Page 70

“Back up,” Lex said, raising his hands. “Cade's alive, soulless, and you're dancing with heaven's enforcers? What catastrophic domino effect did I miss while I was in Chicago?”

“The end of the world, apparently,” I said grimly. “But the real problem right now is Cade. We had it out tonight because he told me he doesn't want his soul back.”

“He what?” Lex's eyebrows shot up while Juno remained unnervingly still.

I filled them both in on the confrontation, Cade's disturbing declaration that he preferred his soulless state.

“He said it makes him a better hunter,” I explained, gripping my glass so hard I was surprised it didn't shatter. “No guilt, no hesitation, no emotional baggage slowing him down.”

“That's... incredibly dangerous,” Lex said slowly.

“But completely rational,” Juno added, a cold smile playing at her lips. “I'm almost impressed.”

I shot her a sharp look. “You think this is good?”

“I think it's fascinating,” she replied, leaning forward with predatory interest. “Imagine it, Sean. All the power, all the skill, but none of the crippling human weaknesses. No remorse to stay your hand, no sentiment to cloud your judgment.” She ran a finger along the rim of her glass. “He's right. It does make him a better hunter. More efficient. More... perfect.”

“This is Cade we're talking about,” I growled. “The guy who lectured me about mercy, about second chances. Who saved your life, Juno, when any other hunter would have taken your head.”

“And that's exactly why,” Juno said, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. “All that useless compassion, all that self-destructive empathy, all those lives he couldn't save eating him alive from the inside out. Now imagine freedom from all of that.”

“It's the ultimate liberation,” Lex agreed, his expression thoughtful. “Especially for someone who's carried as much guilt as Cade has.”

“So what now?” Juno asked, sliding Lex's drink across the bar. “You can't force a soul back into him if he doesn't want it. And why would he? He's finally free.”

“We'd need to find it first,” Lex pointed out.

I stared into my drink, the reality of the situation sinking in. “I don't even know where to start looking. Hell, maybe. That's where he lost it. But I'm not exactly eager for another trip downstairs.”

“There has to be another way,” Lex insisted. “What does your feathered friend think?”

“Cassiel's not exactly forthcoming with helpful information,” I said bitterly. “He's more the cryptic warning type.”

I stayed longer than intended, the darkness of the conversation seeping into me like poison. The bar filled and emptied around us, hunters coming in for information or a respite from the constant vigilance our lives required.

Eventually, I decided I'd had enough. I couldn't just sit here while Juno practically salivated over the idea of a soulless Cade.

“I'm heading out,” I announced, dropping cash on the bar. “Don't wait up.”

“Sean,” Juno called as I reached the door. I paused but didn't turn. “Watch your back. A man without a soul is a man without limits. Even Cade.”

The predatory gleam in her eyes told me she wasn't warning me out of concern—she was warning me out of respect for what Cade had become.

I nodded once and pushed through the door into the cool night air, the weight of what I'd lost—what we'd all lost—settling over me like a shroud.

As I walked, I got the unsettling feeling of being followed. The back of my neck prickled, hunter's instincts screaming danger. I didn't react immediately, just let my hand drift casually to the knife concealed at my waist.

Three blocks from Purgatory, I ducked into an alley, pretending to fumble for a cigarette. I waited, counting heartbeats, before whirling around, blades drawn in a fluid motion that had become second nature after years of hunting.

But before I could strike, the man barely flicked a hand, and I was shoved back like I weighed nothing. My back hit the brick wall hard enough to knock the wind from my lungs. I struggled against the invisible force pinning me there, fury rising as I recognized the telltale sign of telekinesis. Demon. Had to be.

The man stepped closer, illuminated by the faint glow of a distant street lamp. He wore an expensive suit, his features sharp and unremarkable, like a corporate lawyer or banker. But his eyes... his eyes were wrong, too old for his face, filled with knowledge no human should possess.

“What do you want?” I growled, still straining against the unseen bonds.

The man simply replied, “My boss wants to see you.”

“Your boss can go feck himself,” I spat. “I don't do demon deals.”