Savior (The Keepers of Hell Book 1) (6 page)

CHAPTER TEN

     Ash walked briskly through the hospital, ignoring the strange looks he was getting from pretty much everyone. It wasn’t every day that a large man wearing purple scrubs that were too short for him stormed through the halls. The giant erection that was tenting the scrubs probably didn’t help either.

     God, why had he kissed her? He could still taste her on his lips. He could still feel her soft body crushed against his. He couldn’t get her out of his head. It was at that point he knew that he would never forget the look on her face when he left her. The image of her standing there with swollen lips and shaking hands would forever be burned into his memory. He knew he would hold on to it. It was all he was ever going to have of the pretty doctor.

     He had been with many women over his lifetime, why did this one matter so much? He could try to tell himself it was because the demon threatened her, but he knew that was only part of it. Somehow, the little woman had gotten under his skin. Hell, she saved his pitiful life, and damn if he wasn’t determined to live it now more than ever. He was going to protect Lele, and he was going to protect his doctor, even if he had to do it from afar.

     He forced his feet to move faster, even as they itched to turn around and go back to her. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted that and so much more. He wanted to just lay her down on the bed and kiss her until there was no part of her body that he wasn’t intimately familiar with. He wanted to fuck her until she screamed, until she couldn’t remember what day it was.

     What was worse, he cared about her. More than he should. He wanted her to be happy and he wanted to be the one who put the smile on her face every day.

     But that wasn’t in the cards for Ash. He knew the day the demon reminded him of the deal he made that he could never entertain that kind of relationship. Ash didn’t own himself, and that meant he could never give any part of himself away.

     Nevertheless, he knew he already had. Dr. Elizabeth Rone had touched his heart, both literally and figuratively. He was sure there was some kind of Freudian disorder associated with the feelings he had for her, but that didn’t make them any less real.

     Ash wasn’t accustomed to feelings. He had no room for them in his line of work. It was best for everyone if he just went on back to the life he had, hunting and killing demons and evil fuckers for hire. That’s what he was. The demon provided all Ash could ever need, and in exchange, he killed.

     Ash hailed a cab in front of the hospital and rode in silence back to his home. Once inside, he changed out of the borrowed clothes and into his normal black on black. He bundled up the scrubs and started to throw them in the trash like all the other clothes he wore, but he couldn’t do it. He brought them to his nose and sniffed. As he expected, the smell of the hospital was still strong on them, but that reminded him of Elizabeth. They didn’t bear her warm, inviting scent, but it was as close as he was going to get. Instead of tossing them, he folded them neatly and dropped them into an empty drawer in his chest.

     Then he went to his weapons stash. He palmed two blades and secured them to his beltline. Then he looked for his favorite. It was gone. Ash remembered having it the night he was shot. Oh hell no. It could be anywhere! He jammed his feet into his boots and pushed out the front door. His first stop was going to be that fateful alley. Maybe he dropped it during his near death experience, and by some miracle, nobody had found it. That was the best case scenario. The worst case, someone did find it and Ash was going to have to spend an exceptional amount of time retrieving it by any means necessary.

     That was his blade.

     He troughed through the streets until he found himself nearly back at the hospital. The alley was just a few blocks from it. As he turned the corner, he saw the yellow police tape lying on the ground. Shit, he thought. The police had probably searched the alley and they probably had his knife. Now what was he going to do?

     He picked his phone out of his back pocket and dialed Lele’s number.

     “Why the hell did you leave the hospital?” she demanded when she answered. “You are nowhere near ready to be out. Get your ass back there right now.”

     “I love you too, Sis,” he grumbled. “I need to know, what happened to my personal things at the ER?”

     “Like I know,” she answered. “Why did you leave?”

     “I can’t explain right now,” Ash told her. “I need to find something of mine. Can you ask your man if he found my knife?”

     “That great big thing you always insist on carrying?” she asked. “Yeah he found it. He did what he was supposed to do and turned it over to the police. You’ll have to call them and ask about getting it back. I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to carry one that big though. You sure you want it back?”

     Was he sure? Duh. “Yeah, I want it back.”

     “They’ll probably arrest you,” his sister warned him.

     “I’m gonna risk it,” Ash told her before hanging up the phone. Fuck and fuck. How was he supposed to get a six inch blade from the evidence locker at the police station? It was the fucking Blade of Darkness! And it was locked up tight in the police station. He didn’t want to admit it, but he might have to ask that fucking demon for help.

     But first, he was going to try and do it his way. He stuck his thumb and first finger in his mouth and whistled, waving at the same time. The oncoming cab pulled over to the curb in front of him and stopped. Ash yanked the door open and folded himself in the backseat.

     “Police station,” he grumbled at the cabbie.

     “Sure thing,” an amused and very familiar voice responded.

     Ash groaned. “Why are you even here?” he asked the demon.

