Chapter 9 #2
And Ashmedai definitely didn’t understand humans.
The way he’d intensely approached Nicolas that first night proved that.
He’d pushed right past Nicolas’s comfort levels more than once, but he’d also backed off when Nicolas put up a real fuss this morning.
He could learn, but their interactions so far had definitely been unusual.
Maybe it was good that one of them was pressing the brake now. They both needed the breathing room.
“I’ll talk to him. At some point,” he said, giving Daniel a sidelong look and pursing his lips at Daniel’s exasperated sigh.
“Fine. Never thought I’d see the day that my brother would break a demon’s heart, but here we are.”
Nicolas’s heart lurched. “I didn’t break his heart.”
Daniel gave him an arch look. “Are you sure?”
No, he wasn’t. His own was certainly aching.
Nicolas was surprised to put in his request to speak with Sloan that afternoon and be called in straight away.
Sloan’s secretary—a new addition to the floor—gave him a tight smile as he passed her desk.
She was young, probably just eighteen, pale and freckled.
He wondered if she’d been placed there at random for the week or if Sloan had specifically requested her.
He’d never had a secretary before he overthrew the council.
Nicolas guessed he had a lot more administrative tasks now that he’d taken over every major decision for the guild.
She barely spoke, just gestured for him to go down the hall to Sloan’s office.
The door stood ajar, but he knocked anyway.
“Come in,” Sloan’s gruff voice came from within.
Nicolas braced himself, set his shoulders into a pious slouch, and opened the door, offering Sloan a tight-lipped smile below a polite, questioning look.
“Good morning, Commander. Can we talk?”
Sloan sat back in his chair, threading his fingers across his stomach. His cold blue eyes were assessing as he gestured for Nicolas to take a seat across from him.
He sat, tucking his hands under his legs. “I-I wanted to thank you.”
Sloan’s brows rose. “Thank me?”
“Yes sir. I didn’t want to admit it yesterday, but you were right.
I… I was a coward. I’d seen what that demon did to the people it killed, and fear took hold of me.
I wanted to help my men, but in that moment, I didn’t even feel in control of my body anymore.
” His eyes welled. “I carried the guilt with me from that moment on, until you had me cleansed.” He breathed the word reverently, raising his awed gaze to meet Sloan’s.
Sloan’s expression didn’t change, but Nicolas saw what lurked underneath. He’d surprised Sloan, but there was suspicion there, too. Nicolas bowed his head, pressing on.
“The guilt isn’t gone completely. I doubt it ever will be.
But with those lashes came clarity. I want to be the best paladin I can be, sir.
I want to be someone worthy of this symbol.
” He touched the signet ring on his left hand.
He’d worn it for so long he barely noticed it most days.
“I let you down before. I let my father down before. You were right; he would have been ashamed of me. It won’t happen again.
I have been reborn, and I am more convinced than ever that the good we’re doing here will carry on for centuries to come.
You’ll have countless jewels in your crown when you get to Heaven for all the good you’ve done here, sir, I’m certain of it. ”
Sloan’s eyes glittered. He liked that.
Nicolas went on, putting the final piece into motion.
It burned his pride, but it wouldn’t matter in the long run.
Not if this worked. Bowing his head again, humbly, he said, “I don’t feel worthy to hold my station anymore, sir.
I’d like to join someone else’s squad until I’ve earned the captain’s title again. ”
Sloan leaned forward, gaze sharpening. “Someone like Elijah, I take it?”
Oh. He thought Nicolas was vying for a chance to be on the same squad as Daniel again.
“No, sir, not at all. I think Elijah would be too soft on me. I was thinking someone like James, if he has an opening on his squad.”
James was a hardass, and one of Sloan’s loudest and most loyal supporters. He firmly believed all demons were evil and anyone who associated with them was bound for Hell, no exceptions. Getting in good with James and his squad would be a step toward earning Sloan’s trust.
Sloan looked contemplative. “I think we can squeeze you in, yeah. Take the rest of the week to heal and get your mind right—although it sounds like you’re already on the right track.
In the meantime, you can train with James’s squad.
I’ll let him know to expect you. They should be meeting at the training yard today. They’re on the docket.”
Nicolas stood. “Thank you, sir.”
“Paladin Garcia, can I ask—what did your brother think about your cleansing?”
Nicolas affected an uncertain frown. “Truthfully, sir, we had a bit of an argument after we left HQ. I told him I thought I deserved it. He disagreed, said it wasn’t my fault. I think he meant well, but I don’t believe him. I was their captain. Of course it was my fault.”
Sloan’s cool gaze was unblinking. “Agreed. But you seem to have found the right path. That’s the important thing. Report to James at the training yard at 1300 hours. I’ll let him know to expect you.” He picked up his cell phone, and Nicolas tracked the movement.
What he’d give to see the contents of that phone.
He wondered if there was a way to nab it.
Did he text orders to his followers? Was the kids’ location right there within reach?
For a wild moment, he entertained the idea of snatching it right out of Sloan’s hand and making a run for it.
No one outside this room would know why he was running.
He could probably make it to the parking lot.
But if there was nothing worthwhile on the phone, he’d have blown his chances. He couldn’t risk it. He’d have to keep playing it safe for now.
Sloan spared him a glance. “All right, he’s confirmed it. You’re dismissed.”
Nicolas saluted. “Thank you, sir.”
