Chapter 11 #2
That was an oddly specific question. “What? No. Why?”
Cyrus shrugged one shoulder, not replying.
Nicolas shook himself. Whatever. “No, the sin eater—eats sinful souls. He only goes after dark souls.”
“How do you know that?”
“He told me.”
Cyrus leaned in. “The demon spoke to you?”
“Yeah. That’s why Sloan had me cleansed.
He thought the demon spared me because I was the bad person.
But the sin eater told me it only goes after dark, sinful souls.
It leaves the good souls alone. That’s why it doesn’t kill everyone it comes across.
That’s why it picks certain people out of each squad and leaves others alive. ”
Cyrus leaned in closer, eyes narrowing. “Then why the hell are you playing nice with James and his cronies now?”
Nicolas ground his teeth together. “It’s better if you don’t know, honestly.”
Cyrus sat back, looking satisfied. “So you’re not really marching to their drum.”
This was dangerous territory. If he admitted to the truth, would Cyrus keep his secrets? Could Nicolas trust him that much?
But before he could decide on how to answer, Cyrus stood. “Don’t tell me. You’re right, it’s better if I don’t know. This place has gone nuts; it’s just nice to know there are a few of us left who haven’t gone off the deep end.”
Nicolas blinked up at him. “Why do you stay?”
“Why do you?” Cyrus shot back.
Nicolas gave him a pursed smile.
Cyrus shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We all have our reasons, right?”
Nicolas knew his own, but he was endlessly curious about Cyrus’s.
He’d always kept to himself, and while he insisted that the images of the demons he’d had tattooed on his arms were trophies of his kills, Nicolas wasn’t so sure.
Wouldn’t someone who immortalized their kills like that be more open to Sloan’s hatred of all things remotely demonic?
He wasn’t in a position to ask unless he was willing to give up his own reasons for sticking around.
With a sigh, he stood, holding out a hand to Cyrus. “If you need anything…”
Cyrus shook his hand. “You, too. Whatever you’re doing, don’t get caught.”
“I’ll do my best.”
All Nicolas wanted was to make his escape for the day, but James intercepted him before he made it out of the administrative building.
The man’s leathery face split into a mean grin as he called out Nicolas’s name and caught up to him in the hallway, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Garcia, something’s come up and I couldn’t think of anyone better for the job.”
“What’s up, Captain?” Nicolas asked, stomach swooping.
“You heard about the bodies that were just brought in, right?”
“Yes. I was actually with Commander Sloan when they arrived, and we walked down to the medical wing together.”
James nodded. “The remaining members of the squad let those men down last night. Sloan wants all five of them cleansed—today.”
No, no, no. “Oh.”
“He’s tasked us with rounding them up and taking them to the courtyard. They’re all still over by the medical wing. I want you to go get Aidan Porter.”
Aidan Porter used to be on Nathan Accardi’s squad. He was a perfectly nice guy, and Nicolas couldn’t think of anything in the world that he wanted to do less. But James’s beady gaze was sharp. This was a test—one Nicolas couldn’t afford to fail.
“I’d be happy to,” he replied. “The cleansing did wonders for me. I’m sure they’ll appreciate the chance to repent.”
James’s grin widened. “Good man. Get moving. The rest of our squad is already rounding up the others.”
Clammy sweat broke out on Nicolas’s skin as he turned on his heel, leaving his exit route behind to return to the medical wing. He walked quickly to hide the way his body quivered.
Some of the crowd had dispersed from the entrance to the medical wing, which was good.
Nicolas spotted Aidan right away, standing with the remaining members of his squad.
He also saw some of his own squad surrounding them—Patrick, Sam, and Ashton.
They were pressing closer to the survivors, passive aggressively threatening. Aidan was scowling, body stiff.
“You’re coming with us,” Patrick was saying, “whether you want to or not. This is Commander Sloan’s will.”
“We didn’t do anything wrong,” Aidan said. “We tried to fight. The demon had some kind of power. It held us back!”
