Chapter 3 #2
They split up at the parking lot. Julian went to his sensible little car while the Garcia brothers headed off to their own.
His house was on a quiet street with a handful of carefully tended trees.
The house itself was built in the late nineteen-fifties.
When he’d stumbled across it on a patrol one night, he fell in love with it, despite the broken siding and the sagging front porch.
He’d bought it cheap because it needed a ton of work, and it had become a project for not just himself but the whole squad.
They all used to come over on their days off and help him remodel, Nicolas and Daniel included.
He paid them in food and cold beer. He couldn’t believe how quickly things had changed.
When he got home, he unlocked the front door, hung his keys on the hook under the stair rail, and followed the long hallway to the kitchen, where he dug the steaks out of the fridge and began prepping them.
All around him were memories of a happier time.
The tile he’d laid in the kitchen with his squad.
The ding on the side of his fridge when Lyle and Ellis were moving it into place and hit it on the edge of the countertop.
He’d overheard them saying they thought Daniel should have been banished—just for holding meetings for a handful of people who disliked the direction Sloan was taking the guild. He’d barely spoken to them since.
After a few moments of silence, he leaned over and hit the button for the radio with his elbow, sighing heavily, and then stepped outside to get the charcoal going.
The back deck was a new addition, built by the squad when he was in the middle of remodeling that first year.
Prior to that, it had only some concrete steps and a gravel walkway that led to the little square shed.
Now, it had a sizable deck and a roof to match.
The grill sat over on the left, near the railing, and soon the smoky scent of charcoal hung in the air.
Closing the lid, he ventured back inside.
Despite himself, he wondered what it was like at the skating rink. Were they happy with their demons? Were the friendships between them all as easy as his used to be with his squad? Did they ever regret leaving the guild and throwing everything into chaos?
That probably wasn’t fair. He couldn’t blame them for the guild’s problems. They’d left, after all.
He shouldn’t even think it, but it was Sloan’s fault that tensions were so high.
If he’d just let the traitors go without a fuss, none of this would be happening.
Daniel wouldn’t look so haunted. His squad would still be united.
The cheerful chime of the doorbell interrupted his spiraling thoughts, and he shook himself.
“Come in!” he hollered.
The door opened, and the familiar sounds of Nicolas and Daniel filled the house, soothing something in him he hadn’t realized was ruffled. He’d missed them.
They appeared in the doorway a moment later, one after the other.
“Good timing. I was just about to take these out to the grill.”
“We’ll join you outside, then,” Nicolas said. “You have beer?”
“Of course, in the fridge.”
Nicolas blew out a breath. “I could use one. Or five.”
Julian chuckled, but there was no real humor in the sound. “Help yourself. Grab me one, too, will you?”
Daniel trailed after him out onto the back deck while Nicolas popped the tops off their bottles. It was frowned upon in the guild to drink alcohol, but plenty of people still did it. They just didn’t talk about it.
There were lots of things these days the guild didn’t talk about.
Daniel eased himself down into one of the wooden rockers that sat adjacent to the grill.
Julian tracked the movement from the corner of his eye.
He hadn’t asked about the wounds on his back from his punishment, but the sight of the bloodied lashes was seared into his memory.
They were probably mostly healed by now, but they might still be sore.
And they were most definitely going to scar.
Father Conroy hadn’t been gentle. In fact, Julian thought—privately, in the quiet safety of his own mind—that Conroy had been downright sadistic.
They’d wanted all of the dissenters to carry the memory of that moment for the rest of their lives, and his actions that day had instilled an insidious fear of befalling the same fate into the rest of the guild.
Nicolas joined them a moment later, passing out cold bottles and settling in the rocker beside Daniel.
It was quiet for a while as Julian put the seasoned steaks on the grill and closed the lid. Nicolas wore a contented expression on his face, and even Daniel seemed to be losing some of the tension he’d carried with him for the last few weeks.
“I’ve missed this,” Nicolas finally said.
Julian nodded. “Me, too. Things haven’t been great, have they?”
Nicolas blew out a breath. “No, they haven’t. I don’t know how we get back to the way things used to be, though.”
“I don’t think we can,” Daniel said softly. “All we can do is keep moving forward.”
“We’re still fighting demons, I guess,” Julian said. That was their purpose, after all.
“Are we?” Nicolas asked. “When was the last time any of our squad went out on a patrol?”
Julian sighed. They’d been watching the traitors for weeks. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d killed a demon—before last night, that is.
“What else can we do?” he asked, lifting the grill’s lid and flipping the steaks. “We can’t disobey. I’m not even sure we should mention wanting a different detail. Sloan doesn’t want to hear a peep out of anyone.”
“No, he just wants obedience,” Daniel agreed. A soft breeze ruffled his and his brother’s dark curls. “So we keep our heads down and we do what we’re told.”
Julian’s mouth tightened into an unhappy line. He didn’t want to blindly obey. “It’s not supposed to be like this.”
Daniel sighed. “Actually, it’s always been like this. We just didn’t see it before, because we never disagreed with the guild’s direction.”
“You think so?”
Daniel nodded. “Haven’t you ever wanted to ask a question but kept it to yourself because you knew someone wouldn’t like it?
Like, why are the prophets kept so separate from the rest of us?
Why don’t we allow women to be paladins?
Why don’t the children receive some of their schooling from the public schools nearby?
Everything, everything we’re taught here is carefully curated by the council.
They control our whole lives. Who decided that was okay? ”
Julian and Nicolas looked at each other, and the latter inclined his head in agreement. “He’s not wrong.”
“What do you propose we do, then?” Julian asked.
He trusted their opinions more than anyone.
He and Daniel had grown up and graduated together.
From preschool classes to the battlefield, they’d been thick as thieves.
They’d been on Nic’s squad since their graduation four years ago.
Danny and Nic were the brothers he’d never had. They were practically family.
“Like he said,” Nicolas replied, “keep our heads down. Pray. God will show us the right path.”
A bloated silence followed that statement, and Julian saw his own doubt reflected in Daniel’s honey brown eyes. Did Nicolas really believe that, or was he just repeating the party line?
Finally, Daniel said, “So, how’s about this weather we’re having?”
They all laughed, focusing on lighter topics while the food finished cooking. When the steaks and potatoes were done, Nicolas got up to toss a salad together in the kitchen, and then they sat down together at the picnic table on the deck, clinking their bottles together in cheers and digging in.
The steaks were perfectly tender, with a pink strip in the middle. The potatoes were steaming hot and melted in their mouths, the salad crisp and flavorful.
On his third beer, with his belly full and the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in his veins, Julian asked, “Do you think things are better on the other side? Do you think the traitors are happier than we are?”
“I think everyone is happier than we are,” Daniel said. Alcohol had loosened his tongue, too.
“I certainly don’t think they’re over there whipping anyone who steps out of line,” Nicolas grumbled.
“But we can’t leave,” Daniel said. “They’d never allow it. They’d kill us if we tried.”
“If we joined the traitors, sure,” Julian said dubiously. “They can’t stop us from quitting, though, right? Retiring?”
“It’s unheard of,” Nicolas said, frowning uncertainly. “You fight until you can’t anymore. That’s the way of things.”
Julian didn’t press the issue, but once the thought entered his mind, he couldn’t shake it. There was no law against simply handing in his ring. They would have no logical reason to refuse him, as long as he stayed away from the Sentinels and their demons.
He didn’t have to stay.