2. Alex
Chapter 2
Alex
But the orders didn’t come.
Sleep was elusive. He wasn’t due at HQ until after lunch for scheduled training with his squad, but Alex was up with the dawn anyway. Two hours of nightmare-filled sleep left him feeling wrong-footed and irritable. He choked down two pieces of toast, poured his coffee into a travel mug, and left for the guild. Anywhere was better than his lifeless apartment.
Mornings at HQ were an entirely different animal than the quiet nights before a patrol. The parking lots were packed with vehicles, and signs of life spilled from every crack and crevice. The admin building thrummed with activity. The prophets gathered on the third floor for meetings and meditations. Alex didn’t have clearance for that floor, so he only knew what happened there secondhand. Apparently, the prophets used a series of insulated quiet rooms to meditate for visions of the future. Prophets and paladins weren’t really allowed to speak to each other. Prophets answered directly to the guild’s council, which consisted of Commander Sloan, Father Hawley, Doctor Maxwell, Diviner Rousseau—the head of the prophets’ division—and Principal Jefferson Barker—head of the boarding school.
Paladins, the field agents who were on the front lines of the unseen war against demons, answered directly to Commander Sloan. Prophets would register their visions, which would be interpreted by the council and given a rating of importance. Some were passed on to a paladin squad for investigation. They saved many lives that way, but Alex always wondered about the visions that no one was allowed to see. How many prophecies were tucked away inside the vaults of HQ? He assumed there were vaults, anyway. It seemed like the kind of place that had vaults. They had a dungeon, after all—granted, it hadn’t been used in almost a century. The guild once performed exorcisms on-site, and the possessed would wait their turns for the holy rites in the blessed, underground dungeon. He toured it with his eighth grade history class. The student curriculum in the guild was a colorful one.
Morning sun winked at him through scattered white clouds as he left his car behind and wandered down the paved footpath. The grounds were immaculately maintained. Young children from the orphanage played on a fenced playground, their shrieks of laughter punctuated by the distant crack of wooden practice swords colliding over in the training yard. Very distantly, he heard piano music, carried on the wind from the open doors of the church.
It was an idyllic morning, and all he could think about was blood. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw them. The bodies, their blood splattered on the wall. He would give anything to wash it away.
Alex wandered over to the training yard, but he was too distracted to pick up a weapon right now, and he’d rather finish his coffee while it was still hot. He stopped at the wooden fence surrounding the sand pit, lifting one foot to brace on the bottom rung.
He recognized most of the men and women training out there. The guild was a small, tight-knit community. Everyone knew everyone, at least in passing. None of his squad were present—they were all likely still asleep, like he should be—but they would all arrive that afternoon for drills.
Those out in the sand pit were giving a wide berth to a pair of viciously sparring men, Luke Morgan and Isaac Morrow. They were some of the best. Luke, in fact, was so good that he wasn’t required to patrol with a squad. The only survivor of a demon attack that decimated his squad, Sloan had made an exception for him and allowed him to keep working without reassigning him to another. Alex wasn’t sure whose idea it was. Maybe Luke didn’t want to join another squad and risk losing them again. No matter how it had come about, Sloan somehow determined that the benefit of letting Luke work alone outweighed the risk of letting him go without backup.
It was clear to see in moments like this. Luke and Isaac were in a league of their own, their wooden weapons slamming into each other’s, sweat gleaming on their bare skin already in spite of the cool morning air. Luke was shirtless, his sun-browned body peppered with pale scars from his years as a paladin. Sweat twinkled in his short dark hair.
Isaac was the polar opposite. He wasn’t scarred at all. His pale skin was littered with freckles, and his red hair was pulled back in a bun. People whispered behind their hands about him, said he was crazy. Whether Isaac was aware of the rumors was a mystery. Alex had never spoken to him more than in passing, so he didn’t really have an opinion on the matter.
When he finished his coffee and the restless need for action hadn’t abated, he took to the track, warming up with a light jog and then pushing himself hard with some sprints. He might not be able to outrun his ghosts, but maybe he could exhaust them. It was the only thing that might quiet his mind, pushing his body so hard that all he could think about was how tired he was.
He slowed to a stop near the training pit, resting his hands on his head while he caught his breath.
“Hey, Hawk!”
Isaac swaggered closer, stopping just inside the fence. “Come spar with us. Luke says I’m not challenging enough for him.” He rolled his eyes.
