My first inclination was to wad up the paper, throw it at him, and tell 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 well enough to hit him.
I kneeled down and twisted the combination. I followed 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 pulled 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; well-worn on the edges, with a strange branded seal on the front cover.
“It’s the Naissance de Demoniac. The Bible of Hell,” he said in a whisper.
“Why is the Bible of Hell in Jack’s safe?” I said, stunned.
“Each of the patricians of the hierarchy of Hell 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 tells 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 willing 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 pulled 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 Hell 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 pulled 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 pulling 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 still 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 bellowed out around me and dissipated, revealing Jared slumped on the floor. His knees up, his back against the tile wall, 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 tell 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.