Providence

Jared nodded, pul ing out the wrinkled piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket. He read the code aloud and then looked up at me.

“Does that make sense to you?” he asked, holding out the paper for me to take.

825 2R2TL223TR05 “The eight twenty-five is the box number, and the rest is the key to the combination. But, combinations are just three numbers, one or two digits, right?” I didn’t look up, and Jared didn’t speak, so I wasn’t sure if he was in agreement with me or not. “So we need to figure out which of these numbers are the numbers of the combination. And the others are…what? Red herrings?” I shook my head. “No. Jack didn’t play games, these are al important.”

I concentrated on the dial of the combination lock, looking at the numbers and thinking about turning the dial to each number in the different ways they appeared in the code. I burst into laughter and looked at Jared with excitement.

“I’ve got it!” I smiled.

Jared masked an emotion, which in turn curbed my enthusiasm. It seemed we were back to square one of our relationship.

“You’ve got what?” he asked, his voice flat.

“The letters, the R T L letters, they mean right turn and left turn. Turn it twice to the right, stopping on two. Turn left twice, stopping on twenty-two.

Three turns right, stopping on five.”

Jared shrugged. “Try it.”

My first inclination was to wad up the paper, throw it at him, and tel him to try it. My temper cooled as reason crept into my mind. I wanted to see what was in the safe, and he would catch the paper, anyway, even if I did manage to aim wel enough to hit him.

I kneeled down and twisted the combination. I fol owed the directions, but when I stopped on the last number, it didn’t catch the way combination locks should.

My anger at Jared coupled with my frustration with the lock made my eyes water. When I tried to inconspicuously wipe my cheek with my shoulder, he sighed.

“Are you crying?” Jared asked.

I sniffed. “No. Leave me alone.”

“Try it again,” he said, indifferent.

I cleared the dial and paid close attention to each turn and stop, but when I reached the five, I passed by it once more. I had only passed it twice instead of three times. The lock caught and I gasped.

“It worked,” I whispered, staring in shock at the safe.

Jared pul ed me off the floor and kneeled down to open the safe. He slumped over and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damn it, Jack. What have you done?”

Chapter Thirteen

Guilty

“What is it?” I asked, leaning over his shoulder.

He turned to face me holding a brown, leather-bound book. It surpassed antique in appearance; wel -worn on the edges, with a strange branded seal on the front cover.

“It’s the Naissance de Demoniac. The Bible of Hel ,” he said in a whisper.

“Why is the Bible of Hel in Jack’s safe?” I said, stunned.

“Each of the patricians of the hierarchy of Hel has one. This one belongs to Shax,” he said, eyeing the black brand in the center. “I don’t want to know how Jack got his hands on it, but the fact that both of our names are on the account here tel s me that he knew I would go against his wishes, and once I did, we would need this.”

“Need it for what?”

“To barter for the only thing Jack would be wil ing to hand this over for: Your life.” His expression was tortured, as if the guilt was crushing him.

“Jared….” I said, reaching out to him.

He pul ed away and emotion disappeared from his face.

His rejection fueled my irritation. “Are we going to leave it here or take it with us?” I asked.

“It’s staying here. I don’t want this anywhere near you. Let’s hope Shax is the one demon in Hel that won’t hold a grudge.”

I reached my hand out to the book. “What’s in it?”

Jared jerked it away and kneeled down to thrust it back into the safe. He slammed the door shut, locked it and pushed the safe into the safety deposit box with a loud bang. He threw the paper bearing the code in with it and locked the door, shoving the key into his pocket.

Grabbing my arm, he rushed down the aisle toward the door. A short, low buzzer sounded when Jared pressed the button, and he fidgeted until Mr.

Stephens answered.

“We’re ready,” Jared growled.

As soon as the vault opened, I was pul ed forward again. His long strides had me trotting alongside him to keep up. The elevator doors slid open, revealing Mr. Stephens’ lanky frame. Jared stood rigid as the elevator climbed, and when the doors opened again he burst out, keeping a firm grip on my arm.

At his motorcycle, Jared wasted no time handing me his helmet. I fumbled with the chin strap, and with one movement he snapped his firmly across my neck and swung his leg over the seat, simultaneously pul ing me on the seat behind him with one arm.

He wrapped my arms tightly against his chest. “Hang on,” he demanded.

We raced down the road, weaving through traffic, blowing through red lights and stops signs until we reached his building.

My feet barely touched the steps, and once we were inside the loft, he released me. Without a word he climbed the stairs and disappeared beyond the railing. I stood at the bottom of the steps and listened as his footsteps stopped in the center of his bedroom. I waited, listening for a clue as to what he was up to, and then he walked into the bathroom. Seconds later I heard the shower turn on, so I waited.

Ten minutes passed. I sat on the couch, staring at the dark television screen. Nothing about Jared’s behavior made sense, and I assumed he would explain it in his own time, as he always did.

After half an hour, I began to doubt my own reasoning. I climbed the stairs and made my way to the bathroom door, pressing my ear against the wood. The shower was stil running so I tried to be patient, but after the fourth time of glancing at the clock I couldn’t let him avoid me anymore.

I lifted my fist to knock on the door but held back, turning the knob instead. The steam bel owed out around me and dissipated, revealing Jared slumped on the floor. His knees up, his back against the tile wal , his head down; he looked hopeless.

I sat on my knees in front of him. “Jared?”

He looked up at me, his eyes a midnight blue. “The night I sat on that bench, Nina, I signed your death warrant.”

“What are you talking about?” The sight of him frightened me. “Please tel me what’s going on!”

“We had more company last night,” Jared said, with the same tortured look from before.

“Who was it this time?” I asked.

“Gabriel,” he choked out.

“You’re not talking about your father, are you? You mean The Gabriel?”

“Yes…The Gabriel.” Jared said, rol ing his eyes at his own words. “He’s one of the most vocal advocates for eliminating fal en Archs before they have a chance to procreate. My existence insults him,” he said, an indignant look flitting across his face. “Gabriel’s a messenger…he also serves as the angel of death.”

I swal owed. “What did he say to you?”

Jared leaned his head back against the wal . “He said that he’l see me soon.”

My mouth opened as I gasped. “What did you say to that?”

“That he always says that,” he said with a contrived smile.

I thought for a moment. “Eli doesn’t mind Hybrids. Maybe he can talk to Gabriel?”