“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.