Hawley’s gaze sharpened. “Remove my belt, Paladin Morrow.”
Sweat dappled Isaac’s back as he raised shaking hands to loosen the priest’s belt. He’d never asked Isaac to do anything like this before. A distant alarm began to blare in the back of his mind. This didn’t feel right. But Hawley’s word was law, like Sloan’s.
“You liked what that demon did to you,” Hawley said. “What about it did you like?” He waved an absentminded hand at his belt. “Remove it all the way, out of the loops.”
Hawley’s cologne was strong, but it didn’t hide the scent of his body odor. Isaac held his breath as he worked the leather through the loops and pulled it out, trying to focus on answering the question rather than what was about to happen.
“I… I don’t know. It just felt good.” Hedidknow, but he didn’t dare say. He liked giving control over to Shadrach. He didn’t make Isaac feel afraid. In fact it was the lack of fear that frightened him. After a lifetime of being taught that the things he enjoyed were off-limits or wrong in some way, being with Shadrach felt like the same kind of forbidden bliss as the spill of hot, fresh blood on his hands. Dangerously good.
Hawley held out a hand, and Isaac laid the belt on his palm. When Hawley circled around him, Isaac’s body went cold, his breath shallowing as he clenched his hands into fists on his thighs. Hawley was going to whip him after all? Was that it? Or was he?—
His thoughts screeched to a halt as the leather whipped against his back. The belt was thicker and stiffer than the leather cord Hawley usually used. It felt more like a bludgeon than a whip. He flinched, squeezing his eyes shut.
“You liked what that demon did to you, because you’re broken,” Hawley said. “You were born wrong, and we’ve tried so hard to make you good.”
Isaac blinked the wetness in his eyes away.
“Commander Sloan had a meeting tonight.”
The belt snapped against Isaac’s back again.
“The council still wouldn’t approve of going after the traitors, even after he told them what they did to you. That they’d kidnapped and starved you, let demons try to tempt you. It was all the evidence he needed to prove that he was right, that theydohave some sort of plan to ruin the guild one paladin at a time.”
The belt scored against his back again, and Isaac bit down hard on his bottom lip.
“They were still torn.” Hawley laughed, cold and cruel. “But Sloan has had enough, you see. He brought some of his most loyal paladins to the council meeting, and when the vote was split, he had all the nay voters arrested.”
Isaac’s head shot up. “What?”
Hawley whipped him again. “That’s right, Paladin Morrow. Sloan has taken control of the guild. His word is law for everyone now.”
No, no, no.Panic seized Isaac’s lungs. The council hadbeen the only thing stopping them from going after the Sentinels. Without those checks and balances, Sloan could do whatever he wanted. Shadrach was in danger. Isaac had to?—
Hawley inhaled sharply. “What?”
Isaac half-turned before remembering he wasn’t supposed to move. The pain on his back was fading fast, and the blood drained from his face. Were the marks healing before Hawley’s eyes?
“How is this possible?” Hawley breathed. “How are you healing?”
He couldn’t possibly explain that with a simple lie. “I—Ah!”
It was the belt buckle that tore into his back this time, again and again, relentless, until Isaac was bent double with his elbows on the stone and ragged snarls of pain spilling from his throat. He wasn’t allowed to move away or try to escape. He had to endure it.
Finally, Hawley stopped, panting hard. The pain was receding quickly, and a smile lifted the corners of Isaac’s mouth. Shadrach was taking care of him even now, and he had no idea. Isaac had to do something. He couldn’t let them go to the rink—the Rink—and hurt him.
The belt buckle scraped against the stone tile as Hawley rounded Isaac’s crouched form. His loafers passed in front of Isaac’s face, and the buckle left a trail of blood behind him. Isaac’s jaw clenched at the sight.
“How are you healing?” Hawley demanded. He snagged Isaac’s hair and wrenched him upright. “How?”
Isaac squirmed in his grip. “They tortured me,” he rasped. “Cut me up. Beat me. Broke my arm.”
Hawley’s gaze darted down his body and back up, looking for wounds that were obviously long gone.
Isaac laughed, high and edged with hysteria. “Shadrachgave me some of his blood. Made me drink it. It healed me. It continues to heal me. I don’t know how long it lasts.” It felt good to say his name. For the first time ever, telling the truth was vindicating.
“Nonsense,” Hawley barked. “Blasphemous nonsense. Demon blood would do no such thing. Healing that quickly would be a miracle.”
“It ‘would be?’” Isaac shook his head. “Itis. You just saw it with your own eyes.”
