Page 33
HOLLOWED OUT
SEAN
T wo days. Two long, silent days. No word from Hawk. No sign of Cassiel. And Cade—Cade was just living his life like nothing had happened. The clock on my warehouse wall ticked relentlessly forward, each second bringing us closer to whatever catastrophe awaited when the final seal broke.
Outside, rain fell in sheets, droplets racing down the grimy windows like tears.
My warehouse smelled of gun oil, old books, and the remnants of last night's whiskey.
I'd taken to pacing, ten steps one way, turn, ten steps back, a caged animal sensing the approaching storm.
My restless energy had nowhere to go, no outlet beyond this mindless movement.
Twice, I'd called Sterling for updates. Twice, I'd been told to sit tight, to wait for Hawk's signal.
Patience had never been my strong suit, especially not with every instinct screaming that time was running out.
I'd tried cleaning my weapons, researching Nephilim lore, even attempting meditation as Cassiel had once suggested.
Nothing helped. The waiting was unbearable.
But what truly set my teeth on edge was Cade's unnatural calm.
I watched him from across my warehouse living space, irritation buzzing beneath my skin like hornets trapped in my veins.
Cade was eating a damn sandwich, scrolling through his phone like we weren't standing at the edge of a supernatural catastrophe.
Mayo dripped onto the paper wrapper, and Cade absently wiped it away, completely absorbed in whatever he was reading.
This casual disregard for the gravity of our situation was so fundamentally un-Cade that it made my stomach twist. Before hell, before the mark, Cade would have been as restless as me—researching obsessively, calling contacts, developing backup plans for our backup plans.
He'd always been the strategic one, the planner, the one who needed to understand every angle.
This new Cade, this hollow-eyed stranger wearing my partner's face,seemed content to wait passively for the world to end.
“You good?” Cade asked, not looking up from his phone, thumb scrolling through what appeared to be a news site.
My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. The physical pain was grounding, something real to focus on besides the hollow ache in my chest. I'd gotten Cade back, but not really. Not all of him.
“Are you?” I finally responded, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
Cade's eyes flicked up then, finally meeting my gaze directly. For a moment—just a moment—I thought I saw something flicker behind those familiar eyes. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving nothing but that unnerving flatness.
“Never better,” Cade replied, the corner of his mouth lifting in what should have been a reassuring smile but looked more like an anatomical demonstration. His tone was light, almost cheerful, and completely at odds with the emptiness in his eyes.
Later that night, with Cade nowhere to be found, I stood in the alley behind my warehouse, cold wind biting through my jacket. The rain had finally stopped, leaving behind puddles that reflected the glow of the single security light I'd installed months ago.
Cade had left an hour ago, muttering something about fresh air. I hadn't tried to stop him. The relief of his absence was immediate and shameful—how could I feel better when Cade wasn't around, when I'd spent six months doing everything in my power to bring him back?
The guilt of that relief had driven me outside too, into the biting cold of the October night. The alley was empty—just my Impala parked at the end, gleaming wet under the security light. No witnesses to what I was about to attempt.
I had no idea if this would work. Cassiel hadn't exactly left us with a heavenly pager number. But I was out of options and rapidly running out of hope. If anyone could tell me what was wrong with Cade, what might fix him, it would be the angel who had been with us from the start.
I took a breath and exhaled sharply, steeling myself. Then, with as much authority as I could muster, I growled, “Cassiel! Get your feathery arse down here!”
The words echoed slightly in the empty alley, bouncing off the brick walls before fading into nothing. I waited, feeling increasingly foolish as the seconds ticked by with no response. Just another desperate act in a long string of futile attempts to fix what might be permanently broken.
I was about to turn back toward the warehouse, shoulders heavy with disappointment, when I felt it—a subtle shift in the air pressure, a prickling sensation at the nape of my neck. My hunter's instincts screamed a warning seconds before the change became physically manifest.
Silence. Then, a rush of wind. A shift in the air, like the world took a breath and held it. The hairs on my arms stood on end beneath my jacket, my skin tingling with static electricity. The temperature dropped several degrees in an instant, my next breath crystallizing in the suddenly frigid air.