Behind him, Luke barked out a laugh. “I did not say that. I think you’re the one who doesn’t feel challenged enough.”
Isaac shrugged smoothly. “Come on. You look like you’ve got energy to burn, and I want to have some fun.”
“Fun?” Alex repeated, drifting over.
Isaac bounced on the balls of his feet. “You don’t find sparring fun? There’s nothing better than the weight of a weapon in your hand. There’s a reassurance in knowing you have the power to end a life, don’t you think?”
Yep, there was the crazy.
Alex gestured to the wooden practice sword. “You have the power to end someone’s life with that stick?”
Isaac’s mossy green eyes darkened with promise. “It doesn’t take a tool to end a life. It just makes the job easier.” He brightened then, twirling the sword with a cheerful grin. “So? You up for it?”
Alex glanced over at Luke, who gave him an encouraging nod. “Sure,” he decided. “I could use the outlet.”
Isaac slapped the fence post. “Excellent! Go grab a weapon. I look forward to seeing what you can do. I’ve heard good things.”
Had he? Was that why he’d invited Alex to spar with them? He was surprised to learn anyone had bothered talking about him, but maybe he shouldn’t have been. He heard things about the others, after all. It pleased him to know good things were being said, at least.
He fetched a practice sword from the weapons rack, and when he turned around, Isaac was there, his weapon arcing toward Alex’s face. He raised the glorified wooden stick, and Isaac’s glanced off, jarring Alex’s arms. He didn’t pull his punches, that was for sure. Alex glimpsed Luke jogging toward them over Isaac’s shoulder. When he got close, Isaac spun, sweeping his sword out. Luke blocked it smoothly and came up inside Isaac’s defenses.
Fighting both of them together was almost more harrowing than fighting a demon. Luke was tall and broad, his swings powerful and accurate as a pin, whereas Isaac moved with the fluid grace of a big cat, his unpredictable attacks aiming for weak points that would be devastating with a real blade. For the first time since last night, Alex stopped thinking about bodies on the floor and blood splashed on pale walls. There was only the clash of blades, the pulse of adrenaline, the spray of sand around them as they whirled to and fro.
Isaac swept Luke’s feet out from under him and came up swinging at Alex, who caught his wrist and hauled him in as he brought his knee up into his gut. Isaac grunted, staggering away, and movement past him caught Alex’s eye.
Nathan was standing at the fence around the yard, and when he saw Alex looking toward him, he waved him over.
Alex fell out of his defensive stance, letting his weapon dangle harmlessly between his fingers so Isaac and Luke could see, and raised his hands in surrender.
“I’m out, guys. Thanks for the spar.” He shot Isaac a thumbs-up. “You were right, it was fun.”
Isaac grinned toothily and held out a hand. “Awesome. Pleased to see the rumors were true. Come find me the next time you feel the need. I’d love to dance another round.”
Alex shook his hand, then Luke’s, and jogged over to Nathan, hope tightening his chest.
“What’s up?” he asked.
Nathan nodded over at the other two men, who were already facing off again. “Impressive fighting there. You could learn a lot from those two. They’re very good.”
“Yeah.” He stretched his shoulders. “I think I’ll be sore.”
Nathan chuckled, but it was a weak thing. “Don’t forget we’ve got training this afternoon.”
Alex bobbed his head. “I’m good, I’m good, no worries. Did you talk to Sloan yet? What’d he say about the murders?”
Nathan sighed, passing a hand over his short hair. “I’m sorry, Alex.”
“What?” His stomach dropped.
“Sloan gave the case to another squad.”
Frustration clawed up his throat. “What? Why?” They couldn’t do this. They couldn’t deny him the chance to avenge his family. He needed this.
Nathan pursed his lips, hesitating.
“Nate, just tell me, please,” he croaked.
“Because of you,” he said gently. “He was afraid you were too close to it, that you wouldn’t be able to remain objective during the hunt.”
Alex’s throat tightened. “No, he can’t do this. I’ve waited so long, Nate, I have to do this.”
Nathan shook his head. “You’ve got to let it go, Alex. You can do a lot of good here—you already have done a lot of good. It just won’t involve fighting that particular demon.”
“But…” He didn’t want some other squad to take this hunt. He’d waited so long to find the demon that killed his family. He couldn’t just sit back and watch someone else avenge them. He needed to be the one to see that demon fall. It was the only way he’d find peace.
