Payable On Death: A Jax Rhodes Novel, Book One (The Jax Rhodes Series 1) (7 page)

A trail of
clothes from the door to the dresser in my bedroom marked my path, making changing into pajamas that much easier since I was basically naked by the time I pulled open the drawer. I'd barely slipped on a tank top before the pounding started on my door. Figuring it was Dane trying to smooth over what he'd said and make amends, I took my sweet time answering. The banging persisted until I swung open the door.

"Dane, I think we've said enough for one night. Tommy? What are you doing here?" I hadn't expected the swell of disappointment when I realized it wasn't Dane at all. "It's late, does your mom know you're here?"

Tommy forced his way into my apartment, slamming the door behind him. "You were with him again. I can smell the Sin Eater on you. How can you find redemption if you continue to choose the wrong path?"

"Sin Eater? What the hell are you talking about? What's going on?" How did Tommy even know about my quest for redemption? I was so confused and it had nothing to do with the bottle of wine I’d drank.

"Did you confess your sins to him? Did he promise you entrance to Heaven?" Tommy's voice filled the room and had me backing up a step.

"Tommy, calm down. Tell me what's going on."

"Don't placate me like the woman in the shelter. You are diverting from the path."

"Who are you and what have you done with the smartass teenager I used to know?"

Tommy moved closer, the light casting bizarre shadows in the shape of wings behind him.

"Do not stray, Jax. Or you will truly be forsaken. Your mother has the answers you seek. I suggest you pay her a visit."

Tommy's advice sounded pretty good. In fact, it sounded a lot like the plan I already had. I was about to tell him as much when he disappeared. Like evaporated. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, just gone.

The television flipped to the multicolored bars and blared the deafening tone to let you know you'd stayed up until there was literally nothing left to watch. The station alarm scared the hell out of me and I fell off the couch and on the floor like a sack of potatoes.

What the hell was in that wine?
It felt like the full Baltimore Symphony Orchestra percussion section was practicing inside my skull and I had absolutely no idea how I ended up in my living room.

I remembered coming home after a disappointing dinner or lack thereof with Dane, changing into my pajamas, and that was about it. I must have turned on the TV and passed out on the couch. Flashes of weird dreams ran through my head as I fixed a pot of coffee. I washed down two aspirin with the first cup, shivering when the uncoated tablets dissolved on the back of my tongue. I'd never dreamed about Tommy before. Man, it felt so real.

The tenor of his voice, the size, everything was off. Tommy was just a kid and the person in my dreams was a man with Tommy's face, like Tommy in ten years. My subconscious was obviously trying to remind me of the talk I needed to have with him. I wasn't exactly sure what my subconscious meant by giving him wings. At least my conscious mind understood the part about visiting my mother.

Regular visiting hours weren't for a couple of days— this visit wouldn't be at a table in the open room for families. It probably wasn't a bad idea for us to be separated by a pane of glass this time.

The guard walked me to the booth at the end of the row where I waited for my mother, twirling the phone cord around my finger to kill time. She took her sweet time gracing me with her presence. All the guilt, all the remorse over the choices I'd made, vanished the moment she walked through the door and sat down on her side of the booth.

My mother saw it, too.

With all the grace and dignity of a woman at Sunday service, my mom sat ramrod straight in her chair, her hand on the receiver, waiting for me to pick up on my end.

"Jacqueline."

"Mother."

"You finally know."

"No thanks to you."

"So you met Joan. She finally found you. Your mother is a relentless woman. I'll give her that." A sly smile worked its way across her face, never quite reaching her eyes. They remained cold and lifeless.

"What? What did you say?"

"Did I stutter, dear? My sweet, innocent sister Joan. She went completely insane while she was pregnant with you. You drove your birth mother mad in less than nine months. I suppose I should be grateful you took your time with me."

"She was your sister?"

The woman who sat across from me looked and sounded like the woman who'd raised me, fed and clothed me, but I didn't know her at all. I stared at her in disbelief and the evil inside her stared back.

"What do you mean was? Is Joanie dead?"

For a moment, the woman I knew broke through, much like Joan had her moment of lucidity before she died and I saw the resemblance for the first time.

"Is my sister dead?"

"She killed herself."

"You're a liar. My sister wouldn't kill herself. After she fell for the half-angel and wound up pregnant with you, even after the first dream of demons and the first time an angel spoke to her, she just prayed harder. The doctors just thought she'd had some sort of mental breakdown when your father died. They believed in science, not the supernatural. They refused to believe she'd been touched by Heaven. Joanie knew and she clung to her beliefs.” She clasped her hands in mock prayer.

“So you see, my sister wouldn't kill herself. She wouldn't commit the ultimate sin and turn away from the one person she believed loved her. Unless.... Sin Eater. No, he wouldn't dare." She slammed her right hand on the table, her left still firmly grasping the receiver.

A guard stepped away from the wall he'd been leaning on, ready to end our conversation and take her back to her cell, when she reassured him everything was fine. She told him she'd just learned her sister died and she was distraught, promising not to make a scene if he let her continue to visit with her daughter. The crocodile tears stopped the second she turned to face me again.

"Who is the Sin Eater?" I'd heard that name before in my dream. Tommy said I was with him. It didn't make sense earlier but it couldn't be a coincidence. I had to find out who or what he was.

She ignored my question, rambling on about her master and her betrayal instead.

"He told me to take you, told me to raise you like my own, and I would be provided for. This wasn't exactly what I had in mind; however, I am a patient woman. I passed every test set before me, each vile creature who laid his hands on me and then laid in bed beside me. And so did you. You passed his one and only test. You came to him so easily, so willingly."

"I did it to save you."