Nicolas didn’t want to waste time arguing. The quicker this was done, the sooner he could leave. If they didn’t force these five out to the courtyard, it would be their own hides on the line.
So he barreled right into the mix, forcefully grabbing Aidan by the arm and hauling him toward the exit at the other end of the hall. “Take it up with Sloan, then, Porter,” he said. Inside, his heart pounded. Aidan struggled in his hold, but Nicolas had taken him by surprise. His grip was too sure.
“Let go of me! Stop!”
Behind them, the others were forced after them.
“Stop fighting,” Nicolas said lowly. “You can’t get out of it.”
“Let go!” Aidan shouted, trying to shove him away.
Nicolas kicked the door open and shoved Aidan out onto the sidewalk. “Don’t worry, you’ll thank me for this one day.”
He probably wouldn’t, but the others were too close to risk saying anything else.
“Screw you, Garcia! You can’t do this!”
“I’m just following orders, Porter.”
A crowd was gathering in the courtyard. Sloan and Father Conroy were already there. Conroy’s sunken eyes were hungry as he unfurled the whip. Since Nicolas was in the lead, he marched Aidan over to the post and shackled his wrists.
Aidan struggled hard, yanking uselessly on the chains. When it was finally done, Nicolas stepped back with an imperceptible sigh of relief, stopping beside Ashton and Sam. The hard part was done. Now all he had to do was witness it and pretend he didn’t hate it with every fiber of his being.
“This is wrong!” Aidan screamed at the crowd. “We tried to fight! It was too powerful!”
Nicolas believed him. Ashmedai had held Nicolas against the wall with just a thought. If he didn’t want them getting in the way, he would make sure they couldn’t.
He stood at parade rest with his squad, tuning out Sloan’s grim lecture to the surviving squad members and the watching crowd.
He’d heard all of this once before, after all.
They were weak, they were cowardly, and they should repent.
The circumstances might be slightly different, but the message was always the same.
Sloan didn’t care about the truth, only his perception of it.
It didn’t matter how strong the demon was, or what powers he had.
In Sloan’s eyes, the loss of their squad members was a moral failing that they should be punished for.
Nicolas tried to tune out the crash of the whip hitting skin and the chaotic cries of pain.
Ashmedai was supposed to stop killing paladins.
Sloan was holding the Alvarez kids hostage until the Sentinels ‘stopped’ Ashmedai, and Nicolas couldn’t leave until they were freed, one way or another.
They wouldn’t be able to convince Sloan that they’d done that if he was still out there killing paladins. Why hadn’t he stopped?
Well. Nicolas knew why. He was obviously hurt. But did that mean he would keep killing, keep making things harder on Nicolas and everyone else? Was he trying to punish Nicolas for sending him away? Or did he just not want to stop?
No, that couldn’t be it. He’d told them during the meeting that he could stop. Maybe Nicolas needed to reach out and see what was going on. Maybe the Sentinels didn’t know he was still killing.
He didn’t know how to reach out to Ashmedai without showing up at the Rink, but he had an excuse to call his brother now.
They hadn’t talked in days, and he was a little ashamed of how relieved he was for a reason to call.
He was supposed to be the big brother, the strong one.
But he didn’t feel very strong right now.
When Nicolas finally—finally—got home, he shed his clothes on his way to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, letting the water scald him until his eyes watered. His chin wobbled, and for a moment he thought about loosening the reins he held on his emotions. But his day wasn’t yet done.
After he scrubbed himself raw, he dried and dressed, avoiding his reflection in the mirror.
He didn’t want to know what he would find staring back at him.
He felt like a hollow rind, everything good scooped out and devoured.
He stopped at the closed bathroom door, remembering another time, not so long ago, when he’d opened the door and seen orange eyes staring back at him from the darkness of his bedroom.
He hadn’t turned any lights on when he entered the apartment.
He didn’t turn many lights on at all these days.
Some part of him hoped Ashmedai would be waiting out there for him.
No matter what he told himself during the day, in his weakest moments—alone here in his apartment where no one could possibly find out—he couldn’t hide the truth from himself.