The puddles in the alley rippled, though there was no wind to disturb them.
The security light flickered, power fluctuating with the electromagnetic disturbance that seemed to precede angelic manifestation.
For a moment, I thought I saw the shadow of enormous wings cast against the warehouse wall, stretching at impossible angles before disappearing as quickly as they had appeared.
Cassiel appeared, standing just a few feet away, arms crossed, expression unreadable. One moment the space was empty; the next, it was occupied by six feet of celestial being in a rumpled trench coat.
The angel looked the same as always—dark hair perpetually disheveled, tie askew, posture slightly too rigid to pass as completely human. But there was something different about his eyes—something older, wearier than before.
“You called?” Cassiel's voice was as I remembered it: deep, slightly formal, with that faint undercurrent of confusion that suggested human communication was a puzzle he was still attempting to solve despite millennia of observation.
I didn't waste time with pleasantries. The fragile hope kindled by Cassiel's appearance was immediately overshadowed by the anger that had been building for days.
“Where the fecking hell have you been?” The words burst forth with more heat than I had intended, revealing the raw concern beneath my fury. I stepped closer to the angel, fists clenched at my sides, shoulders tight with tension.
Cassiel regarded me with that peculiar head tilt that made him look like a curious bird studying a particularly interesting insect.
“You're angry,” Cassiel observed, as if making a scientific notation rather than stating the obvious.
“Jaysus Christ, of course I'm angry,” I snapped. “The world's ending, Cade's walking around like a goddamn robot, and you just disappeared without a word. So yeah, I'm a little pissed off.”
Cassiel absorbed the outburst without flinching, his expression shifting almost imperceptibly from neutral observation to something that might have been concern. “I understand your frustration. But I had reason for my absence.”
“This better be good,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest.
Cassiel sighed, the sound surprisingly human from a being older than civilization itself. He tilted his head slightly, and for a moment, the alley lights caught his profile in a way that cast strange, elongated shadows behind him.
“I was trying to figure out what's wrong with Cade.” The admission came without preamble, direct and unadorned as Cassiel's communication tended to be.
While I had been pacing and fretting and fighting with ghosts, Cassiel had been actively seeking answers. The anger that had been fueling me drained away, leaving behind a hollow exhaustion that seemed to seep into my bones.
“You were...” My voice trailed off as the implications sank in. Not abandonment, but action. Not indifference, but concern.
“I saw how much this was affecting you,” Cassiel admitted, his gaze unwavering despite the personal nature of the statement. “And I needed to know what we're dealing with.”
The words were simple but carried an unexpected weight. From anyone else, it might have seemed like basic compassion. From Cassiel, it represented a remarkable shift from the detached, often clinical being who had first appeared in our lives.
“You were trying to help,” I stated, the realization dawning fully.
Cassiel nodded once, the movement precise and deliberate.
“There is something... missing from Cade,” he said carefully.
“Something fundamental to his humanity. He appears whole on the outside, but inside...” He paused, seemingly searching for words.
“Inside, he is incomplete in ways that affect far more than just his emotional responses.”
“It also makes him dangerous,” Cassiel added, his voice dropping lower. “To himself and others. You've already seen evidence of this.”
I flinched, unwilling images flashing through my mind—Cade's face, utterly blank as he fired bullet after bullet into possessed humans without a moment's hesitation or remorse. No attempt to exorcise, to save the hosts. Just cold, unhesitating elimination of threats.
“Yeah,” I said hoarsely. “I've seen it.”
I swallowed, suddenly sober despite the flicker of hope that had ignited within me. My mouth felt dry, tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth as I forced myself to ask the question.
“Did you find anything?” The words emerged rough, raw with vulnerability.
Cassiel's gaze darkened, shadows gathering beneath his vessel's eyes in a way that seemed more than just a trick of the poor lighting. “I might have an inclination.”
The careful phrasing set off warning bells in my mind. Angelic communication was typically direct to the point of bluntness. This deliberate vagueness suggested uncomfortable truths, knowledge that Cassiel was hesitant to share in its entirety.
Table of Contents
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- Page 33 (Reading here)
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