     “Because I keep an eye on what’s mine,” the demon replied. “Thought you could use a hand.”

     “Whatever,” Ash mumbled. He was secretly grateful that the demon had taken it upon himself to help. This way, Ash could pretend he didn’t need the bastard’s help.

     “Lost your knife, huh,” the demon continued as if Ash were going to listen to him. “Well, I seem to have a way with people. Let me do the talking and you can have your precious knife back. Then you get your ass back to work.”

     “Yeah, that was what I was trying to do,” Ash told him. “What are you now, my stalker? Cuz I gotta say, it’s getting a bit creepy. You just ain’t my type.”

     The demon laughed. “You ain’t my type either, asshole.”

     Ash willed his lip not to twitch. He decided a bit of banter might be good, though. Maybe if he pretended to have some sort of rapport with the fucker, maybe, just maybe, he would forget about Elizabeth.

     “Here ya go,” the demon said. “Let’s get on with it.”

     Ash and the demon got out of the cab and walked up to the front doors of the police station. The glass doors were surprisingly heavy as they entered.

     “What can I do for you?” a uniformed officer said from the front desk.

     “I was shot the other night,” Ash started. “I lost my knife and I heard it was here. I would like to get it back.”

     “Name?” the officer asked. Ash told him and the officer typed away at his keyboard. “Says here that it is an illegal blade. It’s been confiscated. Nothing I can do.”

     “Perhaps,” the demon said, leaning onto the desk, “there is. Look again.”

     The officer’s eyes became glassy and had a faraway look to them as he examined the screen once again. “I’ll just go get it for you,” he said after reading the screen again. He stood and walked stiffly to the back of the station.

     “What did you just do?” Ash asked the demon under his breath.

     Fucker smiled. “Got your knife back.”

     A few minutes later the officer returned with a sealed bag. “Gonna need you to sign for it.”

     Ash scrawled his name on the sheet of paper offered by the cop. Then he took the baggie and ripped it open, checking to make sure his knife was undamaged. “Thank you,” he said to the officer as he slipped it into its holster. Then he turned and looked at the demon. “Let’s go.”

     They both walked out of the station, but once they got to the cab, the demon stopped Ash. “This is where we part ways,” he said. “I got another soul to pick up.”

     Ash shuddered. He knew exactly what the demon meant and was glad not to have any part of it. He could just imagine what kind of deal the poor idiot had made. Maybe it was for money, power, or even health. Maybe it was a deal like Ash himself had made. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter because the shmuck who signed in blood was in for an eternity of hell. Literally.

     Ash forced his feet to move back to his home. He ignored the stitch in his side and the pressure in his chest. He knew he was still healing, but the demon needed him alive and wouldn’t have insisted he get back to work if Ash wasn’t able.

     Once he entered his home, he palmed the pendant around his neck and chanted the spell that would take him to Hell.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

     Shax drove the cab slowly; circling the block, making sure his little slayer was on task. That woman was going to be a problem, he could feel it. Besides, she had already pissed him off. As much as the demon enjoyed Ash’s work, it had been his time to die. It had been time for the man to pay his debt to Shax and she stole it from him.

     Shax didn’t like to be stolen from. He was the demon, not her. He was allowed to steal. No one could take something from Shax and get away with it. No one.

     It didn’t matter that Ash meant more to him alive than dead at the time. Hell was in a mess, and this was his chance to gain power. Lucifer had been killed by his own son with the Spear of Destiny. Who knew where the little idiot even found it, but it was the only weapon capable of killing one as strong as Lucifer. But his son was sick with power. While that idiot was ranting and raving like a depraved lunatic, the leaders of the realms were gathering power. They all knew that Stephan, Lucifer’s demented son, would never rule Hell. Not for any amount of time. That stupid fuck was hell bent on revenge for some slight he imagined against him. Or maybe it wasn’t imagined. Whatever the deal was, he was focusing all his attention on getting his revenge and not paying attention to what was going on in Hell. Everyone knew that Stephan would end up getting himself killed. From the rumors, he was messing with some pretty powerful supernaturals, including a warrior angel.

     Shax was using Ash to destroy any demon that might be able to put up a fight against Shax when the time came for someone new to claim the throne. He could do it himself, but where was the fun in that? Besides, if Ash got himself killed, his soul belonged to Shax. He would continue his servitude into his pitiful afterlife.

     He felt the atmosphere ripple and knew that Ash had gone to Hell to find his latest assignment. As soon as he did, Shax went to the doctor’s home. He made himself invisible to her eyes and let himself into her house. It was a quaint little place. The walls were a cheery yellow and the furniture looked like a Pottery Barn had thrown up in her living room.

     He found her fast asleep in her bed with her dark hair spilled over the white pillows. It was no wonder Ash had taken to her; she was very nice to look at. Perhaps one day he would play with her. But not yet. She was fidgeting in her sleep. Her legs kicked and she groaned. A nightmare, possibly.

