MySoultoSave Read Online Free Page B

cry about it, even while the
tears rolled down her face.
    * * * * *
    It had taken Jaeryth nearly a full day, but he’d worked out
how to get Logan back. Unfortunately, his superior was not going to be pleased
with his plan.
    When night fell, he made his way to Independence Hall and
took the stairs to the basement, then a second set of stairs leading further
down. These stairs existed only in Shade. The first room in the sub-level contained
a few dilapidated chairs, a desk not in much better shape than the chairs and a
door at the far end that was always locked. Behind the desk sat a female
Tempter who didn’t so much as look at him when he entered. Not surprising. He
took a seat and the Tempter said without glancing up, “Are you expected?”
    “Likely not.”
    “Wait, then.”
    “I’d planned on it.”
    He settled back and folded his arms. Already the increased
heat pressed against his skin and formed beads of sweat on the back of his
neck. By the time the DIC deigned to see him, his clothing would be soaked
through.
    For a time he studied the scorched walls, and occasionally
felt the rumble of a train blasting through the Underground below. The demonic
transportation system left something to be desired. He rarely used the trains
himself, preferring to navigate air currents through mortal space. It took
longer—but it smelled better.
    After nearly an hour, the Tempter behind the desk
acknowledged Jaeryth’s existence. Reacting to nothing apparent, she looked up
with a bored frown and said, “Ronwe will see you now.”
    “Excuse me while I leap for joy.” He stood and stretched the
stiffness from his spine, thinking once again what a bad idea this was. Ronwe,
demon-in-charge of Philadelphia and its suburbs, did not like him. Thought he
was after the job. And definitely didn’t believe Logan was a prophet. Still, he
hadn’t been able to come up with a better plan.
    He crossed to the massive red doors leading to Ronwe’s
office. “Shall I bow or curtsy?”
    The Tempter waved a hand and the doors opened.
    He walked inside with murmured thanks that were also
ignored. Calling this cavernous room an office was an insult to working demons.
It was a damned temple. Took up most of the entire floor and it had been
difficult to transport the furnishings into Shade. He knew—he’d been ordered to
help when Ronwe claimed Independence Hall for a dominion.
    To the left was a massive conference table flanked by chairs
with skull headrests. Real skulls, of course, designed to make sure everyone was
as uncomfortable as possible in Ronwe’s presence. Shelves of ancient tomes
lined the right. Several hundred candles lit the room, connected by thick and
blackened cobwebs. A cauldron-sized eternal flame pot marked the halfway point
between the door and Ronwe’s desk.
    The doors slammed behind him. Candles flickered. “Jaeryth.
How unexpected.”
    “You’ve had an hour to expect me, Ronwe.” He moved down the
room, skirted the flame pot and stopped several feet before the desk. “Funny.
You don’t look busy.”
    Ronwe stared at him. The head demon appeared every inch a
businessman, from his sharply tailored suit to the ruthlessness carved into his
lean features and radiating from his focused brown eyes—which had a tendency to
flare blood-red on occasion. Often that flash of color was all the warning
Ronwe gave before pain was caused, either by him or his lieutenants, who seemed
conspicuously absent.
    As though reading Jaeryth’s mind, Ronwe raised a hand and
gestured, and two bulky shapes materialized from the shadows behind his chair.
Kyr and Lazul, in full demon form, came forward with steps like thunder.
Ronwe’s lieutenants were powerful, fiercely loyal—and Lazul, at least,
possessed as much intelligence as brawn.
    Kyr didn’t need intelligence. He carried a massive spiked club.
    “I assume you’ve come here with something important to say,
Jaeryth.” Ronwe leaned back casually in his chair, as though he’d