He missed Ashmedai, and he wanted to see him again.
His dreams were filled with remembered touches, the rasp of Ashmedai’s voice in his ear, the tickle of gentle claws on his skin.
He would give almost anything for Ashmedai to appear and take him into his arms. To relieve him of the burdens he carried during the day.
He grasped the doorknob and turned it slowly. His other hand shut off the bathroom light as the door swung open, heart in his throat. Would he be there? Would Nicolas finally be relieved of the guilt he’d carried beneath his breast since the moment he sent Ashmedai away?
No. There were no glowing eyes waiting for him in the shadows. He was alone, just like he’d thought he wanted.
With a heavy sigh, he padded across the room and fetched the burner phone from his closet, then sat down on the bed and went to the contacts. He brought the phone to his ear as it started to ring and leaned back against the headboard, staring at the blank wall across the room.
“Hello?”
Nicolas closed his eyes at the sound of his brother’s voice. “Hi, Danny.”
“Nic,” Daniel breathed. “How are you? How’s the search going?”
“Not so good, really. They don’t trust me yet, so nobody’s telling me anything. That’s actually why I called. Sloan will supposedly free the kids when he thinks Ashmedai is dead, right?”
“Right.”
“So, why are we still getting mummified bodies in the medical wing?”
“Because Ashmedai hasn’t been doing what he’s told. The others had a talk with him, and he’s agreed to back off for real this time.”
“When was that?”
“Last night.”
“Okay, so after today, there should be no more bodies.”
“Correct. He was, uh, pretty upset about what happened between you two. He was taking it out on the paladins, I think.”
Nicolas’s face twisted, and he was glad Daniel couldn’t see the stark misery he felt. There was no way he could hide it. “I figured. I didn’t mean… I…” He wanted to apologize, but Daniel wasn’t the one he needed to say it to.
“I know, Nic. It’s okay,” Daniel said softly.
Nicolas laughed wetly. Tears didn’t count if there was no one there to see them. The darkness would keep his secrets. “I don’t think it is, but maybe I’ll get a chance to make things right.”
“You definitely will. Come on, don’t talk like that. Give it a week, and then you’ll be out of there, right? As soon as they can convince Sloan they got rid of him, he’ll have to let the kids go. And then you can come join us.”
Us. “Have you met him?”
“Yeah, I was here when they talked to him last night. He can be pretty intimidating, but I…”
“What?” He was desperate to hear every detail.
“I don’t know if it’s weird, but I didn’t feel afraid. He was kind of snarly and aggressive, but not with me. I could tell he was hurting, that’s all.”
Nicolas’s heart squeezed. “What do you think of him? Besides ‘snarly and aggressive’?”
Daniel laughed. “It’s hard to say, really. He didn’t stick around long. But I like him.”
“You like him?”
“Yeah. You need the strong silent type who doesn’t take any shit.”
Nicolas sputtered out a laugh. “Danny!”
“It’s true. You know I’m right.”
Nicolas let out a gusty sigh. “You really think so? You don’t think it’s crazy to even consider the idea of me being with a demon like that?”
“You should see these guys with their demons, Nic. Julian and Valac seem strange on the surface, but I swear to God, I’ve never seen him happier.
He’s like a totally different person. And Valac is a behemoth, but he just follows Julian around like the world’s largest puppy.
He looks at him like he wants to bottle his smiles and live off them.
They just fit together so well. If that’s the way things are supposed to be with you and Ashmedai, how can that be a bad thing? ”
Nicolas didn’t know what to say. He wiped the wetness from his cheeks and sighed.
“Just get this crap with the guild over with, and then make things right with him, okay? You both deserve it.”
Giving up on hiding it, Nicolas sniffled hard and cleared his throat. “Yeah, okay. You think he’ll forgive me?”
“I think your chances are good, yeah.”
That was something to look forward to, then. All he had to do was finish this job. Leaving the guild and giving this thing with Ashmedai a shot couldn’t be worse than what he was being forced to do as a paladin. And there had to be a reason why he couldn’t stop thinking about the demon.