Ashmedai lingered at the edge of the group as Valac spread a map of the city out on the floor and knelt beside it with a bowl. He lit a candle, rumbling out a Latin incantation as he let the melted wax drip into the bowl filled with the hair and a splash of black blood. He swirled the mixture together with his finger, then held his finger out over the map. Ashmedai could see the swirl of magic in the air, dark like Valac’s powers but shot through with a rainbow of colors. It petered out, though, fading before it was meant to.
When the dark liquid dripped from Valac’s finger, nothing happened.
Valac frowned. “It didn’t work.”
“What? Why not?” Talon demanded.
“It worked,” Ashmedai said. He pointed to his eyes. “Saw magic.”
“But it didn’t find them,” Julian guessed. “Why not?”
Ashmedai shook his head. “Hidden.”
“They’re hidden from a tracking spell?” Shadrach asked, sounding skeptical. He folded his arms, cocking one hip out.
“Behind magic,” Ashmedai said. It was the only thing that made sense.
“They’re holding them behind wards, maybe,” Nathan said thoughtfully. “They have them on the wall surrounding the guild.”
Ashmedai shook his head. “Holy. Different.” Holy wards only kept out hellish things. It wouldn’t hide someone from regular magic.
“He’s right,” Valac said, pushing to his feet with a sigh. “The holy blessings they use to protect the guild wouldn’t hide them from a magical spell. It just prevents anything demonic from crossing over. In order to hide them from aspell like this, the guild must also be using magic in the wards wherever they’re hidden.”
“It’s forbidden for paladins to use magic spells,” Luke said.
“Sounds like Sloan’s playing dirty,” Talon said.
“Rules for thee, not for me,” Isaac crooned. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“What do wedo?” Luke asked, folding his muscular arms tight across his chest. He was taking this hard.
Julian took a breath, paused, and then forged on. “Maybe I should reach out to Nicolas. He came to me once. I could ask him if he knows anything. I can’t imagine he’d be okay with the guild holding children hostage.”
“He might not know anything, then,” Talon warned. “Sloan only keeps the ones who agree with him close.”
“It can’t hurt to try,” Ira said. “If that doesn’t work… maybe Ashmedai could hold off on hunting for a few days. Long enough for us to convince them that we’ve killed him. Demons disintegrate when killed, so Sloan won’t be able to ask us for any proof. He’ll have to take our word for it, and he’ll have no choice when the killings stop.”
Chapter 5
Nicolas
After they ate,Nicolas and Daniel passed the rest of the afternoon on the couch together. Daniel turned on a movie, which Nicolas slept through, his head pillowed on his little brother’s leg. When the sunlight waned, Daniel reluctantly left him alone to get some rest. Nicolas had a deliciously hot shower, washing the whip lashes with a grimace, and then spent a very long time standing under the spray with his fingers brushing the circle of little scabs around his areola.
Maybe Sloan was right. Maybe he needed to be punished. His squad was dead. People he used to consider friends. Instead, all he cared about was the way that demon had made him feel. The moment they’d touched, the whole world had condensed around them. All that mattered was each other. He’d never felt anything like it, and he couldn’t deny that a part of him wanted to feel it again. Things were so simple, there in the dark with the sin eater. Terrifying—but thrilling.
He hadn’t bothered with clothes, too tired and sore. He barely had the presence of mind to hang his towel up to dry.The bed called to him, and when he reached his bedroom, he cut the light off.
Twin orbs of orange lit up across the room. Nicolas froze, his heart in his throat. Was it really him, or was he seeing things? He didn’t move, awareness prickling across his bare skin.
Nicolas took a slow breath. “Is that you?”
No response. He turned the light on again, and the orange orbs were gone. Was it just an odd reflection in his dresser mirror?
“Can’t be him,” he told himself. “I have wards on the apartment.”
He hadn’t done more than lightly doze in over twenty-four hours. His exhausted mind was conjuring hallucinations of things that were already occupying his mind. A good night’s sleep would put a stop to this.
But when he turned off the lights again with the intention of going straight to bed, the eyes were right in front of him now. Strong hands gripped his upper arms and shoved him against the wall, a shock of cold along his wounded back. He gasped, and the demon’s tongue invaded his mouth.
