Oh. He tried to hide his scowl. He made Sloan wait while he factory-reset it. The last thing he wanted was to give them a chance to go through it. He didn’t think there was anything incriminating on there, besides job searches, but the less ammunition they had against him, the better. When he was done, he slapped the phone into Sloan’s waiting palm.
He couldn’t resist one parting shot. “Thanks for making the choice easy here at the end, Commander.”
He didn’t wait for Sloan’s response.
Out in the parking lot, he realized exactly whatrepossessedactually meant. His car was no longer in the parking lot. Hestood in the empty spot for a moment, his hands braced on his hips, and tried not to let emotion overwhelm him. This was the least he should have expected. He was lucky it wasn’t worse.
There was a bus stop two hours’ walk away. It was in the opposite direction of his home, but it would get him there eventually. With a sigh, he started walking.
At least he still had his wallet.
Chapter 6
Julian
When Julianfinally made it home after his meeting with Sloan, night had fallen. He was ready to sob with relief when he reached his block and his little house finally came into view—but he quickly realized something was off.
The front door stood wide open.
“No, no, no,” he groaned as he strode up the concrete path and through the open door. He flicked on the living room light, and a noise of despair spilled from his throat.
Everything was ruined. His television was smashed. The upholstery on his furniture had been ripped open, and most of it had been overturned. The bookshelf was toppled over, and loose pages littered the floor. Someone had plugged his kitchen sink and left the water running. It sloshed over the edge and into the floor, trickling across the linoleum and onto the living room’s wood floor. His fridge and freezer were both open, packages of food ripped open and dumped on the floor, table, and counters.
The only things actually missing were his stashes of holy water and oil, his guild laptop, and his spare car key. The front door’s frame was broken, and the door would no longer latch. Without it, his wards were useless.
Repossessed, Sloan had said. He’d made Julian wait all day so he could send paladins here to take back everything they’d given him and make him regret leaving.
They’d made his home unsafe because he chose to walk away.
Blinking back tears, Julian pushed the broken front door shut and got to work, turning off the kitchen faucet and bringing towels from the bathroom closet to soak up the water.
He did what he could to protect his home from demonic invaders by drawing salt lines across the doorways and windows. That wouldn’t stop a human intruder, though, so he maneuvered a chair under the front door handle to hold it closed.
He threw the soaked towels into the washing machine, wiped up the food messes in the kitchen, cleaned up the ripped papers and broken covers from his bookshelf, put all his furniture to rights, flipped the slashed cushions upside-down, and then went upstairs to check for damage there.
In his bedroom, he found that someone had slashed his mattress and bedsheets, and this time he blew out a sigh and let the tears fall. That was just needlessly cruel. He couldn’t just flip the pillow-top mattress over. Where was he supposed to sleep?
He’d once considered the guild his family. How could they be so evil?
He was more determined than ever to prove that he could make it on his own.
Back downstairs, he sat on the couch and came up with a plan. He could make more holy water and oil. He could paint his windows and doors with holy water to keep out the supernatural. Tomorrow, he would go to the hardware store to get what he needed to fix his front door. He would also need a phone—something cheap, like a prepaid one—so that he had a phone number to give potential employers. And then he would go by the library and start applying for jobs. He’d apply for anything and everything until someone hired him.
Most of all, he clung to the feeling of rightness that had filled him after he’d given his resignation. It had felt too right to ignore. Things would be hard now, but he could do this. This was what he wanted. It seemed daunting, but there was more potential in his future now than ever before.
He could do this. Hewoulddo this.
With nowhere better to sleep, he piled a couple of blankets on the couch, laid his head on a throw pillow, and closed his eyes. Tomorrow would be better. He had a plan, and everything would be better in the morning.
He dreamed of glowing,violet eyes and undulating black lines on pale skin. There was no anxiety or worry here, safe in the darkness with Valac.
These strange dreams had been increasing in frequency lately. He didn’t know why he kept seeing the strange behemoth when he closed his eyes, but more and more lately, he woke up with an aching hard-on and strangely bereft.
What the hell wasthatabout?
It had to be stress, that was all. He’d been under a lot of stress, and Valac was an unusually comforting memory. He’d saved them from the halflings and protected Julian from Shadrach. His voice was deep and smooth, his eyes kind. And Julian could admit that he was… lonely. All of it culminated in his subconsciousness projecting those feelings onto the demon. It didn’t mean anything, not really.
Still, he stared up at the living room ceiling in bewilderment as his hand slipped under the waistband of his pajama pants. He knew his body well enough to know that this wasn’t the kind oferection he could ignore. No matter what caused it, it would be better to just get it out of the way.