“You’ve got to find a way to be okay with that. The demon will die one way or another. You just won’t be the one doing the killing.”
Alex couldn’t just leave it. “What if I talk to Sloan? I could tell him I’ll?—”
“No, Paladin Hawk,” he said sternly, and Alex’s mouth snapped shut, his spine going rigid at the commanding tone. “Pursuing this will only make you look obsessed. The best thing you can do is let it go. Our squad will have new orders in a few days, and then you’ll have something else to focus on. In the meantime,” Nathan cast about for something, “why don’t you take the day off? It looks like you’ve already done a fair bit of training this morning. Get some distance, screw your head on straight.”
“This thing killed my family ,” Alex snarled, white-knuckling the wooden sword in his hand.
Nathan’s expression didn’t change, soft with sympathy but otherwise unyielding. “I know. Michael’s squad will make sure that it doesn’t hurt any others.”
Alex shook his head weakly. He didn’t want Michael’s squad to do it. That wasn’t good enough. He wanted to do it. He deserved to.
He searched desperately for something else to say, unable to accept things as they stood. “But… Nate, nobody will be more motivated to kill this demon than me. I want to see it die . Surely you can understand that.”
Nathan softened. “Of course I understand. But Alex, we’re all equally motivated to protect the innocent. Michael’s squad knows what they’re doing. Maybe you don’t get to kill this demon, but you’re still making the world a better place every time you pick up your holy blades. That’s the most important thing here. Trust in God’s plan, Paladin Hawk.”
He didn’t care about God’s plan. He didn’t even care how sacrilegious that sounded. He cared about his baby sister and brother’s entrails on the carpet, his parents’ twisted bodies. No one was more invested in killing this demon than Alex was.
He swallowed back every furious, snarling reply that clawed up his throat and nodded piously. Arguing wasn’t going to get him what he wanted. “I… think you’re right. I think I’ll take the day to get some distance.”
“I think that’s a good idea. Take all the time you need.”
Alex turned away, feeling more lost than ever.
Alex drove mindlessly back to his apartment and parked in the lot across the street. He turned the ignition off—and sat there, staring out at the mini-mart on the other side of the chainlink fence surrounding three sides of the lot.
He didn’t want to go back inside his empty apartment. There had to be something more he could do. All his life, he’d longed for the chance to find the demon that killed his family, and now here it was, killing again in the same city where he’d trained to kill creatures just like it. It felt like fate. But instead of going after it with everything he had, he was being ordered to stand down. Why?
Did they think he would be reckless? Did they think he wasn’t good enough to kill this demon? He knew how to hunt monsters. He wouldn’t lose his head or get anyone hurt. He could do it. But they’d told him no.
What if he hunted the demon anyway? They didn’t have to know. What he did in his free time was his business, right? He could hunt the demon when he wasn’t doing official paladin business. If the guild found out, he’d probably be reprimanded. Maybe they’d suspend him or put him on desk duty for a few weeks. It would be worth it if he could cut that demon’s head from its shoulders.
The car was getting warm under the baking sunlight. He needed to make up his mind. Go inside and let cooler heads prevail? Or disobey a direct order and do the one thing he’d always wanted to do?
He looked down at the guild’s signet ring on his left ring finger, a ruby inlaid with a pearl cross. Every guild member received one when they graduated. It was a symbol of their devotion to the cause.
Could he still be devoted to the cause and yet disobey an order like this? For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to trust in God’s plan . He wanted to take matters into his own hands. He couldn’t deny the little voice in his head that told him it was wrong, but it didn’t change how he felt. Hell, maybe it was part of God’s plan for him to disobey this order. If he wanted to be the one to bring the demon down, he’d have to do it himself and deal with the consequences after the fact.
The only question was: would it be worth it?
Yes, he decided. It would be worth it. He didn’t think he would ever feel at peace without revenge.
He got out of the car, breathing easy now that he’d made a decision. There wasn’t much he could do until after dark. There were places in the city where demons gathered, demons called halflings. For the right incentive, they could sometimes be convinced to give valuable intel to the paladins. There was no loyalty amongst monsters, after all. He’d go there and see if he could uncover any clues about the demon who placed its victims in the shape of a pentagram.
Going into his apartment didn’t seem so bad now. Having a plan settled the restless need for action within him. He could bide his time until nightfall, and then he wouldn’t rest until he had his revenge.