"You did it to save yourself. By then, you were filled with hate and resentment. Be honest with yourself for once because when you die, which will be soon I think, you will be his, body and soul. And I will finally get what's coming to me."

"Oh, you'll get what's coming to you. As soon as you step outside these walls, you'll get what's coming to you."

"As powerful as you are wicked." My aunt, the woman who’d pretended to be my mother, who dragged me from one abusive home to another just to soften me up for her master, smiled and this time it was genuine.

"You are the last and he has waited for you for so long. He's always been there, you know, watching from the shadows. You're his favorite—he's saved a place for you by his side. I thought you'd realize this once the church denied you but even then you refused to see the truth. Stop denying him, stop denying yourself."

I hung up the phone and stood. She kept talking. The glass muffled her words and I didn't care enough to read her lips. There was nothing left for her to say. I walked away from her for the last time mourning the mother I thought I had and the real mother I’d never known.

The last bus back to Fells pulled up as the sun set behind the prison. After paying my fare, I made my way to the last seat and wedged myself into the corner of the back of the bus, my feet dangling off the edge. I slipped my earbuds in, shuffling through my iPod for a playlist that matched my mood. I doubted one existed and settled on playing Wrong Side of Heaven by Five Finger Death Punch on repeat. It seemed apropos.

Night unfolded over the city, casting buildings into shadow, offering safe haven to creatures who preyed upon the innocent. Two scurried deeper into the darkness when I got off at my stop, no doubt following me home, so I decided to follow them instead. I'd been a pawn in a game where everyone knew the rules except me. And I was tired of it.

I was the freakish offspring of an angel half-breed. I was damned. According to my so-called mother, I was powerful. It was time to see if she'd spoken the truth for once in her miserable life and two perfect test subjects just dodged down the alleyway beside my apartment.

I'd banished my share of demons. I wasn't in the praying mood. I wanted to hit something and the gym was closed. A few days before I wouldn't have thought about fighting two demons in alley but a lot can happen in a week. I'd gone toe to toe with Lazarus. Sure, he beat my ass, but I'd gotten a couple good shots in and that was when I thought I was just your everyday sorta girl who happened to have sold her soul to the Devil. Given the knowledge of who I was, I felt a confidence I hadn't before.

Probably too confident.

The demons moved deeper into the darkness. The abutment created by the buildings provided the perfect place for them to lure me in. Only one way in or out. The moon peeked out from the clouds, providing just enough light for me to see their eyes. Unable to take any weapons into the prison, I’d left my brass knuckles and billy-bat on the kitchen counter when I left the apartment. Armed with only my fists and the fighting skills I'd picked up at the gym, I advanced.

Two on one. Not the best odds—not that I cared. The first came at me in its true form, razor sharp claws and teeth. Salvia dripped from its mouth, running down its blackened skin. The charred flesh cracked and flaked off, exposing the hell fires that burned inside, fueling its powers before the skin regenerated. The beast ran at me and with an aikido move I'd picked up from one of the MMA guys training at the gym, I tossed the demon into the side of the building on my left.

I had less than a second to recover before the other demon made a move. It scurried up the wall like a wharf rat, small chunks of brick and mortar falling to the ground as its nails dug in. Hind legs coiled, it lunged, trying to take me down. I attempted to dodge right, hoping the creature would overshoot and crash into the building where I'd tossed his partner, and came up short. It latched onto my back, grabbing my hair and pulling hard.

Staggering from the added weight and jerking of my head, I used the momentum and smashed the demon into the side of the building behind us. Its nails dug into my scalp, sending small trickles of blood down my neck. I had to get that son of a bitch off before it fingered my brain. Leaning forward and then back, I slammed the demon into the wall, repeating the process a few times until it finally let go of my head.

Its partner stood up from the trash littering the alleyway and came at me. I threw a few right elbow jabs into the side of the demon still latched onto me while blocking a strike from the other with my left arm. Claws raked down my forearm, shredding my jacket and my skin. Blood flowed from the wounds. Clenching a fist to ensure I could still make one, I forced myself to push through the pain. Injuries would be assessed and treated later.

Something moved above us, leaping from one rooftop to the other. The demons watched it pass overhead and something close to fear crept into their eyes. I took advantage of the momentary distraction, kicking the demon in front of me between the legs as hard as I could. It dropped to its knees, clutching my leg on the way down. The demon on my back bit my shoulder, its teeth scraping my collar bone.

My legs buckled, finally giving under the extra weight and pain. I went down hard on my knees. Bent over, out of breath and strength, with one demon relentlessly perched on my back and the other poised to separate my head from my body, I wasn't sure I'd make it out alive. Part of me wondered if that wasn't for the best.

Apparently reading my mind, the demon on my back whispered in my ear, "You're right. It is for the best. Come home to your master and all this trouble, all the hardships, will be gone."

And then I got pissed.

I had picked this fight. I had followed the demons because I wanted to make something hurt as much as I did. What better focus for all my anger and pain than two of the hellspawn responsible for so much of it? I dug deep, scratching off the scab covering old wounds and old hurts until rage filled me. Every one of the physical and emotional blows I'd taken over the years fueled my body and mind. I flipped the switch. Blinded by fury, I became a mindless fighting machine.

As powerful as I am wicked.

I let loose a powerful right blow to the demon's jawbone, knocking him away. Reaching behind me, I grabbed a hold of the demon on my back, rocking forward as I finally ripped him free. I rolled to the side and popped up on my feet, making sure my back was to the wall, forcing the demons to come at me head on.

An old wooden kitchen stool poked out from the top of the dumpster. I grabbed it, smashing it against the ground until one of the legs busted loose. With my makeshift stake, I jabbed the first demon in the chest, driving it back until the wood smacked against the brick wall. Slumped over and not moving, it appeared to be dead.