Hell's Requiem (Book 2)

Chapter 11

No, no, not now. We're so close.

That voice had thrown a crashing wave of despair over me. I wanted to fall down to the floor and scream out my endless frustration. Why the hell was all of this happening to me? Why could I never seem to catch a break, even when all I wanted to was to get away and have both worlds leave me alone. It didn't scream, as much as I wanted to, I wasn't going to let him see me beaten. One last shred of determination remained inside of me, and I would expend it in one last ditch effort to save my own life – oh, and Jesse's too of course. Hell had made it abundantly clear I wasn't ever going to be welcome back with open arms, and I'd be damned if I'd return as a captive.

“Rayne?” Jesse asked, his voice quivering with fear as he stared back at the demon he thought we'd left behind.

“Jesse, just get in the car,” I hissed without looking back, hoping he would obey my command unquestioningly.

“No,” the demon rasped.

It held out a clawed hand and I felt a bolt of energy charge through the air. I braced myself for the impact, dreading what it might do to me – his mind control power was horrifying just to witness – but it rippled past my ear and I didn't need to turn around to know that he'd been aiming for Jesse.

The car keys Jesse had held in his hand fell to the ground with a clatter. I risked as quick glance over my shoulder and saw that he wore the same blank, glassy stare all the others hit my The Whisperer's hypnosis power did.

“I knew you couldn't be trusted,” the demon said, speaking slowly as he wrapped his mouth which was ill designed for human speech around the words. “But you really thought you could get away with it.” He let out a rough, grating laugh that sounded like he had a throat full of gravel.

I shook my head, feeling the prickle to tears in my eyes; I wouldn't let him see me cry, and I wasn't about to give up, not yet.

“No, no Jesse, please get back in the car, please.” I hated how pitiful my voice sounded as I fought back the tears of despair.

“Foolish girl,” the demon growled. “You really think you can stop the inevitable? Your future has been written, it is done and this is how it will end.”

“No,” I muttered quietly as I took a deep breath and sucked back the tears, I would not let it swallow me. I needed to remember the anger, the frustration, the indignation at the whole messed up situation. The rage could give me power if I would just embrace it, but I realised to get anywhere I might just have to do something I wasn't yet prepared for

“No!” I said again, finding more fire to inject into my tone. “It can be unwritten. We re-write people's futures all the time in our job, why should mine be any different?”

“Because my concern is for my own life, not for yours. Handing you over will buy me back my old life, love, and that's all I care about.”

The Whisperer had a point, as much as I didn't like to admit it. He'd only helped me out with Jesse so he could get back in good with the powers in Hell by handing the two of us over to them. He'd failed in dealing with me the first time and I had a feeling they'd planned to leave him stuck inside of that drunken human meatsuit indefinitely by way of punishment, that was why he'd been so hell bent on me freeing him. His bloodbath inside the prison wouldn't have bought him any favours; the only way he was winning his place back amongst the valued of his kind was if he turned up with us – both of us, one just wouldn't cut it.

I'd weaved myself into an even deeper tangled web of mess with this plan of mine, I'd known from the off it was going to be complicated but I had no choice but to go through with it. There was no way Jesse could have kept those secrets under questioning, on trial, he'd let something slip and, despite everything that had happened I still felt the need to keep those secrets – the rest of the world was better off not knowing the truth.