He escaped from the room without a backward glance. No amount of showering would be enough to make him feel clean after this.
James and his squad regarded Nicolas like he was something regrettable on the bottom of their shoe, but since they had orders from Sloan to work him into their drills, that was exactly what they did.
First, they sprinted hard, slapping him on the back if he slowed down.
They practiced drills next. Nicolas was on the front row while James circled them, whacking them with a wooden practice sword whenever he saw anything less than perfect form.
He hit Nicolas the most, and the others always chuckled when he did.
They didn’t laugh when he corrected anyone else, though. Only him.
After that, they sparred—or rather, each one of them took turns sparring with him.
James said it was so they could all become familiar with his fighting style, but Nicolas knew better.
He did okay for the first half. By the fifth opponent, he was exhausted.
His limbs shook, and his mouth was bone dry.
They threw him to the dirt, over and over.
He lost count of all the places they’d hit him with their practice swords.
His whole body throbbed in time with his pulse.
They weren’t playing fair, but he didn’t really expect them to.
This was a test. If he couldn’t stick it out, Sloan would know he’d given him empty words.
He thought about the Alvarez kids, who must be scared out of their minds.
He thought of Daniel and Julian, whom he couldn’t join until he’d done this.
He missed spending time with them. Things hadn’t been the same since Sloan erected that cleansing post. Daniel had been one of the first to be cleansed, and not long after that, Julian had left the guild completely.
It had been too dangerous to reach out to him after that, and then he’d gone into hiding after a squad tried to kill him.
Nicolas missed the way things used to be, when their world still made sense.
And what of Ashmedai? Maybe Daniel was right—Ashmedai didn’t understand humans.
Maybe Nicolas had been too harsh. The intensity of their relationship scared the shit out of him, but he wasn’t a coward—and he’d acted like one.
He’d run away at the first sign of trouble.
He didn’t know if he wanted to be with a demon.
It felt good to be with Ashmedai, but he couldn’t ignore all the voices in his head telling him that it just couldn’t work out in the long run.
They were too different. They didn’t understand each other.
But that didn’t stop Nicolas from missing him.
The last one he sparred was the captain, James. He took his place in front of Nicolas and calmly raised the stick he’d been beating Nicolas with all afternoon.
“If you see a demon, what do you do?” He lunged, and Nicolas parried.
“Kill it,” he growled, swinging clumsily.
James backed away. “If you see a halfling, what do you do?”
A halfling. Red eyes and as close to human as a demon could get. A damned soul, changed.
The stick slammed into his ribs. He staggered but didn’t go down.
“Kill it,” he spat like a swear.
James nodded, and a few onlookers whooped in agreement. “If you see a traitor, what do you do?”
A traitor. A human being who’d left the guild. Someone whose only sin was disagreeing with the guild’s current modus operandi. Someone like Daniel. Like Julian.
Nicolas parried with a war cry. “Kill them!”
The squad cheered. James caught his next swing, his mouth curling into a grin. He smelled like sweat and dirt. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet, Garcia.”
“God willing,” Nicolas said. “I live to serve.”
James released him and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man. I’ve got to say, I had my reservations about you. But maybe you’re not as bad as we thought.”
Nicolas smiled, hoping it looked more ‘aw shucks’ and less ‘fuck you too.’ “Glad to hear that, Captain.”
He got lucky when it came time to hit the showers. He hadn’t brought a spare change of clothing, so he washed the dust from his face and hands and bid them farewell. He couldn’t risk them seeing the bite wound on his shoulder, and he didn’t want to spend any more time here than he already had.
Alone in his car, he still didn’t feel safe. He kept an upbeat smile on his face until he was all the way down the street from HQ’s wrought-iron gate. Only then, sitting at a stop sign, did he blow out a breath and let his shoulders slump in defeat.
The street in front of him blurred, but he blinked away the wetness in his eyes.
Innocent kids needed him to do this, so he’d suck it up and do whatever it took.
Nothing else mattered for now. Not his guilt over the way he’d pushed Ashmedai away, not his worry for his brother, not his suffocating loneliness.
“Focus, focus,” he told himself, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Just drive.”
So he just drove. He turned on the radio, listening to whatever was playing on the pop music station and pushing away all the sadness and guilt and fear.
When he got home, he locked the car and made his way up to his apartment.
He told himself he wasn’t disappointed that he didn’t see orange eyes waiting for him in the darkness of his living room.
That he hadn’t left all the curtains drawn in the hope that Ashmedai would ignore his plea to stay away and show up anyway.
It was better this way.
He stripped on his way to the bathroom, shoving all his sweat-stained and dirty clothes into the hamper, and stepped under the spray before it was warm.
The squad had been merciless with him. Every section of his body bore bruises from their practice swords.
Welts that were in the process of turning blue in the middle.
They’d been aiming to hurt, not to train.
His shins, his thighs, his already wounded back, his ribs.
His forearms took the worst of it, as he’d started using them to block when he could.
One even clipped his jaw, though they generally tried not to hit each other in the face or head while sparring.
He supposed that kind of training etiquette only applied to the people they agreed with.
As his soapy hands roamed, finding each new wound, one hand gravitated to the scabbed bite on his shoulder. For a few moments while they’d been together that night, Nicolas had felt whole. It wasn’t fair that it was a demon who made him feel that way.
He just had to focus on finding the kids. That was all that mattered. He could deal with this thing with Ashmedai, one way or another, after he rescued the kids.