, obviously afflicted with some disease, who begged passersby for change.

Women in scant, tawdry clothing lingered on corners and near
lampposts, beckoning to the men. One of them sauntered up to Jaeryth as he
approached and looked him over with a fevered gaze. “You look lonely, baby.”
Though she made an attempt to keep her lips still when she spoke, he caught a
glimpse of her rotted, blackened teeth. “How ’bout a blow? For twenty bucks
I’ll send you to heaven.”

He held back a laugh at her unintended irony. “No, thank
you.”

“Psh.” She scowled, flapped a hand at him and turned
away—and he saw the tiny infant, just a few months old, sleeping in a carrier
strapped to her back. His stomach clenched. That child’s life was ruined before
it had begun.

And in a very real way, he’d been the cause of it.

He moved on, feeling as though he’d been scraped hollow
inside. Everywhere he turned, he encountered human suffering. A teenage boy
seated on a curb, head cradled in his hands while a woman who was apparently
his mother screamed obscenities at him from the doorway of a building behind
him. Two girls, no more than twelve, made up like whores and shivering under a
streetlight while a pimp glared at them from the shadows. An old man in a
wheelchair, the pinned length of his pants denoting where his legs ended at the
knees, loading a syringe with trembling hands. Flint-eyed youths with handguns
stuffed into their waistbands, on the prowl for blood.

A crushing weight settled in Jaeryth’s chest. He walked
quickly, blindly, until he reached an area that was devoid of humanity—and then
collapsed to his knees with a grinding gasp.

He deserved eternity in Tartarus. He had condemned these
people to a living hell on Earth, long before they would ever arrive in the
real Hell and suffer yet again for sins they would not have committed, given
the chance to escape.

Eventually he staggered to his feet and leaned against a
light pole, attempting to regain his breath. He had to do something. Atonement
was out of the question, but perhaps he could make some small difference before
his end came.

No sooner had he stepped onto the sidewalk then a slight
figure came barreling from a dark alley and collided with him, nearly knocking
him down. The figure cried out and reeled back. It was a teenage girl, perhaps
eighteen or nineteen, panting and holding the front of her torn shirt closed
with one hand. A thin stream of blood ran from one nostril and her eyes were
wild with fear.

Recognition slammed him like a bolt of lightning. Her name
was Elizabeth, though everyone called her Liz. He’d corrupted this girl
personally a few years back. She hadn’t gotten along with her parents—typical
teenage angst—and he’d persuaded her to run away from home with her older,
alcoholic boyfriend.

Her gaze locked with him. “Help me,” she rasped, throwing a
glance over her shoulder. “Please.”

He followed the glance. Four men emerged from the alley
she’d escaped, all of them swaggering and heavily muscled. The apparent leader
wore a shark’s grin as he located his target and his hard gaze shifted to
Jaeryth. “Hey, man,” he called. “You found our toy. Thanks. How ’bout you back
off now, a’ight? We’ll take her from here.” Rough laughter bounced among the
thugs when he finished speaking.

The girl sobbed and stared at the sidewalk, obviously
expecting him to comply.

Jaw clenched, Jaeryth shuttled her behind him. “Find another
toy,” he said to the men. Without observing their response, he put an arm
around the girl and began leading her away. “I won’t let them hurt you,” he
murmured.

Rapid footsteps echoed behind him. The thugs would catch up
soon.

Jaeryth bent toward her ear and whispered, “Can you run?”

She gave a vigorous nod.

“Stay with me. When I say go…” He lowered his arm and
grabbed the girl’s hand. At least his experiences as a demon had given him a
slight advantage—he knew every inch of this neighborhood, every shadow and
hiding place. With a bit of luck, they could escape.

The footsteps ramped up to pounding speed. He squeezed once.
“Go.”

He ran. And she stayed with him.

* * * * *

Thursday night practice ended on a jubilant note. There was
a good possibility that in less than twenty-four hours, Ruined Soul would be a
rising star in the music world, pinned on a rocket to success. It was a dream
come true.

Logan only wished she felt better about it.

Without Jaeryth, the whole thing seemed like a dull victory.
She’d given up hope that he would come back—and just about convinced herself to
go out and find him. If she had a vehicle, she would’ve headed after him
already, though she had no idea where to look.

After hugging Blue and Reid goodbye and promising to get plenty
of rest for tomorrow, she and Tex got into his car. She hadn’t decided yet
whether to confide her thoughts in him. If she said she wanted to find Jaeryth,
he might offer to help. But he also might tell her to forget it.

She had no idea what angels could do, but she suspected he
could probably stop her.

Traffic on the highway was light and they progressed
steadily. After a few minutes, Tex said, “So what’s on your mind, Frost?”

“Nothing.” She sighed. “Everything. Jaeryth.”

Tex’s mouth tightened for an instant. “What about him?”

She hesitated, and finally decided to risk confessing. “I’m
worried about him,” she said. “I want to find him. Just to make sure he’s
okay.”

“Oh, great idea.” Tex snorted. “He’s probably long gone, you
know. He could be anywhere. What are you going to do, file a missing demon
report?”

“Thanks a lot.”

He deflated visibly. “I’m sorry,” he said in gentler tones.
“It’s just…I don’t think you should run yourself ragged right now, especially
trying to find someone who doesn’t want to be found. You’re too important to—”

“Maybe I don’t want to be important!” She closed her eyes
and drew a calming breath. “I’m trying, Tex. This prophet stuff is a little
overwhelming.”

“That’s why you’re not supposed to know about it. I told
you, it doesn’t usually happen this way. Jaeryth shouldn’t have explained so
much to you.”

She glared at him. “He saved my life,” she said. “I think
that kind of makes up for it.”