     He approached the head of the bed and softly laid his fingertip on her temple. “Tell me your secrets,” he said quietly. He watched as the dream she was having played in his head like a movie.

***

     Elizabeth knew she was dreaming. She’d had the same dream over and over for most of her life. But it wasn’t really a dream. It was a memory.

     She was back in her twelve year old body, in the attic of her foster home. She hated her foster parents. They were mean, vindictive, and selfish. The only reason they took on foster children was for the monthly check the government provided them with for caring for the children.

     They drank, often. Elizabeth and her foster brother, Eric, only got new clothes at the beginning of the school year. And it wasn’t because her foster parents bought them. No, it was because the school they attended had a special program to provide new clothes for the underprivileged children in their district. A teacher from the school would take the kids shopping about a week before the onset of classes, allowing them to pick out a few items for themselves.

     Elizabeth and Eric wouldn’t have even had that if Elizabeth hadn’t signed herself and her brother up for it. She had asked the teacher not to tell her foster parents about it and gave her some background on their home life. The teacher, of course, had called social services. But her foster parents were smarter than that. Whenever the worker would visit, they would have the house clean, they would both be sober, and there were no liquor bottles to be found in the house.

     And every time, after the worker left, Elizabeth and Eric received their punishment. There was one time that Elizabeth had to miss school for a week due to the bruises and swelling on her face where her foster father had taught her a lesson about speaking their business to anyone.

     After that, the teacher didn’t call social services, but did what she could to make their lives a little easier.

     In her dream, Elizabeth was setting her escape plan into motion. No one would be home for a few hours and she knew she had to time it right. The bundle of old newspapers was set strategically close to the rusted old outlet. She plugged the lamp with the battered cord into it and turned it on. Of course, nothing happened. But then again, Elizabeth had a plan. She reached into her pocket for the matchbook she had stolen from her foster mother’s table. It had only one match in it. She struck it and then lit the paper book on fire and dropped it on the pile of old papers.

     They caught very quickly. It didn’t take long for the fire to spark the lamp, which in turn began a fire in the wiring system. Elizabeth watched it go. If there was no house to live in, social services would have to find her and Eric another family to live with.

     When the room was filled with smoke, Elizabeth rushed down the stairs and into her room. She opened the window so that there would be ample oxygen to feed the fire. When the smoke detectors started blaring, she headed out the front door. She could have stopped by the phone in the kitchen to call 911, but she was a child. No one would expect her to think that kind of thing through.

     Just as she was opening the front door, she heard it. Her foster brother was screaming. He wasn’t supposed to be there! Elizabeth raced back up the steps to her brother’s door. The knob was hot but she forced it open. A wave of heat crashed into her face and stole her breath. She took a deep breath and held it as she forced her feet to move. She ran into the room, but couldn’t see anything. She looked for Eric, but all she could see were orange flames and black smoke.

     Finally, as the last of her breath left her, she heard him whimper. He had crawled under the bed, which was blazing. Elizabeth reached into the flames and grabbed her brother’s ankle. She yanked him out from under the bed and dragged him out of the room. When they were both in the hallway, Elizabeth was gasping for air, but Eric wasn’t breathing at all.

     The fire had begun to consume the second floor and she could hear sirens blaring in the distance. She knew there was no time to loose. She picked up her nine year old brother and started walking. She missed the first step on the staircase and they both rolled and tumbled down the stairs. At the bottom, Elizabeth grabbed her brother and dragged him outside.

     She laid him on the grass and immediately began to breathe into his mouth. She didn’t know what she was doing, but she was going to try. She had to.

     Then someone else was there. Voices were shouting to one another and Elizabeth knew the fire department had arrived. She was pushed out of the way while paramedics began CPR on Eric.  Elizabeth stood back and watched as the house burned. And then she looked at Eric. She had done this to him. She did. She didn’t know why he was at home, but it didn’t matter. She should have checked. She should have been able to save him.

     Even as the EMT’s worked on him, Elizabeth knew in her heart that he was dead. He was gone and it was her fault. She had killed the only brother she ever had.

***

     Elizabeth yanked her eyes open and sat straight up in bed. She panted for breath as she tried to regain control of her body. Her throat was sore and she had no doubt that she had been screaming. She pushed out of bed and went to the bathroom. She put a cool washcloth on her face and tried to mop up the torrent of sweat that had been streaming from her pores. As she looked up from the sink to stare at her own guilty face, a strange feeling came over her. It was as if she were being watched. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and sent a shiver down her spine.

     She spun around but no one was there. She moved through the house looking for an intruder, but found nothing. She shook it off as remnants of the dream and gave up on sleep entirely. Instead, she headed for the kitchen.

***

     Shax watched the doctor with a pleased smile on his face. So the little doctor was a murderer. Nice. Now he would have his cake and eat it too.